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cinnamorollcrybaby · 5 months ago

Text

Giving the nerd a chance

tags: nerd!nanami/fem!reader, college!au, stsg, nsfw, dirty talk, asphyxiation, size kink, mdni!!

a/n: this one’s a long one :) pace yourself and enjoy!

Kento Nanami is a social enigma. He is a total outlier but in the weirdest way possible.

This man is conventionally attractive. Some would even go as far to say Nanami’s handsome, almost in a filthy way. His looks are sneaky too. He’s not someone you’d immediately notice in a room, but once you did…

You would notice his sculpted jaw line first. Then, his naturally high cheekbones that gave way to his soft hazel eyes. He had a serious look on his face always, but his eyes told a different story. Maybe you’d notice his blonde hair that sat neatly on his head, styled with an undercut. Yeah, Nanami was fucking hot.

But that’s not the weird part. No, you haven’t heard him utter a single word except to answer the professor’s unanswered questions once the silence was unbearable.

That’s not exactly weird either. There are tons of people who go through college without the intention of making friends… but Nanami has friends. He doesn’t just have like one friend. No, he’s apart of a friend group.

The weirdest part was he seemed to be close with the most popular guy in your university, star quarterback Satoru Gojo. Gojo was seemingly every college girl’s wet dream. He’s the type to stand out in a room. His looks and personality demand attention.

He’s the complete opposite from Nanami.

Then, there was Suguru Geto… Geto was also a strange friend for Nanami to have. Geto was smart, funny, and well-mannered… when he was in class. But you’ve seen how Geto acts at parties. He smokes cigarettes, shotguns whiskey, and keeps up with all of Gojo’s antics. Shoko was the exact same way, except she didn’t care enough to keep up with Gojo’s buffoonery.

They were the complete opposite from Nanami as well.

Yu Haibara was a cutie patootie. He’s also a sweet social butterfly. Another one of Nanami’s friends that just didn’t seem to be his type.

You caught yourself staring at the friend group as you’re sitting on a couch at a frat house. Your college team just won the game, so Satoru had invited a whole slew of people over. You somehow made it on that list. Your friend, Utahime, is begging you to leave, but something is telling you to stay.

“Go on without me, Uta. I’ll be fine, promise.” You say over the music as you flash her a small smile to assure her.

“I really, really, really don’t want to leave you here alone, yn. I don’t want you to end up on the front page of the news.”

“Don’t wish that shit upon me.” You laugh as you gently nudge her arm, urging her towards the door.

“I’m serious, yn. Please text me. If you’re not back in the dorm by midnight, I’m calling the cops.” She says as she grabs your shoulders, forcing you to face her directly.

You admire your friend’s caring demeanor, but she was being a total cock block for you right now.

“I will text you. I promise.” You assure her once again. “Go back to the dorm. Love you.”

She sighs deeply as she lets you go. She’s still not comfortable with the idea of leaving you here, but she can’t force you to leave. “Love you too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oh, that’s all I’m gonna do.” You smirk as she flips you off and leaves the frat house.

You take a drink from your red solo cup to gather your nerves. Nanami has been sitting in the corner of the kitchen all night. He’s alone, but he doesn’t look lonely. Sometimes, Satoru will drunkenly slouch his weight onto the blonde and slur something inaudible to him. From what you can see, Nanami just rolls his eyes and shrugs his friend off his shoulders.

You want to approach him, but you’re still too afraid he won’t talk to you. As you sit down your cup, an intoxicated Satoru is standing over you.

“I’m sorry- I don’t remember your name.” He gives you a slanted smile as he crouches down a bit so you two are face-to-face.

“That’s okay. I don’t remember yours either.” You snip back with a small grin. Something sparkles in his eyes as you give him a little bit of a challenge. He finds it to be endearing.

“Cheeky. Give me your number.” He demands, keeping his smirk on his face.

“Why should I give it to you?”

“Because it’s not for me.” He slurs as he leans in close to you. He nods his head towards the kitchen. “I’m doing this for my pussy friend over there.”

Your eyes dart towards Nanami. His eyes are glaring holes into Satoru with more anger and emotion than you’ve ever seen from him. Your stomach swirls with butterflies.

“That is a really good reason.” You murmur as you quickly type your number into Satoru’s phone.

*** *** ***

It had been days since the frat party and not a single word from Nanami. Your excitement had honestly fizzled out into sulking. Were you not good enough for him? Did Satoru lie? Was it all a sick prank?

Not even Utahime could get you in a good mood.

“Yn. This is so ridiculous. If you like him that much, just go up and talk to him.” She chides

“Noooo.” You groan into your pillow as you turn onto your stomach in your bed. “He’s too cool. Out of my league.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Kento Nanami? The nerd who barely ever talks? The know-it-all in class?”

“Utahimeee.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Let me wallow in my self pity.” You gripe before you hear your phone buzz. The sound of your phone notifying you doesn’t even excite you anymore. It’s always some lame ass notification.

Unknown Number: Is this yn?

Your eyes widen as you stare at your phone in disbelief. Your body involuntarily sits up in bed, startling Utahime.

“Jesus Christ. What? What happened?”

“He texted me!” You beam proudly. You are embarrassing. Utahime scoffs and walks away from you, unable to take the second-hand embarrassment.

Yn: Yeah, that’s me :)

Unknown Number: This is Kento Nanami. I’m sorry Gojo felt the need to disturb you at the party.

Yn: No need! He didn’t disturb me too much.

Nanami: That’s good to hear.

God. Now, what do you say? Of course Nanami is a dry texter. You stare at the text conversation for a while, trying to think of something.. anything to break the ice.

Yn: Did you ask him to get my number, or did he do that on his own volition?

Nanami: Gojo does things on his own volition.

Yn: Ah.. I see.

He left you on read.

Goddammit.

You had your chance, and now, you blew it. Sighing, you lock your phone and try to forget he even ever texted you in the first place.

*** *** ***

I mean, who even needs Nanami? He’s really not even that handsome or mysterious. You keep telling yourself as you get ready to go to another party Gojo invited you too.

Oh, also, Gojo kept your number for himself as well. He mostly asked to copy your notes when Nanami refused to let him copy his notes. He would also send the occasional invitation to one of his signature parties.

This one was apparently labeled as “exclusive”. You had no idea what that meant, but you weren’t allowed to bring a plus-one this time.

Luckily for you, Utahime was visiting back home for the weekend, so she couldn’t scold you for going out to another party this weekend.

Black eyeliner was smeared across your waterline, and you puckered your lips as you carefully applied some sheer gloss. You decided to be casual with your outfit, wearing a basic off-shoulder black top with some jeans.

As soon as you got to the frat house, you quickly understood what “exclusive” meant. It was only their closest friends in the house. Satoru and Haibara were on the couch, lounging. Suguru and Shoko were sitting by the window, sharing a cigarette. Nanami was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looking as stoic as ever. Immediately, you were grateful for going with a more casual look.

“Yn! So glad you made it!” Satoru grinned in a more sober voice than the last time you spoke with him.

“Am I imposing on something?” You ask as you close the door.

“Of course not, silly. I sent you an invite for a reason.” Satoru says casually as he pats the spot between him and Haibara on the couch. “Come have a seat. Get comfortable. We’re just hanging out tonight.”

You stare at the seat between Gojo and Haibara, and you decide to sit in the open chair next to them instead.

“Afraid that we might bite?” Gojo grins as he leans over the arm of the chair towards you.

“Stop it, Satoru. You’re going to scare her away.” Shoko scolds before taking a drag off her cigarette.

Your phone gently buzzes in your pocket as Satoru and Shoko begin to bicker about his social skills. You sneakily check your phone.

Nanami: You look pretty tonight.

OH. We are so back, baby.

Yn: Thank you :) You look as handsome as ever.

Nanami: Oh yeah?

It is so small and insignificant, but that little “oh yeah?” makes your stomach flutter with excitement.

“Yn?” You snap your attention up to Shoko and realize she has been trying to talk to you.

“Shit- sorry. What’s up?”

Your phone lightly buzzes again, and you quickly glance down to check.

Nanami: You’re blushing.

“I was asking what your major is.” Shoko smiles calmly as she’s sat upon the windowsill. She flicks her cigarette outside before blowing out a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore how your heart is skipping beats right now.

“Oh, I’m just in general studies right now. I’m kind of indecisive. What about you?”

“I’m pre-med right now.” Shoko answers.

“I thought you swapped to nursing.” Haibara asks as he shifts his body to face her. The two start conversing together, giving you a chance to check your phone.

Nanami: Are you ill, or do my words just affect you that much?

Yn: I’m actually ill.

Nanami: You’re also apparently a liar, sweetheart.

How the fuck was this man so bold over text, but wouldn’t speak to hardly anyone in person?

Yn: Sweetheart? I didn’t know we were on that sort of level yet.

Nanami: Does that make you uncomfortable?

Yn: No

Nanami: Good. Then don’t complain.

The throb your cunt just did should’ve been illegal. There was no reason for you to be so turned on by that, but you were.

Yn: What would you have done had I said that it did make me uncomfortable?

Nanami: I would’ve found you a nickname you were more comfortable with.

He was being sweet, and you were over there clenching around nothing like a whore.

You had been so caught up in your phone that you didn’t realize Yu had went and gotten everyone a beer out of the fridge. You decide to risk a glance at Nanami. He looked calm and composed. You wondered if he even knew the effect he had on you truly.

“Shoko, when are you finally going to get some bitches?” Satoru asks with a laugh. Your eyes widen as you notice Suguru is on his lap now. You had really been so distracted by your phone…

“At this rate, I think Nanami will beat me.” Shoko laughed as she took a drink of her beer. You shift slightly in your seat as Shoko cuts her eyes towards you with a small grin.

Nanami: I will

Yn: Will what?

Nanami: I will beat her.

Yn: Confident or competitive?

Nanami: Both.

Yn: You didn’t strike me as the type.

Nanami: You don’t think I can do it?

Yn: I never said that.

Nanami lays his phone on his lap, and you can feel his eyes trailing up and down your body. Feeling your heart skip a beat, you decide to look up at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you glance over him. He looks relaxed. His head is propped up in his hand, and he’s almost giving you a lazy smile.

Knowing more about Nanami, you recognize it as a cocky smile now.

The rest of the “party” goes without a hitch. You decided it was time to leave once Suguru and Satoru were obnoxiously making out, Shoko was asleep on the floor, and Haibara wouldn’t shut the fuck up about the intricacies of anime.

“I’m gonna head back to my dorm now. Thanks for inviting me.” You say quickly as you stand from your seat.

“Hey yn-!” Satoru says as he tugs from Suguru’s lips. The dark-haired male made quick work of moving down to his neck. “Thanks for coming. You should come out here more often.”

“Oh um, I’ll think about it.” You smile politely as you head out the front door. The cold night air nips at your skin. The only light was from the moon high up in the sky. The dorms were a few blocks away.

You never like walking alone at night, but you try to remember that college campuses have security patrolling at all times. Taking a deep shaky breath, you step off the porch.

The sound of the door closing again immediately startles you. You quickly flinch and look towards the frat house. Nanami was calming walking up to you.

“Let me walk you back.” His voice was calm and steady, just like his presence. He really wasn’t phased at all by your subtle flirting earlier?

“Thanks.. I was actually kinda scared.” You mumble as you two walk side by side on the pavement. Your arms hug your body, trying to hide from the snippy air.

“Why didn’t you ask one of us to walk you home then?” Nanami asks as he slips his coat off from his shoulders. He then loosely drapes it over your shoulders. You feel your heart skip a beat as you mumble a quick thanks. Your body snuggled into his coat as it swallowed your frame whole. It was the first time you realized… Nanami is a big man. He’s not just some scrawny nerd. He’s actually pretty well built.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” You answer quietly, noticing how Nanami shoves his hands into his pockets while you two walk.

“That’s foolish. We invited you. The least we could do is make sure you make it home safely.”

“We?”

Nanami goes silent, and he looks away from your shorter self. The wind blows harshly, making the leaves crinkle and hiss on the trees.

“Yes, we.” He finally answers your question. You smile softly as you look down towards the ground. It seems like Satoru wasn’t the only one who wanted you around.

Standing in front of your dorm door, you slowly slip the coat off from around your shoulders and try to hand it back to him. “I don’t want it.” He answers calmly, making no effort to take the jacket back from you.

“It’s yours, silly.”

“And?”

“Take it.” You gestured the coat to him once more

“No, I want you to have it.” He says as he towers over you. You subconsciously take a step back to create space, and your back hits the door. He leans over you, having to angle his back to see eye-to-eye with you. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your cheek as he cocks his head towards your ear and neck. “Text me.” He murmurs lowly before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You were left against your door blushing madly as he casually sauntered away.

*** *** ***

You almost think you dreamt that kiss up come Monday morning. You hadn’t texted him all weekend, not even knowing what to say. You felt scared about messing things up and taking his advances the wrong way. He hadn’t reached out to you either.

You were sitting in Neurology, half-ass paying attention as the professor lectured about neuron pruning. Nanami sat a few rows over. He always appeared to he intently listening when you glance over at him. You perk up as you feel your phone buzz on your thigh.

Nanami: You’re not going to do well if you don’t pay attention.

Yn: I could say the same for you.

Nanami: Could you?

Yn: …. point taken

Nanami: You know, you could’ve at least texted me if you didn’t like the kiss.

Yn: Who said I didn’t?

Nanami: So, you disobey my request for fun?

Yn: Disobey is such a strong word. You told me to text you, and I just.. haven’t yet.

Nanami: We’ll come back to the disobedience topic. Why haven’t you texted me “yet”?

Yn: Nervous.

Nanami: You’re adorable. What’s there to be nervous about?

“Can anyone name an example of synaptic pruning?” The professor’s sudden loud voice catches you off guard. You hadn’t been paying attention at all, and you feel your heart start to race at the thought of being randomly called upon.

“Anyone?” The professor asks once again. “Yn-“ She almost says your first name before Nanami interrupts.

“Crown thinning.” He answers the question, saving you from total embarrassment.

“Very good. Thank you, Kento.” The professor praises as she turns back around to start lecturing from the powerpoint again.

Yn: You totally just saved me.

Nanami: Pay better attention.

Yn: Then stop texting me.

Nanami: No.

Nanami: Answer my question. Why were you nervous?

Yn: I just didn’t want to say the wrong things.

Nanami: You’re hopeless.

Yn: You’re starting to sound like Utahime :(

Nanami: Will you coo to me that you love me if I act like her?

You feel your heart start to race as you read his text over and over. He was way more observant than you gave him credit for. You couldn’t even think of a time where you told Uta that you loved her in front of him.

Yn: Is that what you want?

Nanami: That does sound nice. Though, I think I’d rather hear you breathlessly professing your love to me.

oh…

oh.

You sat your phone down. No way were you going to let some simple words over a screen let you get horny in class. You didn’t dare to glance in his direction as you suddenly decided to start paying attention and taking detailed notes on Neurology.

Nanami: You’re blushing again.

Damn him and his observant personality. Damn him and his filthy words that make you squeeze your thighs together to soothe the ache.

Yn: I’m well aware.

Nanami: It’s cute. Makes me want to say more things just to get a reaction out of you.

Yn: Please don’t

Nanami: Why? Scared you might like it?

Nanami: Scared you might like the thought of being beneath me, begging for more?

Jesus. There was no misinterpreting that. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared down at your phone, rereading his message over and over. It painted a picture in your brain.

Yn: As if you could make me do that.

Nanami: I can, and I will. Come over tonight.

Yn: To the frat house?

Nanami: No, to my room. I’ll tell Haibara to not come back until late.

Yn: That seems rather rude.

Nanami: It’s far better than the treatment you’ll be receiving later.

Your head feels like it’s spinning as the professor dismisses class. The rest of the day drags by painfully slow as you feel every little heartbeat and flutter in your chest. Nanami talked big game for someone who seemed too shy to really speak to you. It made you feel intrigued. How could he be so confident in his ability to make you beg?

You took your time once you were back at your dorm: going through your everything-shower routine. You wanted to make sure that every inch of you was soft and smooth just in case! It’s not like he’s actually going to make you do anything.

Knocking on his door, you feel your stomach churn with anxiety. You two seemed to be doing better at keeping up a conversation, but you were still deathly afraid of that awkward silence sinking in.

The click of the lock gains your attention, and Nanami opens the door for you. “Come in.” He says flatly, moving out of the way of the door so you can squeeze past him. He’s wearing his usual button-up shirt with black slacks on. How does this man even relax?

Of course his room is completely clean. His bed was even made military style for crying out loud. What the fuck does this man know about making women beg?

“Your room is nice.” You compliment, trying not to sound too awkward.

“It’s a room.” He shrugs nonchalantly before his eyes travel your body.

“How did you tell Haibara not to come home?” You ask, and he gives you a slightly puzzled look.

