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hoonieyun · 1 month ago

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the snake ₊ ⊹

pairing: lee heeseung x reader genre: angst, romance, betrayal, strangers to lovers warnings: religious themes, kissing, profanity, skin ship, alcohol, cheating, manipulation, toxic relationships, suggestive, talks about losing virginity and sex but not explicit, yn has an anxiety attack, 18+

synopsis: your simple life takes a turn when meeting heeseung, a handsome stranger turned boyfriend who shows you all of the finer things in life; making you question your desires and temptations.

hoonieyun notes: guys im gonna be honest i wasn't expecting this to be this long so please don't expect the others to be as long or idk they might be im not sure LOL but im also going to say i dont think this is my best work, i think i got a little too in my head when writing this but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

wc: 8567

the garden of eden

once a stranger that you had met on a sunday at church, you never knew how big of a role he’d play in your life.

it was a bright and windy spring day.

april 13th, a few clouds were in the sky, hugging the sun, when you had finished church. the day was still early but there was so much to do. your family wasn’t anyone important in the church, although the pastor made it a point to mention that everyone who steps into the home of jesus was important, you and your parents weren’t anyone who had a strong impact.

you simply went to church on sunday at 10am and would leave at noon. on most days you’d have lunch with your parents at a seaside diner a few miles away but on this specific day, the pastor had spoken with your parents beforehand and discussed with them on how you should join their youth group, specifying that they had groups of all ages. you weren’t particularly opposed to the idea, it gave you something to do on sundays instead of spending it laying on your bed scrolling through your phone or procrastinating the homework you had for college.

your parents had said yes before you could respond and although it rubbed you the wrong way, you chose not to fight it because you weren’t necessarily sure if you cared enough. that’s how you found yourself in a dimly lit room, somewhere in the back of the church, with several empty tables surrounding you.

the air was stale and the sun barely shone through the curtains of the windows. if it was any other scenario, you’d probably find it quite eerie but you barely had enough time to let that unsettling feeling creep into your stomach because someone else was entering the room just as you began to wonder if this is where you should be right now.

enter: heeseung.

he was tall, light brown hair swept across his forehead, and an unsuspecting smile was plastered across his face as he walked into the room.

“yn, this is heeseung. heeseung, yn. you two are the newest members of our youth group. i’d introduce you both to everyone but i thought since they all know each other and you two are new, i’d let you both get to know one another first before throwing you in with the other kids.” the pastor says and you and heeseung awkwardly exchange glances at each other.

was it that serious?

you still aren’t sure but for the next hour or so, you and heeseung bonded with one another in ways you haven't bonded with anyone before. a stranger at that.

heeseung was sweet and kind, he found ways to help you open up about yourself in the short hour that you hadn’t even opened up to your friends. he made you laugh and not the type of laugh that had your eyes squeezing shut and your head thrown back, but the type of laugh that felt like it was reserved for a specific person.

those 60 minutes felt like eternity with heeseung. not because it felt long and grooling, but because it felt like time stopped. for the first time, someone understood you in ways where you didn’t feel like you were putting up a guard. heeseung had this ability of just grounding you and you found yourself melting into him.

that hour with heeseung on a random sunday turned to sticking by his side every sunday and eventually, becoming his girlfriend.

he introduced you to all of the different things in life that you hadn’t experienced before. life before heeseung felt bland, mundane, and like you were a vcr constantly being played back and being forced to relive the same boring day over and over again.

you didn’t have much to live for, aside from your parents and your small dog, life was just… life.

heeseung showed you so much more than just life.

but you knew to trust him.

later that night, heeseung picked you up in his beat up cadillac. it was black in color but because it was so old, one could describe it as grey instead. he got it from his grandpa last summer who said that if he could fix it up and get it running, it was his. if heeseung was going to do one thing, it was get what he wanted.

the party was everything you expected it to be, loud music, crowded rooms, and faces that you didn’t recognize except for a few people you knew from church. you didn’t expect to see anyone you knew, let alone some of the girls and their boyfriend’s from your church. heeseung’s hand didn’t let go of yours not once the whole night. he was there by your side from the moment he parked his car and the moment the night ended.

that night was a lot of your firsts.

first college party and party in general.

first taste of alcohol, even when you turned 21 you had no desire to try it.

first kiss. it sounds weird to say that you and heeseung were dating for a few months but he made no move to kiss you or any other advances. until that night, he gave you a few drinks and because you trusted him, you accepted the cup and drank what was inside; heeseung mirroring your actions. it didn’t take much to have you drunk and slurring your words so heeseung took that as the sign to take you home.

you didn’t want to go home though so heeseung took you to his place where you’d end up spending the night. when heeseung carried you to his room, he gently set you down on his mattress before going to his bathroom. he returned with a purple item in his hands that crinkled when he fidgeted with it.

“close your eyes..” heeseung whispers and you do as such. a cold and moist feeling meets your skin and you realize that he was taking your makeup off. such a tender and simple yet intimate moment between two people. his fingers on your skin were gentle and it only amplified your feelings for him.

accompanied with the alcohol in your system and heeseung’s pretty face in front of you, your eyes traveled from his doe eyes to the plumpness of his lips. you blinked several times as you studied the shape of them. how pink they looked despite his room being fairly dark and how soft they looked even though you’ve never seen heeseung carry or use lipbalm in the time you’ve known him.

“you alright, yn?” heeseung asks and you’re taken out of your thoughts as you look up at him. his tall stature stood way above you as you sat on his bed. heeseung smirked at the way you looked right now, looking up at him with wide and soft eyes. you looked so delicate and he was starting to struggle keeping to himself.

you nodded, swallowing the dryness in your throat after heeseung's hands found them on your cheek; lightly caressing your face with his thumb. “i’ll get you some water and i’ll be right back, ok?” he says, softly patting your cheek before heading out of his bedroom.

while heeseung is gone, you decide to take a look around his bedroom while you wait. the room was definitely one of a young man, clothes lazily thrown on various surfaces, a guitar was propped up in the corner of the room next to his dresser that had clothes peeking out, and several music and movie posters plastered on the wall.

you got up to look at the photos on his desk, a frame that separated into four that contained pictures of him as a baby, a high school graduatone of the many times that heeseung brought something new into your life was when summer break began shortly after meeting him that spring. university was beginning to get busy during the spring with the semester soon being over so the both of you barely had time to see each other. once summer had officially started, heeseung took the first opportunity to see you and have some fun.

“you really haven’t been to a college party before?” he asks, a smirk on his face. he was filled with intrigue at the idea of you being so sheltered and innocent, not to anyone’s fault but your own as you chose to stay away from those things. your parents didn’t restrict you from living a normal college life, they even encouraged it by saying all you have to do is be safe, but you took safety a little too seriously and chose to stay in all the time.

you shook your head in response, a small pout on your lips as heeseung’s smile spread even wider. he had convinced you to come to a first day of summer party one of his friend’s was throwing. it was at the other university in your town and you were nervous about not knowing anyone besides heeseung and that worried you.

ion photo, and the other two of him with his parents. the pictures made you smile, heeseung still looked cute as ever and you could see the similarities of his features as a baby grow into the features he has now. you set the frame down and your eyes soon focus on a leather bound book open on his desk. you had met heeseung at church but his faith and the house of god was rarely a topic the two of you discussed.

maybe it was because neither of you wanted to waste your time together with something already occupying your daily lives. you lean in closer to take a look at what page his bible was opened to, curious as to what heeseung has been reading but the opportunity quickly fades when heeseung’s voice gains your attention.

“what are you looking at?” he asks, not in a way that felt like you had just been caught but one of genuine curiosity. you tell him that it was nothing, just admiring his baby photos and he just blushes while grabbing your hand and giving you the water he brought. the water is cold and almost stings your throat as you swallow it, like it was burning the scars that the alcohol had previously created.

“feeling better, angel?” heeseung asks and you nod as you finish swallowing the water, thanking him for taking care of you. the low light in his room doesn’t allow for much to be seen, a lot of vague shapes and shadows as the night progresses further into darkness. what you can see clearly, however, is heeseung. he’s got his eyes glued to your face, taking in your features. the way your cheeks were still flushed from the alcohol he gave you, the way your eyes drooped and how you tried your best to keep them open, and the way your lips would pout as you tried to bite away the dryness of your lips.

heeseung just loved watching you and he loved it even more knowing you were by his side.

“can i kiss you?”

the question hangs heavily in the air and for a second you just blink at him, unsure if you had heard his question correctly, but when heeseung asks again; you pull him close by the collar of his shirt and press your lips against his. the kiss sends a shock through your body, you don’t know where the sudden burst of boldness came from but it soon crumbled away when heeseung reciprocated your actions with even more passion.

he kissed you back with so much desire, like he had been waiting for this moment for so long. his hands find a home on your waist and hips as he pushes himself over you, your body slowly falling onto his mattress. heeseung was now on top of you, devouring you into his mouth like his life depended on it.

you were too embarrassed to tell heeseung that this is the most you’ve ever done with anyone, hell, you hadn’t even had your first kiss until now and it’s feeling like tonight was full of firsts for you. however, when heeseung begins to take his clothes off, pulling himself off of you for a second to shrug off his jacket, you take the moment to stop it before it goes any further.

it wasn’t particularly because you were scared.. well, maybe you were. but you weren’t sure why.

you had always been told of the sins of premarital sex and right now it was feeling a lot like that. had you even sinned before this moment? the question makes you recall all of the other events of the night and you come to the conclusion that you had sinned several times in one night. the guilt eats you from the inside out and you can't bring yourself to keep going. the way the faint light from outside of heeseung’s window cast a shadow across his face made him look almost unrecognizable.

his eyes were the only thing that was easily identifiable but even then it didn’t feel like his eyes. like they belonged to someone else. heeseung’s eyes didn’t look bright or soft like they usually do, but instead were sharp; like a predator hunting its prey, stalking it in the shadows and waiting for the right time to pounce.

temptation was something you never had to worry about. that, paired with desire, you knew it was a dangerous thing and although this specific moment felt good and your body reacted the way you expected it to react, you couldn’t help but think about how this is what you were told would happen. how you’d hear the whispers of heavenly causes and fondness when you were closest to sin.

when heeseung leaned down to continue kissing you, your hand flew to his chest to stop him, “hee.. um. i’m tired, maybe we should sleep.” it came off more as a suggestion but you didn't know how to tell him to stop. you could barely make out the expression on his face but you could feel the disappointment. he doesn’t say anything, heeseung just nods and gives you a smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

heeseung pulled you close against his body, his warmth was enough to lull you to sleep, but the soft humming of his voice made you fall asleep even quicker. you were grateful that heeseung wasn’t upset about your decision and maybe it was a sign that he was the right one for you. you couldn’t deny that you were enjoying it but you’re just not ready for it and heeseung understood that.

just not in the way you’d want him to.

he didn’t fall asleep as fast as you did that night. he was staring at the back of your head for a while before he moved to staring at his ceiling; all the while his arms never left their place around your waist. heeseung was disappointed, he’s wanted to taste you for so long and he thought it would finally play out tonight. the way you tasted against his lips, the faint flavor of alcohol that clung to your tongue, how his own tongue fit into your mouth perfectly. it was like heaven to him, but heaven was short lived.

matthew 4:1-11 jesus’ temptation in the wilderness

after that night with heeseung, you hadn’t seen or heard from him in a few weeks. you were beginning to worry that your decision to not go any further drove him away that night and it made your chest ache. had you really been this dispensable to heeseung that any moment of resistance would create a wedge between the two of you.

it made you regret your decision that night. you didn’t know how important heeseung was to you until now. no text or calls until 3am like you usually do, you didn’t even see him at church on sundays, and when you’d try to approach his parents; they’d just tell you that heeseung hasn’t been feeling well. you were beginning to feel so much guilt that your own decisions led you to losing him and you just wished you could go back to that night.

what you felt that night wasn’t bad and although you had been told your whole life that it was, you couldn’t help but feel for heeseung the way he felt towards you. you were a virgin and for a while, you believed you’d be one until marriage; but heeseung showed you a type of love and desire that wasn’t anything you had felt before.

the way he treated you felt good and maybe you just needed to admit to yourself that you were ready for it and to stop being afraid.

when you were a child, you were really afraid of going on the swing set at the park; you had a fear that you’d swing so high up that it would catapult you into the sky and you’d never be able to come back down and see your parents ever again.

the irrationality of that fear didn’t exist in your mind because the fear was so pervasive that you couldn’t think of anything else besides that. when you had finally gotten on the swing after confessing to your mom why you were afraid, it was nothing like that. it was fun. the breeze that blew past your face and the warmth of the sun on your skin as you swung upwards felt like a hug.

maybe it was like that.

being afraid for no reason and when you finally got to the point of doing it, everything would be fine in the end.

after church on sunday, you decided that you’d walk home, telling your parents that you needed some fresh air and would stop by the park and head home after. your parents didn’t say much besides the usual “be safe and don’t be home too late”. thankfully, they were never overbearing and allowed you to have some semblance of freedom.

you couldn’t say the same to a lot of the other girls at your church. you had it easy compared to them, they had parents that didn’t allow them to wear certain clothes if it showed too much skin, their hair was always down because putting it up would reveal their necks, white shoes in the church would always be paired with white frill socks, and by no means, at all, should they ever mess around with a boy– and yet… they all seemed to have so much more experience than you did.

the three girls who were in charge of the youth group, all around your age, were all dating someone from the youth group. good and respectable boys that their fathers approved of but when heeseung took you to that party, you saw all of them.

drinks in hand, hands on neck, and necks on display. it was as if the way they appeared at church was just a facade and this was who they truly were. it came to you as a shock that the way the girls and boys at your church presented themselves was drastically different. like they lived completely opposite lives to the ones you assumed they lived when you’d see them walk through the big wooden doors of the chapel.

maybe they appeared that way for the approval of their parents because it definitely wasn’t for the lord’s approval as he’s been witness to the sins that they’ve committed. you saw the same three girls head to the back section of the church where youth groups met and just a few feet behind them were their boyfriends. you would’ve never guessed that the sweet smiles and kind gestures they offered to the elders at the church were their ways of protecting who they really were underneath the tight pleated skirts that stopped just above their ankles and the soft wool fabric of the sweaters the boys would wear over their white dress shirts.

you walked right past them and decided to exit, not wanting to attend the youth group because it only reminded you of heeseung, “not attending today, yn? we haven’t seen you in a while.” one of the girls said, a bright smile on her glossy pink lips. you shook your head in response and continued walking but halted in your steps when a thought popped inside of your brain.

“do you- do you know where heeseung’s been?” you ask her as she’s about to shut the door to the room, she gives you a small smirk; like she knew exactly what you were getting at and better yet, she knew what you and heeseung had been up to prior to his disappearance. just as you saw all of those people at that party that you saw regularly at church, they saw you too.

“try looking at eden park. there’s a little garden in the back east of the park; it’s covered by a lot of trees but there’s like a red sign there. you’ll know it when you see it.”

you thank her before heading off, surprised that she had given you any information at all because you two weren’t necessarily friends with one another.

the walk to eden park wasn’t long but it felt like eternity as you ran through the different things you’d say to heeseung if he was even there. did you have any reason to trust her words, no; but you also didn’t have any reason not to trust her.

you were beginning to think that doubt was a normal thing in your life. or maybe more so curiosity. curious if heeseung would be there and curious if her advice would ring true. curious where heeseung has been and why he’s been ignoring you. curious on what would’ve happened if you didn’t stop heeseung that night. curious if heeseung still felt the same about you. as you walked through the short patch of forest at the back of eden park, twigs snapped and leaves crunched underneath the soles of your white shoes. you were beginning to think you had been lied to but that was until you stopped at a tree to catch your breath and contemplated turning around when you saw a wooden plank hanging from a branch just a few feet away.

just like she said, the sign was covered in red paint and had words in black paint.

“garden of eden”

you blinked several times at the sign as you walked closer, staring at it as if it was a symbol of something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why it seemed like it was of importance. as you pondered, you soon could hear several voices emerge from behind a group of trees– following the voices, a clearing of grass welcomed you and you finally saw him.

heeseung is sitting on a wooden bench, surrounded by three guys who you didn’t really know but recognized from your town and occasionally at church. heeseung had a cigarette in between his fingers, smoke flowing from his lips as he took a drag and exhaled. you looked at him for a moment, had he gotten more handsome since you last saw him?

your heart began to beat a lot faster at the sight of heeseung. you missed him dearly and his absence in your life has had a bigger impact on you than you could imagine.

“hee?” you say, your voice is soft but effective because it catches the attention of all four boys. the boy that you recognize as jake was the one you were most familiar with. he had been showing up more frequently in your neighborhood because he started seeing the girl that lived next door recently. the other two you didn’t know much.

heeseung’s big eyes shoot upwards and catch your gaze. heeseung would be lying if he said you didn’t look beautiful because the way the sun was peeking through the leaves of the trees and the light brush of the breeze in the air made you look ethereal. his voice gets caught in his throat because he isn’t even able to say anything.

“you know her, heeseung?” one of the boys with thick eyebrows asks and he just stares at you. he’s not sure if it’s because he doesn’t know what to say or if it’s because your beauty has him stunned. truthfully, heeseung has been ignoring you because he was disappointed you didn’t want to have sex with him but after seeing you now; he’s feeling like an idiot. you looked so beautiful, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle under the sunlight, the way the sun cast a shadow on your face but perfectly highlighted your lips, and how your hair effortlessly blew around your face– avoiding obstruction of your beauty.

heeseung stutters a small no and it breaks your heart. that small crack in your heart grew and a sense of betrayal strikes through your chest. did heeseung just act like he doesn’t know you? you’re stunned by his words, your eyes continue to glisten but this time from the tears threatening to spill and your lips fall into a frown. you swallow the dryness in your throat and don’t even know what to say– this was the last thing you expected to happen.

“what’s your name, pretty?” the other unknown boy asks and heeseung’s jaw tightens at his question. he sends him a glare from behind that only you notice but not even that could help how you are feeling right now. without a second thought, you turn on your heel and run out of the garden, out of the small forest, and throw eden park.

tears have made their journey from yours down to your jaw, not even bothering to wipe your face as it begins to blur your vision. there were so many emotions running through your mind and the aching behind the boned cage in your chest was getting unbearable. it was like you could faint at any moment– you clutch the fabric of your yellow dress as you continue to run. the fabric crumpled under your tight grip but it didn’t provide any support.

your chest was tightening and your breathing was getting sporadic.

is this what death feels like? you thought to yourself as you got closer to home, bursting through the back door and ignoring the calls from your mother that dinner would be done soon. she doesn’t pay much attention to you and doesn’t realize the state you’re in. stumbling in your bedroom and locking the door behind you, you tear off the clothes confining your body, scratching and palming at your chest and neck as you begin to struggle even more to breathe.

the walls of your room begin to spin as you try your best to crawl to your bed, barely pulling yourself up from the floor onto the plush mattress. you try to steady the dizziness in your head but the pressure behind your eyes was taking over and you didn’t know why this was happening.

a white light flashes over your vision and a high pitched ringing floods your ears.

a cool breeze wakes you from your slumber, eyes fluttering open as you’re met with the bright blue sky with a warm yellow ball kissing your skin. you aren’t sure what time of day it is but the only thing on your mind is the fact that you woke up in a field of grass and flowers. you palm the grass near you and reach for the white petaled flower, “lily of the valley..” you murmured.

you looked around the field and it stretched yards and yards around you as small white flowers were sprinkled throughout the endless sea of green. confusion fills your mind as you squint at your eyes when a tree off in the distance comes into your vision, you hadn’t seen it prior when you first looked around. the tree had just suddenly appeared and it was like the tree's roots had emerged from underneath you. breaking through the dirt and wrapping itself around you as you find yourself walking closer and closer to the large tree.

the tree’s branches and leaves swayed as the wind blew. there was a faint ringing in the air as you looked at the bark of the tree, its lines and abstract patterns reading in your head like an optical illusion.

that light-headed feeling you’ve grown familiar with is starting to return and when your knees almost give out from underneath you, a pair of strong arms catch you before your body meets the earth beneath you.

you look up to find heeseung staring back at you, a small smile on his face as he pulls you upright. eyes rapidly blinking as you process the boy standing in front of you. similar to the tree it seems like he just materialized. “what’s wrong, honey? you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

it was hard to come up with a response when nothing made sense, heeseung and this tree randomly emerged and when you felt like it was just a mirage of sorts from being awoken; everything felt so real. you reached out to grab heeseung’s face and the soft plush skin under your fingers only solidified how real heeseung was right in front of you.