“I told him the truth.” He says as he loosens his tie from around his neck.

You swallow harshly as you watch his slender fingers pull at the fabric. His jaw is perfectly sculpted along with his neck, and his adams apple bobs as he steps towards you.

“Which is?” You reluctantly ask.

“I told him not to come home unless he planned on watching me fuck a pretty girl to tears.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you stare up at him with almost a frightened gaze. His movement feels much more predatory now as if he’s been watching you for a while, sizing you up. He had observed and stood by, waiting for the prime opportunity to pounce.

“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” Nanami asks as he steps forward again. The back of your knees hits his bed, and his smile shifts to a lopsided grin.

“No. I just…” You had no idea what to even say to that! You weren’t use to a man so confidently bolstering about his skills without sounding like a total idiot. Nanami was a rarity. He could talk the talk and walk the walk.

“No. I just..” He mocks you. “You’re awfully nervous for someone I haven’t even touched yet.” His fingers gently caress over your collarbone, before he carefully nudged you back. You tipped over and found yourself sitting on his bed, looking up at him with big round eyes.

“Christ. Have you ever even done this before?” He asks as he leans over you. His hand press down on the mattress at both of your sides, effectively trapping you beneath him.

“Yes!” You exclaim with a huffy attitude that makes him chuckle. “Have you?” You ask, trying to even the score.

“No.” He responds before closing the distance between you two. His lips press against yours and move delicately. Your eyes widen before you realize what was going on, and you slowly melt into the kiss.

Lips smack together as he takes the lead on the kiss. His hands gently cup and caress their way down your body before resting upon your hips. His knee finds it’s way between your thighs, and he applies pressure to your core.

Stifling a small whine, you entangle your fingers through his blonde hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be. His kisses are growing more and more demanding as he’s pushing you back onto the bed more and more.

He gently bites at your lip, and he applies more pressure with his knee. As soon as you let another another small whimper, he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He’s taking complete and utter advantage over your body while you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact he said “no”. He’s claiming to have never done this before.

His thumbs dig into your hipbones before he makes you grind against his knee.

“That’s right. Use me.” He purrs lowly, encouraging for you to keep rolling your hips. Once you found a steady rhythm, rubbing yourself against his knee like a desperate slut, he releases your hips and grabs your wrists, pinning you down to the bed.

“Ken..” You gasp out lowly, and he immediately eats up your words, forcing his lips right back upon yours.

The grinding was slowly making you feel all dizzy in the head as you slowly start to mess up your rhythm. He immediately notices your messy state. His hands leave your wrists to grab back ahold of your thighs to make sure you don’t stop. If his slacks weren’t black, he was sure there would be a small damp spot on his leg from your delicious juices.

“Hah~” You gasp as you lean your head back.

“Does that feel good?” He questions lowly before carefully nipping at your neck.

“Yes… Yes, Kento.. more..”

“Oh, what was that, darling? I didn’t hear you.” He taunts as he bites his way down your neck.

“M-more!” You whimper out as you grow impatient.

“So greedy…” He murmurs before his sucks a small hickey on your neck all while he’s still making you grind your pitiful pussy against his thigh. “Beg.”

You feel that defiant nature wanting to kick in. You were needy for him, but you weren’t to the point of begging yet.

“Did you hear me? I said beg.” He demands as he forces you down on his leg harder. Your legs tremble around him as he’s making you rock hack and forth.

“Please-“ You finally choke out against your defiant nature. “I-I.. want more, please… I need you to.. to ruin me.”

“Ruin you, hm?” He asks as his hand carefully trails upwards to your neck. He applies just a bit of pressure. “A pretty girl like you asking for me to ruin her… How could I say no?”

He removes his leg from between your leg, and he quickly replaces it with his hand. His fingers rub firm circles around your clit through the cloth of your leggings. You immediately shudder from the new stimulation. You hold his gaze as he lightly chokes you.

“I think I want to see you come on my fingers first.” He says as he’s quick to shove your leggings and panties down. You gasp quietly as you look down at him. He shuffles himself down between your legs, and he has a determined look on his face. He was set on making you come with his hand.

You push your thighs together with a small whine as he gives your glistening cunt an amorous gaze. Nanami places his hands on both of your knees as he forces your legs back apart. “Now, you know why you came here. What are you running from?”

“I- … You’re looking at me like…” the words ‘like you want to eat me’ die upon your tongue. His aura is just so.. almost intimidating. Not in a scary way, just in a he’s-not-here-to-play way.

“You’re so pretty, but gods, you’re so confusing.” He shakes his head as he carefully drags his tongue up your slippery folds. “Just sit still and let me take care of you, darling.” He mumbles before he laps at your cunt again. He purses his lips and gently sucks on your clit. It almost feels like he’s making out with your pussy.

“Oh.. f-fuck..” You gasp as you lean your head back into his mattress. Your hands fist at the blanket beneath you, ruining his perfectly made bed.

Nanami continues to lick and suck. The sounds in the room were nothing short of erotic. The wet sounds of his lips and tongue smack and almost slurp at you. His hands hold your thighs up, practically wearing them as earmuffs as he eats you like a starved man.

His fingertip gently traced over your opening before he carefully slipped a finger in. He continued to lap at your cunt as his finger pumped in and out and prodded around.

“Oh my-! .. N-Nanami.. ah~” You pant out. In his eyes, your entire body was flushed. You were so subtly grinding yourself against his tongue. In his eyes, you were a goddess in touch with her sexuality and femininity. You just needed a small nudge to get there.

He adds a second finger, and he so carefully curls them upwards to gently press right on the spot that made you see stars.

Your hands abandoned the bed, and you grabbed onto his hair. His hazel eyes flutter up at you, and his glasses were pushed up onto his head.

Your orgasm was building quicker than it ever had before. “Nanami-! fuck, I’m gonna..” You try to warn, but he’s already a step ahead of you. His fingers start pumping a big more aggressively, and he’s pointed with his tongue, focusing all his attention on your clit. His tongue swirls in tight circles around the small bundle of nerves.

Your orgasm washes over you as you clench around his fingers, spasming on his face. He continues to thrust his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm on his face and hand. Pressing a few more small kisses to your overly sensitive cunt, he slowly pulls away. “Good girl.” He praises lowly.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you recover from the best orgasm you’ve ever received. Your eyes flutter open weakly to see Nanami ditch his glasses. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and chin dry.

He then places the fingers he so deliciously used to fuck you into his mouth, and he sucks them clean with a satisfied groan.

“You taste so sweet.” He mumbles as he slowly unbuttons his shirt. It falls to the floor as he starts to unbuckle his belt. You can already feel your arousal building up again as you see the absolute tent in his slacks. Of course the nerd was absolutely hung.

Without another word, his pants and boxers are on the ground. His dick stood hard at attention. It was too heavy to press all the way up towards his stomach. Speaking of stomach, he was absolutely fucking built. He had well-defined solid abs and a broad chest.

You watch carefully as he fists his length a few times. You admire the way the veins bulge from his hands and arms. He wastes no more time: climbing up on top of you. He guides your legs up onto his shoulders, and he leans forward, putting you in a mating press.

His hand suddenly covers your mouth. “Spit.” He orders bluntly.

“W-what-?”

“I didn’t stutter. Spit. Unless you want me to go in dry.”

The thought of that sounded like a nightmare, so you gathered as much saliva into your mouth as you could, and you spat into his hand.

He doesn’t look phased in the slightest as he lubes himself up with your spit. He lets out a soft breath as the wet sounds of him gliding his hand up and down his cock fill the room. He then wipes his hand off on the bed, and he covers your mouth tightly with his hand. “Try not to be too loud, darling. I don’t want anyone to come and bother us.”

He was so fucking confident that he was going to make you noisy. It almost pissed you off, but Nanami was a man of his word.

He aligned himself up with your entrance, and with one deep motion, he buried himself all the way to the hilt. You let out a silent scream into his hand, and your back arches up off the bed. His eyes darken as he lets out a guttural growl.

Your cunt was just too precious to him, squeezing him so perfectly. You were absolutely sopping wet and so goddamn warm. He actually had to bite his tongue to not come prematurely. Once he tasted the hint of metal in his mouth, the urge to finish subsided.

“Shhh, shh. Be a good girl. The pain will subside soon.” He assures you quietly as his hips gently rock back and forth shallowly.

“Mmmnnf~ K-kento!” You moan into his hand. He hates having to muffle your pretty noises, but he really can’t risk getting a noise complaint right now.

“That’s right, darling.. Take it..” His hips start to roll with a bit more conviction. His thrusts are slow but powerful. Each time he buried himself deep in you, you went all dizzy in the head.

“Oh fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” He praises as his other hand holds one of your thighs up for you. Your body is almost slack from how harsh his hips are snapping into you. His leaking tip was bruising your cervix with each brutal thrust.

Nanami wishes he could take a picture right now. Your eyes are all glossed over. Your face is flushed the prettiest shade of pink, and your lips are all puffy and slightly parted. Your babbling utter nonsense as your greedy pussy takes him in with each thrust.

“F-fuck..! So big.. can feel you right here~” You moan as you point towards your lower stomach.

Nanami looks to where you’re pointing, and as if this man needed anymore courage, he begins to fuck you harder.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Yeah? Y’feel me in your womb, darling?” He groans. Noise complaint can be damned. He lets your mouth go and grabs your hips as he continues to pound your pretty pussy.

Tears involuntarily spring into your eyes from the sheer intensity. When Nanami said he was going to fuck you to tears, you thought it was just a figure of speech. Nah, you were lying in his bed, crying because the dick was so good.

“Look at me.” He demands as he grabs your blushed cheek and forces you to look up at him. “This pussy’s mine from now on, understand me?”

“Y-yes!” You cry out to him. Your stomach starts to coil with white hot pleasure as your orgasm builds up again.

“Tell me you love me when you cum on my cock.” He demands lowly. You’re too fucked stupid to argue.

The bed squeaks and wails in agony as he his thrusts are growing more erratic and sloppy. You could feel him getting closer and closer to his release as he gets more vocal and noisier too.

Your eyes cross as you feel your body gyrate on him. Your second orgasm crashes over you so suddenly you didn’t even have time to warn him. Your soul nearly floats away from you as you feel warm juices flood out from you. “Fuck~.. I-.. I love you, Nanami!” You whimper out. In the heat of the moment, it does feel like love.

Such pure pretty words being uttered during such a lewd time. Nanami is instantly emptying himself into you. His dick throbs as he shoots ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of you. His hands are shaking as they hold onto your hips. “Ngh.. I love you, darling. Take it.. All of it. Don’t waste a drop.” He lowly growls.

The room is quiet as both of you pant softly. After a few moments, you realize you had professed a love to him that you weren’t even sure about. Yes, Nanami was attractive physically and mentally. Sure, he was apparently a god in bed, but love???

What if he wasn’t even being serious when he told you to say that? He probably didn’t even mean it when he said it back. What if you made things weird? Is that why he’s being so silent?

Nanami leans down and presses a small kiss to your forehead. “That was intense. Are you alright, darling?” He asks affectionately.

You nod weakly, not wanting to frustrate him with your insecure thinking style.

“Are you sure? I’m not only talking about physically.” He murmurs softly as he slowly allows for your thighs to slip down to around his hips. His hand carefully strokes your cheek.

“I told you I love you..” You murmur out quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He exhales softly in amusement. “You did do that. It was very sexy. Do you regret saying it?”

“I.. I don’t know.” You confess quietly. “You said it back too…”

“I did. Seeing your body in such a vulnerable state as you were trusting me with your very essence made me feel full with love.”

You look up at him as he just said the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t think I regret it.”

“I’m glad. I don’t regret it either.” He smiles and presses another small kiss to your temple.

*** *** ***

“Was that really your first time?” You giggle as the hot water coats your body. Nanami’s fingers are attentively massaging shampoo into your scalp.

“It really was.” He laughs quietly. “Why is it so hard to believe.”

“You were too good for a virgin.”

“I’m glad my darling thinks so.” He smiles and carefully leans your head back, so the water can rinse the shampoo from your hair.

“Where did you even learn that stuff from?” You ask curiously, wondering if Nanami just had a secret raging porn addiction.

“I have the horniest friend group. They don’t understand the concept of too much information.”

Ah. That makes sense.

tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog

#jjk #jjk fanfic #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #drabble #jjk suggestive #jjk smut #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #smut drabble

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nanaslutt · 1 month ago

Text

my pretty little wife

ʚ incl: nanami x reader x higuruma

ʚ cont: fem reader, threesome, oral (f!r), double penetration, praise, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (sweetheart, honey), established relationship

ʚ note: the winner of my fic give away @reivunzwho i hope you enjoy!! >.<

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“How did you two meet?” Higuruma asked, caressing your thigh with his thumb. The sensation sent tingles down your spine, making you all too aware of your body.

“We uh, we went to the same Jujutsu Tech school.” You answered.

“She was one year my junior.” Nanami answered from behind. You nodded, lips parting when his hand curled around your hip.

Higuruma grabbed your chin, tilting your gaze upwards and away from the large hands caressing your body. “Such a small world, isn’t it?” He asked you, smirking at the lust in your eyes.

Higuruma was never one to bring friends home after work, but the new guy at the office–Nanami Kento, was too similar in personality to pass up a friendship with. The two had been going for drinks every couple days, and when you texted Higuruma telling him you missed him and wanted him near, he decided to bring the drinks home.

Unbeknownst to you, the Nanami he was bringing home was the same Nanami you had a crush on in all four years of school. Never was anything acted upon, but you had spent more than a single night fantasizing about the man who currently held you between his legs, his chest to your back.

He was so much larger than he was all those years ago. Even his hands had grown for christ sake, and all of it was too much.

“What was she like as a student?” Higuruma asked, deft fingers working on the buttons of your shirt. He spoke to Nanami over his shoulder like he wasn’t currently undressing you.

Nanami hummed thoughtfully, hands slipping along your thigh, using a single finger to drag the skirt upwards. His touch burned your skin, goosebumps rising in his wake. “A troublemaker, and a bit of a headache–but good.” He answered, “strong, she always carried the burden of the others around her.”

A warm buzz hummed through your body at the praise. You hardly realized your bra covered breasts were out now as Higuruma dragged your shirt down your arms.

Nanami made a sound behind you that made you preen. “So beautiful.” You gasped at the closeness, not realizing he had gotten so close. “Even more distracting than before.”

His words made you give pause. You didn’t think Nanami cared about anything other than going to classes and doing lessons. But he noticed you? A heady rush raced to your head.

“She is a beautiful thing, isn’t she?” Higuruma agreed, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra with practiced ease. You sighed when you felt the tension around your torso release, your breasts free. “I am so lucky to have such a strong, beautiful wife to come home to every night, and wake up to every morning.” He bragged.

Nanami hummed, agreeing. His hands had reached the tops of your thighs now, and he gripped the tops on either of them and parted them with ease. “Yes, she is very reactive as well.”

Higuruma smiled proudly, sliding your bra down your arms and exposing your breasts. His eyes fell to the mounds, admiring them with lust and love in his eyes. “Do you want to show him how reactive you are for me, sweetheart?” He asked.

Your throat bobbed, but you nodded. A smile found his lips. “And is he allowed to touch? Are you comfortable with that?”

You nodded again.

A kiss was placed by your ear, and you gasped. “Tell me to stop at any time, and I will. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.” With your given consent, his hands slid under your thighs and cradled them, causing you to fall back in his arms when he leaned back with your legs spread, exposing you.

Your hands shot out behind you, gripping his forearms. “Fuck, sorry.”

You could hear the smile in Nanami’s voice when he spoke, “you can touch me, too, honey.” That nickname from his lips. You felt liquid heat pool behind your panties.

The familiar feel of Higuruma’s hands on you made you look between your too spread thighs, spread over Kento’s knees. Hiromi was on his stomach on the couch, jacket discarded and his undershirt unbuttoned to the third, exposing his muscled chest. His eyes looked behind you at Nanami, “You will never see a prettier cunt, Kento.” He promised.

You held your breath as he hooked his fingers in your panties and pulled them down, exposing you for the both of them bit by bit. Nanami groaned behind you, looking over your shoulder while simultaneously spreading your legs more. “Fuck…” He cursed quietly, but you felt the heat of it on the side of your face. “Spread her lips for me.”

Higurma did, using his thumbs to open you up. The expression on his face was clouded, lust filled, his eyes were low and his face was flushed, he looked like he did before he came. This was clearly working him up as much as it was you.

“Taste her, taste her pretty pussy and tell me it’s as sweet as it looks.” Nanami’s voice saying such vulgar words should be a sin, it certainly felt like it. You arched your back into him, squeezing around nothing when you felt the proof of his arousal under you. It felt big.

Higuruma stuck out his tongue dramatically, looking at you from under his long dark lashes before his tongue found your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath when he flattened his tongue and shook his head back and forth, lavishing your clit with attention before his plush lips wrapped around the bud and he sucked–hard.

You cried, turned your head to Nanami’s neck and screamed. He grunted when you wiggled on him, unable to handle the onslaught of pleasure. “You really should stop moving.” He whispered. “How is he meant to eat properly if you keep moving around?”

You gasped, looking up at him. The tips of his ears were red. “It feels so good.” You cried.

He nodded, leaning down, hovering his lips over yours. Your cunt pulsed at the closeness, and wetness dripped onto the eager tongue between your legs, which was lapped up with an eager moan. “I know it does, sweetheart, he looks good with his tongue. Would a kiss make it better? Would it distract you from his tongue ravishing you?”

God his words. You hardly got the first nod out before his lips were on yours. You expected his kiss to be slow and passionate, but he was rushed and you could taste the arousal in his kiss. Two tongues lashed between your lips, dizzying you.

Nanami grunted against your lips, and his hands tightened under your thighs. You were about to pull away when you felt something wet and hard hit your bare thigh.

“Don’t stop.” Higuruma ordered, voice heady. “Good girl, keep sucking his tongue. Yes… Yes, that's it.” Something pressed against your entrance, something big.

“Higuruma-” Nanami gasped between kisses.

Your husband shushed him, and you tightened your entrance when you felt the head of a cock against it. “I know how bad you want this.” He said, “please her, please my wife from the inside while I suck her pretty clit.”

Nanami was breathing heavier against you now, his back rising and falling quickly. You shuttered when his cock was pushed inside you–what felt like five inches shoving in all at once before the rest of him slid in more gradually. The both of you groaned simultaneously at the intrusion, and Nanami thrust his hips up, pressing himself balls deep against you.

The pressure was intense, it felt like someone was pushing your stomach from the inside. But he was also pressing on a sweet spot inside you that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. “My dreams paled in comparison to how amazing you feel.” Nanami groaned against you. “So tight, honey, you feel perfect.

Higruma groaned, and you whined when his lips suctioned around your clit again, before he popped off just as quickly. “I changed my mind.” He said.

Nanami’s lips disconnected from yours, and you leaned in to kiss Higuruma. Nanami was still inside you, but you could feel him twitch and throb against your walls with need. You tasted yourself on your husband's tongue, moaning with him before he pulled away and looked at you with the most loving expression.

The clinking of a belt made you turn your gaze down, to where he was undoing his belt with a single hand. “Do you think you can take us both?” He asked, “in here?” he tapped your clit before rubbing two fingers around the base of Nanami’s cock where you were stretched around him, you both groaned at the feeling.

You shook your head, mouth opening and closing dumbly. “I-I don’t know, I’ve never taken that much before.”

Higuruma nodded, “I know, sweetheart.” His hands caressed your face and you leaned into the touch like a kitten. “But do you want to try? Hm?”

You did, so badly, but you were afraid of being split in half in the process. Nanami and Higurma were around the same side, Nanami having more length where Hiromi had girth. Though, you had been cockwarming Nanami for some time now, and could feel yourself adjusting as the seconds went by.

“We will take it slow. Careful.” Nanami encouraged from behind.

That was the last push you needed before you nodded. “ALright, good girl. We’ll take care of you.” Hiromi whispered, locking his lips with yours, distracting you while he lifted your right leg over his shoulder. It was a stretch, and it burned at first, but quickly dissolved when the angle made Nanami’s cock bump into something sweet deep inside you. Each time Hiromi moved, it rubbed that spot.

“Careful, she feels like she’s going to cum. She is twitching around me like crazy” Nanami said behind you as Higruma lined himself up.

Hirimi raised his eyebrows. “Is that so? Are you close, my love?” You nodded frantically, leaning into Nanami’s neck when your husband pressed two fingers inside you along with Nanami’s cock and stretched you. It felt impossibly tight, and it burned, but the sensation blurred with the pleasure he was giving you when someone's thumb rubbed your clit in soft circles with firm pressure.

“You’re doing very well.” Nanami praised, making you whine. Higruma had three fingers now, and was thrusting himself against where you and Nanami were connected. Kisses peppered your neck. “Relax, loosen yourself around me.”

You held your breath, fighting the urge to tense when you felt your husband press the head of his cock against you. You were unable to resist when his head popped inside along with Nanami. “Yes- Yes, my love, I’m in.” He smiled, hands cradling your face. You hadn’t realized tears were falling down your face. “You did it, you did so well.” He was sliding in as you spoke, and it burned.

Nanami made a pained sound behind you, muttering the word “tight”, and you felt him twitch rapidly. His nails dug into your skin as he held himself back.

Higuruma was nearly fully seated inside you when Nanami pulled back, making you shutter. “We’re going to move now, slow at first, okay? That okay, honey?” Hiromi asked.

You nodded through a cry of pleasured pain. Higuruma pushed into the hilt then as Nanami pulled nearly all the way out. A purely male sound spilled from his lips. “I’m not going to last inside you.”

Higuruma laughed, the sound strained when he pushed back in. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and your legs shook when they continued to rub against that sweet spot. The pressure was so intense, it was so fucking much, you had never felt so full. “I’m not going to last either, you- you both feel so warm.”

“And she’s so wet.” Nanami added, quickening the rubbing on your clit. You had no time to warn them you were cumming before you clamped down on them and shattered.

Both men grunted loudly, groaning and gasping as your walls shuttered and milked around them. Your mind was elsewhere then, no longer one with the earth. Through it all though, they didn’t stop moving.

“Good fucking girl, good girl.”

“Wet our cocks, god- that feels so good.”

“So pretty when she finishes too, what a sweetheart.”

“It’s dripping down my balls… God, that was a big one.”

Their praise and words melded into one, their voices unidentifiable as you were now putty in their hands for them to mold, and mold they did.

Their thrusts got harder then, and you screamed when they synced up and both slammed inside your too tight cunt. “I love this.” Hiromi groaned, burying his face in your neck. His body crushed yours, your pebbled nipples rubbing against his coarse shirt.

You nodded, tears running furiously down your cheeks now. Your entire body vibrated and shook now, you had no control over it.

Nananmi panted behind you, kissing and biting your ear lobe, making your eye twitch. “Where do you want me?” He asked breathlessly, thrusts faltering.

You already knew Hiromi was going to finish inside you, as he always did–and you wanted Nanami too as well. You were on the pill, and something about being filled with both their cum set you off.

“Inside.” You whined, tightening around them to emphasize your words.

Nanami released an inhuman groan, and stilled. His thighs shook violently under you, and you felt him release inside you first. Everything was so hot and wet, and Higuruma kept thrusting, working you both over. “Agh- I can feel it- fuck, fuck it’s so warm honey, so- so warm.” Higuruma was rambling now, dizzy with his impending high.

Nanami’s abs jerked and his body contracted around yours when he came down from his high but kept being stimulated with Higuruma’s thrusting. “God-” He moaned long and drawn out.

Higurma grunted. “I’m going to cum, sweetheart. Gonna fill you up with Nanami, and you’re going to take it like my good little wife, aren't you?”

You nodded vigorously, gripping the back of his neck and pulling his forehead to yours while your nails dug into Nanami’s forearm.

“Such a good girl, my sweet wife-” His words cut off with his orgasm, and he stilled. He jerked above you, moans and grunts spilling from his throat as he spilled inside you. Nanami groaned behind you, eyes rolling back in his head at the feeling of his cock being flooded around with cum.

His body buzzed when he came down, and he smiled against your lips as he took your mouth, whispering how good you were, how pretty you looked.

Neither of them pulled out, keeping you warm and stuffed save for the trickle of their arousal you felt spill out between you–which seemed absurd because of how full you were. But for the most part, they were plugging you up good.

“So, Nanami? She is a reactive thing, isn’t she?” Higuruma asked.

He kissed your cheek, creating a loud smacking sound. “Incredibly so, and she takes everything so well.”

“The best.” He agreed. “My perfect little wife.”

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jammyjen26 · 8 months ago

Text

Simon hates commitment. He changes the subject whenever you bring up proposals and marriage. The worst of all, kids.

He doesn’t even wanna imagine being father, scared that he’ll fuck up like his own dad did.

However, today he’s spending the summer with your family in a beach house. He puts your guys’s things in the room you’re assigned.

He goes downstairs and greets your parents and then your siblings, he goes out in the porch and sees you playing with your older sister’s son.

“Aw, you’re so cute.” You coo at the little boy, feeding him his bottle.

He watches with a smile as you play with the baby, wanting one of his own. The longer he watches the more he wants one.

The baby crawling on the floor and calling your sister “mama” and your brother in law “dada”. He wants to experience it with you.

Later that night, as you guys are climbing in bed.

“Love, we need to talk.” He says as he pulls you onto his lap

“About what? Is something wrong?” You tilt your head in confusion, getting comfortable in his lap.

“I..want to have kids with you..” He says, staring into your eyes. His thumbs rubbing circles on your hips.

“What brought this on? Thought you didn’t want any?” You say surprised with a small smile on your lips.

“I see the way you look at your sister’s kid, you look cute. I want to experience that with you.” He nuzzles his face in your neck

You hum and run your hand through his hair. “After marriage.” You whisper, kissing his cheek.

“Yeah..after marriage.” He looks up and kisses you slowly, as if time stopped.

“I love you..” You say with a yawn as you pull away

“Love you too, lovie.” He smiles and lays you down on the bed, pulling you into his chest and turning the lamp off.

#call of duty #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #fluff #female reader

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mssalo · 2 months ago

Text

ma'am

Joel Miller’s spent a lifetime in control, but under your confident lead, he’s discovered just how good it feels to let go. As your right-hand man in Jackson, he’s desperate to please, finding himself worshiping you in ways he’s never dared before—and loving every filthy second of it.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sub!Joel, dom!f!reader, oral (male and female receiving), nipple play (SUCKING JOEL’S NIPPLES like he deserves), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, desperation kink, Joel whimpering, explicit sexual content, mutual devotion, protective partnership, reader is emotionally supportive but firm, Joel finds comfort in being cared for (he’s babygirl) and Joel being so far gone it’s frankly adorable.

11k. enjoy.

part two: after hours

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller had always been the guy people turned to when things needed fixing—whether it was a busted fence, a tough decision, or clearing out a horde of infected, he was the dependable one. The solid one. The man who got things done without flinching.

But with you, it was different.

You weren’t like anyone else in Jackson. You’d arrived last winter, stepping into the town’s bustling life like you’d always belonged, and somehow, you’d made it your own.

People respected you—trusted you—not because you demanded it, but because you commanded it. You were sharp, resourceful, and unshakably confident.

Joel couldn’t decide if you reminded him of a soldier or a queen, but either way, it made his chest tighten every time you spoke.

It started innocently enough.

“Joel, we need these supplies moved to the north gate before sundown,” you said one day, standing by the depot, that calm, no-nonsense tone that made Joel’s stomach flip.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied without thinking, the words slipping out as easily as breathing.

You’d looked up, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Didn’t peg you for the ‘yes ma’am’ type,” you teased lightly, your lips curving into that small, knowing smile.

Joel had flushed, shifting on his feet like a boy caught stealing. “Guess it’s just… habit.”

You didn’t push, just nodded and turned back, but Joel couldn’t get the moment out of his head.

Something about the way you spoke to him—firm but never condescending, confident but never overbearing—lit something inside him he hadn’t felt in years.

Respect, maybe. Or something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous.

The more months you worked together, the worse it got for him.

“Joel, grab the shotgun and cover me,” you ordered one day, crouched behind a rusted-out truck as infected skittered through the woods ahead. Your voice was steady, even in the heat of the moment, and Joel’s chest swelled as he followed your lead without question.

Another time, while patrolling the perimeter, you had said, “Check the west side at dusk. Let me know if anything’s out of place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel had answered automatically, his voice softer, almost reverent.

You didn’t always notice how easily he fell into step with you, how much he craved the way you trusted him to follow through.

But Joel noticed. Every damn time.

And it wasn’t just respect—though that was there too—it was something raw and magnetic. Something that made his chest tighten and his cock stir in ways that left him fumbling for composure.

It wasn’t just the way you spoke. It was the way you carried yourself. The way you moved through the world with confidence that was effortless, never forced.

You weren’t trying to prove anything to anyone—you just were. You called the shots when they needed calling, and people listened, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

Joel wanted to. And more than that, he liked it.

One night, it all came to a head.

Jackson was quiet, the streets bathed in the soft glow of lanterns strung between buildings. Joel was walking back from the stables when he spotted you on the porch of the town hall, a map spread across the railing in front of you.

The way the light hit your face, catching on your jawline and softening your features, made his chest ache.

“Joel,” you called, your voice slicing through the stillness like a blade.

He froze for half a second before making his way over, his boots crunching softly on the gravel.

His pulse quickened as he got closer, his eyes darting over you—your loose hair falling over one shoulder, the curve of your wrist as you held the edge of the map, the faint furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his. “Come take a look at this,” you said, motioning him closer.

Joel stepped up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he looked at the map.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, and Joel had to force himself to focus on what you were pointing at—a marked spot near the riverbank.

“Been seeing signs of movement out here the past couple nights,” you explained. “Could be nothing, but I want to clear it tomorrow. Need someone to back me up. You in?”

“Always,” Joel said immediately, his voice quieter than he intended but no less firm. His fingers brushed yours as he took the map, and he swore he felt a spark.

You smiled then—just a small curve of your lips—but it sent heat rushing through Joel’s chest. “Good. Be ready at dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel murmured before he could stop himself.

Your brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in your expression. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks warming. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his gaze sliding to the ground. “Suits you.”

Your smile widened just enough to make his heart stumble. “If you say so.”

With that, you folded the map, tucked it under your arm, and disappeared into the town hall, leaving Joel standing there like a damn fool, his chest tight and his jeans uncomfortably snug.

He swore under his breath, adjusting his stance in a futile attempt to ease the ache building low in his belly.

It wasn’t fair.

The way you got under his skin without even trying. The way you made him feel… lighter and heavier all at once.

Joel had spent his whole life being the one people leaned on, the one who carried the weight, and for once, he didn’t mind letting someone else take the reins.

Hell, he wanted to.

He wanted to follow you, to listen to you, to give you every ounce of control you asked for.

Joel stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door of the town hall long after you’d gone inside.

His pulse pounded in his ears, the ache in his jeans growing unbearable as his mind replayed the last few moments—the way your voice curled around his name, the subtle command in your tone when you told him to be ready, the approving smile that lingered on your lips when he’d answered.

It was ridiculous, he thought bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake, and yet here he was, rock-hard in the middle of Jackson like some lovesick idiot.

His cock throbbed against the tight denim of his jeans, a constant, humiliating reminder of how badly he wanted you—how badly he needed you.

Joel swallowed hard, adjusting himself as subtly as he could manage, though the motion sent a shiver of frustration through him.

This was nothing new.

Every time he was around you, it was like his body betrayed him, reacting to the sound of your voice, the sway of your hips, the smallest flick of your wrist as you gestured for him to follow.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.

The way you carried yourself, confident and composed, made his chest tighten in ways that were equal parts admiration and raw, aching need.

You were everything Joel wasn’t. Steady. Collected. In control. And fuck if he didn’t crave that about you.

More than anything, he craved the way you made him feel. Like he could just… let go.

The thought sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock, and Joel bit back a groan, his hand clenching at his side.

He’d spent years—decades—being the man people turned to, the one who handled the tough shit without complaint.

But with you? He didn’t want to be the guy in charge.

He wanted to be the one following orders, wanted to be the one looking up at you, waiting for your approval.

He wanted to make you proud.

To hear you say his name the way you had earlier, with that faint hint of amusement, like you saw something in him that no one else ever had.

Goddamn it, he was pathetic.

Joel shook his head, muttering a low curse under his breath as he turned away from the town hall.

The walk back to his house felt like a blur, his thoughts too tangled to focus on anything but you.

Every step sent a dull throb through his cock, and by the time he reached his front door, his hands were trembling, his jaw tight with restraint.

Inside, Joel leaned heavily against the door, the cool wood pressing into his back as he exhaled shakily. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, the pounding of his heart loud in the stillness of the house.

The faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots reminded him he wasn’t dreaming, though he almost wished he were—wished the memory of you wasn’t so vivid it set his whole body on fire.

His jacket slid from his shoulders and hung limply on the hook by the door, but the ritual did little to calm him.

His hand lingered against the fabric, fingers gripping tightly for a moment as though holding on to it might anchor him. But there was no escape—not from the way you lingered in his thoughts, the way your voice echoed in his ears like a melody he couldn’t shake.

C’mere, Joel. I need you to check this.

C’mere, Joel….

The words played on repeat, the confidence in your tone, the subtle curve of authority behind every syllable.

The way you’d glanced at him tonight, your eyes catching his for just a second longer than necessary—it was enough to drive him insane.