“take a seat, you look like you could faint at any moment.”

heeseung guides you to the ground, carefully assisting you in sitting next to the tree; resting your body against the rough bark. “hee, where are we?”

he doesn’t respond right away, eyes travelling from your exposed knees, over the curves of your lips, and landing on your eyes. the sun was shining just right and it was illuminating your eyes and making them appear as marbles. the colors are piercing and so striking, “it doesn’t matter where we are, all that matters is that we’re together.”

the moment feels warm and touching, it was like all of the worries and issues you previously had with heeseung had just disappeared and there was nothing getting in the way of what you have now. you smiled at his response, resting your head on his shoulder as his arm wraps itself around you. it was times like this that you shared with heeseung that felt a lot like heaven. a type of luxury that you couldn’t always afford.

“hee?” you ask, turning your head to face him, eyes directed upwards.

“how did you get here?”

you can hear him swallow his response, his heartbeat slightly speeding up at your question.

“you look a bit sick, are you ok?”

“im fine– can you answer me? i’m not sure how i even got here, then you just appeared..”

“honey, you’re looking faint– hold on.” heeseung gently pulls away from you and stands on his feet. your eyes follow him as you watch him reach for an apple from the tree, one that you hadn’t noticed prior. your eyes travel to the hem of his shirt, his skin peeking out slightly as the fabric rises a bit higher than where it usually falls. heat rises to your cheek at the sight of heeseung’s skin being on display.

things suddenly appearing with no explanation was making it a lot easier to identify real from fake– and right now; it was all seeming fake. “that apple wasn’t there before, i– here eat this. you look sick and you’re worrying me.” heeseung interrupts you, cracking the apple in half with his bare hands and bringing it close to your lips.

you look directly into his eyes now that he’s crouched down. you hesitate to take the apple, wondering why heeseung was avoiding your questions. your eyes falter under his gaze and land on the apple itself, the soft hue of the inside of the apple slightly glistening from its moisture. when you reach to grab the apple, heeseung pulls it away, your eyes flying upwards with a confused expression on his actions.

heeseung simply shakes his head and raises the apple back to your lips, you open your mouth slightly and heeseung gestures for you to keep going, raising his eyebrows with a small smirk to encourage you to take a bite. the cold fruit makes contact with your lips as you take a bite, a soft crunching as the fruit breaks off and falls into your mouth.

“good girl.” heeseung says, pulling the fruit back and gently patting your head with his other hand. “feel better?”

you wanted to say yes but that feeling of lightheadedness was starting to creep back in and heeseung, who was at some point just smiling at you, has now tripled in your vision and it was beginning to be difficult to keep your head from rolling to one side.

“oh, honey. you don’t look so good, just sleep now… ok?” heeseung says, pulling you into his arms; hand gently rubbing your back as the heaviness in your eyes has become too hard to fight off. you rest your head on his chest, heartbeat lightly thudding in your ears like a lullaby. heeseung quietly hums you to sleep as he smiles down at your sleeping figure. he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face to take in your sleeping state.

“so beautiful..” he mutters to himself.

“and all mine.”

the last memory of heeseung on your mind before falling asleep was his smiling face as he fed you that apple, grateful that he cared enough to ensure you had sustenance inside of you– heeseung cared about you so much and his worry that you were falling ill only showed his love. unbeknownst to you, something changed inside of heeseung when he watched you bite from his apple– a smirk growing wider with hidden intention.

heeseung continued to watch you sleep in his arms, bright red and fiery eyes with dark elliptical pupils down the center. a low hissing in the air as he gently runs his fingers across your exposed neck.

a rhythmic melody rings throughout your head, getting louder and louder, and when the sound becomes unbearable like it’s playing directly inside of your head at the loudest volume– your eyes fly open. a gasp rips through your chest as you lurch upward, a thick white blanket covers your body and the cold wind from your window sends chills up your body.

the sky was completely dark and you weren’t sure what time it was, a sense of deja vu washing over you. you suddenly remember that your phone is ringing, the vibrations on your bed aiding you in finding where it was. when you grab the phone, the bright light causes you to flinch and when you squint to adjust, heeseung’s name is written in bright white letters across the screen.

you stare at his name on your phone a bit too long and the call goes unanswered. your mouth falls slightly open when you realize you were too stunned to answer the phone but his name reappears just as quick as it does disappear.

“hee?”

“love? hey.. you answered…” his voice sounded hoarse and a bit slowed– like he had been drinking.

“i’m outside, can we talk, i know it’s late but i just really needed to see you and– okay. i’ll come down in a second.” you cut him off from rambling because quite frankly; you wanted to see heeseung and confront him about what had happened in the garden earlier in the day.

the events of your dream are nowhere to be found in your mind as you throw on a sweater over your body and quickly tiptoe outside, making sure not to make any noise so as to not wake your parents.

and just like he said, heeseung was outside, waiting in his beat up cadillac. the low rumbling of his car gets louder as you approach and when you’re close enough, you can see heeseung’s eyes light up when you come into his vision.

he reaches over to unlock your side of the door and it makes a squeaking sound when you pull it open, “hey..” he says, just above a whisper. something felt different about heeseung and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. you weren’t sure if it was because he may have felt guilty for how he treated you in front of those boys or if he truly missed being around you. when you take the seat next to him, he’s quick to grab your hand and place a kiss on your knuckles. his lips staying on your skin for a bit longer like he’s been away from you for too long.

“hee- i missed you so much.” heeseung says before you could get anything out, continuing to pepper kisses across your arm. the moisture from his lips leave goosebumps rising on your body quicker than you can react to heeseung’s actions.

he was indulging in you and although you wanted to talk and give him a piece of your brain, the feeling of him on your skin feels a little too good– clearing your thoughts instantly.

“c’mere.” heeseung says against your skin, pulling you forward and onto his lap. his lips move from your arms to your neck– something that you know better than to keep exposed. you should be afraid of heeseung was going to leave marks but you didn’t care. the kisses burned as he left small wet spots on your neck. you missed this.

being so close to heeseung and having his body against yours.

the only thing in your mind was heeseung.

when he pulled away from your neck to look into your eyes, there was an unspoken conversation happening between the two of you– an agreement that felt like you were able to connect with one another just through a simple gaze.

heeseung’s hands travel through the flats and curves of your body, over your sweater, and onto the back of your neck. he pulls you forward with ease and for the first time in a while– heeseung presses your lips against his. the electricity that shoots through your body is enough to power a whole town.

you get lost in the kiss, hands roaming across your body as you place yours on his chest and shoulder for support. the feeling of his hands ghosting over the hem of your sweater and making it’s way under the 2 layers of fabric covering your body.

right now, your brain, veins, and heart are filled with heeseung.

and you were content with that.

the following few weeks after the night with heeseung in his car was filled with sunshine and rainbows. as cliche as it sounded, you were in heaven whenever you were with heeseung, your lips were always formed into a smile and your cheeks always ached from how much he made you laugh.

you didn’t think life could get any better when you had heeseung by your side and you were so happy to have finally let go of the fear and sharing that moment with heeseung. you trusted him and although there was a low rumbling from inside your chest, you knew that it was just your heart getting used to the new yet exciting experiences that heeseung brought to you.

tonight would be another one of those nights and you were at a party with heeseung. you had soon learned those boys from the garden that day were his friends jake, who you knew, and jay and sunghoon. you were cordial with them but didn’t bother to get to know them because heeseung always kept quite the short leash on you.

heeseung didn’t like when you were too far away from him and he made sure to keep you near at all times, except for right now.

you were making your way through the crowded house of people dancing and drinking to get to heeseung who was patiently waiting for you to return with more alcohol. you had grown quite the habit of drinking and partying when you were with heeseung but you didn’t mind because he taught you to have fun and indulge in these kinds of things.

when you return to the living room, where you last saw him, you’re stopped in your tracks when you spot heeseung with a girl you didn’t recognize. you weren’t the type to get jealous, at least you didn’t think so, but his hands were dangerously low on her hips and his thumb rubbed circles on the exposed parts of her waist.

it infuriated you to see him like this and even more at the fact that you weren’t even gone very long and he’s already found some other girl to keep his body warm. warmth was an understatement when describing the fire inside of you now.

you were furious.

you stomped towards heeseung and the unknown girl, eyes like daggers as you got closer, and before you could think– the contents of the cups in your hand emptied on both heeseung and the girl. gasps fill the room as the cold liquid makes contact with the girl and those close enough to feel the small fraction of anger inside of you.

“what the fuck, yn?” heeseung exhales with disbelief.

you just stare at him, lips pressed into a thin line and arms crossed, head tilted to one side as if you were challenging him. this made heeseung angry even though you were the only person who had every right to be upset right now.

heeseung roughly grabs your arm, in contrast to the usual gentleness that you were familiar with when it comes to heeseung, and he’s dragging you to a random room on the second floor of the house. you did your best to root your feet into the ground but heeseung’s strength easily overtakes yours as he pulls you into an unfamiliar bathroom.

“what’s gotten into you, huh?” frustration is clear in his tone.

he looks at you with sharp eyes, so piercing you couldn’t bear to look into them so your eyes travel along his face. the usual softness of his features disappear due to his anger; his jaw is clenched and the vein on his neck is starting to make an appearance. you scoff in response, not bothering to give him a proper response because he should know exactly what’s gotten you so upset.

“you wanna act like this?” he was testing you, trying to push you to keep going because he knew that in the end you’d submit to him. his eyes were boring into your face, you could feel the heat on your skin from the alcohol but mostly from the intensity radiating off of heeseung. you had never seen him this upset before and in any other situation maybe you would’ve already apologized; but he was flirting with some random girl at a party that he took you to so you had every right to be angry.

he was lucky you didn’t do more than just spill some drinks on them.

“don’t act like i’m being like this out of nowhere, you were practically pushed up on that girl like some needy victorian man.” you huffed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. you had never been this way with heeseung. everything is usually so sweet and soft– but in this moment; you’re brought back to all of the times where he’s pulled you to different ends.

sure, heeseung introduced you to so many joyful things that felt like heaven. things that made you feel so alive and have something to look forward to; he opened your eyes to all of the things you had been missing out on and he brought out a side of you that you never knew lived in the depths of your soul.

in a lot of ways, he made you the way you are now.

as often as heeseung showed you heaven, like clockwork, he showed you hell.

the happy and bright moments shared with heeseung were always followed with a type of low that felt like your body was plummeting through the earth’s crust and sending you to the heated core of the planet.

like he was able to bring heaven and hell to you at the snap of his fingers.

“is that what this is about?”

it earns him another scoff. heeseung had a habit of dodging accountability, like when he had promised to take you to the fair during summer because you had been wanting to go and it would be ending soon and the day that you were supposed to go, the last day of the fair being in town, heeseung ghosted you.

something about how he was caught up with something and when you told him that a simple text would’ve been fine but instead he left you hanging the whole day, he got angry. he accused you of not being considerate of him and how you were so demanding, making you question your actions toward him. forcing you to believe that you were the one in the wrong in the situation and you should be more grateful to have him by your side.

“you’re jealous over some girl? i don’t even fucking know her name!”

“and yet you had your hands around her waist, heeseung don’t try to fool me. i know what i saw.”

heeseung wipes his face in annoyance, small droplets of alcohol flying off of him when he swipes his hand. the argument goes on for what seems like hours. that tiny bathroom at this party was able to block out anything and everything that wasn’t on your side of the wooden door. heeseung had never yelled at you this way and you hadn’t ever spoken in that way before so you sounded unfamiliar to yourself.

you couldn’t even recognize yourself anymore. the mirror behind heeseung casting your reflection that was slightly obstructed by his broad shoulders.

your skin was dull and sunken in areas that casted a large shadow. your eyes didn’t sparkle the way they used to and it felt like you were withering away. like your body was showing you the consequences of your actions by turning you into someone you didn’t recognize.

maybe that was why heeseung was with another girl.

you weren’t as beautiful as you were the day he first laid eyes on you.

heeseung was in the middle of ranting and letting his frustration out but you had long drowned him out. your reflection in the mirror garnering all of your attention and before you could let that unsettling feeling sink into your chest, you turn on your feet and exit the bathroom, leaving heeseung stunned by your actions. alone in that bathroom that was starting to suffocate you.

you ran out of the house before heeseung could follow you, not wanting to give him a chance to catch up, so you push through the endless crowds of people who know nothing of the chaos brewing inside of you.

the night was still when you stepped outside, like all of the events happening in this tiny house was suddenly gone and it was just you and the dark of night.

the walk home was long but you weren’t completely alone.

you had your thoughts to accompany you. your thoughts that continued to spin like a spindle and weave your thoughts into something destructive. spiraling your mind with each step you took that brought you further from heeseung and closer to the comfort of your bed.

maybe you deserved this. you knew all too well all of the sinful things that you’ve committed since meeting heeseung and he only encouraged them. it was ironic that the two of you first met at church and you hadn’t even attended sunday mass for the last month or so. it was like you were losing track of time and had to rely on heeseung solely to guide you through this land.

but here you were now, walking through the streets at night, like a mindless zombie yet you were so absorbed with the countless things swimming in your brain. several thoughts overlapping with one another, anxiety guiding the thoughts to the front of your head and dread holding them firm.

the black ink of the ivory pages told you of this.

that temptation and desire worked hand in hand in corrupting the least suspecting people.

heeseung came to you in a time of your life where you had nothing. your life wasn’t bad nor was it good, you were merely just living to live and it showed in your everyday routine. heeseung came to you as something you didn’t know you even desired to have.

you didn’t realize you were crying until a gust of wind blew past you and you felt the chilling sensation of moisture on your cheeks. you wipe your tears away with a sniffle and see the back of your hand was now covered in runny mascara.

was it always going to be like this with heeseung?

you were exhausted and you didn’t know if you could get through it. heaven was so close when you were with heeseung but hell was always in the shadows. he knew how to bring the best things in life to you but it was like he knew how to break you just as well.

the more you realized you didn’t recognize yourself anymore, the more apparent it became that all of these unfamiliar things were laced with heeseung’s temptation and desire for you. he introduced you to your first taste of temptation when he reached his hand out for yours and promised that what he had planned for you would be something you’d grow addicted to.

heeseung was your temptation and your desire was infecting your mind and soul.

you had been walking for so long yet home still feels so far away. as you pass a small field, a singular tree at the center of the field calls out to you, like a siren’s melody luring in a fisherman. you find yourself resting at the tree, a sense of deja vu washing over you when you feel the jagged exterior of the tree’s bark.

when your head falls back onto the wood, an apple falls into your lap, slightly startling you.

you look at the apple with confusion as it lays in your hands, turning it over and dropping it with a gasp when you see the underside of the apple has begun to rot. a caterpillar burrowing through the apple and taking it all for itself. the caterpillars' desires are tempted by the sweet and addictive taste of the apple.

a low hissing noise circles you, unsure of where the noise is coming from, you try your best to find where it’s coming from but with the current state of your body and mind paired with the darkness of night makes it difficult to see anything that wasn’t right in front of you.

in the shadows, not too far away– a green snake stalks your body. eyes red and fiery with dark elliptical pupils down the center. waiting for the right time to mark you as his.

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @manaah02 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy @enhastolemyheart @starcandybby @bussolares @lovelymelon

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

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cigarettesuga · 2 months ago

Text

꒰꒰⠀⠀⠀mind if i stay?⠀✸⠀(⠀ ksj ⠀)

pairing: roommate!seokjin × f!reader

genre: college au, roommates to lovers, smut, fluff, comfort, tiny bit of angst (barely)

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), size kink (he’s huge, you’re tiny), softdom!jin, heavy praise, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb irl), begging, desperation, oral (f receiving), light overstimulation, body worship, creampie, casual cuddles after, jin being a literal menace and an angel at the same time, lowercase style, cursing

word count: ~2.7k

summary: you’re jin’s roommate. you’re also kinda in love with him. when a shitty date leaves you pissed and sad, jin’s there — soft, patient, and way too big to be anything but dangerous. (spoiler: you don’t mind getting a little wrecked.)

lu's note: hey there, just hopped in here to say that im still trying to figure out how to write explicit content and somehow make it work with my personal style of writing (which is kinda moody), i don't think i've achieved that just yet, bare with me. hopefully you still enjoy it!

m.list | latest

you slam the front door harder than necessary. your keys clatter against the side table. you’re two seconds away from screaming into a pillow like a cartoon character.

"bad date?" jin calls from the living room, lazy and amused.

you don't answer. mostly because you’re too busy kicking off your shoes and stomping toward the kitchen like the floor insulted you personally.

"i’ll take that as a yes," he grins, voice floating behind you.

you’re halfway through pouring yourself a glass of water when you realize:

he’s not sitting on the couch like usual. he’s leaning against the doorframe. watching you.

he’s wearing a baggy white tee and gray sweatpants. hair messy. glasses slipping down his nose.

and he looks —

fuck.

he looks good. like he rolled out of bed straight into your favorite daydream. you hate that your heart stutters. you hate that your stomach flips. you hate that no shitty tinder boy has ever made you feel half as alive as jin does just standing there, breathing the same air as you.

"what happened?" he asks, voice softer now.

not teasing. real.

you sigh, shoulders sagging.

"he was an asshole."

"want me to beat him up?" he offers immediately, like it’s a normal tuesday night activity.

you laugh in spite of yourself, the sound brittle and sharp.

"nah. not worth the energy."

jin tilts his head. studies you like he’s memorizing every line of your face.

then:

"you okay?"

you swallow. nod.

"liar," he says gently.

you slam the water down and it splashes over your hand. jin’s there in half a second, grabbing a paper towel, brushing his fingers against yours.

"don’t waste your tears on some loser," he says. his thumb grazes your knuckles. "you’re way too good for that."

your throat tightens. you hate how easily he cracks you open.

"stop being nice to me," you whisper.

"why?"

because i’ll fall harder.

because i already have.

because i can’t take it anymore.

you don’t say any of that.

you just stare at him — at his warm brown eyes, his stupidly perfect lips, the soft pink flush blooming under his skin — and something inside you snaps.

you surge forward.

kiss him.

messy, desperate, no plan, no permission.

he catches you like he was waiting for it.

like he’s been holding his breath this whole time.

his hands land heavy on your hips, anchoring you there. he kisses you back slow, deep, his mouth opening against yours like he’s letting you in — no hesitation, no fear.

his body is huge compared to yours, towering over you, swallowing you up, and he barely even touches you but you feel it everywhere.

you break away, gasping.

"fuck," you pant. "sorry, i’m sorry—"

"hey," jin murmurs, tipping your chin up.

"don’t apologize."

his thumb brushes your lower lip, eyes dark and patient and hungry.

he licks his own lips like he’s thinking about tasting you again.

"you sure about this?" he asks.

"more sure than anything," you breathe.

his grin is slow and devastating.

"good," he says. "because i’ve been going crazy living with you."

before you can even process that, he’s picking you up — literally lifting you like it’s nothing — and carrying you to the couch.

you yelp.

he laughs, setting you down so gently you could cry.

"relax," he says, tugging off your jacket, your shirt, your everything.