Joel groaned softly, the sound rough and guttural as he pressed the heel of his palm against the stiff, aching bulge in his jeans.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as if that might clear it. But it didn’t. It never did. He’d thought about you like this too many times to count.

Late at night, alone in the dark, his fist slick and tight around his cock, imagining you leaning over him, your voice a breathy, commanding whisper.

“Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

It was the praise that undid him every time, the approval he ached for, that soft edge of control in your voice that made his chest tighten and his hips buck into his hand.

Joel’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as he pushed off the door, his steps hurried and uneven as he made his way toward the bedroom.

His body was hot, his skin flushed as he kicked the door shut behind him and leaned against it, his breath coming fast and shallow.

He didn’t bother with the lights. There was no point when the image of you burned so brightly in his mind.

His hands fumbled with his belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp hiss before he shoved his jeans down his thighs, kicking them aside.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

Joel wrapped his calloused fingers around himself, his rough palm dragging slowly along the length as his head tipped back against the door.

A soft, broken groan escaped his lips, and he tightened his grip, savoring the sharp sensation.

“Yes,” Joel whispered hoarsely, his hips jerking into his hand as the thought took hold.

The image was so vivid it made his knees weak.

“On your knees, Joel. Let me see how much you want it.”

He imagined you standing over him, your hands on your hips, your lips curved into that wicked, knowing smile.

You’d look down at him like you owned him, and Joel would crumble beneath that gaze, his body desperate to obey.

His hand moved faster, his strokes rougher as his chest heaved. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick and broken. “I’d do it. Anything you want, darlin’. Just… just fuckin’ tell me.”

And then, there was the fantasy he couldn’t shake. You’d guide him down—your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him hiss as you tilted his face up toward yours.

“You want to make me feel good, baby? Show me.” You’d press his face between your thighs, your warmth surrounding him, and Joel would lose himself.

He could almost feel it—the softness of your skin, the slick heat of your cunt against his lips. His tongue would trace slow, deliberate circles around your clit, savoring the way your body trembled beneath his mouth.

You’d moan his name, your voice breathy and broken, and it would be the only thing he cared about.

Joel groaned loudly, his hips jerking off the door as his hand tightened, the slick sound filling the room. “Please,” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Please, darlin’. Let me be good for you. Let me—”

He imagined you grinding against his face, your thighs clenching around his head as you guided him, demanding more. “That’s it, Joel. Just like that. Don’t stop until I come, baby.”

The thought of your approval, of hearing you call him a good boy as he worked tirelessly to please you, made his cock throb painfully in his hand. “I’d do it,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’d fuckin’ worship you, darlin’. Just say the word.”

The tension snapped, his body locking up as his release hit. Hot, thick spurts spilled over his hand, his voice breaking into a low, guttural groan as his hips jerked helplessly.

Your name fell from his lips, raw and reverent, as the pleasure coursed through him, leaving him trembling and spent.

For a long moment, Joel stood there, his chest heaving, his hand still wrapped loosely around his softening cock.

The air was thick with the scent of his arousal, the evidence of his need dripping onto the floor, and yet all he could think about was you. Your voice, your smile, the way you made him feel like he could let go of everything and just… be.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he finally pushed off the door and reached for a towel.

He cleaned himself up quickly, his thoughts still tangled, his body still thrumming with the remnants of his release. But even as the tension faded, the ache lingered—the desperate, aching need for you.

For your voice. For your touch. For your approval.

And Joel knew he’d never stop wanting it. Never stop wanting you.

Because this wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not until he had you.

Not until he could hear you say his name the way he’d always dreamed, soft and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders as you told him exactly what to do.

· · ───

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as you and Joel set out toward the riverbank, the chilly morning air biting at your cheeks. Joel kept a steady pace beside you, his rifle slung across his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dense treeline with practiced precision.

Despite the tension that always came with patrols, there was a comfort in your presence—a grounding force that he couldn’t quite put into words.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, familiar and steady, and Joel found himself stealing glances at you more than he should.

You walked with such assuredness, each step purposeful, and the soft sway of your hips had him swallowing harder than necessary.

He tried to focus, but your commanding presence made it impossible not to feel both overwhelmed and grounded.

“See this?” you murmured, crouching near a patch of disturbed dirt. Your voice was low, clipped, yet patient as you gestured for him to come closer. “Looks like someone’s been through here recently. More than one.”

Joel crouched beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he examined the ground.

The way your hair caught the morning light, the subtle curve of your neck—it was too much. His chest tightened as he forced his gaze to the dirt and away from the way your lips parted slightly in concentration.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than intended. “Could be raiders.”

“Could be,” you agreed, straightening and adjusting the strap of your pack. “Let’s keep moving. Stay sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel said before he could stop himself, the words slipping out instinctively.

You glanced at him, one brow arching, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.

You turned without a word, leading the way through the uneven terrain. Joel followed close behind, his pulse quickening with every step.

You always had this effect on him, like you were a magnet and he couldn’t help but be pulled in.

The ambush came fast.

Raiders poured from the treeline, their weapons raised, shouts breaking the morning quiet.

Joel moved on instinct, diving behind a fallen log and returning fire, but it was you who commanded the chaos with sharp, decisive orders.

“Joel! Left flank! Cover me!”

He obeyed without question, his rifle steady as he took down one of the raiders attempting to circle around.

Even in the heat of the moment, his eyes kept darting to you—how you moved like a ghost through the underbrush, your aim deadly, your composure unshaken.

But when one of them charged at your blind spot, Joel didn’t think. He moved.

The gunshot echoed like thunder as he dropped the man with a single shot.

You spun to face him, your eyes wide—not with fear but with something else. Relief? Gratitude? Whatever it was, it made his chest swell.

“Thanks,” you said, your tone steady despite the chaos. “But I told you—stay back.”

Joel gritted his teeth but nodded, ducking back behind cover as you finished off the last of the raiders.

When the dust settled, you stood amidst the wreckage, your rifle slung over your shoulder, your expression calm but sharp.

You scanned the area one last time before nodding.

“We’re clear,” you said, turning toward him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, though his arm burned where a bullet had grazed him.

He shifted, trying to hide the blood seeping through his sleeve.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re hit.”

“It’s nothin’,” he muttered, brushing it off.

“It’s not nothing,” you snapped, stepping closer. Your hand grabbed his arm, firm but not harsh. “We’re done here. You’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

Joel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I can keep goin’. I’m fine.”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips pulling into a wry, almost dangerous smile.

“Joel,” you said, your voice low but laced with authority that sent a shiver down his spine. “Do I look like I’m asking?”

Joel swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice quieter this time, almost reverent.

“Good.” Your fingers lingered on his arm for just a second longer than necessary, the heat of your touch branding him, before you turned toward the horses. “Let’s move.”

At the clinic, Joel sat on the cot, his shirt discarded, the gash on his arm raw and angry. He winced as the doctor worked, stitching the wound with quick precision.

But his eyes weren’t on the needle or the thread—they were on you, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

“You’ll need to rest for at least a couple days,” the doctor said, tying off the final stitch. “No patrols, no heavy lifting.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue, but your sharp glance silenced him immediately.

“Got it,” you said curtly, nodding at the doctor. “Thank you.”

When the doctor left, you turned to Joel, your arms dropping to your sides as you stepped closer. “Let’s get you home.”

Back at his house, you guided him inside, your hand on his arm, your touch firm and steady.

Joel sank onto the couch with a groan, his body heavier than he wanted to admit. You moved with purpose, disappearing into the kitchen before reappearing with a damp cloth and a glass of water.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a look that had him snapping his mouth shut.

“Let me,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

You knelt beside him, pressing the cloth gently to his arm. Joel swallowed hard, his breath catching at the sight of you so close, your fingers brushing against his skin.

The faint scent of you—clean and sharp, with a hint of something sweet—filled his senses, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out.

When you finished, you sat back on your heels, your eyes meeting his. “Joel,” you said softly, “why do you push yourself so hard?”

Joel looked away, his jaw tightening. “Don’t wanna feel useless,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna… be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you said firmly, leaning closer, your voice carrying a weight that made Joel’s chest ache. “You’re the furthest thing from it.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, his breath catching at the intensity in your gaze. “I just…” He hesitated, his voice breaking. “I just wanna be good for you. Wanna make you proud.”

You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips.

“You already are, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to cup his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and Joel leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Joel’s breath was uneven, his good hand curling into a fist on his thigh as he struggled to find the words.

You sat beside him on the couch, quiet and steady, your eyes on his face, your expression calm yet unreadable. It only made him more frantic.

“I—I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” Joel stammered, his voice rough and breaking.

He rubbed a hand over his face, his palm trembling slightly as if he was trying to physically hold himself together.

“I need… I need you close. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, but I—I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t speak. You just nodded slowly, your gaze unwavering, and it made him feel both exposed and comforted all at once. The tension in his chest was unbearable.

“I—dammit,” he muttered, his voice thick, his gaze darting everywhere but your face.

“I’m tryin’ to say it right, but I don’t—I can’t—I need you, alright? I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. About how you—how you’re always so damn steady, and you—”

He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes finally locking on yours. They were glassy now, his vulnerability laid bare. “You make it easier, y’know? Just bein’ around you… I feel like I can breathe. Like maybe I ain’t so—so broken after all. And I… I need that. I need you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into the faintest smile. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t pitying. It was understanding, warm, and Joel swore it made his chest ache even more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, the endearment sending a shiver down his spine. “You like me…romantically?”

Joel froze for a moment, his breath catching as your words settled over him. His lips parted, but all he could do was nod, the movement small and jerky, like he was afraid to admit it outright.

“Want to be good for me?” you asked, your voice a low, soothing hum.

Joel’s nod came faster this time, his breathing growing heavier as he leaned into you, desperate for something he couldn’t quite name.

You leaned in slowly, cupping his face with one hand, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut as you pressed your lips to his, soft and lingering, and the low, guttural sound he made against your mouth was filled with need.

His hand reached out, gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you, and his lips parted under yours, seeking more.

But just as he leaned into the kiss, you pulled back, your face still close enough that your breath mingled with his.

“Get better for me first, yeah?” you murmured, your thumb trailing along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing as he shook his head. “No, please,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate.

“Please, I can’t—I’ve been waitin’ for so long. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

You shushed him softly, your fingers sliding through his hair, and Joel practically melted under your touch, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back.

“You’ll wait,” you said firmly, though your tone was still warm. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not about to let you go. But first, I need you strong, Joel. Need you rested. Yeah?”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he nodded, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Alright. But just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

“Well…you know me, baby,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the crown of his head.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as if to prove to himself that you were real. And as the weight of the moment settled between you, he felt something he hadn’t in years—peace.

· · ───

Joel had never been good at resting, but being sidelined for days was pure torture.

His arm still kinda ached where the stitches pulled at the edges of the wound, but the pain was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety that came from not seeing you.

Three days felt like a lifetime, and every hour that passed without you made his chest feel tighter.

You’d been on patrol since the crack of dawn, and Joel had spent most of the day pacing around his house, every creak of the floorboards setting his nerves on edge.

He hadn’t wanted to push his luck with the doctor or you, so he’d stayed home, but the absence of your presence was like a physical ache.

He’d heard the patrol schedule—you were checking the area near the riverbank, where the raiders had been sighted.

The thought of you out there, alone or with someone who wasn’t him, made his stomach churn.

Joel knew you could handle yourself—he’d seen it firsthand—but the idea of you in danger without him there to back you up was unbearable.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Joel couldn’t take it anymore.

His boots thudded against the wooden floors as he grabbed his jacket and rifle, the pain in his arm be damned.

If he didn’t see you soon, he was going to lose his mind.

The gates of Jackson were quiet, the air cool and crisp as Joel made his way toward the watchtower. A few guards gave him curious glances, but no one stopped him. He wasn’t exactly known for staying out of trouble, injured or not.

“Have you seen her?” Joel asked one of the guards at the gate, his voice gruff.

“Think she’s still out near the west ridge,” the man replied, tilting his hat back. “They were due back an hour ago, though.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. An hour ago. His grip on his rifle tightened as he set off toward the west ridge, his boots crunching against the gravel.

The relief was like a flood when he spotted you in the distance, your silhouette unmistakable against the fading light.

You were walking back toward the gates, your pack slung over your shoulder, your rifle in hand. Joel’s breath hitched at the sight of you, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel barked, his voice harsher than he intended as he reached you.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his tone. “Patrol. Where I said I’d be.”

“You were late,” Joel muttered, his gaze sweeping over you, searching for any sign of injury. “Anything happen out there?”

“Couple of runners,” you replied, brushing past him toward the gate. “Nothing bad.”

Joel followed you, his chest tight as he struggled to find the right words. “You could’ve sent word. Let someone know you were runnin’ behind.”

You turned to face him then, your eyes sharp. “Joel, I’m fine. I’m more worried about why you’re out here when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was worried about you,” Joel admitted, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Didn’t like not knowin’ if you were okay.”

Your expression softened, and you let out a quiet sigh. “Joel, I told you I’d be back.”

“And what if somethin’ had happened?” Joel pressed, his voice growing rough. “What if—” He stopped, his jaw clenching as he looked away.

You stepped closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. “Hey,” you said softly, your tone soothing. “I’m here. I’m okay. And you need to trust that I can take care of myself.”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the steadiness in your gaze. “I know you can,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna worry.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his arm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Joel huffed a laugh, the sound low and rough. “Ain’t what I meant, but… yeah, take it how you want.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him toward the gate. “Let’s get you home. You’re not supposed to be out here.”

Joel wanted to argue, but the warmth in your voice and the steady grip on his arm made it impossible.

He let you guide him back toward his house, the tension in his chest slowly unwinding with every step.

The walk back to Joel’s house was quiet at first, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm. But as you neared the porch, Joel’s tongue loosened, and the floodgates opened.

“What was it like out there today? Was it quiet before the runners? Were they close? You eat somethin’? Drink enough water?”

You chuckled softly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Joel, I’m fine. I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his steps faltering slightly as you led him inside. “Just… can’t stop thinkin’ about it. About you. Out there without me.”

His voice was rough, his words tumbling out so quickly he barely had time to filter them. “I mean, I know you’re capable—hell, more than capable—but I wasn’t there, and… I hate not bein’ there.”

You stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face him. Joel’s eyes darted over you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, his breathing uneven, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“You’re rambling, Joel,” you said softly, your voice calm and steady as you reached up to cup his cheek.

Joel froze, his breath hitching at your touch, his wide eyes locking onto yours. “I just…” he began, his voice faltering. “I just—”

“Hush,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I’m here. I’m fine. And I’m not going anywhere for another 4 days.”

Joel exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch like a man starved. “I know,” he rasped. “I know, but I can’t stop—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips soft and warm against his, and Joel melted beneath it, his whole body going taut before he relaxed into the moment.

His hands found your hips, tentative at first, then firm, gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear.

When you pulled back, his lips chased yours for a heartbeat before he caught himself, his eyes fluttering open. He looked dazed, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you.

You smiled softly, the sound of his uneven breathing filling the space between you.

Joel’s lips parted as if to speak, but before he could, you leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time. His groan was low and deep, the kind that seemed to come from the very center of him, vibrating through your chest.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his need unmistakable.

When your lips parted and your tongue brushed against his, Joel whimpered—a sound so desperate, so raw, it sent a rush of heat straight through you.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly into the kiss, and Joel’s grip faltered for a second, his lips pulling into a shaky smile against yours.

“Why’re you laughin’?” he asked, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re eager,” you teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the strength there. “It’s sweet.”

Joel groaned again, his cheeks flushing as his hands smoothed up your sides. “Can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “You’re drivin’ me crazy, darlin’. Been thinkin’ about this for too long.”

His gaze dropped, and his eyes darkened as they settled on the curve of your breasts, visible through the gap in your blouse.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hands twitching like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare without permission. “You’re perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you ran your fingers along his jaw. “Joel,” you said, your tone firmer now, and he immediately snapped his gaze back up to meet yours, his breath hitching. “What are you lookin’ at?”

His cheeks went even redder, but he didn’t look away.

Your lips quirked into a sly smile, and you reached up to unbutton the top of your blouse slowly, deliberately. Joel’s eyes tracked every movement, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his cock straining visibly against his jeans.

“You’ve healed up, huh?” you asked, your tone playful, and Joel nodded quickly, his hands shaking slightly.

“Barely feel it,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, darlin’. Please let me—”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head as you pushed the blouse from your shoulders, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“Go ahead, Joel,” you said, your voice steady but laced with heat. “If you think you can handle it.”

Joel groaned, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you flush against him as his mouth crashed into yours.

His kisses were messy, desperate, his lips sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed your body, shaky but reverent, sliding up your ribs and hovering just below your chest.