"let me take care of you."

your body is buzzing, every nerve ending on fire. you’re suddenly, painfully aware of how big he is. not just tall — built. broad chest, thick arms, solid thighs. he could snap you in half without trying.

the thought makes you ache.

when he strips his shirt off, you swear you lose brain function. smooth skin, strong lines, a tiny mole dotting his collarbone. you want to bite him. you want to worship him.

but jin just smiles — all knowing and sweet — and sinks to his knees in front of you like you’re the goddamn masterpiece.

"jin…" you whisper, thighs trembling.

he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. then higher. and higher.

"you’re so small," he says, voice wrecked. "so fucking pretty."

you whimper.

he’s so careful with you. hands firm but gentle, lips soft and sure as he kisses up your thighs. when he finally mouths over your panties — slow and deliberate — you gasp so hard you almost fall back against the couch.

"easy, baby," jin chuckles.

"i got you."

he slides the fabric down your legs and tosses it aside.

then he just…stares.

"fuck," he mutters. "look at you."

you squirm under his gaze, cheeks burning.

he leans in and licks a stripe up your folds — slow, filthy, perfect.

you arch off the couch immediately, a broken moan tearing from your chest.

"taste so good," he growls.

he eats you out like he’s starving.

no rush. no hesitation.

just steady, thorough, focused.

you’re babbling, gasping, grabbing at his hair — and he just holds your thighs open, hums against you, keeps going until you’re shaking.

"jin — i’m gonna —"

he pulls back just enough to say:

"good. wanna feel you fall apart, pretty girl."

you shatter.

hard.

with a cry so loud you’re vaguely aware the neighbors might call someone. you’re still trying to catch your breath when he kisses back up your body, mouthing at your chest, your neck, your jaw.

"wanna fuck you so bad," he pants against your skin.

"gonna stretch you out so good, baby. you can take it, right?"

you nod frantically, tears pricking your lashes.

"words," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"yes, jin, yes, i want you," you sob. "please."

he groans — a deep, low sound that vibrates against your ribs. he shoves his sweatpants down and — holy shit.

he’s big.

like, unreal.

you whimper without meaning to. he chuckles — sweet and cocky.

"don’t worry," he says, lining himself up.

"i’ll go slow."

and he does.

he pushes in inch by inch, stopping every few seconds to kiss you, to whisper how good you’re doing, how pretty you are, how perfect you feel.

you’re stretched so wide, full to the point of tears, but it’s good.

it’s so good.

it’s jin.

it’s everything you didn’t know you needed.

when he’s fully seated inside you, he drops his forehead to yours, breathing hard.

"fuck, baby," he rasps.

"you feel like heaven."

he starts to move — slow, deep thrusts that make you whimper into his mouth.

he holds your hips, your waist, your face —

keeps you right there, tethered to him.

you cling to him, nails scratching his back. you chant his name like a prayer. he kisses every new tear that spills down your cheeks.

"too much?" he asks, pulling back to look at you.

"no," you gasp. "more. need more."

he smiles — proud and wrecked — and starts fucking you harder.

not rough — never rough — just deep. perfect. like he wants you to feel him for days.

you come again embarrassingly fast.

and again after that.

until you’re trembling, gasping, mindless.

he presses his forehead to yours again, chest heaving.

"gonna cum inside you," he pants.

"want you to feel me."

you nod, too gone to care about anything else.

with a broken groan, he spills inside you, hips grinding down, pushing it deep.

you shudder, overwhelmed.

he doesn’t move right away. just stays there, breathing you in. when he finally pulls out, you whimper at the emptiness. he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips — everywhere.

"good girl," he whispers.

"you did so good for me."

you feel like you could cry all over again. he scoops you up against his chest, wraps a blanket around you both. presses lazy kisses to your temple.

"jin?" you mumble.

"yeah, baby?"

"mind if i stay here tonight?"

he laughs — low and happy — and pulls you closer.

"you’re never sleeping anywhere else again."

⠀

quietly, always © cigarettesuga

⠀

#cigarettesuga writes.#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jin x reader #bts imagines #bts suga #seokjin #bts smut #bts seokjin #bts au #bts jin #jin smut

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hobeemin · 3 months ago

Text

low tumble

👕 genre(s): pwp, s2l, fluff (sort of)

👕 pairing(s): song mingi x (f)reader nicknamed sparkles

👕 summary: a late laundry session isn't the only thing happening...

👕 rating: 21+

👕 warning(s): swearing, light teasing, slight jealousy, oral (f receiving), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, fingering, doggy style, choking, light dom! Mingi, cum shots, squirting

👕 word count: 1.9k

👕 credits: special thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading this! i appreciate it!! 💜💜💜 to @kpop---scenarios, thank you for reading it

banner resources found here: 1, 2, 3

👕 a/n: im not sorry i wrote this lol. enjoy!

She mumbled to herself, adding the powdered detergent to the compartment and gently closing it. Then, she placed the clothes in the washing machine, tapping her foot as she set the time and settings.

“Shit!”

She shook her head and added the scent beads– her favorite scent, meadow rain–before finally starting the machine.

She almost didn't hear the door open as someone entered. Grabbing her laundry basket, she nearly ran into someone.

“I’m s–”

His smirk alone almost made her weak in the knees…almost. Dark hair hung low; glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose as his brown eyes twinkled mischievously. Donned in a black t-shirt and grey sweats, he looked comfortable.

Stop looking down at that outline.

“Hey, Sparkles,” he greeted.

That instantly took her out of the fog. She tried not to roll her eyes at the nickname he lovingly dubbed her.

“Hey, Mingi,” she grumbled.

He smiled at her, adjusting the bag slung over his shoulder. “You’re up late.”

She quirked her brow, finally looking up at him. “So are you.”

He shrugged, slipping past her, and walked to the other washing machine. “Okay, good point.”

This was their weekly repertoire. Ever since she met him six months ago after she moved into the duplex, he has always had something clever to say to her. Once he noticed the glitter on her skin, he couldn’t help but call her Sparkles. Since then, the name stuck.

Though he never questioned why her skin was covered in glitter. She was still surprised he hadn’t asked her why.

Maybe that’s why there was a slight attraction. It was obvious what she did–dancer by trade, an exotic dancer. Nowadays, there wasn't stigma against it, and it certainly paid her bills. Was it a lifelong career? No, but it was helping her get to her end goal; graduate school couldn’t pay for itself.

“How’s the writing going?”

From the occasional noise, she gathered he was into the music business, and once he mentioned a deadline at one point, they’d make small talk about his progress from time to time.

Much to her surprise, he spoke again as he separated his clothing. The timbre in his voice alone could make her weak.

“Got a bit of a mental block and needed a break, to be honest.”

She set her basket down and leaned against the counter. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Don't you, Sparkles?”

“I hate that name.”

Mingi smirked again, pressing the button to start up the washing machine. “Hate is such a strong word. Secretly, I think you like it.”

“Whatever. I’m wasting precious nap time chatting with you,” she replied.

His lips formed into a pout as he turned to stare at her. “You don’t wanna keep me company down here?”

“You’re an adult, Song. I think you can handle it.”

He always admired her attitude. That sass was undoubtedly a turn-on for him. The pajama shorts she wore were a bonus, but her personality kept him interested.

“What a shame. I always enjoy your company,” he said with a heavy sigh.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes again. “From what I can tell, Mingi, you have no trouble keeping company.”

He coughed as his face turned scarlet with embarrassment. She snickered, seeing his expression. But it was true. He had a revolving door into his place. Those ladies always left with satisfied expressions on their faces.

And she envied them.

She frowned, shaking the thoughts away. Whatever. The last thing she needed was something complicated.

And yet…

Nope, don’t do it

Yes, do it…at least ten times.

“Oh, shut up,” she growled.

“What was that?”

She let out a forced laugh. “Nothing.”

Thankfully, the chime went off, signaling that the washing machine had finished. She scooted past him, unloading her clothes into one of the open dryers, adding a few dryer sheets before twisting the knob to seventy minutes. She drummed her acrylic nails on the lid, debating whether to stay or leave. She could at least get a power nap before her clothes dried if she hustled.

She almost didn’t hear Mingi approach until she felt a shadow cast over her.

“Does it bother you?”

She nearly jumped before turning to face him with a scowl. “Jeez! Give me a heart attack, why don’t ya!”

He grinned, sinking his hands deep into his pockets. “Sorry, Sparkles.”

“You just won’t quit.”

“You never answered my question,” he noted.

Her lips pursed in annoyance as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Have I ever told you that you’re annoying?”

“Many times, but you’re stalling.”

If only she could slap that smug look off his face–not really, but the thought made her giggle. He wouldn’t let it go, and shame on her for even bringing it up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stepped closer, breathing in the light floral scent surrounding her. He could stand there for hours just being in her presence. He whispered her name, which made her eyes widen. He seldom used it.

“Seriously, does it bother you when I have company?”

She bit down on her lip, trying to avoid his gaze. “I couldn’t care less. Do what you want. You’re a grown-ass man.”

Mingi shook his head in disbelief. “Sparkles, you really are clueless.”

“Excuse me?”

She was on the defense, ready to push past him and return to her room.

“I want you.”

Oh shit.

She blinked once, then twice. Did she hear him correctly? He reached out and ran his finger on her hand.

“You ain't dreamin’, Sparkles. I want you. Always have since the moment we met. Was it physical at first? Yeah, but I realized I wanted to get to know you before any of that.”

“Mingi–”

He took that as a sign to hold her hand gently. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I really like you and–”

She gripped the front of his hoodie and pressed her lips against his, finally silencing him. Mingi recovered from the shock and wrapped her in his arms, the outline growing as he pressed against her body. She tugged at his waistband, smiling coyly.

“We can talk later. Right now, I want to know what made that company leave with smiles on their faces.”

He bit down on his lip, hands sliding down to her backside and squeezing handfuls in greed.

“I can do that,” he whispered. Giving her backside a generous smack as she jumped, his eyes darkened with desire.

“Turn around,” he instructed.

Wordlessly, but with shaky legs, she turned around, placing her elbows on the dryer—the rumbling sounds adding to her excitement.

Mingi nodded in approval, stepping close to her, encircling her waist, and kissing the spot between her ear and neck. Her knees almost gave out as she let out a shaky moan. He kneeled, hands touching and teasing as he went. Mingi squeezed her ass cheeks lovingly, taking in the view.

“Mind if I get a better view?”

“Help yourself,” she answered breathlessly.

Without any hesitation, Mingi pulled her shorts down until they were down below her knees.

“Damn,” he muttered, staring with admiration.

Skin smooth and plump to the touch. He placed two chaste kisses on her backside, groaning with desire. As much as he wanted this to last, he made a promise, and he intended to keep it. Pulling the tiny black thong aside, Mingi dove in, tongue lapping at her core hungrily.

“Fuck!”

She gripped the machine, trying to stay upright. She could see stars as he got his fill; she pushed her ass back, giving him better access. Mingi coated his fingers, pressing them at her entrance, sliding them inside her pussy as he suckled her clit relentlessly.

“You taste heavenly, baby,” he cooed, fingers coaxing out more animalistic sounds from her.

Her orgasm came fast and hard; she barely had time to prepare. Mingi's face was glazed with her essence as he pulled away, licking his lips, letting her recover.

But that didn’t last long. He stood up, pulling his sweats and boxers down enough for his cock to spring out. He sighed, finally free of the confines.

“Still with me, Sparkles?” he inquired, stroking her lower back gently.

“Mhmm,” she stuttered.

“Good. Cause I wanna see if you feel as good as you tasted,” he teased.

She mewled with want, feeling herself get aroused even more.

“I don’t have any protection,” he warned.

“Just do it. I’m on the pill,” she hissed.

He lined up at her entrance, guiding his head in carefully. He held her in place as she squirmed until they both exhaled at being joined. Mingi ran his hands along her side, waiting for her to give permission.

She looked over her shoulder, licking her lips at him.

“Do it.”

He pulled back until only the tip was visible and thrust back in. She let out a strangled cry. Skin-slapping, grunts, and curses resonated throughout the tiny room. Mingi was in a state of euphoria. She felt so warm and snug around him. He didn’t want it to end. She was leaps and bounds ahead of any woman he’d been with.

Secretly, he hoped this wasn’t just a one-shot. He really did like her. He focused his attention back on her, gripping her hips as he pounded her so hard and good. Her eyes rolled back as she felt his fingers tickle the skin on her neck.

“C-choke me,” she whispered.

He put pressure around her throat as he kept a steady rhythm. For the second time that night, Mingi sent her into another little death. She cried out as he felt her squirt, coating his legs and the floor. He pulled out, jerking himself off until his seed splashed onto her ass and legs. Groaning softly as he leaned to the side, the silence fell between them. Gaining some strength, she looked over at him with a giggle.

“Well damn, Mr. Song.”

He laughed, biting his lip as he grabbed some paper towels to clean them up. “I’ll take that as a thank you.”

He assisted her with putting her clothes back on. Once they were somewhat decent, they sank into the chairs up against the wall.

She propped her legs over his lap and closed her eyes for a spell. He caressed her legs, humming to himself.

The buzzer on the dryer gave a warning, making her open her eyes. With a frown, she removed herself from the chair, grabbed her laundry basket, and went to get her clothes out.

Mingi felt nervous all of a sudden. The last thing he wanted was for whatever this was to end.

“Sparkles?”

She looked up from folding her clothes to meet his gaze. “Yeah?”

Now, he couldn’t get any words out. “Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.”

She smiled, giving him a nod. “I did.”

He stood, stepping closer to her. “M-Maybe we could make this like a recurring thing.”

She cocked her head from side to side, observing his expression.

“That’s a possibility.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

She stopped folding and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him briefly, wiping the lip gloss from his lips.

“I’m kind of selfish. I don’t think I wanna share you with anyone else.”

He laughed, returning her kiss just as his dryer's buzzer went off.

“My thoughts exactly.”

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #ksmutsociety #illusionnet #lapydiariesnet #ateez #song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez oneshot #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi oneshot

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love-toxin · 10 months ago

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THANK U. gush i absolutely will! and ill probably have to rewatch it now. but oh my god. the way eric would probably not want to have sex for the longest time even after u eventually get together (which would take a LONG TIME TOO!) patience is fr key. like probably out of guilt and SHAME but also cause he’s a gentleman. blushes cutely……. like i hadn’t even thought about that because hes an actual Good person who knows that love/relationships is about more than fucking but….. 🫣🫣 damn. need him fr

oh he'd be SO conflicted about it mrrrrrrghhh!!!! im going OFF-

love the thought of it eating him up inside. it takes so long for him to even speak to you, longer to get to know you, and when you fall for him like he has for you it suddenly feels like he's getting in too deep. it's not that he realized he doesn't love you because he does, he's got it bad for you, but he feels so guilty about even thinking of you in that light. you have an innocence about you that he's long lost and to imagine ripping that away from you, regardless of whether you're virginal or not, just makes him sick to his stomach. and he doesn't want to push you. god, that's the last thing he would ever want to do.

truthfully, he figured that since his body is immortal now, he wouldn't get those urges that he'd get as a mortal. he doesn't need to eat, or drink, or sleep, so it stands to reason that he wouldn't feel the need for sex either. it almost guts him when he realizes he does. when you brush against him or purse your lips or just say something a little off-colour, and he feels a tightening in his groin and a flush up his neck. he practically speeds out of your house in a panic the first time he feels it because he doesn't know what to do about it--how he's supposed to act around you when you don't have that kind of relationship yet. acknowledge it, ignore it, repress it, there's plenty of options but no real solutions.

what if he hurts you? what if you feel guilted into doing things with him, just because of his circumstances? just because you care for him so much? or what if he hurts you physically, because he still doesn't have the perfect grasp on his own, inhuman strength?

but then, when the time comes where you bring it up, Eric sinks down to his knees to look up at you. those brown eyes just radiate warmth, love, and he gently ghosts his palms over your hips with the most adoring "I love you" you've ever heard off his lips. if you want it, he wants you to direct it--you don't have to take control, but you get to decide each and every movement he makes. when he touches you, even for a fleeting moment, you have all the power.

Eric starts off slow. baby steps. first it's a few touches to your neck, kisses that feel hungry as he mouths at the delicate skin, but only faintly graze his teeth over a thin barrier. he squeezes your thigh one day as you're driving and retracts his hand almost instantly, he thinks he grabbed too hard--but you slowly pull his fingers back to rest there and his worries are soothed at once, though his heart jumps up into his throat. although progress is steady he still has flashbacks and night terrors sometimes, and they're almost always so vivid he wakes up in a cold sweat or has to stop in his tracks and just breathe. the people who hurt Shelly are dead. he's here to protect you now. you're safe. nothing bad is going to happen to you. he has to repeat that mantra to himself to calm himself down, and sometimes you have to come and remind him as you hold his hand and hug his head to your chest.

it isn't until one night, when you've been nosing his cheek and kissing him more than usual, that Eric starts touching you back. normally he would lay back and enjoy your attention because it's a sort of ritual for you before bed, but this time he just feels it. it's time. he can do it. as he climbs over you you reassure him that if anything happens--if you change your mind, or if he realizes he's not actually ready--you can stop, no questions asked, and just cuddle. but he can sense in the tightness of his body that it really is time, and he really is ready for this. he's neglected you for too long but he's recovering from the guilt of that, now it's just the thrum of excitement humming through his body as he strips yours down for the first time.

as strange as it is, he's happy that he doesn't see Shelly when he looks at you anymore. he used to see her face in flashes when he was close to you, and the shame had burned him alive for so long. she was his love and his everything, his bride that never was, and despite his growing feelings for you he'd struggled not to see her in everything you did. it wasn't fair to you and it was part of the reason he stayed in the shadows for so long, keeping an eye on you but not getting close. it's why he planned to never speak to you in person and simply watch over you like a shadow, from the shadows, where he belonged. it was only once he'd seen your personality shine through over the months that his view of you started to separate, and now after long conversations and your endless patience he can fully put his heart into you without constantly thinking of Shelly in the back of his mind. he recalls when you brought him to her grave with flowers, your smile so wide and sweet when you asked him questions about her, wanting to keep her memory alive for him--and it drives him down between your legs, those pent-up feelings lashing out with his tongue as he finally brings himself to indulge.

you're just so beautiful, so good to him, so....alive. your kindness may be a weakness but it fills him with strength, it makes him crave you in a way that has your hips rising off the bed and your thighs squeezing his ears, muffling out all sound except your moans and the wet shlick of his tongue inside you. your fingers threading through his hair drives him wild. if his mouth wasn't full he'd plead with you to pull it. but you don't have to have everything lined up right now, it's just about exploring--although he'll have a lot more of your body mapped out than you will of his, because he can't help it, you just taste so good. he may not need to be satiated in body anymore, but something in your arousal feeds him as if it's the fount of his power itself. like he was drinking from the fountain of youth, hidden all this time between your angelic legs.

he won't even get into penetration tonight; you'll be too exhausted once he's finished the banquet between your hips, and he'll barely know his own name aside from you screaming it. neither of you are really concerned with it though, because this is your love, and nobody else's. he's almost too sensitive to touch when he crawls up beside you and you reach down, fingertips lightly grazing his stomach until you brush against him and he hisses through his teeth. his instinct is to draw your hand away but he hides his face in your neck when you grip him, clutching on to you for dear life to keep from squirming away from the attention. he wants it. he just can't look you in the eyes while he takes it, because he knows it's been so long and you smell so good that he'll bust before he even knows it's happening.

but it's easy to tell where he's at by the twitches in your palm, the little jets of clear liquid that startle you as they splash on your hand. he seems to breathe with every pulse of his cock as it spasms for dear life, aching for your fingers that stroke him with such effortless adoration. his hold on you grows harder and firmer the more you give him that attention, and with an especially slick twist he's buckling, humping your grip with soft gasps, mumbling nonsense into your neck until he finally hits his stride and shoots his load all over your pretty belly.

it takes him awhile--a long, great while--to eventually work up the strength to lift his head and look. his work is messy and unprofessional, emblematic of a man barely held together by threads, and yet you look back at him with such sweetness he can't help feeling more fragile in your arms.