“Eager little thing,” you murmured against his mouth, and Joel whimpered at the words, his hips pressing against yours as his arousal became undeniable.

“Can’t help it,” he breathed, his voice shaky and desperate. “Been wantin’ to get my mouth on you for so long. Wanna lick every inch of you. Fuck, those pretty nipples—been dyin’ to suck on ‘em, darlin’. Let me taste you, please.”

The way his voice cracked, the way he clung to you—it was enough to make your resolve waver. But you weren’t going to let him get off that easily. Not yet.

“Bed,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to guide him toward the bedroom. Joel followed without hesitation, his hands still on you, his body trembling with barely-contained need.

“Sit down, baby,” you murmured, your voice firm but teasing as you pushed him gently onto the mattress.

Joel sat immediately, lips wet and swollen from your kisses, his pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were a goddess he was desperate to worship.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking to your chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You stepped between his legs, running your hands up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch.

“Is this what you’ve been dreamin’ about, Joel?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in close. “Me, standin’ over you like this, lettin’ you look your fill?”

Joel groaned, his head tipping back as his hips jerked involuntarily. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Every night, darlin’. I—fuck—I think about you all the time. Can’t stop.”

You smirked, running your hands higher until your fingers brushed against the hard, throbbing bulge straining beneath his jeans. Joel’s breath hitched, his hips lifting slightly as if to chase your touch.

“Bet you’ve been strokin’ that cock to the thought of me, haven’t you?” you purred, your nails scraping lightly along his thighs.

“Thinking about my tits, my mouth, wonderin’ what it’d feel like to have me all over you?”

Joel let out a broken whimper, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as he nodded. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Fuck, yes. I think about you all the time—Drives me crazy.”

You laughed softly, Joel’s eyes focused, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of you, his gaze zeroing in on your breasts, the way your nipples pebbled in the cool air.

You reached up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them lightly, your thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Wanna taste them, baby? Wanna feel my tits in your mouth?”

Joel groaned loudly, his hands clenching into fists as his cock strained painfully against his jeans. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, let me—fuck, let me taste them."

You smirked, stepping closer and guiding his hands to your hips. “Go on then, baby,” you murmured, leaning in until your chest was level with his face. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples with a desperate groan.

His lips were hot and eager, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud before he sucked it into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. “Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

Joel whimpered against your skin, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently as he switched to your other nipple. His tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes, his lips tugging and sucking as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Finally” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but no less desperate.

You chuckled softly, grinding your hips against his lap, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing against your thigh. “You’re so needy,” you teased, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Can’t even keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

Joel shook his head, his mouth still attached to your nipple as he let out a low, guttural moan. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he rocked against you, his cock throbbing beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

“Can’t help it,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “You’re all I think about. All I want.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Then be a good boy for me, Joel,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Keep sucking.”

Joel groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as his lips moved back to your breast, sucking and licking with renewed fervor. His hips bucked against yours, his need spilling out in every touch, every sound.

“You like these, baby?” you murmured, cupping your breast and brushing your thumb over your wet, glistening nipples. “My sweet boy likes them, hm?”

Joel froze for a moment, his pupils dilating as the meaning of your words sank in. His hips bucked sharply, and he let out a strangled moan, his whole body trembling beneath you.

“Fuck, I-,” he groaned, his voice cracking as his head fell back against the headboard. “Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry—I can’t… I’m—fuck!”

You felt the unmistakable heat and dampness spreading as Joel’s hips jerked one last time, his moans spilling into the quiet room. His face flushed a deep red, his chest heaving as he realized what had just happened.

“Shit,” he muttered again, his voice thick with embarrassment as he covered his face with one hand. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I’m so sorry. This is so stupid—”

“Joel,” you interrupted, your voice firm but soothing as you brushed his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”

He did, his eyes wide and vulnerable, his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath. The sight of him—flushed, desperate, and utterly wrecked—only made you want him more.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m flattered, baby. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to come in your pants for me.”

Joel let out a choked sound, his hips twitching involuntarily beneath you.

“I… fuck, darlin’, you make me crazy,” he admitted hoarsely. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about you. I need you. Please… let me make it up to you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Still wanna keep going, baby?” you whispered, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “After you’ve already made such a mess?”

Joel nodded frantically, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I don’t think I ever wanna stop, ma’am. Please… let me taste you. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head as you studied him, your expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, you smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Undress me,” you commanded, your voice soft but firm.

Joel flushed, his hands moving to your waist again. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for permission.

You nodded, leaning back onto the bed as you let him guide the fabric down your legs, his touch careful but firm.

By the time your pants were off, you were sprawled out on the bed, your back resting against the pillows.

Joel knelt between your legs, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail like he was trying to commit it to memory.

"You're beautiful," he said again, his voice breaking slightly as his fingers slid along the waistband of your panties.

Joel groaned low in his throat, his hands clumsy but desperate as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them down your legs.

He paused when he saw your panties, a visible wet spot already soaking through the fabric. His breath hitched, and he let out a shaky, “Fuck… look at that. So wet for me, darlin’. Goddamn.”

His hands trembled as he paused, glancing up at you for reassurance.

You smirked, one eyebrow arching as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

"Go on, baby," you murmured, your voice soft and encouraging. "You've got me all to yourself. Do what you've been dreaming about."

Joel’s hands hovered over your hips for a moment before he finally let them settle there, his thumbs brushing against the edge of your panties.

Joel settled between your legs like he was kneeling before an altar, his chest heaving and his fingers trembling as he slid along the waistband of your panties.

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and wide with need, and you gave him the softest smile, threading your fingers into his hair as you gently tugged him closer.

“yeah, baby” you murmured, your voice dripping with encouragement.

His breath hitched, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He kissed you there, slow and reverent, his beard grazing your flesh and sending shivers through you. Each kiss was accompanied by a low, throaty groan, his lips moving steadily closer to the source of your heat.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, his voice breaking as he reached the edge of your panties. His nose pressed against the damp fabric, and he inhaled sharply, the sound guttural and desperate.

“Fuck, you smell so good, darlin’. Like heaven—sweet, wet heaven.”

His hands trembled as they gripped your thighs, holding you open as he buried his face against you, nuzzling and inhaling like he couldn’t get enough.

The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against your calves, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his breath and the wet heat of his mouth against your panties.

“Been dreamin’ about this—about your sweet cunt for so fuckin’ long. Want it so bad, baby. Wanna taste you—wanna lick you, suck that pretty clit between my lips and drink you down till there’s nothin’ left.”

You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently, encouraging him.

“Yeah?” you whispered, your voice low and breathless. “You wanna eat me out, baby? Wanna show me how good that mouth of yours is? Then take them off.”

Joel knelt between your thighs, trembling as he slid your soaked panties down your legs.

He didn’t even try to hide the way his breath hitched when your cunt was fully exposed to him, glistening and perfect.

His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths as he just stared for a moment, his lips parting like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“You just gonna look, Joel?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently. “Or are you gonna be a good boy and show me what you can do?”

That broke him. His head dipped instantly, his breath ghosting hot over your slick folds as he whispered, “Yes… yes, ma’am.” His voice was low, reverent, almost a prayer.

The first touch of his tongue was hesitant but deliberate, a slow drag from your entrance to your clit, as if he wanted to savor you.

He groaned into you, the sound muffled but deep, and then he leaned in further, pressing his mouth to your cunt like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soft but thick with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so eager for it. Just like that.”

Joel didn’t answer—couldn’t answer.

He was too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open as he worked his tongue through every inch of your folds.

His breath hitched as he tasted you, his lips sealing over your clit for a moment to suck softly before his tongue returned to explore your entrance.

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, your hips arching slightly into his mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that. Look at you, so hungry for me. You love this, don’t you? Love worshipping my pussy.”

His only response was a desperate, muffled groan and moaning as he shifted his grip, spreading your thighs wider.

His nose pressed against your clit, and he rubbed it there as his tongue delved inside you, slow and deliberate, tasting you from the inside out.

His breathing was ragged now, warm puffs of air against your heat between each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered hoarsely against you, his voice barely audible over the sound of his mouth working your cunt. “Fuck… taste so good. Yes. Yes, ma’am…”

You tugged his hair lightly, guiding him just where you wanted, and he followed without hesitation, his moans vibrating through your core.

His nose nudged your clit again, his tongue lapping at your entrance with long, languid strokes, and your moans filled the room, soft and breathy.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice breaking slightly as he found just the right rhythm. “Such a good boy. Keep going, baby. Make me come.”

Joel groaned deeply, the sound muffled as he pressed his face impossibly closer to your core, his lips locking around your clit.

Each sound he made was guttural, desperate, like he was losing himself in the taste of you.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, anchoring himself to you as his nose pressed against your folds, adding pressure in all the right places.

“Good boy,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him. “Keep going, baby. Suck my clit just like that.”

Joel whimpered against you, the sound low and wrecked, and he obeyed without hesitation, sucking harder, his tongue darting out to flick over the swollen nub between pulls.

He groaned again, his hips shifting slightly as if he couldn’t help but grind against the mattress, completely undone by the act of pleasuring you.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as the tension in your core tightened to an unbearable degree.

“Fuck, Joel—don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

He moaned louder at your words, his hands tightening on your thighs as he doubled down, his lips creating just the right amount of pressure while his tongue worked you mercilessly.

His nose nudged against your clit in rhythm with his sucking, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” he murmured against you between strokes, his voice trembling with need. “Wanna make you come, ma’am. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as your orgasm slammed into you, waves of pleasure crashing through you so hard you couldn’t even form words.

Joel groaned against you, his tongue and lips relentless as he rode out your release, his moans vibrating through every sensitive nerve ending.

When you finally came down, your thighs trembling and your breath shaky, Joel slowly pulled back, his lips glistening and swollen, his face flushed and eyes glazed with pure adoration.

He looked like a man on his knees at the altar of a goddess.

“perfect,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, his gaze fixed on your blissed-out expression.

“Did I do good?” he asked quietly, his voice raw and hoarse.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “Better than good, baby,” you murmured. “Fuck.”

Joel’s eyes darted to yours, wide and full of something raw and pleading.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke, his voice trembling with need. “Please… can I keep goin’? Just a little more. I don’t wanna stop. Wanna taste you again, ma’am.”

His mouth found your clit in a featherlight kiss, his tongue flicking out experimentally, careful and reverent as though seeking permission.

His hands slid up your thighs, holding them open like you might change your mind.

“Joel,” you said, your voice soft but firm, your hand threading into his hair and tugging just enough to stop him. “No, baby. I wanna feel you now.”

Joel froze, his breath hitching, and he whined softly against your skin, the sound almost pitiful. “But—” he started, his lips pressing to your clit again in a desperate, fleeting kiss. “I can make you come again. Please, I—”

“Joel.” Your voice was sharper this time, not cruel but commanding. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips glistening and his pupils blown wide. “You’ve been so good, baby, but I want you now. Don’t make me ask twice.”

The words sent a visible shudder through him. He hesitated for half a second before pulling back reluctantly, his lips parted as if to protest but no words came out. His hands lingered on your thighs, squeezing gently as he swallowed hard.

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally said, his voice low and hoarse, the respect and submission in his tone sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

He sat back on his heels, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited for your next command.

You leaned up slightly, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing over his flushed skin. His lips were parted, breathless, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“You’ve done so well, baby,” you murmured softly, letting your other hand trail down his chest. “But I need to see all of you. Let’s get this off.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his wide eyes locking onto yours as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. “Yes,” he whispered, the words shaky and reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed this moment.

One by one, you undid the buttons, the fabric parting to reveal the broad expanse of his chest.

You slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the bed as you sat back to admire him.

Your gaze swept over the planes of his body—the strong curve of his shoulders, the scars that marred his skin, the soft dusting of hair on his chest.

“Fuck, Joel,” you murmured, your voice full of heat and awe. “Look at you. You’re beautiful.”

His cheeks turned a deep red, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “Don’t know about that,” he mumbled, his voice low and unsure.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding over his chest, your thumbs brushing along the ridges of his scars.

“Oh, I do,” you purred, your tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re fucking perfect, Joel. Every inch of you.”

Your fingers grazed his nipples, and Joel froze, his breath catching audibly. The faintest shiver ran through his body, and he let out a soft, shaky, “Ma’am…”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “Sensitive, huh?” you murmured, circling the hardened peaks with your thumbs.

Joel let out a broken gasp, his hips jerking into the air as his hands gripped the sheets beneath him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and desperate. “Didn’t… didn’t know I -.”

“You didn’t?” you teased, leaning down to press a soft kiss to one nipple before flicking your tongue over it. Joel’s reaction was instant—a guttural moan that sent a wave of heat straight through you.

“Sweetheart I-” he gasped again, his hands trembling as they hovered near your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. “I—fuck, I—”

“Hush, baby,” you whispered, shifting to his other nipple and sucking it into your mouth.

Joel cried out, his head falling back against the pillows as his chest arched into your touch.

His hips bucked again, and you could feel how hard he was, straining against the confines of his jeans.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know… didn’t know I could feel this good. Please, don’t stop.”

You hummed against his skin, your tongue teasing over the sensitive bud before you nipped at it gently. Joel’s whole body jerked, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you murmured, sitting back to admire the way his chest heaved, his eyes wide and glassy. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this before.”

Joel shook his head frantically, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. “No,” he breathed. “Never. Fuck, it’s—ma’am, it’s so good.”

You let your hands drift lower, tracing the sharp lines of his ribs and the soft curve of his stomach. Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a shaky moan as your fingers teased the waistband of his jeans.

“You want more, baby?” you asked softly, your voice teasing and full of promise.

Joel nodded frantically, his voice barely above a whisper as he rasped, “Please… please, ma’am. Anything you want.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his underwear, your eyes drinking in the sight of him as he was finally exposed.

Joel’s cock sprang free, flushed and thick, the head an angry, swollen red and glistening with his earlier release.

Pearly streaks of cum had smeared down his shaft, pooling at the base and even dripping onto his balls. You let out a low hum of approval, your lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Such a mess,” you tutted, your voice thick with teasing affection. “You’ve really made quite the mess, baby.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he avoided your gaze, his embarrassment clear. But his hips jerked slightly, almost involuntarily, at the heat in your voice.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now,” you teased, your fingers curling gently around his cock, feeling the slickness of him against your palm.

“This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It just shows how much you need me.”

Joel whimpered, his voice breaking as he finally met your eyes. “I… I can’t help it,” he admitted hoarsely, his voice trembling. “You make me—fuck—you make me crazy.”

Your thumb stroked up the length of his shaft, smearing the sticky remnants of his cum before circling the sensitive head.

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening just a touch. “And I love how desperate you get for me. Let me clean you up first, okay? Can’t leave my good boy all messy like this.”

Joel nodded frantically, his lips parting as a shaky moan escaped him. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice thick with submission.

You leaned down, your tongue darting out to trace along the underside of his cock, starting at the base where his cum had pooled and slowly working your way up.

The taste of him was intoxicating, salty and musky, and you let out a quiet, pleased hum as you licked him clean. Joel’s entire body trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he struggled to stay still.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Ma’am… oh, fuck…”

You didn’t stop, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, collecting every drop of his release before moving lower.

Your lips closed around one of his balls, sucking gently as your hand continued to stroke him, coaxing soft whimpers and gasps from his lips.

His thighs trembled, his breath hitching as you moved to the other, lavishing it with the same attention.

“You taste so good, Joel,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry as you pulled back slightly to admire your work. “Such a pretty cock, too. Look at you, all clean and perfect for me now.”

Joel moaned loudly, his head tipping back as his hands clenched the sheets even tighter. “You’re—fuck—you’re perfect,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “I don’t deserve this.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing along the length of his cock, your touch light and teasing.

“You deserve every bit of this,” you said firmly, your voice dipping into a commanding tone. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, haven’t you? Letting me take care of you like this.”

Joel’s hips jerked against your hand, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he nodded frantically.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Yes, ma’am. Please… please don’t stop.”

You leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive slit.

“You want more, baby?” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction. “Want me to make you feel even better?”

Joel’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours as he nodded, his desperation palpable. “Please,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything. Just… please let me feel you.”

You smiled, soft and knowing, before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Anything, huh?” you teased, your voice low and dripping with promise. “Then show me, Joel. Show me how much you want this.”

Joel’s hands trembled as he gripped your hips, helping you straddle him. His cock pressed against your slick heat, and he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through both of you.

His eyes flicked between your face and where your bodies were about to join, his chest heaving with anticipation.

“Don’t make me wait,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “Please, ma’am. Let me feel you.”

You reached down, guiding him to your entrance, your breath hitching as you slowly sank down onto him.

The stretch was delicious, the thickness of him filling you completely, and you couldn’t help the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped, your hands bracing on his chest. “You feel so good, baby. So big—.”

Joel’s head fell back against the pillows, his lips parted as a choked moan escaped him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect. Feels like heaven, darlin’. I—fuck—I can’t believe this.”

You rocked your hips slowly, letting yourself adjust to the feel of him before setting a steady rhythm.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he bucked up to meet you, his movements desperate and hungry.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding as you leaned over him, your lips brushing against his ear. “That’s it, Joel. Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you need.”

Joel whimpered beneath you, his hips stuttering as he clung to you.

“You’re… you’re so fuckin’ good to me,” he rasped, his voice cracking with emotion. “The way you—fuck—the way you handle everything. The way you handle me.”

You tilted your head, studying him with soft affection as your hips moved steadily against his.

“Finally can let go, hm?” you murmured, your tone soothing yet commanding. “Yeah? Let me take care of you, Joel. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Joel’s eyes squeezed shut, his breath hitching as his hands slid up to cup your waist, holding you like you were his lifeline.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his hips bucking harder into you. “I—I worry about you, darlin’. But… but it’s an honor to. Always an honor.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, swallowing the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.

His thrusts grew erratic beneath you, his chest heaving as he neared the edge.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid to let go.

His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his hips moved with a frantic rhythm beneath you, desperate and unrelenting. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body moving in perfect sync with his.

“You’re so fucking good, Joel,” you murmured against his lips, your voice heavy with affection and desire. “So perfect, baby. Keep going—don’t stop.”

His head tipped back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat, a choked moan escaping his lips.

“I—I can’t—fuck, darlin’,” he gasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “You feel so goddamn good. Can’t… can’t hold on much longer.”

You cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek.

“You don’t have to hold on,” you whispered, your voice a soothing command. “Let go for me, Joel. Let me feel you.”

Joel’s eyes widened, his pupils blown, and his hips snapped up into you with desperate force.

“You’re—God, you’re everything,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hands slid up your sides, trembling as they roamed over your body. “Everything, darlin'. Don’t wanna stop… don’t wanna lose this.”

“You’re not gonna lose anything,” you reassured him, your own voice breathy and uneven as you rocked against him harder, the friction pushing you closer to your own edge. “I’m here, Joel. Always. Now, give it to me, baby.”

Joel’s body tensed, his back arching off the bed as a guttural moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck!” he cried, his hands gripping your hips as his release hit him, his cock pulsing inside you with a heat that sent you spiraling.

The intensity of his climax triggered your own, your body tightening around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Your cries mingled with his, the room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, raw and unrestrained.

Joel’s hips stuttered beneath you, his movements slowing as he rode out the last shuddering waves of his orgasm. His hands loosened their grip on your hips, sliding up to cradle your back as he pulled you down against his chest, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds in the room your labored breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets. Joel’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re… you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with awe. “I don’t deserve you, darlin’. Don’t deserve any of this.”

You lifted your head, brushing your lips against his with a tenderness that made his breath hitch. “You deserve it all, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady but warm. “Every damn bit. You’re good to me—you’re good for me.”

Joel’s eyes searched yours, shining with an emotion he couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to hide. His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing your forehead in a lingering, reverent kiss.

"Now rest up. We’ve got work to do.”

· · ───

From then on, you and Joel became Jackson’s most formidable pair. Whether it was managing patrols, handling disputes, or protecting the town, people knew better than to question the two of you. Joel was your rock, steadfast and loyal, while you were the sharp, commanding presence that kept everything moving forward.

He was at your side for every decision, every challenge, always watching your back—and stealing those quiet moments when it was just the two of you. Joel wore his pride in you like a badge, unspoken but deeply felt, in the way his gaze lingered and his touch steadied you.

And every night, as the world outside grew dark, you both found solace in each other—a partnership built on trust, strength, and the kind of love that didn’t need words to be understood.

Joel always said it best in his own way: “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, darlin’. Always.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I am not beta reading all of that so if y'all find any errors tell me or ignore them like I did the past 22 years. Hope this was fun for you - please comment your opinions (plsplspls). I kinda feel like this is too long idk-

love youuuuuu

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finelinefae · 5 months ago

Text

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things.

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket.

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go.

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week.

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe.

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people.

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything.

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’.

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket.

She read his bio beneath.

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it.

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words.

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric.

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :)

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message.

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it.

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay?

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay.

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end.

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really?

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something.

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !!

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi

. . .

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering.

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did.

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure.

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving.

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?”

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.”

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company.

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people.

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi.

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head.

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office.

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about.

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows.

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath.

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office.

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?”

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?”

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card.

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds.

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car.

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring.

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally.

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.”

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped.

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel.

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy.

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did.

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered.

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words.

. . .

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean.

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went.

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door.

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?”

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.”

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto.

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy.

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers.

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him.

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone. But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . .

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary.

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled.

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb.

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

4K notes · View notes

heegyukeluv · 2 months ago

Text

M.O.R.E. - my only ruined escape (lhs)

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: Trapped in a broken marriage, you felt bound by everything you had invested in it, unable to walk away despite the cracks. But when Heeseung, unexpectedly striking up a friendship with your dick husband, entered the picture, things began to shift in ways you never saw coming.

my's note: i don't condone cheating. and this fic can be triggering for many, so read the warnings with care, please!

warnings: toxic relationship/marriage, fight/arguments, mentions of blood and wounds (due to the fight lol), y/n's husband is an ass but he doesn't attacks her physically, verbal abuse, y/n is constantly degraded by her husband, angst (with happy ending!!), pet names (mostly darling), cheating (yn cheats her husband with hee), SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!!), oral (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, lowkey angry sex. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 26,6k.

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers, @ikeuverse, @tinycatharsis

“Fuck ass food.”

Heeseung was peacefully eating his lunch at the small company’s break room; the other two spare tables were already occupied when he first stepped in, later than his usual schedule as he always managed to choose a less crowded hour to take his break peacefully.

The situation led him to sit with a random guy that apparently just entered the room as well, since he had his lunch box closed for quite a long time, while typing on his phone, laughing.

They both exchanged a few words as in “Can I sit here?” and a comfortable “Yeah” in response; but as soon as the guy spoke again, his curious eyes followed towards his food and then, arched a brow

“What's up, man?”

Heeseung attempted a friendly approach, but the man seemed inclined to complain other than talk. And although Heeseung was the type who preferred silence over small talk during meals, especially with strangers, he felt compelled to interact, given that they were the only two at the table.

The downside of arriving late or during peak hours: having to deal with people sharing – and invading – your space.

The man took a deep, exhausted sigh, his pursed lips indicating he was mad, his clenched jaw only adding to it, and the way he tilted his head quickly to the side before starting to speak got Heeseung regretting his decision of asking about it.

“My wife. She's just too... Useless?” The man blurted out, shrugging as if the statement held universal and undeniable truth.

He gave a brief unreadable gaze to Heeseung, that definitely didn’t spark not even an ounce of interest in him – actually, he quietly prepared himself for the following words, restraining an eye-roll that was teetering to escape.

“Can't cook, can't keep the house clean, can't do shit,” he continued, his tone dripping with gross disdain. “And the good thing she had on her, she lost through the years.”

Heeseung kept his skeptical and slightly confused expression weighing his features, eyes darting towards the said “ass” food as he took a bite of his; it looked delicious and the smell was amazing. If the guy kept on crying over it, he would definitely suggest changing plates.

“Yeah?” Heeseung replied flatly, his voice carefully measured to express his disinterest.

He didn’t buy a word of the man’s complaints but held back the urge to ask why he had married this supposedly intolerable woman in the first place.

“Yeah,” he agreed and then leaned closer, now chewing a piece of meat with an exaggerated disgust. “You know, she was a hottie back then,” he muttered, a repulsive smirk creeping onto his face. Heeseung swallowed his will to punch that idiot in the face, his jaw clenching involuntarily. He wasn’t enjoying a glimmer of that conversation.

The man’s face contorted as if he was reminiscent about his wife in the past. “Fuck, she was hot. Best pussy I've ever had. Thought I could marry her and screw my stress away, you know?” The man’s head shook in mock disappointment. “But now? She barely gives me anything. Always some excuse. Lazy as hell.”

Heeseung’s stomach churned as the man's nauseating words thickly filled the air. He tried to focus on his own food, avoiding engaging any bit on that topic, but that casual, sickening misogyny was an appetite killer.

“You get me, right?” the man said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Your wife probably takes care of you, huh? Keeps you satisfied?”

The playful shove to Heeseung’s shoulder nearly pushed him over the edge. Holding back a retort – or worse, a punch – he forced his expression into something resembling composure.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Heeseung finally said, his voice tight, sharp and precise, a clear indicator that he didn’t want to be bothered anymore, not by that fuck ass guy.

The man laughed, shaking his head. “Well, lucky you then.”

That was Heeseung's first interaction with your husband. At the time, he couldn't have cared less about your relationship, he was indifferent, barely bothering to acknowledge it. His only genuine hope was that you would eventually escape from the grip of that asshole and find yourself with a real man who actually deserved you.

That was his stance – until the moment he saw you.

It was the company’s party reception or something similar, he didn’t care much to give a proper definition, not when you walked into the room, radiant in a sleek, black dress that hugged your figure perfectly. The way your smile lit up your face as you greeted everyone made the entire place seem to pause for a beat. Your lips, painted in a bold cherry red, glistened in the soft lighting, and your eyes – oh, your eyes – shone like stars in the night sky, captivating anyone who dared to meet your gaze.

You were beautiful in a way that left him breathless.

And then, as if in slow motion, his gaze shifted to the man standing beside you. Your husband. The one he eventually – and unwillingly – learned the name: Brendon.

The words that escaped his lips were little more than a breathless mutter, “Are you fucking joking?”

His grip on the glass tightened, fingers curling around it with an intensity born from pure frustration and anger. This was the woman? The one your husband had described as plain, unremarkable, not even remotely sensual?

This goddess, standing there like an oasis mirage? Like something unreachable, untouchable, immaculate?

He couldn’t understand it, no, definitely not. A woman like you dating – no, worse married to – a douchebag that didn’t give you what you needed, what you deserved.

He didn’t believe in fate, but the way things had unfolded, Heeseung was starting to wonder if the universe had conspired to bring him there, to that exact moment. After all, there was no other way he would have ever crossed paths with you.

Witnessing your existence, so alluring, so captivating, had flickered a spark in his mind, like a quiet revelation that simmered until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Heeseung made it his mission to make you his.

It was a dangerous game, even reckless, his friends would try to stop it even before turning the idea into real words.

By then, he had gathered just enough to know the basics – your husband was a waste of space, and you, without a doubt, deserved something far better.

He didn’t know how you felt about the way you were treated, nor how deeply you were tied to that toxic relationship, but he knew he had to take the chance, to shoot his shot.

With that resolve, and after draining his glass in a single gulp, his eyes never leaving yours, Heeseung moved towards you both with quiet confidence, every step sure and deliberate.

“Hey, Brendon!”

Heeseung noticed the way your beautiful eyes gently settled on his, briefly wandering over his body before returning to meet his gaze once again. Your cheeks flushed – at least, he noticed a faint blush that didn’t seem to be the result of your flawless makeup.

He smiled warmly, shaking Brendon’s hand, who made sure to release his own from yours to greet Heeseung properly, pulling him into a half hug.

The first thing Heeseung would change in this dynamic: he would never let you go for something as a brief touch, left alone to greet some random acquaintance. And if he did, he would be quick to pull you back into his arms and show you off.

“Heeseung! Good to see you, man.”

The pat on the back felt a little too friendly, a little too close for Heeseung’s liking, but if he had to go through hell just to get closer to you, the goddess, he would endure it.

“This party’s kind of weird. So far, I’ve only seen strange people, but it’s nice to have some familiar faces.”

Heeseung forced a laugh as they pulled away, trying not to let the intensity of his gaze linger on you too much – he couldn’t be too obvious.

“Yeah…” He replied, trying to keep the conversation going, but honestly, he had no interest in Brendon – not that he could admit it out loud, especially since Brendon was probably the biggest obstacle in trying to do anything directly with you.

But when you responded to your husband with a shy smile, linking your arm with his, Heeseung couldn’t hide the wave of relief that washed over him. And your voice... It was beautiful.

“Stop it, babe. They weren’t weird, they were just being nice.”

“Yeah. For you, it’s always just kindness,” he rolled his eyes, not even bothering to reciprocate the affection by properly linking his arm with yours as he took a sip from his drink. “See, Heeseung? Women and their sensitivities. Be careful when you get married, man. Choose wisely, don’t pick the sensitive ones.”

The wave of nausea that hit Heeseung was enough for him to not even try to hide his discomfort. Brendon spilled all that nonsense like it was easy to say such atrocious things, ending it with a sleazy laugh that only added to the ridiculous image he was creating of himself.

Heeseung couldn’t deny that it was impressive how quickly Brendon could spew so much garbage, as if his mind was actively working to spread blind hatred towards anyone who didn’t fit into his corrupted morality.

“And this is...?”

Before any awkward silence began to settle in, and after Heeseung noticed that Brendon hadn’t made even the slightest effort to acknowledge the stunning wife standing by his side, he took the cue and swiftly redirected the conversation towards his primary target: you.

“Ah, Y/N. Apologies for not introducing myself earlier.”

You smiled warmly, extending your hand for a handshake, but the touch was brief, fleeting – only for Brendon to possessively wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer to him.

Heeseung barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes – so this was the type of man who treated his wife like trash, yet couldn’t stand anyone giving her attention?

“You always forget your manners at home, don’t you, honey?” Brendon tried to make a joke, one that only he seemed to find amusing as he laughed solitarily.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Heeseung didn’t bother mentioning that the few times he and Brendon had ever spoken, you had been one of the main topics – yet none of those discussions had been about praising or cherishing you as you deserved. Instead, it was always something demeaning, as if your worth were only worth degrading.

Heeseung noticed that you seemed like you wanted to say something, almost as if you were about to murmur a “me too,” but all that came out was a forced, distant smile – almost sad, withdrawn. Your once radiant and seemingly communicative aura slowly and painfully faded away. You swallowed the words that dared to leave your mouth, and it left a bitter taste in Heeseung’s mouth to see that, but he swallowed it as well, choosing to remain polite – at least for now.

And you, indeed, were holding yourself back. Brendon didn’t like it when you greeted other people, especially men. He used to tell you that they were all filthy, that they would seduce you and take you to their rooms to fuck you, and you, as the good slut you were, would give in to their charms.

Part of you wished that were true, because if you at least had good sex with your husband, it could serve as a reason to stay firmly and resistant to his attempts – and success – of being an ass, but even that he couldn’t give you.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you murmured, more to avoid a potential fight in the future than to actually inform anyone. You could feel the tears threatening to fall, burning like fire in your eyes.

There were moments when you questioned what was still keeping you there. You had read countless reports and books – hidden, because Brendon didn’t like you becoming too informed – about women in relationships that you later recognized as abusive. They were designed to destroy a woman's self-esteem and take out the light of happiness that once burned so brightly.

You saw yourself in each of those stories in different ways, because Brendon had never dared to physically harm you. His game was personal, psychological, like controlling the finances and part of your daily routines.

He even went as far as threatening to install cameras around your apartment to make sure you weren’t cheating on him or breaking any of his ridiculous rules when he was out of the house.

Thankfully, you managed to hold on to your decision to keep working, something you cherished deeply. The flower shop that took up most of your time was a sanctuary, a place where you could momentarily forget that you had a husband of questionable character.

It was undeniable that the thought of divorce had crossed your mind countless times. Building a routine of minimal care for him, based on his absurd demands, also fed the feeling of permanence. You had to stay because you had to take care of him. Who would make his lunch boxes or wash his underwear?

It was a trivial thing, and maybe you used it to cover up your true desire – to run away, to escape from a relationship that, at one point, in a distant and fantastical past, had been full of promises that sounded genuine, of eternal love and affectionate care.

Everything was perfect during the first six months, until he realized that the sex he had once craved every day had lost its appeal, even though you kept trying to innovate, to please him. Brendon was never satisfied with you, judged every little part of your life as though that became his greatest pleasure.

Sharing a home with you was more of an obligation than a choice, and for a long time, you felt guilty.

He attempted to make it up with you, to buy you gifts and lead you to cute dates. It worked in the first year. And the second as well – the transient hopeless feeling of fixing him, of growing over it, of getting used to it… You tried everything.

To exhaust yourself in order to take every effort in the books to save your marriage from failure was in vain, your husband himself was making sure that your deep, sincere love turned into hate.

Heeseung was torn between feeling relieved that you had walked away and utterly frustrated that you had to.

He didn’t truly know you yet – not enough to form solid judgments about whether your character was as vile as your husband’s. However, the brief moments he shared with you were more than enough to convince him that you didn’t deserve even a fraction of the treatment Brendon gave you.

But if he wanted his plan to succeed, he needed to win Brendon’s trust first.