"I love you." you whisper into his ear, brushing a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead and tucking it behind. and for the first time, the first time in a very, very long time, Eric finally believes it.

#im actually kinda proud of this ngl....go me! <3 #eric draven #eric draven x reader #spicy writing #the crow #the crow (1994)#ellie writes #anons

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angellic4l · 5 months ago

Text

don't hate the player - d.m

massive thank you’s to @esote-rika @wheresmacoffee @notlongtolove @floraisunwell @mggslover my absolute angels!!!

in which; fem!bau!reader goes to a jazz bar and bumps into the last person she’d ever want to see

content: flirty!derek, fem!bau!reader, angst!!, they fight sort of, reader hates morgan (i promise there’s a point to this) mentions of sex but no one does anything, swearing, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress and heels

2.5k

a/n: i see basically no derek fics unless its smut (i dont read that) so i’m showing him some love!! i will continue with spencer fics im just stressing trying to write my ideas for him. kisses!!!

One of the girls’ playlists was blaring in the big bedroom, ‘Cool For The Summer’ reverberating off of the creme walls as each of you were primping and priming yourselves. Hair tools plugged in and on, makeup bags half empty with their contents spread throughout the room, and mirrors almost everywhere.

The night had been planned weeks in advance, and you were lucky enough to get the whole day off instead of having to use a sick day. It was one of your friends’ 27th birthday, and the first time you’d been out with your friends for a while, so all of you were buzzing with excitement.

She wanted to go to a jazz club, to ‘experience that ‘20s aesthetic’, in her words. You absolutely couldn’t wait to be celebrating your friend in a jazz bar, imagining soulful music as the soundtrack to your night, espresso martinis, and just having fun with your friends while you got ready.

Once done fixing your hair, you turned off the curler and unplugged it, setting it back on the heat proof mat before grabbing your hung up dress from the top of a door. You changed in the bathroom, stepping into the dress so as not to mess up your hair. It was the perfect mix of elegant yet sexy, form-fitting in the right places, but not too much skin on show to be deemed inappropriate.

After taking photos with and of the birthday girl, and then a group photo of you all on a polaroid camera, a taxi was ordered to the house. Excitement gathered in your stomach, the realisation that you were actually going out for the first time in forever, to celebrate one of your closest friends’ birthday no less, setting in and making you feel giddy.

As you all walked into the jazz club, you were greeted with a dimly lit room, illuminated with orange lighting to give it that cozy, intimate atmosphere. Red brick walls, decorated with vinyls, paintings, and wall lamps, were lined with brown leather booths. The sweet symphony of the saxophone softly sailed through the place before settling in your ears.

For the first time in a while, you felt alive, truly alive. Of course, working in high stake situations, apprehending some of the worst criminals known to man, and acting in life or death situations constantly fills you with adrenaline. That would be considered as feeling alive by most people, but it isn’t.

In this moment, you felt electric. You were on a high, not because of adrenaline, but because of pure euphoria. The atmosphere was welcoming, intimate, and so full of passion. You and your friends were all sat around a table sharing anecdotes, laughing, drinking, and just having fun. There was nothing to worry about, no nerves about a phone call from Hotch, no having to filter what you say.

It was pure bliss, everything you’d been missing for a while, and you felt like nothing and no one could bring you down from this peak.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Being so in the moment with your friends, enjoying good gossip and reminiscing on your uni days together, meant that you weren’t really checking the time, nor did you care to. Subconsciously though, you figured it had been at least an hour since you’d arrived; 12 five minute songs had been performed, give or take.

Everyone was taking turns buying rounds, the group had agreed on it before the night. It was your turn to buy everyone’s drinks now. The bar was popular, but it wasn’t packed like a club was, and for that you were thankful. Carrying a tray of drinks back to the table, in heels no less, would’ve been a nightmare.

Standing at the deep brown, oak bar, waiting for the drinks, you watch your friends laughing and giggling. The contentment you felt still hadn’t gone away, coursing through your body as if it were inside every red blood cell, depositing this gleeful energy with each pump of your heart. A few moments pass before you turn your attention back to the bar, leaning on it ever so slightly, observing how the drinks are made.

Suddenly, you feel a presence to the side of you, but you figure it’s just another patron buying a drink. Then, there’s a voice. An all too familiar voice that seems to not only pull you down from your euphoric high, but plummet you deep into the depths of anger, too.

“Pretty girl, fancy seeing you here,” he almost sings and you can hear the arrogant smirk on his face without even turning to face him.

“Morgan. Please, for the love of all things good, do not talk to me,” you try to remain as civil as possible, he hasn’t actually done anything yet, and you’re not horrible.

Derek raises his hands in some mock surrender, but his smirk never wavers. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to humble him, wipe that smirk off of his face, and bring his ego down a few notches. Immensely gratifying, you’d decided a while ago.

To put it simply, Derek Morgan was everything you hated about men in today’s society. He was a cocky, arrogant, bastard with little to no regard for people’s feelings. And the worst thing? He talked about women as if they were conquests, notches in his bedpost, trophies for his fucking shelf. It pissed you off to no end, how he could act like the women he ‘dated’ or slept with weren’t real people who deserved basic human decency.

But, you worked with him, day in and day out, and you weren’t about to lose your job over someone as insufferable as him. Besides, as much as you could hate his self proclaimed ‘CasaNova’ ways, he was damn good at his job, and he hadn’t done anything to you directly. He was fully unaware of the stance you’d taken against him, and he hadn’t done anything to require you airing out your grievances. Yet.

A long suffering sigh escapes your gloss coated lips as you come to terms with these facts, realising you can’t be hostile to your coworker, even if you’re not at work, because he doesn’t even know you have a problem with him.

“Look, Morgan, I’m sorry for that, but I’m here with my friends, celebrating, and I want absolutely nothing to do with work right now,” you murmur, still leaning across the bar.

“Look, mama, I get it. Jus’ didn’t wanna be rude, that’s all,” his tone is soft, softer than you’ve ever heard Morgan speak, and it’s filled with understanding. To say you’re shocked would be an understatement.

The pair of you exchange small smiles, a fleeting farewell, before he grabs his drink and leaves. Maybe you’ve misunderstood him, even if you don’t agree with what he stands for, and maybe you’ve been too impulsive with your initial judgements. Derek Morgan is a dick, but maybe he isn’t always a dick.

Drinks are passed around the table, manicured hands grabbing at various coloured liquids in different shaped glasses. Euphoria is long gone after your interaction with Derek, no longer on that high of serenity but in a sea of uncertainty. You won’t let yourself be a Debby downer on your friend’s birthday, though. Being a profiler means knowing all of your own tells, so you mask them well, putting up a front of glee until it isn’t fake anymore.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Jazz music speaks to the soul, transcending all borders, dimensions, and whatever the hell else Reid talks about, to reach the quintessence of your being. Rhythmic notes reach deep until they’re at the core of you, becoming a balm to the very essence of yourself.

Being surrounded by something so passionate and deep works quickly to heighten your mood once more. The sea of uncertainty parts for serenity’s peak, the fake smile becoming real, and the way Derek’s surprising attitude had shifted your mood is washed away.

Out of nowhere, a server comes over to the table with a tray full of everyone’s exact orders, seemingly confident about the table number. She smiles at you, but your brow furrows with confusion.

“Oh, these can’t be for us, I just bought drinks,” you explain, confusion painting your face even more, bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and a small wrinkle in between your eyebrows.

“No, no, they are! That guy over there just ordered them all for you. Don’t worry, he didn’t touch them, just bought ‘em,” the server explains, pointing to none other than Derek Morgan, sitting at the bar.

All of the girls’ heads whip over to look in his direction, finding the man sitting on a bar stool next to his friends, but his attention isn’t on any of the guys. Instead, his gaze is on you, a soft smile playing at his lips, watching expectantly. For what, you don’t know, but it seems shady. If you know anything about Derek, it’s that he doesn’t do things that don’t benefit him directly. God, it’s almost too predictable, sending drinks to a table of pretty girls, hoping to luck out and get some.

Clearly, your own friends don’t share the same sentiment, because there’s a chorus of ‘awh’s once they recognise him as Derek. None of them have met him before, but they’ve seen pictures, having stalked each of the BAU members after your transfer request had been accepted.

The birthday girl says your name, almost as if you’d personally offended her, while hitting your arm lightly. For a moment, you’re afraid Derek sending you all drinks genuinely did offend her, but she’s speaking before the worry takes root.

“You didn’t tell us he was hot! My god, look at those muscles,” she raves, rolling her bottom lip beneath her teeth while staring at him past your head.

“Hot? You’re kidding, right? He’s awful.”

“He just bought us all drinks! That’s not awful, that’s lovely.”

“No, but he’s not actually like that. It’s just a ploy!”

“Not everyone has ulterior motives. I think you’re letting all that crime stuff get to your head.”

“You don’t see him like I see him, he’s really no-“ she cuts you off.

“Can I go for it? Am I his type?”

You actually have to bite back a scoff at that, because anyone that breathes is basically Derek Morgan’s type. He’s not good enough for your friend, not for any of them, but you know her well enough to see that she won’t listen to a bad word you say against him now. Truthfully, you’re resigned, you don’t care, it’s her choice. If she wants to make the bed and share it with him, she can lie in it, too.

“You’re stunning, of course you’re his type. Be my guest,” and the second the words are out of your mouth, she’s walking over to him like a lioness about to pounce on her prey.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

For the rest of the girls, two drinks becomes four, then shots, and before they know it they’re slurring their words, no longer making any sense. Of course, you’d come out tonight to celebrate your friend’s birthday, to have fun and let loose, but you also know that at least one of you needs to be somewhat sober.

Not to say you’re entirely sober, because your inhibitions are definitely a little loose, but it’s the kind of drunk that reduces your filter and boosts your confidence. You’re still in full control of yourself, just maybe not your mouth. Or your bladder’s strength, ever since you broke your seal.

Walking back from the bathrooms through a larger crowd than there was before isn’t too difficult, but the singer on stage now is semi-famous in the jazz world, so people are treating the bar like a concert, standing in your way. Succeeding in your mission to get through the crowd, your speed picks up once you’re in the clear, the clack of your heels becoming more frequent.

In your rush back to your friends, you aren’t properly taking in your surroundings, gaze trained on the table to ensure they’re all alright. Thus, you’re quickly met with something hard, prompting your foot to slip, and you stumble backwards.

A large hand reaches out quickly, grabbing your hip to stabilise you and resting there to make sure you’re alright.

“Watch your step, pretty girl,” the hand says and you know the voice too well, the nickname slipping off of his tongue like it’s nothing, and suddenly your eyes are on Derek Morgan’s face once more.

How fucking embarrassing.

“Oh gosh, ‘m so sorry, I didn’t even realise,” you rush out, not even thinking about the fact that the man you have a massive issue with has his hand on your hip still.

“Don’t apologise. You can push up on me anytime you want to, sweet thing,” his voice is smooth, tone suggestive, and the smirk on his face is one you’ve seen plenty of times before. When he’s talking to pretty female police officers on a case, after he gets a girl’s number, when he’s talking about his rendezvous to Rossi at work. The fact that it’s being directed at you makes you feel a bit sick, to be honest, and it’s definitely not the martinis.

Any and all uncertainty you had about Derek Morgan’s character is gone in a flash, as is the serenity, and is instead replaced by an overwhelming fire of rage because he is exactly what you thought he was. He’s a pig, a disgusting one at that, and no small one off conversation, or him buying your friends drinks, or how good he is with kids, or how great he is at the job will ever change that in your eyes.

While the alcohol may not be making you feel sick, it’s definitely doing a whole lot for this rage, feeding the flames and giving you the confidence to finally give Morgan a piece of your mind. However, you still have some semblance of self control and so, you hold back a little, but not completely.

“As if, Morgan.”

“Pretty girl, you don’t gotta play hard to get.”

His arrogance drips from every word that leaves his mouth, seeping from his pores like sap from a tree. The fact he genuinely believes that you aren’t saying no, is so full of himself he believes your dismissal is you ‘playing hard to get’ enrages you even more, fueling the fire of your rage for the last time. Grabbing his hand on your hip and shoving it off, you start talking, tone as bitter as ever.

“I am not playing hard to get, Morgan. I simply do not want you.”

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s all the hostility for?”

“Because you’re a classic player! You have no respect for women. You just think they’re there for you to fuck and move on.”

“You know what they say - ‘Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“No. I do hate the player. You’re a self centered, egotistical, whorish bastard who doesn’t see women as anything but notches on his fucking bedpost. You don’t have any fucking respect for anyone that isn’t beneficial to you. People are not pawns in your game, women are not queens waiting to be conquered. Grow the fuck up, Morgan.”

Your words wiped the stupid smirk right off of his stupid face, left him speechless and expressionless, like a deer in headlights. Like your words, you left him standing there too, heading back to your friends at the booth. You were right. It was immensely gratifying.

tags: @darkmatilda

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froggibus · 4 months ago

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Hay, I recently found your stuff on here. I really like your writing. I'm not really sure how the request works? I hope i'm doing it right:)

Can you do DC characters/Batboys finding readers self-harm scar's/marks and how they react

(I've struggled with self-harm off and on for a long time, and at least for me, I've kind of like thinking about how my favorite characters would react/try and support)

Also, if you do, can you do some about Mark some on the thighs. it's hard to find stuff about other then on the arms

Im dyslexic, so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense.

Leaping Into The Light - Batboys + Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Wally West x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.4k (Dick), 1.3k (Tim), 1.5k (Jason) and 1.2k (Wally)

Summary: their reaction when they see your old self-harm marks/scars

CW: mentions of self-harm (past), self-harm scars (thighs mostly), awkward conversations, embarrassment, mental health, allusions to depression and suicidal thoughts, injury & blood (not from SH), insomnia, nightmares, Wally walks in on you changing, maybe some corny dialogue, mentions of sensory problems, recovery and healing this is at least the second fic ive wrote where Jason brings you chinese food--no clue why.

hi lovely, hope you're doing alright :) so sorry its taken me so long to get to this, january was a bitch for me. i also struggled on and off with self-harm before starting this blog, so writing this was incredibly personal to me <3 thank you for requesting, and i want you to know that my inbox is always open if you ever need to vent i really wanted to go for a more recovery-based fic where you're healing. i wanted to show that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it does get better, we do recover. you will be okay.

Dick:

It’s a rare, sunny morning in Bludhaven when you wake up and stretch your limbs. The sunlight filtering through the window catches on the bare length of your arms, casting brilliant patterns across your skin.

A newfound warmth filters through your apartment as you pad across the wooden floors and make your way to the kitchen. The sunlight seems to follow you, dancing across walls, door handles and cupboards as if saying hello.

The sight of Dick Grayson hunched over a laptop greets you at the kitchen island, his black hair almost brown in the morning light.

He offers you a sleepy smile, “I made coffee.”

Your eyes move from his pyjama clad figure to the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter, tufts of steam still flowing from its spout. A smile breaks across your face, your eyes falling shut as you inhale the scent of fresh coffee.

Yeah, it’s going to be a good day.

Dick watches you from over the rim of his ‘World’s Best Detective’ coffee mug, blue eyes tracing your figure as you shuffle around the kitchen.

Dick watches as you cut open one of the croissants you’d picked up from the bakery yesterday and slather it in a generous coating of butter. He watches as you open the cupboard above the coffee machine, the one where you guys keep your dishes, and stretch up on your tippy toes to reach your favorite mug.

This is his favorite part of any day—watching you. The soft domesticity of the morning blankets him, soothes him. It’s his daily reminder that there’s still good in the world around him.

His eyes stay on you as your fingers brush the handle of your mug, tugging it towards you little by little. He watches as it slides to the edge, your fingers just barely grasping it and—shit. He watches as the mug falls from the cupboard, shattering on the edge of the counter into a dozen pieces, the largest of which embeds itself in your leg.

Everything happens so fast, you barely have any time to react. The ceramic shard slices through the leg of your pyjama pants and you keel over, clenching the skin of your thigh. The pain is searing and carries an unfortunate familiarity that has tears bubbling up in your eyes.

Dick’s at your side within seconds, an arm wrapping beneath your shoulders to keep you steady. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” You suck in a breath and risk glancing down at your leg, noting the splotch of red starting to soak through the fabric of your pants.

A sigh slips from your lips. So much for today being a good day.

Dick’s hand wraps around your own, positioning your fingers on either side of the wound. “Here,” he says calmly, “try and apply as much pressure as you can.”

Dick guides you to the bathroom with a steady confidence that only someone who’d trained under Bruce could have. He helps you onto the bathroom counter, your legs splayed out in front of him.

“Keep applying pressure,” he commands.

You watch as he ducks beneath you, rummaging through the cupboard to pull out the first aid kit you’ve seen him use countless times. A weak laugh bubbles up inside of you—usually it’s the other way around.

Dick holds up the kit triumphantly, dark strands of hair bouncing as he stands. He fixes you with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the familiar blue filled with concern.

You force a smile despite the aching skin of your thigh. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” you assure him. “It's just a flesh wound.”

It’s not the physical pain that has tears pricking your eyes and thoughts racing around your head. No, it’s the reminder that comes with it. The flashbacks of nights spent entirely alone, of nights where the world was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud.

Dick exhales in what seems to be a laugh, the tension in his shoulders falling. “Alright then,” he rubs his thumb along the seam of your pants, “let’s get these off before they get stained even more.”

You’re quick to agree, if only to not make him worry even more. You scoot to the edge of the counter and let Dick hook his thumbs into your waistband. The action is so casual but so intimate, and it has heat rushing through you.

The warm air of the apartment meets the bare skin of your thighs and Dick’s hands still. Realization flashes through you and by instinct alone, you grip the fabric of your pants and try to force it back up your legs. Dick catches your hands in his, gripping them just tightly enough to keep you from moving.

The pain of your wound is forgotten, replaced by a sudden surge of embarrassment. Your gaze lingers on your thighs, on the scarred skin that reminds you of the hardest time in your life.

Your mouth is impossibly dry as you force yourself to look at Dick. You expect disappointment, that annoying older brother look you’ve seen him use a thousand times. You’re wholly unprepared for the softness in his gaze, the kindness and warmth that radiates off him.

“Dick,” you say softly, ready to explain yourself. “It’s not…I’m not—”

You’re thankful when he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You scrunch your nose. “But—”

He brushes a thumb across the faded marks, his touch delicate and firm. “It’s alright. I know what these mean.” A new intensity flickers through his eyes, but as soon as you see it, it’s gone. “Let’s get you patched up.”

Dick kneels down and gets to work soaking up the blood while you stare at his working hands in confusion. You’d told him before about the hard times you went through, the mental state you were in.

That was part of the reason you moved in together—so Dick could help you and keep a better eye on you. But you’d never told him about the self-harm or the scars that speckled your skin.

Yet, his reaction is so normal it has your head spinning.

He finishes wiping up the blood and gets to work disinfecting it. The rubbing alcohol stings but the burn is quickly snuffed out by polysporin.

“It’s been a while.” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sometimes I still think about it, miss it, even. That probably sounds strange but…it’s hard sometimes.”

Dick glances up at you but says nothing.

“I-I have bad nights sometimes, and it’s all I can think about. But it helps. Living here with you, I mean. It helps.”

Dick secures a thick piece of gauze over the wound, patting it gently to ensure it stays in place. “You don’t have to hide it, you know.”

“I know, but—” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “You already have so much on your shoulders, with work and your family and…other things. The last thing I want to do is weigh you down even more.”

He rests his hands on your thighs and levels you with a serious look. “That’s ridiculous. The only thing that would hold me down is knowing that you’re hurting alone. You’re so incredibly important to me, how could you ever think you’d be a burden to me?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

“I want to take care of you, I want to help you.” He traces circles across your skin with his thumb, “I don’t want you dying in the dark, y/n.”

Tears prick your eyes once more, a heavy warmth settling into your chest. “Dick…”

“C’mere.”

He pulls you into his chest, settling between your legs at the counter. One of his hands wraps around your neck, petting the back of your head slowly.

“Just promise me this,” his voice is soft. “If it gets bad and you need help, promise you’ll reach out. Call me, come to me—whatever. We don’t even have to talk about it, just let me help you. Please.”

You nod quickly, burying your face further into his chest. Don’t want you dying in the dark, his words echo inside your head.

Within the warmth of his arms, you can’t help but feel that this is a step forward, and with Dick by your side, you’ll be leaping into the light in no time.

Jason:

It’s midnight when Jason Todd comes banging on your door, takeout bags in hand. Despite the late hour, he still sports his day clothes—grey cargo pants and a black compression shirt over a pair of combat boots.

Setting your book down on the couch, you stumble to the door as quickly as you can, if only to keep his incessant banging from waking your neighbours. You swing the door open and raise an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation.

“Hey.” He holds out the takeout bags for you to take, “have you eaten yet?”

“At midnight on a Saturday? Yes.”

In spite of yourself, you reach out and take the bags from his hands. You shuffle back into your home, gesturing to him to follow after you.

Jason shuts your door behind him and locks it in one, smooth motion that has you wondering if he’s been here one too many times. You try not to dwell on it, just like you try not to think about how easily he finds a spot on your shoe rack—the same one he always uses—and seats himself on a stool at your counter.

Jason watches while you unpack the takeout, cardboard containers billowing with steam lining your counters. The scent of fresh Chinese food fills the room, a heavy sort of comfort settling over it.

“So,” you say, propping yourself on your tiptoes to reach the last container in the bag, “what brings you over?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders falling heavily. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Just thought I’d check in.”

A frown flashes over your face but you quickly mask it with a tight lipped smile and a nod. It has been a while, and any hope that Jason wouldn’t notice is immediately snuffed out.

“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

It’s a half-truth at best but you’re not quite sure what else to say, how else to explain what you’ve gone through lately.

Jason squints, examining you. If it was anyone else, they might not have noticed something was wrong. They probably wouldn’t notice the shadows beneath your eyes, or the slight shake to your hands as you bring out plates and cutlery. If it was anyone else, they’d probably believe you.

But Jason doesn’t.

You get to work dishing up a plate, sucking in a breath when Jason sidles up next to you to dish himself up. The sudden proximity has the breath leaving your body and heat climbing the back of your neck. God—how long has it been since you touched another person? Since you’ve seen another person?

You force the feelings down and finish grabbing your food, making your way to the couch you’ve been rotting on for days. A small stack of books and a few empty glasses scatter the side table—clear evidence of your struggle.

Jason sits at the opposite end of the couch, balancing his plate on his lap. You don’t miss the way his eyes skim over the room, taking everything in. He takes a bite of his fried rice but his blue eyes remain on you.

He clears his throat. “That’s a good one,” he points with his fork at a romance book near the bottom of your pile. “A little racy for my tastes, but the worldbuilding was insane.”

“Something’s a little too racy for you?”

“Hey,” he rolls his eyes, “believe it or not, I do have standards.”

Joy swells in your chest and threatens to bring tears to your eyes. You’ve shut yourself away for so long, you’d almost forgotten what normalcy feels like. But this? You and Jason, eating takeout and talking about books on your couch? That’s the most normal thing in the world to you.

You snort. “Sure you do.”

“I do!” He protests. “I loved the first four books, but that one? My god. Half the book was just them going at it.”

You laugh, your chest aching with longing. You missed this, god, you missed this, One minute you’re laughing over Jason’s review and the next you’re sobbing, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your voice cracks, a horribly cry ripping free of your throat.

“Woah, woah.”

Jason’s voice is soft, a beacon of light in the sudden storm of emotions that’s gripped you. He sets his plate on the coffee table, scooching down the length of the couch to your side.

“I don’t, I can’t—”

“Hey,” he says calmly, taking your half eaten plate from your hands and setting it on your side table. “It’s alright. Shh, it’s alright.”

You let yourself slump into the couch, your feelings eating away at your physical strength. Jason throws an arm around you, pulling you into his side. The warmth of his body floods you.

You sob and Jason speaks, though you don’t quite catch what he’s saying. The world around you fades to a mosaic of tears and sorrow and guilt. Your heart is so heavy in your chest you worry it might fall out and drag you down with it.

“Talk to me,” Jason says softly. “Please.”

A calloused hand lifts to your cheek, wiping away wet tears. You want to give in to his touch so bad, give into what he’s saying. But how can you take his comfort when you’ve avoided him for weeks? When you’ve pushed yourself so far away that it feels like there’s no hope of coming back?

You tear yourself away from his grip, forcing yourself to your feet. Your hands shake as you turn to face him. When your eyes meet, his are filled with something entirely new to you—concern.

“I-I can’t.”

He sets his jaw. “Why not? You’ve been away from me for so long, you’ve been avoiding me,” he forces himself to keep his voice level. “I just want to know why. I just want to help you.”

His sudden pleading tone has you freezing in your tracks. You look at him seriously, “swear?”

“Swear.”

You sigh and slip your fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. For a second, you clench your fists, trying to ground yourself. The world around you seems to still as you tug your pants down, shimmying out of them until they lay in a pool around your ankles.

Jason watches silently, his head cocked to the side in visible confusion. It’s only when you self-consciously rub a hand over the skin of your left thigh does he notice.

The breath leaves his body, his lungs squeezing so tight he’s afraid they might burst. He’s no stranger to scars—he has at least a few dozen himself—but these are entirely different.

The scars scatter the surface of both thighs, long and thin. Most are completely healed, some just barely finishing the process. The size, the shape, the distance…intentional is the only word that comes to mind.

Jason feels his heart break in his chest but he can’t bring himself to look away. You’re hurt—you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing to help. “Y/n,” he says softly.

You shrink beneath his gaze. You can’t think of a single time he’s looked at you like this—scared and worried and broken. It has the guilt rising in your throat once more, threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m better,” you try to assure him, your voice hoarse from crying. “I’m getting better. It was bad but—I’m getting better now. I-I’m okay. I swear.”

You wait for him to say something, anything. You wait for the anger, for a lecture about how stupid and dangerous this can be. You wait for him to scoff at your problems.

You’re utterly shocked when Jason falls to his knees in front of you, head tilting up to look at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

“Jason…”

“This is why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You nod slowly, as if moving slower will keep the ice from breaking.

“Fuck, y/n, why didn’t you—god, you should know that I of all people would understand.” He traces a finger across a particularly fresh scar, “this isn’t something you needed to hide from me. This isn’t something you ever have to hide from me.”

“I—”

“I’m not finished.”

You’re taken aback, the words ripped straight from your mouth.

“Let me help you. Come to me and let me help you. Don’t shut yourself away in the dark and suffer all by yourself.” He runs his fingers through his hair, cracking the ghost of a smile, “god, who are you, me?”

A half-laugh, half-sob leaves you. “I just don’t like bothering people.”

“You think you could annoy me? You overestimate yourself, y/n. The only people who annoy me are Waynes and Wayne-adjacent.”

He rises to his feet in front of you and tugs you into his chest before you can react. His grip on you is tighter than usual, the warmth of his arms threatening to consume you.

“You’ll come to me next time you feel this way, yeah?” He says, and he feels you nod against his chest. “Swear?”

“Swear.”

Tim:

Your chest burns as you sit up in bed, lungs heaving as they try to force some air into your body. Your ribs ache from the way your heart hammers against them.

Rubbing your aching eyes, you force yourself to swing your legs over the side of your bed and reach for your lamp. The light comes on with a click, illuminating the walls of your room. Finally, you manage to take a deep breath, the cold air soothing your burning chest.

It was just a dream. You’re safe here. But the words taste bitter and empty, the images you’d seen while you were asleep still spinning around your head. You rub at the exposed skin of your thighs where the seam of your shorts come to an end. The friction barely manages to warm you among the cold night air.

Before you can even think, your feet are meeting the ground and you’re padding across the room. You hesitate for just a second when your hand meets the door handle, but the hesitation melts into need and you continue on your way.

Your steps are quiet through the hallway, unimposing. When you find yourself facing the closed door, identical to yours, you knock softly. Once, twice, and then the door is swinging open.

Tim stands on the other side, bleary eyed and messy haired from sleep. He yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey,” his voice is raspy, “everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.”

It’s all you have to say before he’s opening the door as wide as it goes, gesturing you to the disheveled navy covers of his bed spread. The sleepiness fades from his body as he watches you closely, examining your every movement.

Your eyes are red-rimmed and sweat beads along your temples. Despite wearing pyjamas—patterned shorts and a t-shirt that looks suspiciously like one of his—they don’t look wrinkled with sleep like they should be.

Tim frowns. Something’s wrong, and it’s more than not being able to sleep.

He shuffles in after you, closing the door and clicking the lock behind him. His examination continues as he reaches the bed and crawls in next to you. You fit together so easily, so perfectly, it’s hard to believe this is the first time you’ve ever sought him out.

In all the time you’ve known each other, never once have you ever gone to Tim when you can’t sleep. He’s known about your sleep problems for a while, from even before you’d told him. Yet, never once have you asked for his help.

Until tonight.

Tim’s arms fall easily around you, one gently across your waist, the other falling on the side of your thigh. You’re so tired, so shaken from your dream, your head falls easily into his pillows and your eyes flutter shut.

It’s not so much sleep that hits you as much as it is contentment. Tim’s hand trails up and down the side of your thigh, fingers exploring the soft skin while he tries to soothe you to sleep.

His hand shuffles sideways, just a tiny bit more, and then pauses. His fingertips graze something rough, something raised slightly, and the breath leaves his body. His hand trails further and he’s met with another, almost perfectly parallel to the first.

No, it can’t be.

Trying not to startle you, he moves the arm around your waist as slowly as he can. His fingertips make their way up his own body, finding their way to the scar on his abdomen from when he lost his spleen. He swipes his thumb over the area, feeling the rough patch of raised skin.

His other hand trails over your thigh again, feeling the rows of similar skin. For a moment, he swears the world stops turning.

The feeling is unmistakable, and even though it’s dark and he hasn’t laid eyes on them, he knows exactly what they are.

He wraps his arm around your waist once more and pulls you closer. “Y/n,” he whispers.

You whimper, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you. Tim’s hand rubs over the scars on your thigh once more, and suddenly your weariness is replaced with an icy feeling in your veins.

You sit up abruptly, forcing your body away from his.

“Y/n.”

You gasp, looking up at him through teary lashes. You draw your knees into your chest, the pressure helping soothe the sudden cold in your chest. You bury your face between your knees.

The longer Tim stays silent, the worse your anxiety gets. You wait for the familiar cold logic, for the warmth to fall away and the sarcastic, callous detective to show up. You expect it any second.

But Tim does something that surprises you even more.

He wraps an arm around you, letting your head lean on his shoulder, and murmurs, “how long has it been?”

It takes a few seconds for you to gather your bearings and realize what he’s asking. You blink a few times, slowly unfurling your body. Though you know it’s too dark for him to see the scars, you see his eyes fall on your bare thighs anyway.

“A while,” you admit. “It comes and goes.”

He rubs his hand up and down your arm. “Is that why you came to me?”

You swallow, remembering the horrid dream you’d had earlier. “Partially.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

The pet name takes you by surprise, washing away the cold shame that threatened to drown you. You relax further into Tim’s side, relishing in the heat of his body.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” you say quietly. “I know it’s bad, that I shouldn’t do it. And I try not to. I’ve been really good about that lately. It’s just…”

Tim stays silent as you trail off, trying to find the right words to explain yourself. He keeps rubbing the skin of your arm, as if reminding you that he’s still there.

“Things get hard sometimes. I don’t like asking for help, because I don’t want anyone to think less of me, or think I have problems and—”

“Why would anyone ever think less of you?”

His words stun you out of your speech, every thought you had falling away. You take a few deep breaths, letting them echo around your head.

“God, this is so hypocritical of me but,” he sighs, “there’s nothing wrong with needing support or asking for help. You’re not any worse off because you needed a little comfort on a bad day, you’re not a burden just because you’re hurting.”

“I just—”

“You came to me tonight because you needed comfort, right?” He gestures around the room, “did anything bad happen because of that?”

You shake your head.

“Did I question you at all, or make you feel like it was a problem?”

Realization dawns on you. “No.”

“That’s because it’s not a problem, you’re not a problem. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, but the first step to feeling better is helping yourself.” He offers you a sleepy smile, “and that’s what you did tonight. You helped yourself by asking for help.”

“Tim…”

“I’m really proud of you for coming to me tonight, y/n. Whether it was consciously or not.”

A stray tear rolls down your cheek, his kind words washing over you in waves.

“Keep coming to me when you need it. Let me shoulder your problems with you. Please.”

The sudden plea catches you off guard and suddenly more tears are falling down your face. You wrap your arms around Tim and let your head fall into his shoulder, burying your face into the side of his neck.

He holds you tighter, letting you cry it all out.

Wally:

The sound of rain on your window seems to taunt you as you struggle out of your soaking wet jeans. The fabric sticks to your skin, chafing as you try to force it away from the chilled skin of your legs.

As if the sudden torrential downpour that had ruined any hopes of a morning breakfast run wasn’t bad enough, now you seemed to be forever trapped in your sensory nightmare—wet denim. A groan of frustration leaves your lips as you abandon your jeans and instead tug away the sopping fabric of your t-shirt.

Goosebumps rise across your damp skin the minute the air touches it. You shiver slightly and wrap your arms around yourself, stumbling across the room to find a sweatshirt.

You settle on one you’d stolen from Wally months ago that you’re partially convinced he’d stolen from Dick. Still, the worn cotton warms your skin as you make the trek across your room and to the full-body mirror resting against a wall.

You use the guidance of your reflection to peel away your jeans, shimmying awkwardly until finally the heavy fabric gives way. They land in a wet plop on the floor, splattering water that you can’t be bothered to clean up.

Just as you turn away from the mirror, one of the shiny scars on your thigh catches the light and draws your attention back to it. You frown, pulling the marked skin of your leg tight, examining the scars in the mirror.

Most are small and thin, luckily not bad enough to leave more than a faded, dark mark on the skin. You cringe at the ones that are worse—raised and puffy and shiny in the centre. They’re still healing, you remind yourself.

“Hey, no way you’re still changing in here—” the door clicks open and Wally’s voice trails off.

You whip your head to him, watching as he stumbles into the room. A flush falls across his face. His eyes trail over you, tracing your figure, falling onto your underwear and the uncovered skin around it.

Wally freezes, green eyes glued to the scars you’d just been examining. His brows scrunch together, his lips twisting into a frown.

Oh, goddamn.

Any other time, Wally would feel mortified—and somewhat blessed—to walk in on you changing. He’d cover his eyes and stumble around awkwardly, mumbling out some goofy apology laced in innuendos.

It’s clear now from the frown on his face and the hard set solemnity in his eyes that that Wally is gone.

He’s at your side before you can react, falling to his knees in front of you. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone—”

His words trail off, his face falling as realization dawns across his features. He traces a thumb across the biggest of the scars and you swear you see tears prick at his eyes.

“Wally, it’s not—”

“It’s not what?” He looks up at you seriously.

And you pause, reconsidering your words. Wally’s always been the kind one, the goofy one, the comedic relief. It’s rare that you see him serious, rare that he wavers like this.

You lower yourself to the ground beside him, cringing at the unpleasant cold meeting the bare backs of your legs. Wally keeps his focus on your thighs, fingers tracing over every scar, every mark, like he could somehow erase them.

You stay entirely still next to him, letting him calm himself with your touch. “It’s not really something I do anymore,” you say quietly.

His hand stills, the warmth of his clammy palm resting on your upper thigh. In any other situation, it would feel intimate. But right now, all it feels like is a slap to the face.

“I still have bad days, but I manage. This,” you gesture to your skin,“was a last resort. I know it looks bad, really bad, and that it probably seems so—so stupid compared to what you face and—”

His voice is barely a whisper. “It’s not stupid.”

You scrunch your nose. The normal, goofy Wally you’d just gotten caught in a rainstorm with is gone, and you’d give anything to bring him back right now.

“You don’t have to be a superhero to be hurt, y/n.” He clasps your hand tightly. “I know I joke a lot but I am capable of being serious. Especially when the people I love are concerned.”

He looks at you so intensely when he says the word love that it sends shivers down your spine. You can’t bear to meet his gaze. His hands find your waist, tugging you to sit between his legs. It scares you how easily you settle into him, how well you fit together.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting the beat of his racing heart thump against your back.

“I can’t stand to see you hurt, or know that you were hurt. Emotionally, physically, whatever.”

“I’m doing okay now,” you offer him a weak smile. “It’s rough sometimes, but I’m okay now.”

His shoulders slump slightly, but his jaw remains clenched in an un-Wally way. You can’t help but wish in this moment that you could have his powers, if only so you could run to the past and stop this from happening.

“You could’ve told me. I might have made a few stupid jokes but you could’ve told me. God, I want you to tell me. I want you to want to tell me.”

“Wally.”

“I want to help you, y/n. Always. Please,” he sighs, “please, want my help. Let me make you want my help.”

And for a moment, you see a glimpse of an awkward teenager. You see a yellow costume and a scared kid just trying his best to help people. To save people. You see sleepless nights and the burden of a power that makes him both the fastest man alive, but never fast enough to save the people who matter most to him. To save you.

“I just don’t know where to start,” you admit quietly.

He wraps his arms tighter around you, crushing your body against his. “You start here. You start today. You start with me.”

You cross your arms over his in what you hope is a gesture of affection.

“Say the word,” he leans in so his mouth is only inches from your ear, his voice dropping an octave, “and I’ll be there for you as soon as you need me. Ask for my help and I’ll be there in, well, a flash.”

You can’t help but laugh at his pun. It’s dumb and silly and so unserious for such an uncomfortable, serious moment. But it’s Wally and it’s you and his joke has you thinking that maybe, maybe things really can be okay.

“I care about you so much. All I want is for you to be happy. Got it?”

“Got it,” you echo.

He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head before loosening his grip on you, rising to his feet. He offers you a hand, helping you stand up.

“Now,” he grins, “let’s say we forget the pants, and order in some breakfast, hm?”

thanks so much for reading! ^^

masterlist | dc masterlist

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chocsra · 1 year ago

Text

✧ more personal chuuya hcs !!

✧ appearence hcs:

has a small small face

long, naturally curled, luscious eyelashes

soft and silky ass hair

very smooth, soft looking ivory skin

repping mestiso community, described as beautiful and unique

he actually glows in like any good lighting, golden hour does him best

his beauty is like majestic but gets called pretty a lot

bones did him soo wrong, he has toned sleeper build guys trust

naturally low-lided, sleepy eyes

he has really pretty brown eyes

has russet hair, NOT a ginger, he's more of a reddish brunette

slim, large hands that are really attractive

SNATCHED waist

he has a few pretty freckles

old money aesthetic

90s hot.

my personal hc is that his appearence comes from some sort of european descent, be it french or spanish blood that made his features so unique

looks so unreal that he looks otherworldly or like a doll; alien beauty

his skin reminds you of porcelain; this man's skin is mad flawless

ties his hair up at home into either a manbun or ponytail

has an 8+ step skincare routine..

has a super raspy voice in the morning/night

always takes his gloves off in the cuntiest manner - either biting the fingertips off one by one or that one manga panel where he bites the wrist part

whines when he stretches and it always catches u off guard

✧ crack/general hcs:

dances like hyunjin from skz (knows how to and practices his moonwalk)

bro is a WHEEZER when he genuinely laughs, he also feels the need to say ur not funny to keep ur ego in check when he is in fact laughing his ass off

when yall are laughing ur ass off (drunk or not) just know yall will be collasping on the floor feeling the six pack coming in

rip chuuya - you would've loved making electric guitar thirst traps on tiktok

he LOVES rollarcoasters or anything with a kick to it tbh (fast car or motorcycle rides) bc he loves gravity dzuh, but yknow what he CANT take??

them seats in the movie theatre where they move according to the movie, he gets way too invested in movies and the seats moving like crazy fries his brain (IM SORRY IF U DONT KNOW WHAT IM TALKING AB, THEYRE CALLED DBOX)

he ofc has a weakness for dogs but if he ever tries to feed a stray cat and it runs away or hisses he gets a little sassy and hisses back

sleeps like a dying victorian child. you walked onto him sleeping once and contemplated on calling a priest

one of those people who have copies of the same clothing item, or they're like barely any different. you see his hat rack and he gets offended bc "all his hats are completely different"

he scoffs a lot

starts chasing you if you ever MENTION the times when he was 15 (has made cringy youtube diss tracks with dazai, lost the login, now that videos up forever..)

if you're short like him and tell a story complaining about how ppl call u short, he gets personally offended FOR you

likes reading books but they vary from sophisticated novels to books like "HOW TO STAND ON BUSINESS?!?!"

his spice tolerance is wild, even if he can't actually take it he still will to prove a point

since his voice is pretty guttural whenever he has a voice crack while speaking you both pause and look at each other in silence before you laugh and he just goes "shut up.. shut up.. 😒"

he likes to mock ppl (lovingly) w higher voices like higuchi (especially when shes talking ab aku) bc it's older brother vibes and their reactions are always priceless

✧ chocsra™

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rainyorca · 8 months ago

Text

Scott can't see you. At least not in the way a normal person can.