“So, man, how’s it going?” Heeseung forced himself to sound as friendly and approachable as possible, his expression carefully crafted to radiate genuine interest in how Brendon’s life had been lately.

“Oh, you know. Tons of work, annoying clients, a couple of coworkers who... I don’t know, just seem like they couldn’t care less about their jobs. The usual.”

The internal battle Heeseung was fighting was so intense he had to physically restrain himself from throwing the punch he had been saving for Brendon since day one. The man hadn’t said anything outrageous – yet –, but the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, was enough to taunt Heeseung the wrong way.

Still, he forced himself to stay in character.

“Ah, that sounds rough. Sorry to hear you’ve been under so much stress.”

With a subtle pat on Brendon’s shoulder and words laced with faux sympathy, Heeseung could tell he had earned another fragment of his trust.

“Thanks for understanding, man. When I try to talk about this stuff with my wife, she just goes insane, you know? Says all I do is complain, and that nothing’s ever good enough…”

Heeseung nodded, carefully calibrating his expression so nothing but fake empathy would slip through. Inwardly, he wholeheartedly agreed with you – so much that he had to work hard to keep composure, leaving to Brendon the mission of filling up the awkward silence.

“And how am I supposed to not complain when she can’t do anything right?” Brendon huffed, shrugging dramatically and exhaling like a childish tantrum.

Heeseung’s self-control was tested to its limits. He wanted to roll his eyes so badly but instead kept his mouth shut, grabbing a drink from a passing waiter to occupy his hands, not uttering a word.

“No one at work does anything right, but then I think, well, at least I can go home and unwind with my hot wife. And then I get home, and it’s all wrong there, too.”

This time, Heeseung couldn’t stop himself. The words slipped out before he could think better of them, sipping on his drink right after, eyes locked onto Brendon’s angry expression.

“Have you ever thought about getting a divorce?”

Brendon turned to him, wide-eyed, as if Heeseung had just suggested something unthinkable, as if he was a lunatic.

“What? Divorce? Are you out of your mind, man?!” And then he laughed, a hollow, grating sound. “She’s the love of my life.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Heeseung forced a small chuckle, drifting his eyes to his drink as he sipped once more. Yeah, definitely a lot of alcohol to help him go through this job of hell. “You two look like a lovely couple, my bad for suggesting that shit,” Heeseung nearly choked out that horrible sentence, cringing hard before the idea of complimenting anything in that piece of thrash.

“Nah. You’re good.”

Little by little, Heeseung managed to earn Brendon's trust. He started conversations about their few shared interests, sometimes even pretending to know more about topics he wasn’t particularly invested in, all to build a solid foundation for their blossoming “friendship”.

Heeseung had one clear goal: to keep you out of their conversations. He knew Brendon would likely take the opportunity to list every supposed flaw you had.

The more time Heeseung spent with Brendon, the more he realized he was a spoiled man who expected the world to revolve around his desires. It was almost comical and pathetic to hear him brag about his so-called glory days in college, where he claimed to have broken countless hearts as if it were some sort of accomplishment.

Through these interactions, Heeseung learned more about you – or at least about how you and Brendon had met and fallen in love.

Back then, you were calm, the kind of girl few would approach because they thought you were plain, boring, bland – Brendon's words. Apparently it was forbidden to use flattering ones even while describing how he fell in love with you. He decided to ask you out because, despite everything, you were pretty. And hot.

Of course, Brendon’s interest in you started with your looks and the supposedly mind-blowing sex you offered – almost as if you were some kind of goddess in bed – those were Brendon’s words again.

As Heeseung listened to Brendon recount this “love story,” he had to fight the urge to let his thoughts slip into words that would be anything but kind. He also worked hard to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to reveal his growing disdain.

The “love of Brendon’s life” wasn’t someone he cherished – it was a possession, a fantasy. He married you to maintain his hold on you, to keep other men away, because the thought of someone else touching you drove him insane.

The absurdity of it all nearly made Heeseung sick. Brendon couldn’t speak about you without a complaint to follow, without reducing your beauty to objectification, or without expressing his so-called “love” through a thinly veiled frustration rooted in his own insecurities.

But amidst the storm of Brendon’s toxic words, like a single ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, Heeseung now had reasons to visit your home regularly.

You were rarely home when he came by. On weekends, you worked at the flower shop, with your days off falling on Mondays and Tuesdays instead of Saturdays and Sundays. Brendon didn’t seem to care, often commenting that at least your “annoying voice” wouldn’t disturb his peace.

Yet, Heeseung found himself wishing he could see you more often. After enduring so much time and effort to break through Brendon’s defenses, earning a significant amount of his trust, it was disheartening to not see the person who made it all worthwhile.

“Y/N should be home early from work today. Let’s enjoy the peace while we can,” Brendon said offhandedly.

Heeseung’s ears perked up at the news.

It was the fourth weekend in a row that Heeseung had ditched plans with his friends to hang out with Brendon. Their gaming sessions weren’t the worst – most of the conversation revolved around the games themselves, sparing Heeseung from Brendon’s typical misogyny. But still, spending time with someone so consumed by complaints and negativity was exhausting.

The thought of finally seeing you again, however, was enough to rekindle his energy. Heeseung glanced at the time on his wristwatch, silently hoping your shift at the flower shop would end sooner rather than later; his heart was already racing at the thought of finally seeing you.

He cared little if you looked like a tired, married woman after a long day of work. You would still be beautiful, as always, with your charming smile that would likely grace your lips, your radiant gaze – maybe even surprised to find him there, sprawled on the couch playing video games with your husband.

Heeseung just hoped you wouldn't misunderstand, that you wouldn't think he was anything like your husband. The fleeting idea of being seen under thar judgment was enough to make him slightly desperate to prove he was different.

When the door swung open, revealing a female figure entering, greeted by the dim light of the living room, Heeseung froze. Like, literally, his fingers froze on the controller, and his eyes locked on you.

You were wearing the most adorable light denim overalls, with embroidered mushrooms on the front. The black shirt contrasted perfectly with the light tone of your overalls and matched your black Converse sneakers perfectly. You looked beautiful.

“Yo, we're gonna lose, man!” Brendon shoved his shoulder into Heeseung’s to snap his focus back to the game.

“Sorry,” Heeseung murmured quietly, turning his gaze back to the light of the TV screen, though occasionally taking a moment to admire you as you slipped off your shoes and hung your purse by the door. “Need help?” He asked you directly, almost standing up from the couch when he finally noticed the two heavy bags of groceries you were carrying.

Brendon rolled his eyes and shoved Heeseung back onto the couch, not even giving you the chance to accept or decline the offer.

“Ignore her, focus here.”

Heeseung shot Brendon a skeptical look, which luckily he didn’t catch as his eyes were glued to the screen again. Heeseung gave you one more glance, a silent apology in which you gently shook your head and smiled warmly, whispering.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Heeseung could see the frustration in your tired eyes, although you attempted to keep as nonchalant as possible, as if you were used to your husband's futility. He watched how you vanished into the back of the house, most probably the kitchen to organize the items you had bought.

Somehow, Heeseung wasn’t interested in gaming anymore, not when you were just a few steps away and he could properly greet you. He stalled a little, just not to be too obvious with his intentions, before getting up and saying.

“I’m gonna grab something in the kitchen.”

And of course, the spoiled asshole would ask for something as well.

“Yeah, yeah. Grab me a beer.”

“Alright.”

Heeseung didn’t deny it; he had learned a few areas of the house already. After all, on the few occasions when Brendon didn’t say a single word about whether you were home or not, he’d claim he was going to the bathroom, when in reality, he was sneaking around, hoping naively he might catch a glimpse of you somewhere, gracing his eyes with your gorgeous presence.

The kitchen was the most obvious place his feet knew the way to by heart. It was the spot where guests were welcomed, where Brendon would offer drinks like whiskey and cold beer – which, apart from you and the PS5, were the only decent things that house had to offer.

So Heeseung made his way there slowly, feigning casualness, though internally preparing himself for a direct interaction with you. Since the very first day, he hadn’t had a single chance to speak to you alone, so he had to make the most of every second to begin showing you that he was a good man, and that if you wanted, and allowed him to, he could show you just how good he could be – in every sense of the word.

He heard a faint hum and the soft sound of things shifting around, indicating that you were still busy organizing the kitchen as he approached the room. He lowered his voice as much as possible to announce his presence, not wanting to startle you.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Even so, you jumped slightly and turned towards him, flashing wide eyes that expressed your surprise.

You didn’t expect no one to come into the kitchen, let alone your husband or his friend, but you couldn’t deny that you were a bit happy that he did so.

Despite befriending your husband, Heeseung seemed to be a nice guy. You had little to no information about him, since Brendon barely told you about his day or his overall routine during the brief moments you two were together; he would rather choose to mistreat you and complain about your mistakes instead of sharing the perks of his work day.

“Yeah! I’m sure,” you managed to answer back in a breath, ignoring Heeseung’s presence for a bit as you reached for some of the groceries packages scattered all over the counter, to place them perfectly into the cabinets.

Heeseung’s eyes followed the motion of your skilled body handling everything a bit too well, as if you were used to chores overwork.

Heeseung felt a tingling urge to help, to be useful, to ease your stress. It was something he would do effortlessly, if he was the one married to you. In fact, if it were up to him, you would just sit there being beautiful while he took care of everything, because you deserved to be treated like a queen.

Brendon had complained countless times about all the things you did – for him, obviously, in the form of grumbling.

How you were “cringe” for making little love notes and putting them in his lunch box, how you made the bed so he could sleep, but never chose the most comfortable duvet, how you “tried” to cook his favorite meal but never got the seasoning right.

Heeseung once casually suggested swapping lunches, and when he finally had the chance to try your cooking, the urge to punch Brendon grew immensely, because it was all so good.

Brendon didn’t appreciate the little things you did. He saw them as annoyances, predictably bad, and yet they were the exact actions that made Heeseung realize just how special you were.

He was struck by how deeply you cared for someone who didn’t seem to understand, or even acknowledge, your efforts. It only made Heeseung more determined.

“So… You work at a flower shop, right?”

Once again, you startled with Heeseung’s gentle voice suddenly echoing in the kitchen, pulling you out of your concentration state. You were crouched while organizing the groceries, and he was standing up, drinking ridiculously slowly a glass of water.

“Yes, I do.” You answered politely, but not quite giving Heeseung any recognizable attention.

“Do you like it?”

His question caught you off guard. First, because you weren’t used to people asking about your interests, especially when it came to your “boring” work. Secondly, because there was a sincerity in his voice, a curiosity that felt different from the usual respectful small talk.

You paused for a moment before straightening your legs, calmly turning on your heels to completely face Heeseung with a slight flabbergasted expression.

The moment your eyes laid on his tall figure casually leaning on the wall, your breath got caught in your throat – was he watching you this whole time?

His bright and lightly inquisitive eyes were grazed on you, busying his lips with small sips of water and a hint of a tender smile, waiting for your reply. Your heart skipped a beat, a soft, thrilling tremor that vibrated through your body without leaving you to have any control over it as your hands started to tremble.

“I do, yeah.” You pondered for a while, searching for the words that would match your genuine opinion over your job; unconsciously a sincere smile began to form on the corner of your lips and Heeseung took a close, quiet note to it. “It’s… It’s calm and peaceful. Fulfilling in a way, even when it’s exhausting. I feel I can be myself easily and… Avoid some– other stress. For a bit, at least.”

Heeseung’s chest warmed with the way you spoke, a delicate radiance of soothing heat sweeping as your softly and lovingly voice talked about something you liked. He wished to see more of this persona, more of this part of you; the apparently authentic, happy version that expressed affection through your every pore.

However, he couldn’t help the sting that came along, knowing what “other stress” you were talking about. He also hoped to help you escape out of that.

“That’s good to know,” he nodded tenderly, keeping his tone layered with honesty and kindness. Your eyelids blinked slowly as you watched Heeseung approach, silently placing the glass on the countertop that separated you both. “I’m glad to see you being passionate about what you do and enjoying your life, Y/N. At least… Part of it.”

He had carefully constructed his sentence before speaking, wanting to ease you into the conversation with the most comforting approach he could offer. At the same time, he dared to let slip a part of his disguise, hoping you would pick up on the subtle hint about him being aware of the difficult reality of your marriage, particularly your situation.

Your eyes showed that you were slightly taken aback by his words. You were shrewd enough to catch the underlying message of what he had said, even though it was somewhat confusing to understand his exact intentions.

Still, you gave him a shy but pleasant smile, touched by his gentle and thoughtful words.

“Thank you,” you would’ve ended there, but something unknown prompted you to add more, a sudden need to speak your truth. “I do what I can with what I have.”

It sounded too sad, too realistic. Your eyes fell to your hands resting on the cold countertop as you spoke, nonetheless, it was your reality, after all: making do with what you had. You had learned the hardest way to survive on the scraps life gave you, to accept the little, or sometimes, nothing at all. It had become routine, normal – your life for the last three years.

Heeseung caught the opening you had unwittingly – or perhaps purposefully – left for him and gently took the lead on the topic, offering his personal opinion as he noticed your guard had lowered at least a little.

“It shouldn’t be like this, Y/N.”

A part of him feared he had crossed a line, violated your boundaries, or even frightened you. If any of that had happened, he couldn’t think of a way to backpedal and ease into a gentler, slower approach. But he was surprised when you, equally startled by your own reaction, replied.

“But it’s been this way.”

The sigh that followed expressed your exhaustion – an exhaustion you usually tried to ignore, otherwise it would send you down a path you didn’t feel capable of walking alone. “This is how he makes it to be.”

The indirect mention of Brendon shocked Heeseung even further, though it also brought a strange sense of relief. He hadn’t expected you to open up so quickly, still he wouldn’t take it for granted and chose to continue to walk carefully.

It was as if the plan he had set in motion had been laid out by divine hands, providing him with every tool necessary to reach his ultimate goal.

“It doesn’t have to be… You know that, right?”

You were taken aback when Heeseung’s warm, gentle hand covered one of yours, making you flinch slightly but didn’t pull away. The touch was soft, innocent, and comforting. It offered you just enough weightlessness to let your words flow with more ease, your heart feeling lighter within each passing second.

You wished for that moment to last a bit more.

“Maybe I know, but… it’s so hard.”

Heeseung nodded softly, his gentle eyes tracing the lines of your face contorted with an expression of sadness and frustration, still avoiding his gaze. It was clear that you no longer wanted to live in this marriage, to be stuck with a jerk like Brendon. But something was holding you back. Or perhaps, you just hadn’t found anything – or anyone – that could truly pull you out of it.

Heeseung gently removed his hand from atop yours, sliding it beneath to hold it with care. “How can I help you?”

But before either of you could react, the sound of Brendon entering the kitchen shattered the tender moment that had been unfolding between you. His presence filled the room with that grotesque energy only he could bring.

“Why are you taking so long, man?”

Brendon’s voice cut sharply through the air, breaking the fragile moment. Your immediate jolt of surprise made you stumble backward, accidentally knocking over the sugar packet on the edge of the countertop with your elbow as you pulled your hand away from Heeseung’s, sending the white grains scattering across the floor. Brendon’s exasperated voice filled the air instantly.

“Messing everything up as always. Jesus Christ,” Brendon snapped, tone dripping with disdain. The sharpness of it seemed to pierce through the quiet warmth you had shared, and the shift in the atmosphere was palpable.

Heeseung stiffened where he stood, his jaw clenched, knowing it wasn’t the right time or place to confront Brendon, but a part of him wanted to.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–” You began, your voice tinged with guilt.

“You never mean to do anything,” he interrupted and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Go grab something to clean this up. And while you’re at it, buy another packet. Use your money this time since you’re the one who made the fucking mess.”

Heeseung stood on the corner, static, feet rooted to the ground, because if he slipped the built self-control out, he would be the one making fucking messes. His eyes darted from Brendon’s to you a brief second, acknowledging that you seemed to be blaming yourself for such a normal accident.

For a fleeting moment, when your eyes met Heeseung’s, what you saw wasn’t pity, it was fury. Not at you, but for you.

His gaze burned holes into Brendon’s side profile, the muscle in his jaw flexing visibly. If Brendon pushed just a little harder, it was clear that Heeseung’s restraint might shatter entirely. His fists curled tighter at his sides, as though physically grounding himself in order to maintain the calmness.

He wouldn’t admit out loud, not now, but the thought of you being involved in a possible fight was the primary thing holding him back. He didn’t want you to witness how bad and intensely he would make your husband taste his own blood – alongside that, the fantasy of making Brendon clean the floor with his own tongue was tempting and so hard not to give it a listen.

“And why the hell are you taking so long?” Brendon now turned to Heeseung, still holding an arrogant demeanor. “Bet this bitch didn’t leave cold beer for us, and she was probably making up some excuse for it, right?”