Everything about you is tinted red, his glasses leave room for imagination but not by much. He knows the color of your skin, your hair, your nail polish. But not your eyes.

The color of your eyes was the most difficult thing to figure out about you.

“Scott,” you say his name so plainly sometimes. He looks over at you, raising his head. “Are you paying attention?”

He blinks, looking around at the rest of the team members. Oh yes, a meeting, a meeting that he called, that he’s leading. He gave you a moment of time to explain a mutant you had come in contact with during your mission.

“I apologize,” he says, brows furrowing slightly, “please keep going.”

Later that night when the mansion is still, a majority of the students are asleep, some possibly doing some late training in the danger room. There's a knock on your door.

“It's open,” you say, your tone sounding pleasant, slightly irritated..

He pushes the door open, closing it quietly behind him. You look up from your papers, meeting eyes with Scott. You look him up and down, a questioning look on your face. “Hey Scott, im just reading the documents about that mutant—why are you still up?”

“Will you take a walk with me?” he asks, but it sounds more like a gentle demand. You cock your head, raising a brow, “It's one in the morning.”

Nevertheless, you end up walking outside on the courtyards with him, a gentle cool breeze blowing through the trees. It's chilly, but not freezing. Leaves of red and orange fall from the trees above, indication that fall was here.

You two sit down at a bench after a few minutes of silence. You slump, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. Scott sits upright, completely still.

“Something on your mind?” you ask him, tilting your head, “can't think of any other reason you would want to come out here.”

“What color are your eyes?”

The question catches you off guard, its random, confusion paints your face before you sit up. “What color are yours?” you ask, repeating his question to himself.

“Just tell me, it's the only thing I don't know about you,” he continues, looking at you through his ruby glasses.

“How is that the only thing you don't know about me,” you hum, titling your head at him. “It just is,” he responds simply, “I can't see colors like normal people because of these glasses. You know that.”

“Now that I think of it, I’ve never seen you how others do. I want to be able to do that, I want to be able to see you.”

“You can see me,” you respond, moving your body so your knees were facing him. “Not in the way I want to,” he stares at you, his eyes barely visible behind those glasses, “I want to see all of you. Everything, every detail.”

You reach up, your soft fingertips brushing his chilly skin while you remove his glasses. He clamps his eyes shut, as if he was in pain. The neat thing about your mutation is that it just appeared not too long ago.

You were friends with the X-men before your dormant mutation made itself seen. This is the first time you would be using it on any of the others, especially Scott. You don't have much practice, he knows that, but he still trusts you.

Carefully you press your fingers to his temples, closing your eyes and concentrating on manipulating his mutation. “You can open them,” you breathe a minute later, opening your own eyes. He hesitates, lips parting to say something. “I got you, Scott. I promise.”

Slowly, carefully, he opens his eyes, there's a brief red flash and then a light glow, and it's gone. He blinks as more color starts to come into view, and then he focuses on you.

“Brown,” you say softly, squinting at his eyes, “like fawn's fur.” His eyes were soft, calming. This sensation sweeps over you.

He slowly grabs your wrists, pulling them down as if he's seeing you for the first time. No, actually, he really was seeing you for the first time, without that red tint.

He doesnt say a word, instead he just stares at you, reaching up to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. You melt into his touch, pressing your face into his palm.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispers, reaching up with his other hand to hold your face, “you’re beautiful. You always have been. But now, I can see you. I can see you as you are.”

He brings your hand up to kiss your palm, lips soft against your skin. He closes his eyes, moving down to kiss your wrist before opening them.

“I see you.”

#⋆｡𖦹°‧ukume!#scott summers #scott summers x reader #cyclops x reader #cyclops #i need to go to bed #not beta read #might delete lol

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angelicblondie · 10 months ago

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jj x doll!reader ~ cockwarming with jayj <3 (MDNI)

warning ~ public sexual contact

the waves crashed against the shore, and seagulls gawked in the distance, creating the perfect ambience for jjs and your beach day.

the two of you had woken up, legs tangled together in the thin sheets of the bedroom in the chateau, where you crashed the night before. you had woken up to jj smothering kisses all over you, which had caused you to giggle hysterically.

"nooo, jayj, lemme wake up."

"'fraid I cant, lil' miss. gotta get all a'dis cuteness agression out 'fore i explode,"

from there you had sauntered out into the main area, seeing john b already up. he took in your appearances - you, dressed in only jjs shirt and covered in red and purple hickies, and jj, shirtless with his lips swollen, covered in similar bruises to yours, except all along his torso. john b sighed loudly, used to the two of you like this.

"swear one of these days i'm bannin you from sleepin' over," he mumbled the empty threat under his breath.

after eating a light breakfast, the two of you got dressed in your bathing suits (you in a light pink bikini, jj in navy swim shorts), and grabbed your beach bag, heading towards the sand.

the two of you laid in the sun whilst your mini speaker lowly played music coming from a playlist the two of you made, combining you music tastes (considering they were vastly different). with sunglasses perched on your noses, the sun browned your skins, giving you both caramel tans.

this was one of your favorite things about jj being your boyfriend - he would indulge in your tanning needs, and even join in, since he was the last person to go on n' on about how it would give you skin cancer.

you sighed contently, feeling a peace. you flipped around on your back, brushing your hair to one side and looking at jj on your other, squinting through your glasses as you sent him a sweet smile. "havin' fun?"

"oh yeah, doll. best day I've had in years."

you giggle, the sound of travis scotts, "drugs you should try it" (jjs suggestion, of course) playing faintly in the background. "m'glad."

it didn't take long for you to get needy though - and who could balme you? seeing jjs glistening abs on full display was enough to wet your bikini bottoms and pull attention to the fluttering in your core. you turnaround on your elbows, squinting at him through you sunglasses.

"hey jayj?" jj slowly turned, knowing you were up to something by the tone of your voice.

thats how you ended up sat on jjs lap on the foldout chair behind the towels, slowly sinking onto his dick.

"jayj," you whine, squirming on top of him.

"shhh, its ok mama, y'can take it. niiiice and slow," he reasures, his hands squeezing on your hips, fighting literal demons to not just shove you on. the only thing that covered you too was the measly towel jj lazily threw around you.

you bite your lip hard to prevent the noises that threatended to spill out, and you grip his muscialar shoulders to ground yourself.

when you had proposed the idea, you had made jj promise that you wouldnt have actual sex - you just needed to feel him, to temporatily satisfy the fluttering. but now, actuallly feeling eachother, the task felt next to imposible.

you whimper, against you best efforts. "jayj, wan'more," you whine.

"nuh-uh, you only get the dick if your being a good girl. wan me to pull out?" he scolds, thought it was a pretty empty threat, considering there was no way in hell was he gunna pull out

"fuck, n-no, im sorry, i'll be good," your quick to apologize.

jj grunts when you finally reach the bottom and you gasp, leaning over to rest your head in the crook of his neck. jjs breath is held, stomach sucked in as his face scrunches, overwhelmed by the pleasure. he releases a shaky breath, hyperaware of how tight you felt around him, your little pussy puslating.

"shit, think i might bust in you." jj chuckles breathlessly.

"no, jayj, dont even think about it," you scold weakly, trying not to move. honestly, although it was hard at first, you were actually enjoyed him being in you in not a super sexual sense. it felt really intimate, and kind of sweet.

though, nothing was sweet about the way you were clenching around him, every so often wiggling to adjust in a position that was less painful for your knees. jjs hands rubbed down your back, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest. you wondered if the two of you looked suspicious, but you decided that you didnt care.

eventually, you forced yourself to detach from him, and the two of you spent the rest of the day going back and forth from the water to your towls, baking in the sun. and of course, as soon as you were alone, you fucked in the twinky, eager to get your hands on each other as soon as possible. with the smell of salt lingering, and the feeling of grainy sand in the crevices of your body, you two knew it was the perfect end to the perfect day.

#jj maybank #jj x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #obx #outerbanks #jj x doll!reader #doll!reader #jj maybank fanfic

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emilys-bangs · 10 months ago

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heey!! i found your blog recently and I’ve been obsessed 🫠so im joining your celebration with “LYRA” …. “stay” is personally one of my favorite gracie songs so maybe something based on this lyrics “Could you hold me without any talking?We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay” perhaps could be hurt/comfort?

Aww hey and welcome!! Hope you enjoy your time here ;) btw I read this and literally went yes yes yes yesyesyes so ty!!!!

Join my celebration here

Word count: 1k (not a blurb….oops I got carried away)

A knock on the door forces you from your perch on the couch.

It’s late. You’re not expecting anyone, so you cautiously look through the peephole; dark hair floods your vision, contrasting against pale skin tinted yellow from the hallway lights.

It’s Emily.

Your heart lurches suddenly and you pull open the door, her late appearance making you forget that technically you two aren’t supposed to do this anymore. Not after Paris and secrets and an ocean of lies.

But still, you can’t stop yourself from letting her back in.

“Emily?”

“Hey.” She says, and her voice cracks. Her eyes meet yours and you find endless brown drowning in a pool of unshed tears, shining in the low light of your hallway. The sight of her here is so familiar, but not like this, not with her lips trembling and the sleeves of her sweater pulled over her hands. “I just—”

Her voice breaks again and she bites her lip, her eyes leaving yours to latch onto the floor. A small sound escapes the back of her throat, something like a pained whimper.

It sets off a trained reaction in you.

You’re across the threshold of your apartment before the tears spill down her cheeks, pulling her in and fitting her head under your chin just as they start to drip off her jaw.

There’s no buildup to it. No low sniffling or a rough clearing of her throat. Emily sobs into your chest; deep, hiccuping sobs that make her breathe in short gasps. The sound makes your heart wrench painfully, her pain just as easily igniting your own. In an instant everything is forgotten, everything except the fact that you love her and she loves you—despite everything.

“I’m here.” You kiss her messy ponytail, closing your eyes against your own tears.

She clings to you as you shuffle back into the apartment and close the door, one of your arms still wrapped tightly around her. Emily’s tears soak your shirt, her short nails digging painfully into your waist as you try to shush her.

“I’m here, baby,” you rasp through the lump in your throat. You try to tighten your grip around her, try to briefly put back the jagged pieces of who she once was. “I got you, Em.”

The only response you get back is a sniffle as she inches closer under your jaw, seeking to bury herself under your skin. Her grip is almost painfully tight as she keeps herself anchored to you through the turmoil in her mind. You want to ask, want to know what it is that’s going on so you can fix it, but some part of you knows this is irreparable damage reaped from the ghosts of her past.

So you just hold her through it. You hold her and keep an arm tight around the nape of her neck, your fingers slipping into her ponytail as you keep her so close the ragged movement of her chest rattles your own body. She’s shaking—trembling hands and wobbly knees and stuttering breaths—so you lift her up, ignoring the ache in your lower back as she clings to you tighter, her face buried in your neck as you carry her to the couch.

She curls into your lap. Time ticks by—how much is unbeknownst to either of you—and Emily’s sobs begin to slow. You keep an arm over her waist and one under her shoulders, soothingly rubbing her back as she starts to take in deeper breaths. They still stutter and catch in the back of her throat, but at least now you’re not worried she’s choking.

You’re doing nothing but wiping away the endless tears from her cheeks, occasionally pressing a kiss to the top of her head. By the time her breathing slows, her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks are flushed with tear tracks.

Still, your heart twists in unimaginable ways. You give her a small smile and wipe away the last of the salt from her skin.

Emily leans into the touch, her head falling on your shoulder as her hand links with yours. The feeling of your intertwined fingers is still the same. Of course it is; all the change has been on the inside.

Emily’s nose under your jaw breaks you from your thoughts. She’s breathing softly now, her exhales escaping in warm puffs against your skin.

You unlink your fingers and rest your hand on her waist, squeezing lightly, “Stay here, I’ll go get a towel.”

She fists your shirt tightly. “Don’t—”

“I’m coming back,” you whisper. “Just a second, sweetheart.” The nickname slips effortlessly as you kiss her forehead, an action so familiar you could do it in your sleep.

Reluctantly, Emily slides off your lap. The weight of her warmth on top of you falls away, and you give her another small smile as you get up off the couch.

You pad to the bathroom and grab a small towel. As you’re wetting it under the sink, you hear Emily’s footsteps behind you. Turning off the tap, you turn, the wet towel held in your hand as you cup her jaw.

Beneath the fluorescent lights, her skin is blotchy. Though she doesn’t look at you, you know her eyes are bloodshot as you gently swipe the towel over her cheeks, wiping away the remnants of the tears.

Emily closes her eyes. Her fingers hook into the band of your sweatpants as she swallows, her damp lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

None of you say it, but your actions are loud enough.

I love you.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whisper, because you know she won’t be brave enough to ask. Emily’s hands tighten on the waistband of your pants. You swipe the towel under her eyes, catching the remaining salt. “Please?”

Her bottom lip trembles, but no more tears escape past her closed lids.

“Okay.” Emily rasps.

Even when she falls asleep, she’s curled tightly around you.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #emily prentiss angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #eb200 #fic

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angelic-iam · 7 months ago

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Stroke Of Luck Chapter One

Warnings: Profanity, angst, adult themes and conversations, hints at infertility, infidelity, death , light violence

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors I tried to go through it as best I could .second bear with me if its not up to reading standard im trying to jump back into my writing bag and this will be my first story I've actually released so I might be a bit rusty lol but please enjoy

Word count: 4273

Series Master List

I sat on the front porch of my family home trying to hold it together as I watched my father put the last of jordans bags into the car .Today was the day I had been dreading the most my older brother Jordan was going away again on deployment .He had told us months ago about his decision to reenlist and I had been preparing myself for his departure hoping it would put me at ease. It didn't. My brother is one of my best friends and to see him leave was going to leave me with a void. Even through my dismay however I was proud of him even if in this moment my emotions didn't allow for me to show it.It didn't take long before the empty space beside me was filled with a familiar face. I turned to see Jordan, his face filled with sadness. Respecting the space I was in he allowed for us to sit in silence a moment before deciding to break it. “you okay?” he asked concern laced in his voice. I shook my head “not really," I replied softly, trying to avoid eye contact knowing I would cry. He sighed pulling me into his side as the tears began to prick my eyes.” I promise this time will fly by so fast you won't even realize” he said kissing my forehead .”No jo I will notice it will not be the same without you. who else will keep me sane dealing with ma and jade you're the only thing holding us together “ I croaked “ Theres always facetime if that doesn't work then we write, and if that don't work I'll send a pigeon” he joked Not being able to it in hold in a laughed spilled from my lips Jordan joining in seconds later “Jo it's time to hit the road” our fathers voiced called out .Jordan nodded his head signaling for my dad to give him a moment. Jordan stood pulling me up with him into a hug me, nuzzling my face into his chest feeling the water works starting back up. “I love you so much josie” he said wiping a stray tear that slipped free “I love you more jo” I said turning him loose. “Oh, and sis do me one last favor” he said walking down the porch steps “name it” I called out “smile no more tears”. I cracked a small smile as he turned making his way to the car climbing in leaving me in a broken mess as I watch my dad's chevy Tahoe disappear down the road.

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In the same spot I stood five years later staring down the same dirt road my brother wouldn't have the opportunity of returning to. He was gone. Jordan was sent in on a rescue mission to save a fellow marine of his platoon, ironic in the end he ended up being the one needing saving. Shit went south and my brother was shot and killed in the line of fire. I was angry feeling as if the universe had slighted me robbing me of being able to share future moments with my brother. Him cheering me on when as I walked

the stage after completing nursing school, being a bridesmaid in his and his fiancé Arielle's wedding, holidays, birthdays. Gone. The only presence of him now in this moment was his framed picture that stood in the front of our family home for the repass. Not wanting to continue allowing myself to drown further in my grief I turned walking up the steps primary focus locating one of two people Arielle or my cousin India . It didn't take long to find ari talking with one of my aunts. Arielle was short in stature compared to most with smooth golden-brown skin that seemed to glow as the warm rays peaked through the window and a fit physique that would put Tyra banks to shame. No doubt courtesy of her personal trainer profession. Her round face framed with voluptuous curls. It was amazing to see her strength. Throughout her struggle a dimpled smile still adorned her face one that caused her Chinky eyes to disappear as she laughed. Noticing me walking over she politely closed out her conversation with my aunt walking to meet me. “Where did you disappear to “she quizzed giving me a slight nudge “ I needed some fresh air the condolences and sorry for your losses were becoming overwhelming” I huffed "Trust, I get it I have to many people asking me what i'm going to do with me and our son” she stated shifting uncomfortably. My heart ached for her. I couldn't imagine how it is to become a widow, single parent, and having to break the news to kaizen.

“for whatever your move or decision is you're not alone. You got me forever and so does nugget “I Said with half smile. She giggled at the nickname I assigned kaizen at birth. We glanced over watching the mini version of Jordan running around the house with the other kids.” I almost forgot your dad wanted to see us in the kitchen” she stated switching the topic. I nodded as we made our way to the cramped kitchen pushing past multiple bodies. My dad stood looking down at my mother with admiration as they talked among themselves “Hey daddy “I greeted walking over as he pulled me into a hug “Hey baby come sit your sister should be here in a moment” he said ushering me and ari to sit. I scrunched up my face at the mention of my sister. Jade and I had an exceedingly tenuous relationship. Jade was the youngest out of the three of us and was the golden child spoiled completely rotten. In my parents' eyes she could do no wrong and treated her as such. It didn't help that my mother drove the wedge and distaste for one another deeper pitting me and my sister against each other in a warped ass competition. Who is better than the other. My mother secretly rooted for jade while my dad on the other hands liked to play devil's advocate. Jordan was the only one who called them out holding everyone ,including myself accountable. The final nail in the coffin was catching Jade and my then boyfriend of two years Darien in bed together not to mention she continues to see him. To say I was hurt and angry was an understatement and as my family (aside from Jordan) tends to do they brushed it under the rug. As if her ears were burning jade stalks in turning her nose up at the sight of me. Feeling myself become anxious and agitated I decided to jump start the conversation “everything okay you wanted to speak with us” I question. Dad sighed grabbing a stack of papers from the counter sitting down placing them in the middle of the table. “We are going to start sorting out your brother estate and assets “Now” I asked in disbelief “Yes per your mother request”. Still not understanding the urgency I pressed further “Why so soon?” I said.” I have something important to take care of so I asked mom and dad to move it up” jade answered nonchalantly “what could possibly be so important that were doing this the day of our brothers funeral “I gritted out finding myself becoming angry. Sensing this Arielle reached over taking my hand in hers giving it a light squeeze “I have a trip I'll be going on we didn't want to move the dates” jade shrugged.” A DAMN TRIP!! WERE GRIEVING AND YOU HAVE NO CONCERN OR REGARD FOR ME OR FOR ARRIELLE. MY BROTHER ISNT EVEN IN THE GROUND GOOD AND YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT A TRIP AND IF WE CALL IT LIKE IT IS YOU’RE WONDERING WHAT YOU CAN GET YOUR HANDS ON FUCKING SELF-”

“JOSELYNN TAYLOR, YOU MIND YOUR MOUTH IN MY HOME I DIDNT RAISE YOU TO BE DISRESPECTFUL AND WE AREN'T GOING TO START NOW “My mom interrupted slamming her hand down on the table. “Dad” I turned to him secretly pleading for him to jump to my defense but as always nothing.” Josie, I get that you’re upset I do but let's just rip the band aid off and get this over with” he said pulling his reading glasses on his face. Meanwhile jade's face held a victorious smirk, and I wanted nothing more than to put it through some dry wall “The lawyers drew up the paperwork dividing the assets based on Jordan's will. He had a one hundred fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy that will be divided fourways between his parents, two sisters and fiancé Arrielle. His dodge challenger he left to his sister Jade Taylor while rest the remaining vehicles will go to his fiancé Arrielle Rodriguez” From the side of my eye I could see jade smiling. “As for his properties he leaves the townhome located in California 9870 Blancas Blvd. in Anaheim to Arrielle and lastly, the ranch house located at 1600 rose ridge rd here in Dallas Texas as well as the 8 acres surrounding it” My dad paused taking a moment to catch his breath as my sister sat up in her chair ready “ will be left to his sister Joselynn Taylor” he finished laying the paper on the table. Jade scoffed snatching up the paper reading it not believing what she's heard. I sat in shock looking over at Arrielle who nodded confirming it for me.

“ Me and Jordan decided to create a backup plan in case of a worst-case scenario. Never thought id actually have to execute it. We thought it'd be best if I moved back to Cali to be closer to my parents and family for support, the house is way too much for me and kaizen by ourselves and besides it would be a painful reminder to our son “she stated fighting tears. “He thought you were the most deserving seeing as your in school and jade has support from your parents figured it would be the best for you” ari said. "But that's not fair I got plenty of cars that's nothing can't you do something” Jade complained her turn now to plead with our parents. My mother diverted her attention now to me “Josie can't you switch it's not like you need it. You’re single, no kids unlike your sister who's been in a three-year relationship with Darien and expecting “she tried to reason while sneakily throwing jabs at me. I let my eyes dance between my parents and jade reading their body language. It was true. "You -your pregnant” I stuttered as a began to internally crack “Yes it was confirmed yesterday at the doctors. Four weeks along I think Darien is more excited than me” jade beamed getting a kick at seeing me squirm at the news “you know I could refer you to our doctor he could possibly help with that sour ass womb of yours” she bragged tossing her hair over her shoulder. I could feel my throat begin to close up as tears were now flowing down my face “Jade that's messed up and out of pocket l what is that to say to someone? You just be lucky your ungrateful behind received anything your words are uncalled for” Arrielle jumped in taking to my defense “thanks Arri for taking up for me, dad I can't do this I gotta go” I stood abruptly pushing myself away from the table storming out of the house hoping into my car speeding off.

I drove with no destination until my crying turned into dry heaving processing the news. Not only did I have to take my sister snatching my relationship with Darien from under me but now I have the pleasure to watch them start a family one that should've been mine. A shitty way to rub salt in the wound. Ten minutes passed by before the sound of coco jones ICU blared through the car's speaker. Taking a quick glance at the car screen. I see my favorite cousin India name displaying. I may not have had a sister relationship with Jade, but I did find one with India. If I wasn't with Jordan I was with her. Three musketeers. I tapped answer “hey India wassup” I asked trying to mask the fact I was just crying “Honey I should be asking you that seeing the way you just ran out of here what happened”. I sighed “It's a long story “I stated “ wanna talk about it over some drinks at dukes “she offered ‘ooh please link with you at 8” I replied “see you then” she agreed

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I tossed back my second shot of tequila squeezing my eyes closed as the clear liquid burned my chest India taking the chance to laugh at my facial expressions. “Thats no ordinary liquor “ I coughed “ Yeah but your ass needs it , now do you want to tell me what happened back at uncle Melvins” she said getting straight to business “ Where to start let's see that bitch jades greedy ass talked to my mom to convince her to push up sorting out Jordans affairs disregarding the fact were hurting, the only good and surprising thing was Jordan left a house to me but of course jade with help from my mom couldn't let that slide nooo they had to degrade me and spring on me that jades pregnant by Darien, Jade finished with saying she can refer me to her doc for my quote sour womb” I rambled with air quotes causing India to spit out her drink “ I know you fucking lying” she blurted “I Wish I was “ I chuckled darkly signaling the bartender for another round “so are we dragging her now or later” she asked in all seriousness “ we can't she's pregnant” I retorted “ AND her face aint her lip would have been swole before she could leave the house” India shook her head completely dumbfounded “I'm honestly in a space of being mentally exhausted it feels like I've had the worst luck of the draw. I can't seem to maintain anything good “I said “Josie Girl, I love you but were gonna gone head and shut your self pity party down. Sure you're going through some shit right now but it's not the end of the world. Your smart as hell ,On your way to becoming a nurse, fine as hell with a fat ass” she joked giving my behind a poke causing me to laugh “besides there's nothing you've lost that can't be regained Darien left but he aint the only man left in the world. You just got to find the right one for you one that slangs the meat” she said gyrating “oh my god dee must you do that in public and why so loud” I said covering my face in embarrassment “ I don't care you need some but first you have to stop running them away” she teased. ”it's not my fault they can't handle me “I shrugged leaning against the bar. She wouldn't call it running them off more so like weeding out the bad. Joselynn was tough overall to crack. Her hard exterior was difficult to get through. She was already to some degree antisocial so to get a conversation from her was a blessing. Even then you had to be engaging enough to hold her attention both in and out of the bedroom as she got bored easily. She wasn't one to just settle for anything as the slightest misstep/red flag and you were gone. Joselynn knew part of it was due to Darien.” you need to come with a sign that says you bite” She teased tooting her lips up at me as I shoved her slightly laughing. Before I respond Tamia’s Can't Get Enough came over the bar's speaker causing hoops and yells to erupt. Instinctively me and India made our way over to where the line dance started joining in. I was grateful for the distraction India provided and the peace she managed to bring. We continued throughout the night to dance to a few more songs take a few more drinks to the head before deciding to call it a night. Stumbling into the house I kicked my shoes off at the door making my way to my bedroom struggling to find the light. I went to take a seat on my bed seeing both a letter and a manilla envelope. The envelope from my dad the letter from Jordan. My hands trembled slightly gripping the letter not wanting to pull myself back into a state of hurt. I sat the letter to the side grabbing the envelope ripping it open out tumbling out a set of keys, inside the deed to the house and a small note from my father

Josie i'm sorry for earlier on behalf of your mother and sister inside is the deed for the house the keys as well as the address I love you always pops

Part of me was still angry but I had a soft spot for my dad and he knew that. Officially tired I sat the paperwork on the side table stripping my clothes and turning off the light, deciding to shower in the morning. It wasn't long till sleep overtook me.

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A month had passed since the day of the funeral and I had tried to bury the emotions of Jordan being gone so much that I buried myself in other things to keep my mind occupied. Working at the hospital being a CNA provided some distraction and what my job didn’t cover in the distraction field schooling took care of the rest. In its own way they also provided me an excuse and shielding from my unrelenting mother who still made it her business to call pestering me to rethink my decision about the home. I won’t. It was one thing I had power over, and I wouldn't relinquish it so easily. For the first two weeks of his passing I went back and forth on whether or not I would actually move into the home not feeling quite right about it but after starting to feel like things were becoming stagnant decided it was best to move. I slowly drove up the light graveled path mouth dropping at the sight of the house that sat nestled at the end of the dirt road. It was a stunning two-story ranch style house with a wraparound porch. Coming into a stop I tossed the boxed moving truck into park hopping down to get a better look at the home “this is gorgeous “India stated walking up after parking her car. “I agree can't believe he left this for me” I marveled taking it all in “well believe it toots now let's gawk at it from the inside we got work to do” she declared holding her hand out for the truck keys. Dropping them into her hands she went to grab the first box as I went to open the door. The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior. The multicolored stone walls paired well with the mahogany hardwood floors and high ceilings. The set up with the furniture accented well no doubt due to Arrielle's careful selection when they were here.” Girl this is neeiceeee it don't smell like roaches in here or nothing "India shouted carrying in one of the boxes “You don't have the sense you were born with” I chuckled at her reference to girls trip “you ready to get this over with”. She groaned knowing just like me how long of a process unpacking was going to be. Without another moment of hesitation we jumped in getting started.

After what felt like years later I folded the last of my clothes, placing them away as India flopped on my bed groaning. “ I hate your don't need a man for shit mentality that was horrible” she grumbled “ It wasn't that bad” I giggled plopping down beside her “ Like hell it wasn't my ass is going to be hurting for days” she countered “I'll make it up to you I promise” I teased pinching her cheek “ yes you will tonight I want dinner fried chicken, mac the works” she responded smacking my hand away sitting up on her elbows “ Your joking” I asked not knowing if she was serious or not “nope I'm serious”. “Dee I don't feel like it” I whined “tough shit” she said not wavering. She was just as stubborn as I was.” Fine but you're getting the groceries” I huffed out relenting. “Cool with me I'm gonna go home shower then i'll swing back”. She jumped up grabbing her keys walking out. Taking this as an opportunity I grabbed a t-shirt and underwear from my drawer walking into the large master bathroom. I turned on the shower allowing the warm water to run relaxing my tense muscles strained by the lifting. After I finished I got dressed walking back in the room looking for my phone realizing I must have left it downstairs. Making my way to the stairs I could see the light from the living room reflecting on the wall. I figured India may have left it on that was until it flicked off. I froze on the top stair as my mind began to race, trying to rationalize what I saw. Maybe it was India. No, she wouldn't be back that quick. Maybe it was a blown fuse but a scared part of me didn't want to chance it. Tip toeing back upstairs I looked for something to use as a weapon eyes landing on the hammer I had used earlier to hang photos. Clutching it tight I slowly crepted downstairs the only noise was the sound of my heart thumping in my ears. Rounding the corner I froze seeing a figure standing a few feet away in the doorway the moonlight highlighted their 5’8 figure while providing shade from their face. Fear momentarily fueling me I got ready to charge forward when someone grabbed hold of my wrist twisting it causing my grip on the hammer to loosen eventually dropping it. Not having time to process what was happening I was grabbed and flipped on my back pinned down by the larger party. Still I struggled against the intruder managing to momentarily free my arm. I drew my arm back throwing blows anywhere they would land this didn't do anything but piss the person of as I was lifted slightly from the floor and slammed back down causing me to yelp in pain. Panic set in flooding through my nervous system. “TERRY WAIT SHIT I THINK THAT'S A WOMAN” a voice cut through from the other side. The lights flicked on seconds later giving me the chance now to get a look at the intruders. The one by the door stubbled faced held panic as he too assessed our current situation. Remembering the heavy weight at my midsection my eyes shot to the one who had me pinned. My breath hitched in my throat.

His honey kissed face glared back down at me while his plump lips twisted up in a snarl. His chiseled arms flexed as he kept me held in place but the most defining thing however. His eyes. A beautiful pool of blue gray encircling hints of hazel and green something similar to a painter who accidentally had his watercolor paints blending together into a perfect mess. “If I let you go do you promise to not do anything stupid” his baritone voice questioned snapping me from my awkward eye raping. I nodded in response. He stood pulling me effortlessly up with him. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” I asked finding my voice coming back as I rubbed my now sore shoulder. “I'm Mike that's terry" the one from the doorway answered “sorry if we scared you” he said sheepishly. “Scared is an understatement and that still doesn't answer why you're here or why I shouldn't be calling the cops for breaking and entering and assault” I fussed through gritted teeth. Still not saying much since turning me loose the one name terry walked past me grabbing something from his bag on the floor walking back over to me handing me a piece of paper. Jordans handwriting.

Hey T if you're receiving this letter it's because I'm dead. It's funny thinking on it seeing as the squad always joked calling me mister invincible but yet here I am gone. I thank you for always being there for me since meeting you you've always been like a brother to me rather than a fellow marine in arms. Given our prior conversation about your situation, I wanted to do one thing for you. I offer you T a place of solitude if you ever need to get away the address is listed below keys are hidden in the porch light fixture. Continue to be great .. I love ya man

Jordan signing out for the last time

I looked up at him handing the letter back to him. "You knew my brother” I said feeling the wave of his death rushing back again. I watched as his face widened in realization of who I was. “Yes we served together. I apologize for roughing you up I didn't realize you were Jordans sister. I thought you might have been someone that had broken in”. I nodded understanding. “it's fine I thought the same” I said calming down. “Look we don't want to crowd your space and sorry for the intrusion. I didn't think anyone would be here. Your brother as you can see failed to mention you moving in we will leave” Terry said signaling for mike to grab their bags. I sighed looking towards the ceiling having an internal battle with myself and before I could stop myself the words flew from my mouth “You can stay”

#terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond fic #aaron pierre #rebel ridge fanfiction #rebel ridge #terry richmond x fem reader #terry richmond x black oc #aaron pierre fanfic #terry richmond x black!character #terry richmond fanfiction #Spotify

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gothic-thoughts · 1 year ago

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OFC I Don't Mind

Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, Roommate!AU, Friends2lovers, Drabble

CW: sending nudes to the wrong person (nightmare fuel), Toji has a job (😭), Toji intimidating you, some smashing at the end

Not proofread

Toji was still at work, typing on his computer when he was slightly startled by someone blowing up his phone, the ringtone repeating over and over in the quiet room. He rolls his eyes and stops typing, initially giving his fingers a break as he picks up his phone to see his lock screen now covered with messages from you, his roommates. They were all photos.

"The fuck…" Toji squints, typing in his password, "I swear to god if it's a bunch of memes…"

He opened the messages and his heart nearly stopped when he saw multiple mirror selfies of you in lingerie, then braless. His eyes were wide, unable to take his eyes off the screen, the only part of him moving was his thumb when his phone dimmed from lack of activity.

You: SHIT! You: FUSHIGURO DON'T LOOK AT THE LAST MESSGE You: *MESSAGE

He snaps out of his trance for a second to read the new message only for his eyes to roam back to the cluster of pictures in his inbox. His eyes look over every intricate design in the blue lace in the first pictures then to the dark brown areolas and smooth-looking skin of your tits in the next ones. A smirk slowly creeps across his face.

You: Im sorry they were meant for my fwb You: Ik ur mad his name is right next to yours on my phone and I clicked too fast. I'm so sorry You: Istg I didn't mean it Toji: Bullshit. You: Im being deadass,im sorry You: Just delete them

He takes a few seconds to read before a smirk creeps across his face.

Toji: I'll be there in 20. You: What, wait don’t hurt me! You: I said I was sorry. I swear it was an accident Toji: I said I’ll be back in 20 minutes. You: Bro relax! You: Just delete them and I swear it’ll never happen again Toji: Apologize in person. I will be there in twenty minutes.

Exactly 20 minutes later you hear the front door unlock and open from your bedroom upstairs, causing you to freeze in fear. His heavy footsteps climb the stairs. His footsteps sounded like thunder as they got louder and louder with him approaching your room. Finally, you heard him stop and knock on your bedroom door. You hold your breath. He waits outside the room for a few seconds and then you hear him knock again. You can hear his evil chuckle echoing throughout the hall. You take a breath and step closer to the locked door. “....Yeah?” "Open the door." “I feel like you gonna swing on me when I do so--” "Just. Open. The door." “Not if you gonna hurt me.” There's an angry sigh and he knocks on the door again. "You have ten seconds before I kick this fucking door in." “Toji, I told you it was an accident! You're doing a lot right now!” There was a short pause, as it became eerily quiet outside the door.

"Nine." “Wha- stop!” "Eight." “Fushiguro, you don't think this is an overreaction!?” "Seven." “Nigga!” "Six." “Alright, alright, fine!” You say unlocking the door before running back to the opposite side of your room. “It's open…” You hear his footsteps on the other side of the door as he walks in. He rolled up his sleeves as he made his way across the room, tossing his jacket onto your bed before he finally reached you with an exhausted sigh.

He sighs and reaches to hold your chin but instead, his thumb traces down your jawline and he tilts your head up to look into his eyes. His expression was no longer angry as he looked you up and down. You let out a shaky breath, finally breathing at the feeling of his surprisingly light touch. A few seconds pass as he stares at you, his thumb continuing to trace around the edge of your lips before finally he speaks. "I enjoyed ‘em a lot. Only thing pissin' me off is the fact they weren't for me." “Oh… oh…” "If you want to take away my anger, I have an idea of how you could do that." “You… you serious?”

He picks you up and tosses you onto your bed, the swiftness knocking the wind out of you before he even mounts you. You look up at him with wide eyes and lick your lips as he grips your wrists, pinning them about your head.

"You ask too many fuckin' questions. Now, lemme see those tits again."

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Half an hour later, you were both sweaty as ragged grunts filled your room. One hand had your fingers hooked into the messy bedsheets while the other held his shoulder as if he'd go somewhere. His hands were firmly planted into the mattress as he continued moving with jealously-driven fervor. Your phone suddenly rings, showing your fuck buddy's number on the screen.

Toji freezes at first, the movement stopping when hearing the phone. He stares down at you for a few seconds as he tries to process all of this as you hear your phone ring again and again. "Answer it." “What?” "Answer. It." You slowly pick up the phone. “H-ello?” Toji is still staring intently at you as he hears your friend on the phone. He lifts both of your legs to his shoulders and begins to move again, uncaring what your friend could hear. The friend laughs over the phone. “You with someone right now?” “Wh-what? N-no, I'm fine, just… in the shower.” “Oh yeah?” The friend chuckles, “That shower must be packing then." “F-uck you.” Toji smirks when he hears your friend laughing in the background before you hang up the phone. “Sh-shut up, you're… acting like you didn't decide to go as deep as possible, you bastard.” He laughs and lifts your body off the bed, holding you in his arms as he pushes you against the nearest wall. "That a complaint?" “No”

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(a/n): sorry if it felt rushed i literally noticed its been a week since I last posted 😅😅😅

#toji x black reader #toji x black y/n #toji smut #jjk toji #x black fem reader #x black reader #black writers #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #black fem reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro

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sp4ceboo · 1 year ago

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Warriors: Choi San x Reader

A/N: ohh boyyy after the kpop fanfic drought im back and it's with warriors au choi san

Summary: San and Reader are mages, which means they are made to serve. They are lowborn, destined to obey humans - the nobles and the highborn - with their every breaths. What if they don't want that?

tw: 18+, smut (p in v, fingering, cockwarming sort of), swearing, violence, death, blood, minimally gory at one point, war, child soldiers (14 yo), society is a shit place to be if you're a mage, tons of worldbuilding, assassins, freaking bath sex, hint at sa at one point from some dude we hate, san is kind of a brat tamer, seonghwa cameo but sad, idk if you can tell but i suck at summaries, mention of a harem, mention of slavery

wc: 4.8k

As a child, you watched from afar, waiting for things you could not grasp.

They told you that you were made to serve. They recounted age-old tales, about gods that crafted humans in their divine hands, moulding the mages afterwards to be commanded by their beloved creations. They filled your mind with legends of faithful individuals of your kind who proved their worth with obedience until you wished to be like your forebears.

Back when you were but an infant, you believed it. You knew the two powers that were bestowed upon you by the gods, varying in every mage, were gifts made solely to assist the highborns. In your naivety, you thought the rosy flame cupped in your small, childish palms would be used to warm the nobles in the icy winter, and that you would fulfil your purpose through that, through being of use to them. They had no shame as they informed you you were just a tool forged for following their orders, and you were convinced it was all true - until you met San.

Although you were the one with the ability to summon an inferno, he was always the one with a burning fire in his eyes. Like all mages, he’d been taken from his parents the moment he didn’t need his mother’s milk - he was given as a peace offering from the Hwangso warlord for his control of water: helpful for the upkeep of the crops.

This occurred in the small period of time in which Hwangso, the neighbouring province, was attempting to forge alliances with your province, Neugdae. Soon after, your warlord breached their territory, claiming it as his - you often wondered if the news filtering back from the front lines of a new settlement captured ever affected San.

You met him when he was an eight year old filled with bottled fury too old for his years, and you were a quiet, invisible seven year old. At those tender ages, neither of you had developed your second ability yet, nor had you gotten a taste of the power at your fingertips, but San still held his head high; you remember marvelling at the way he’d make a point of meeting every single noble’s gaze and holding it. He was just a scrawny, sun browned kid back then - nothing like the elegant lethality of the man that he is now.

Every day until you turned fourteen, you toiled beside him. The work was cruel, your supervisors crueller; the sun would beat down on your back as you laboured in the fields, side by side with San as barely a quarter of the way across the settlement, the nobles sheltered beneath their silky parasols, boasting their pale, porcelain skin. Back then, San never spoke of the injustice of it all out loud, but something about the look in his eyes when he saw them swanning past stirred something inside you. He made you realise that you were not the soulless, mindless puppet that you’d been told you were, but a person.

It wasn’t simply the rage inside him that drew you to him, though. It was the way he remained sweet, kind, despite it all, making sure to send licks of cool mist down your neck when your supervisors weren’t looking, nicking extra crumbs of food for you and remaining beside you, a beacon of light that anchored you to sanity even in the dark.

Even when, you at fourteen, him fifteen, were sent out into battle.

There were always skirmishes between neighbouring warlords: a constant push and pull for more land, more resources, more power. They would attack on a whim - mages were expendable, nothing more than canon fodder; behind each squadron was a noble who would hang back behind the lines, commanding, unbothered by the bloodshed because it was the blood of mere tools.

By then, both you and San had developed your second abilities. San’s was the ability to manipulate shadows, turning them into almost solid shapes that could physically hinder attacks by forming daggers or clutching hands, or could temporarily block the world out in a shroud of rolling black fog. Yours was the art of shapeshifting; you let the outline of your body flicker between forms, changing into powerful, deadly creatures whose substance was inhabited by the soul of a wavering teenager.

You’d known that you’d be forced to fight since you were young, but you never could have imagined the brutality of war.

It was there, in the midst of the battlefield, that any lingering innocence was burned from your soul. You learned that San’s water did not just bring life, but could also fill up someone’s lungs until they drowned upon dry ground, that your fire was not just a source of warmth or light, but could also combust a man’s heart within his chest, that the animals you were teaching yourself to shapeshift into could maul and break bones.

Many nights, you would fall asleep, curled against San, your face buried in his side with his arm wrapped around you, the taste of blood still in your mouth from where you’d torn your enemies’ throat out with the vicious canines of a tiger or the needle sharp fangs of a lynx. You would leave the front lines soaked with crimson, the essence of other people in your hair, smeared on your face, caked and drying under your nails.

It terrified you, how easily you could slice their flesh open with your claws. Armour was not wasted on mages, only generals, so just like you, all they wore were roughly woven tunics tied at the waist and trousers - you met no resistance when you killed your own kind, silent apologies on your lips.

Within the squadrons were also humans that had fallen from grace - criminals who still felt entitled enough by their birthright to think they could have a fourteen year old mage’s body; San protected you until you could protect yourself. In the first few weeks, when the punches he threw were too weak to deter them, he would let them beat him, giving you time to escape before returning to you, limping, lip split and nose bloody but the fire in his eyes never faltering.

On those nights, tears of frustration would leak from the corners of your eyes as you cleaned him up. He could so easily stop them if he used his abilities, but by then doing that without being instructed to do so by a highborn would lead to a flogging or a beating - fairytales no longer worked on you at that age, so your commanders and generals utilised fear mongering instead. You remember the hate and helplessness burning inside you when you looked at them: if all the mages rebelled at once, the nobles would have no chance, but everyone was too scared. Using your abilities on humans only led to execution.

You remember Seonghwa: he was a mage a few years older who cared for you and San as if you were his blood. He got too strong - you can’t recall his second ability but his first meant he could push a man over the brink of insanity, until he frothed at the mouth and his brain boiled within his skull. When you first witnessed the depth of his power, you were originally struck by the pain in Seonghwa’s eyes, and then by the fear in your commander’s.

The next day, Seonghwa was gone.

Often, you wonder if he fought back, or if he just let them kill him.

After, you made San promise that he wouldn’t show them if his powers developed further. He made you promise the same, and when you fought beside him, he was a constant reminder to reign yourself in, to survive. You were more careful with your powers from then on.

Some nights, though, when the frost ridden night air cut right through the ragged material of your blanket, you huddled next to San and lit a small fire in your hands. He’d tell you to stop, and you’d point out that he was shivering; he’d reply that he’d rather that than get you caught, and you would ignore him, not missing the way he tucked himself closer to the flame.

You didn’t tell him, but sometimes you would shift into a small animal, like a raccoon, and steal food for him in the dead of night. You didn’t answer when he asked you where you got it from, just shrugging and thrusting the rolls of bread and strips of dried meat into his hands, telling him he should eat.

When you were sixteen, San discovered he could animate his shadows. He could mould them like clay in his hands, breathing purpose into them - they would disintegrate within about a week or so, their outlines fading until they dissolved into nothing. San shaped a little dragon for you, the length of your forearm and the width of one of your thumbs; he came to you with it cupped in his hands, awe limning his face as the two of you watched it wriggle through the air between you and coil itself around your wrist.

You have many memories of those times, but one remains crystal clear, even to this day. A year onwards from San’s dragon, you found yourself hemmed in by enemy forces, your body tired from the fight - victory was so close for your side, and because of it, the Hwangso fought even harder, like cornered animals. If you broke through them, you would have been able to easily end their commander, but they had you, six to one. Hands closed around your throat, choking, and as the consciousness bled from you, you heard San’s cry, smelt the fear in the air as he tore through them to get to you: that in itself would have been insignificant - you had saved each other countless times through the years - but he had disobeyed a direct command.

He’d been told to kill the commander. He’d had a clear shot, and even still, he’d ignored orders, choosing to save you instead.

Both of you were beaten for it, and even as you heard the sound of San’s ribs cracking, he held your eyes, silently telling you that he’d do it over and over again, if only to keep you with him.

You think that was the moment when the two of you truly got a taste for rebellion. It was the point in the long, winding thread of your life that made you realise that whatever they told you, you would disregard it if it were for San. Their words no longer had as much power over you, because you knew your bond with him was infinitely stronger than any fear they attempted to instil within you.

Soon after that incident, your commander retired, and he was replaced by a man who was more of a fool than him. You began to lose land to Hwangso’s troops, far enough that the settlement where you grew up in was ravaged, razed to the ground. Your commander informed you that you’d evacuate the highborns, leaving the child mages and the servants behind because they would only slow you down - that was the moment you decided to stop listening to him.

The last mage rebellion had been decades ago - they were not ready. It was pathetic how easy it was to overthrow them; together with the rest of the troops and the mages from the settlement, you rebuilt the town and fortified it. San treated his soldiers with respect, with loyalty, and they loved him for it, for the way he would march into battle with them instead of cowering at the rear, for the way he could often be seen in the newly restored fields, watering the crops, for the way he recognised them for who they were.

To this day, you’re in awe of it. Never in your whole life have you come close to anything but fear for a leader, and yet you see it clear in their eyes that they love San, and that he loves them. He is everything that the highborns fear - a powerful, confident mage, wreathed in righteous shadows, fiercely intelligent, a master of strategy.

One of his first moves was to ally himself with the Hwangso warlord, the very man who had given him as a gift to your province. Deep in the highborn’s eyes was the presumption that he could break San and make him yield, followed a month later by pure terror when you held a knife to his neck, hissing to never speak of San like that again. The two of you brought his head in a sack to Hwangso and claimed your rule over the province.

That didn’t mean it was easy, though. There were the nights when San would tremble in your arms, baring his fears to you, his doubts - that it was getting too much too fast: that maybe he really was just made to follow orders. You scoffed at that - you’d seen him grow up, watched his shoulders broaden and his figure fill out with muscle, you’d seen the fire in his eyes blazing with passion; you knew he’d always be more than enough.

You’re not sure when the love blossomed between the two of you. Maybe it was always there, first shown as fierce protectiveness, later as searing kisses where no one could see, of fingers laced with yours in the dark of night. He married you shortly after he began to be recognised as an actual warlord, not a rogue mage; it was a quiet ceremony, but the celebrations of your people were far from that - rumours of the Neugdae province’s mage warlord and his wife rippled like wildfire through the regions, stirring fear and hope alike.

Some wonder why San does not take more wives - he has control over the Baem province as well Neugdae and Hwangso now, and any warlord with that much power would take on a harem without blinking. Not San, though - he’s different from them, he is a mage, a lowborn, his bronzed skin a sign to them of his childhood in the fields, and they find he is an enigma, as is his mystery shrouded right hand man.

But not to you - you understand him as if you share a soul.

On the surface, you are his only wife, aloof and coldly beautiful. In the shadows, you are his sword, his hand. There are myths of you, of the fire wielding ghost that robes itself in a black cowl and changes its skin into a man’s worst nightmare; stories of how you will twist your victim’s thoughts around until he finds the tip of a blade poking out of his chest, speared right through his back. It’s how you prefer to operate - they fear the unknown, and you are the unknown.

The fabric of the bag held in your fingers is soaked with blood. Within it is the head of the Yong province’s advisor. He was an awful man who deserved what you gave him - in a locked room at the back of his house, you found several young mages, half starved and chained by wrist and ankle to each other and a hook set in the wall. Bile bites at the back of your throat at the thought: you’re lucky you never experienced the uglier side of mage slavery.

Night is falling, the sun casting long shadows down the road. You always find the darkness comforting - it feels as if San is near. Today he is; you raise your fist and knock thrice on the solid wood of the gates, lifting your hand in recognition of the guards who peek over the turrets.

Slowly, they ease open the doors, and you stride into the courtyard, your boots clicking against the roughly hewn pavings. A squadron of your soldiers are sparring, but they halt their training when you enter, snapping to attention as you stop at the centre of the space, the dying rays of the sun streaming down the steps towards you, the air still as you wait.

He appears, his gilded silhouette glorious at the top of the stairs. His shadow guards spill down the steps towards you as he descends; their bodies contort and bend, the swirling mass of them parting around you, liquid night, jaws snapping, circling you until you’re surrounded.

A smirk pulls at your lips, and you throw the bag at his feet. You do not bow low, simply dipping your chin as he extracts the head from the sack, inspecting it and nodding before returning it to its roughly woven grave and handing it to one of his shadows to take away. Meeting your eyes, his own filled with amusement, the hint of a smile flashes over his face.

‘Welcome home, my love.’

San’s words are soft, voice quiet enough for only you to hear. You suppress the urge to pull down your mask and kiss him, instead letting your fingers brush against his as you walk with him up the steps and into the hanok; his shadows close the door behind you and the moment they do, he hooks an arm around your waist and hugs you tight, his embrace warm and sweet as always.

You laugh. ‘I was only gone four days, Sannie.’

‘Four days too long for me to be separated from my wife,’ he replies, pushing your cowl back so he can kiss your forehead.

Gripping his shoulders, you tug him down so you can peck his lips before sending him out to the courtyard again - you’re the last person expected through the gates tonight, so he should go out and dismiss the mages training in the courtyard so they can go home to their families and lock up. A happy sigh leaves you as you toe off your shoes, walking through your home and stripping off your bloody clothes before submerging yourself in the pool sunken in the floor. San has already filled it with fresh water, and it takes you mere seconds to heat it up with your fire.

Leaning with your head against the wooden ledge of the pool, you let your muscles loosen, half closing your eyes. The silence doesn’t last long, though - there’s a soft, steady noise coming from the screen behind you, almost like… breathing.

‘Show yourself,’ you command into the still air.

A man steps into view - a human, eyes crazed, knife clutched in his fingers. You realise he does not know who you really are; he just assumes you are the mage warlord San’s wife, delicate and helpless, and you let that role engulf you, backing away to the other edge of the pool with your eyes wide, luring him closer.

‘Your man took everything from me,’ he spits, blade pointed at you as he stalks forward. ‘He took my power, my wealth, my squadron of soldiers. And now I will take his wife.’

Surging out of the pool, you dodge the swipe he aims at you, sending fire surging down the knife’s handle so he drops it with a cry and twisting his arm behind his back in the most painful way possible, wrenching him down to his knees with his face an inch above the water.

‘How did you get in?’ You ask coolly.

‘I’ll never tell y - ’

You send tongues of flame licking down his ribs. ‘Answer the question or suffer.’

The door eases open, revealing San. His eyes land on you, water dripping down your body as you pin the man to the floor, then the distorted reflection from the blade of the knife that’s fallen into the pool, and something dangerous flashes inside his gaze. You let him grab your attacker by the front of his shirt, lifting him off his feet as he brings him face to face with him; you see San’s jaw clench, his hands balling into fists.

‘How fucking dare you try to come anywhere near my wife,’ he growls, shadows coalescing behind him.

You can tell he’s about to say something else, but he stops as the man, trembling and fruitlessly clawing at San’s fingers, wets himself. Your husband’s lip curls in disgust, and he drops him at your feet, pressing him down onto his knees and yanking his head up so he is forced to look up at you. Bending down, you breathe in the sheer fear permeating the air, a soft smile on your face.

‘Now, answer the question.’

‘You’re not his wife,’ he whispers, pale.

‘Oh, but I am,’ you sneer. ‘But that’s not the only role I occupy.’

Slowly, his face drains of colour, horror rippling across it as it slowly dawns on him. He recoils in San’s grasp, scrabbling at the floor in a sorry attempt to put distance between you; he has finally realised who you are and he acts like fucking coward, his mouth gaping wide in a silent plea. Unhurried, you fish the knife out from the pool, twirling it around your thumb before gliding it gently over the skin of his throat.

‘I’m getting impatient.’

‘I - I - the guards, they were distracted upon your arrival, I snuck in at the southern perimeter, please don’t - ’

His words dissolve into a weak gurgle when you slice open his throat. Blood gushes from the seams of the wound, dribbling from his lips, and you step back as he tips forward, landing with a wet thump face first on the wooden floor. Glancing up at San, you sigh before getting back in the pool. One of his shadows carries the body away and your husband tugs his clothes off and slides into the water beside you, pulling you into his chest.

‘He did not hurt you, I presume?’

You snort. ‘He tried.’

San’s fingers run thoughtfully up and down your arm. ‘I’ll talk to the guards. I probably shouldn’t have put Jisung on dusk duty while he was recovering from that fever.’

You nod but don’t answer, instead pressing a kiss to his collarbone. He hums, tipping his head back to give you more access as you mouth at his skin, letting your palms wander over his shapely chest, grip his broad shoulders, skim his waist; you trace the many scars all over his body, and he allows you to, his strong hands gripping your hips when you settle in his lap.

He curses low at the feel of your teeth sinking into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, his hips jerking upwards, and you both groan at the sensation of the underside of his cock grazing your clit. Smirking, you let your tongue lave over the spot where you bit, pressing a kiss to his jaw and pulling back as his hands tighten their grip on your ass.

‘Missed you too, Sannie. Good to know how much you missed me.’

‘So fucking bratty,’ he hisses.

A thrill shoots through you as he stands, the water sluicing in rivulets down the planes of his chest, lifting you and laying you on the edge of the pool, pinning your knees to the wood and spreading you open. The crude way he looks at you is all consuming, his eyes surveying you from where he stands with the water to his mid thigh, watching as your pussy clenches at the sight of him towering over you.

San remains there, just looking at you, and you curve your spine, almost whining in attempt to make him touch you without you asking for it. His lips quirk to the side as you squirm, trying to inch your hips down so you can grind against him, but his fingers tighten on you, refusing you.

‘What is it you require of me, love?’

Finding your attempts unsuccessful, you huff, glaring at him. He loves to do this, make you articulate exactly what you want from him - he likes the flush that heats your cheeks, your body still shy even after all your years with him, he likes the breathy noises you make when he forces you to tell him just what you desire when all you can think of is his dick, he likes it when you can’t help but beg him.

‘Y - your fingers,’ you mumble. ‘And your cock.’

‘Say that louder for me, sweetheart, I didn’t catch the last bit.’

‘Your fingers and your fucking cock,’ you snap - a sorry endeavour at trying to hide how much you love when he inflicts this upon you.

San raises an eyebrow, not moving to touch you. Waiting.

‘Please,’ you add.

He smiles. ‘There we go. Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Your mouth opens to retort, but he slips his fingers inside you, and your back bows, a soft moan leaving your lips as he sweeps his thumb over your clit, his other hand palming your breasts, his tongue dragging over your skin. Burying your hands in his hair, you tug, making him groan low and deep as you pull him closer.

Delectably, his fingers curl, and you ache for him. San has ruined you for anyone else, he is branded onto your soul and also your body, fading marks from your last time together still slightly visible on your throat - a necklace of love bites, laying claim to you. He catches your chin as he brings you closer to the edge, tasting your moans on his tongue, grinding his palm against your clit.

You keen, coming hard around him, chest heaving, and he smirks, holding your waist as shudders wrack your legs from the aftershocks. The fire in his eyes burns ever brighter, so hot you feel your stomach go molten - your hands tighten on his shoulders, nails raking over his back, your tongue unable to form anything other than his name.

‘You’re always so willing to behave once your pussy’s full, hm?’

‘No, I,’ you start, but cry out when he pinches your clit in warning, the muscles of your thighs jumping as it lances through you, white hot. ‘Y - yes, yes, I am, please - ’

In one fluid movement, San buries himself inside you, sheathing himself until his hips kiss yours. Catching you wrists in his hand, he pins them above your head, and your back arches as he pulls out, agonisingly slowly, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging on your walls before slamming back in, tearing a cry of his name from your chest. Tugging your legs up from where they were wrapped around his waist, he hooks your knees over his shoulders - the new angle makes you sob, writhing beneath him as his cock head drives into perfection, drives you to euphoria.

Sometimes, San makes love to you, but not tonight: tonight he fucks into you mercilessly, traces of possessiveness lacing his actions as he litters your skin with bites, his hands leaving exquisite bruises on your hips. Pleasure tears through you like an arrow through your heart, white hot and maddening, ravenous.

‘You fit around my cock so well,’ he pants. ‘Like you were made for me, sweetheart.’

Something snaps inside you at his words, and as if he senses it, San presses his thumb down hard on your clit, speeding up his thrusts until the air is punched from your lungs. Stars flash before your eyes, and your mouth falls open, toes curling as you come on his cock, your cunt convulsing around him, thighs twitching; he doesn’t stop, just continues ploughing into you, and you tremble, tears slipping down your cheeks at the relentless pound of his hips into yours.

With a gasp, he pulls out and comes over your stomach, his wide shoulders rising and falling with heaving breaths, and you groan as he eases you back into the warm water, a hand cupping the back of your neck as he tucks your head under his chin, sliding his softening cock into you again. Wrapping your arms around him, you press a kiss to his jaw and rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

‘How do you feel, my love?’

You nuzzle your face into his shoulder. ‘Good. Really fucking good.’

He laughs, and you bask in the sound of his happiness and the comfort of his warm skin against yours. San’s hands run up and down your spine, soothing, and you smile sleepily; you are home, reunited with your other half, the missing part of your soul.

With San, you are complete.

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