The venom in his words made Heeseung’s stomach twist, as well as his hands that clenched harder. His brows knitted together as he tried to process the sheer audacity of Brendon’s determination to make you feel worse. It was as if his entire worldview was built on finding fault in you, as though your very existence was an inconvenience to him.

“Actually, I–” Heeseung started, his tone low and dangerously even.

“Yeah, that’s right.” You quickly interrupted, your shaky voice expressing how affected and fearful you were. You moved to the fridge and grabbed two cans of beer to offer Heeseung. “I’m sorry. Here.”

Heeseung froze, his gaze softening as he took in your unreadable face. He was confused by your reaction and decision, the realization you were trying to defuse the situation, even at your own expense, made his body heat to increase in pure, raw anger towards Brendon.

The kitchen felt suffocatingly small as Heeseung reached out to take the cans from your trembling hands. His fingers brushed against yours ever so slightly, a light, evanescent touch, that still created a visceral jolt that seemed to resonate between you both.

“Thanks,” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible.

Your hands fell back to your sides awkwardly, but the faint lingering warmth of his touch sent a wave of unfamiliar sensation through your body. You shivered slightly; it had been so long since you’d felt this – a connection, something near to a meaningful acknowledgment of your presence as more than just an object of blame.

Brendon’s loud sigh and mutters about something random shattered whatever serenity the moment would unfold deeper. Heeseung’s grip on the beer cans tightened as he fought the growing urge to speak – or worse, act.

For now, he let the silence swallow his frustration, though his eyes remained locked on you, silently promising that this wasn’t the end.

Heeseung felt like he needed to offer you a kind of safe space, an environment where you would feel comfortable enough to begin opening up completely.

The encounter in the kitchen was successful, until Brendon stepped in and broke the possibilities away. Ever since, he tried to change his plans of meeting Brendon during moments where you could be with him as well.

Heeseung’s whole plan was... Peculiar. He didn’t just aim to get you out of that toxic relationship, offering you the necessary support to help you leave. He primarily wanted to show you just how deserving you were of wonderful things, and that he wanted to be the one to provide some of that happiness.

It was a decision that might have been premature, with a high chance of leading to a dangerous and frustrating path. Even though Heeseung would use all of his tricks, you could still choose to stay. But he couldn’t control the erratic beating of his heart at the mere thought of having you for himself, nor could he ignore the ache in his chest of you opting not to let go, which demonstrated the intertwining of his emotions with this entire situation.

Heeseung was now seated at the dining table with you and your husband, chewing on the carefully prepared meal he had prepared for that “dinner among friends.”

You looked breathtaking, as always. And Brendon? Spewing casual misogyny and ignorance, as always.

The dinner had been Heeseung’s idea, under the pretense of repaying the countless times he had dropped by your house, consuming snacks and drinks without contributing. It was, on the surface, a friendly gesture. But the real reason behind it was far less innocent, and Heeseung knew you were perceptive enough to catch on.

It was so glaringly obvious what Heeseung’s true intentions were that he tried his best not to make them even more apparent with every glance exchanged between you and him. Fortunately, or perhaps out of sheer ignorance, Brendon was far too naive to notice the way you subtly reacted to Heeseung’s laughter – some of it genuine, some of it forced – as you leaned ever so slightly forward, drawn to his presence.

Heeseung was acutely aware, though. He noticed everything about you – every glance, every small smile.

Ever since Heeseung had started showing up during times when you were also home, the kitchen had become your unspoken sanctuary for a sweet connection. He didn’t force or coax you to speak your soul, rather he would give you a cozy place where you got to share fragments of your personal life amid discussions about nothing in particular – Heeseung treasured them all.

He etched those details into his memory as if they were sacred scriptures, intending to one day prove to you just how deeply he cared – and would keep caring, if you said yes.

Now, as Brendon lounged lazily at the dining table, and you, standing at the sink, rinsed your plate and Brendon’s, you tried to ignore the flush on your cheeks when Heeseung moved to casually stand beside you while keeping the talk with your husband about soccer or something you didn’t care about.

Heeseung leaned casually against the sink counter, the glass of whiskey in his hand catching the warm light of his kitchen as he took a slow sip. You could feel the weight of his presence, far, but still close, somehow calming and charged with unspoken intention.

“Hey, man,” Brendon broke the rhythm of the conversation suddenly, standing up. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat, suppressing a grin because he had planned that all along – to give enough non-alcoholic drinks to Brendon in order to make him leave for a few in the bathroom, getting at least some minutes alone with you.

With an easy, unaffected demeanor, he answered. “End of the hallway,” and raised his glass slightly to point. “First door on the left.”

Brendon nodded, his movements sluggish, and then casted a half-hearted glance your way.

“Don’t break anything while I’m gone,” he muttered, his tone an awkward attempt at humor.

You felt the corner of your mouth twitch into an usual forced smirk, the one you struggled to maintain as a way to faux express your contentment with his terrible jokes.

Brendon disappeared down the hallway, oblivious to Heeseung’s piercing gaze following as he did so.

The silence left behind was thick, buzzing with the tension of your now uninterrupted proximity with Heeseung, causing a sensation that got your body wincing without anything happening yet.

“So,” Heeseung began, his voice low and unhurried. He set his glass down on the counter, the faint clink of it meeting the surface echoing in the quiet room. His eyes found yours quickly, holding a weight that made your breath hitch slightly; he took a sweet notice of your blushing cheeks.

“So,” you echoed softly, your heart raced in anticipation of whatever was about to unfold, dodging the pull of Heeseung’s intense, yet soft, stare to concentrate back on doing the dishes.

“How was the dinner?”

Your shy smile grew before the tender question as you finished cleaning, silently asking for a hand drying cloth. Heeseung extended you one immediately, dreamy glistening eyes trailing carefully your every move with quiet devotion. He had his attention precisely torn in between the sound of Brendon coming back and you, the prettiest, kindest and most wonderful woman he ever saw.

“It was amazing,” you complimented with sincerity, resting the back of your hips on the edge of the counter top, glancing up through your eyelashes to meet Heeseung’s affectionate, smoldering gaze. “You did amazing.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound low and subtle, like a sweet melody meant only for your ears. He shifted his weight forward, his movements deliberate as he positioned himself directly in front of you. His hands rested casually on either side of your body, palms flat against the countertop, effectively caging you in a way that was both daring and exhilarating.

“Can’t compare to yours, but yeah, I tried my best.”

His voice was velvety, laced with a casual teasing warmth that sent a shiver down your spine, as if you were close friends.

Your breath hitched, shallow and uneven, betraying the steady facade you tried to maintain. The rapid rhythm of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, a dissonant tum-tum that matched the electricity crackling in the small space between you.

The proximity between you two felt suffocating in the most thrilling way; his attractive face was so close that you could see the flecks of lust in his deep, big brown eyes. He gazed at you with a tenderness that made your heart stutter, his head tilting slightly as if studying your every micro-expression.

Without realizing it, your hands moved of their own accord, awkwardly, yet hesitantly, until they found a place on Heeseung’s broad shoulders. The texture of his shirt beneath your fingertips grounded you, though the hesitant touch exposed your inner turmoil. Still, the simple gesture was enough to make Heeseung’s composure falter.

He hadn’t expected you to respond so involuntarily open.

“He’ll be back soon...” You whispered, the words barely audible as your lashes fluttered shut for a moment. The nearness of Heeseung, the intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with his natural warmth, made it impossible to focus on anything else. When, exactly, had Heeseung become your greatest temptation?

You weren’t blind to how he treated you. The way his gaze lingered, a mix of genuine affection and burning desire that ignited something dormant within you. It was undeniable the way he affected you, the way your thoughts would drift to him during the quiet, lonely hours of your life.

You fought against those thoughts with every fiber of your being, reminding yourself of the vows you once made. Yet, Heeseung’s constant presence made that fight infinitely harder, as if he hoped for you to drop everything you once promised, as though he taunted your self-control to its limits in order to make you discover fresh and tempting possibilities alongside him.

He was willing to make you wander a path you never quite give a thought to venture yourself into.

Heeseung leaned in, his voice dropping an octave, soft and husky, almost a caress against your fuzzed soul.

“I know how much he stresses you out, darling...” The endearment slipped from his lips effortlessly, and you clutched his shirt as though it were the only thing keeping you sane. “Let me take that stress away.”

His hooded eyes wandered over your face, not hurriedly but with a reverence that felt almost sacred, as if he were memorizing every line, every curve. The intensity of his gaze sent your heart racing again, his careful inspection leaving no part of you unseen.

Heeseung deeply saw you, and you started to treasure that.

The dryness in your throat was swallowed with difficulties, as if the saliva production had purposefully decreased only to make you wet your lips, an action that served to draw Heeseung’s attention to that area.

His gaze, dropping to something darker, held longer than he hoped for, but damn, you were so attractive, with your perfectly kissable lips inches from his, with your pretty eyes deliberately expressing your surrender to his charms.

He had to dig self-control in order not to kiss you right there, his own body wavering knowing he wouldn’t stop on just a brief make out moment; he yearned the urge of taking you as a whole, pleasuring you, worshipping you, giving you what you deserved.

“He’s a good husband,” you forced out, the words tasting weird, unconvincing as they left your mouth; it was a failed coping mechanism not to break in light of the awareness of how disastrous your marriage had become, one you got used to repeating to yourself over the years.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, his expression softening as he absorbed your words. Your lazy eyes caught the small smirk dancing on his lips, a dry chuckle following just before he murmured with devastating precision.

“Does he fuck you good?”

Heeseung’s previous advances had slowly chipped away at your defenses, now the question landed like a wrecking ball in a crumbling wall – strong, direct, and final, the checkmate that shattered everything your morals once held.

Your body responded before your mind could, a pulsing ache coiling in your core, leaving you clenching around nothing in a crescent despair that burned your skin. The audacity of his words stunned you, but the way they ignited something deep within left you reeling, dizzy.

Your husband had never aroused you with such ease, and with one simple question, Heeseung had rendered you breathless, nearly falling on your knees.

You met his gaze, your lips parted, however not a single word had strength enough to follow the deep breath you let out. The room seemed to shrink as you took in the intensity of Heeseung’s eyes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

His boldness hung in the thick air, while your principles dangerously split between clinging to the lie you told yourself every day and surrendering to the temptation Heeseung presented so beautifully.

“He provides the house–”

“But does he make you feel good, Y/N?”

He ignored your second attempt of forcing a narrative that both of you knew was just a facade, his inquisitive inspection and daring eyes never leaving yours, pushing you through the edge to fall onto his trap.

The more he pressed you, the more you felt tempted to give in, almost like an addiction to something you had never experienced before, a painful yearning for the thrilling rush that coursed through your veins in delicious anguish with the thought of... trying.

You feared that you might enjoy it too much if you gave in to whatever Heeseung was willing to offer.

“He does, he makes me feel happy…”

“No, he doesn’t, Y/N. We both know that.” He cut you off again, though his voice remained calm and low.

Heeseung was completely guided by the unconscious voice of his instincts that took control of his actions. He still remembered to respect you, to maintain a safe space, not to cross your boundaries, and, most importantly, not to push you beyond what you could handle. But it was so hard not to give in entirely to your complicit charms.

You didn’t seem to notice, but your hands were pulling his body closer, your eyes triangulating between his brown irises and his cherry-colored lips, almost like a silent invitation to kiss him. You also had tilted your head slightly to the side, relieving your bare neck in a subtle request for Heeseung to explore that sensitive area.

You presented yourself in such a surrendered way, so open, so... reckless for someone who was working so hard to maintain unnecessary morality.

Cheating wasn’t beautiful; neither of you believed in that. But why was cheating on your husband with Heeseung so ridiculously tempting?

“He doesn’t deserve you, darling…” Heeseung replied, unaware that this was your biggest inner doubt, daring to approach the prickled flesh of your neck.

The tip of his nose brushed slowly, painfully close, without giving you what you secretly craved, while his hot breath caressed your tingling skin like a deliberate, gentle whisper of a quiet promise. You fluttered your eyes close, the grip on Heeseung’s shirt tightening as he continued.

“I can help you with that... Just give me the word.”

“Heeseung–”

Your desperate, breathy moan was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. No, you didn’t hear them, but Heeseung was more than aware of Brendon’s return, taking on the job of carefully paying attention to it from the very beginning.

“Think about it, darling. I can relieve your stress.”

It was the last thing he whispered in your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling away to instantly resume his casual, friendly demeanor.

“Did I take too long?”

Brendon’s voice wasn’t enough to break your trance. You felt your body weak and incredibly light, your flustered face showing a slight confusion and disbelief, with a subtle mix of wanting.

Heeseung glanced at you with a mild smile for a brief moment before wrapping an arm around Brendon’s shoulders to guide him into the living room, murmuring a hollow response, followed by some lame excuse about showing him something, in order to give you time to recompose yourself.

After a few minutes in a daze, you found yourself heading to the bathroom, because the interaction with Heeseung hadn’t just left a mark on your chest. No. Your panties were ruined, and you prayed you could hide it from Brendon for the rest of the night.

You had to hide your chaotic emotions for the rest of the following weeks, not just that night.

Brendon was completely unaware of the vast storm of thoughts racing through your mind as you did your household chores, which made it easier to ignore his misogynistic taunts and repulsive complaints throughout the day.

The memory of Heeseung’s soft lips brushing against your neck left an undeniable mark, and from time to time, you found yourself absentmindedly tracing the spot with your fingertips, almost as if you could still feel the warmth of his touch melting into your skin.

It was confusing to be in the position you were in, married on the paper to a jerk with the possibility of going after someone who apparently cared about you.

Sharing the same space with Heeseung had become increasingly difficult. You even started shifting your work schedule, taking days off when you knew he wouldn’t be able to come to your house, even though his visits had become less frequent.

You couldn’t quite figure out what had happened, but it seemed that Brendon and Heeseung had an argument after clashing over something trivial. It was as if Heeseung was finally showing his true colors, shedding the persona he had carefully crafted to get closer to your husband and eventually you, now that he had made his move in the invisible game of chess the two of you had been playing.

Besides your work, Brendon couldn’t control your friendships as well and luckily you had a supportful network that held you with warmth when the stress became overwhelming.

Countless times, your friends tried to show you that Brendon didn’t deserve even a fraction of the incredible woman you were, but as always, you had a well-rehearsed response that failed to mask the disrespect you had to endure with him.

Over time, your friends stopped trying to force you to see what you already knew was true, and in response, you made sure not to bring home issues into your work.

But that time, however, it was impossible to stay silent. Your face clearly showed discomfort and anxiety, but there was also a special sparkle in your eyes that piqued Yunjin’s curiosity.

“What’s got you so deep in thought on such a beautiful day, my lovely Y/N?”

You snuggled into the back hug she gave you, chuckling softly at the way she addressed you, a clear sign that she wouldn’t let up until you answered.

Yunjin was your closest friend, the one who always made sure to check on you and your relationship, occasionally threatening to drag you out of your house by force – but you always shot back, claiming it would probably make things worse.

She also knew about your recent sudden desire to escape, to distance yourself from everything that reminded you of Brendon – something completely new in your shared world, based on past experiences. You always found some lame excuse to cover up such thoughts, rarely letting them slip, and suddenly things had changed; in recent days, you had left numerous hints that something completely different and new was unfolding.

A sigh escaped your lips, followed by your quiet reply. “If I tell you, you might not believe it.”

Yunjin adorably rested her chin on your shoulder, trying to look you in the eyes.

“Humor me, then.”

You bit your lower lip, moving your head to the opposite side so you could hide how your cheeks flushed before you muttered.

“I want to cheat on my husband.”

The small stockroom fell into a deafening silence as the words left your lips, words that had been corroding your mind for days, perhaps even weeks. Saying it out loud felt like giving your desire a tangible form, pulling it from the realm of unreachable fantasy into the tempting, possible reality.

It was a simple statement, yet it unleashed a storm of emotions in your chest and stomach, as if all the anxiety you had been harboring, trying to gather the courage to reach this conclusion, came crashing back in a wave that hit you like a brick wall.

Yunjin’s lack of immediate reaction only made the air feel heavier, stealing the very breath from your lungs. You could sense the tension in her body behind you, but your mind, too clouded by the fear of judgment, twisted it into something entirely different from what she truly felt.

“Don’t judge me, plea–” “Who with?”

Your head snapped to the side, stunned, as you searched your friend’s face. What you found wasn’t judgment or disgust but a spark of curiosity and, oddly enough, pride glimmering in her eyes, as though she had been waiting her whole life for you to say something this bold.

“What?”

Yunjin loosened her back hug only to turn you around to face her, taking both of your hands in hers, which had been awkwardly dangling at your sides.

“Alright, so you’re going to cheat on your husband.” She gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze. “With who?”

Her enthusiasm was impossible to miss, and it stirred something strangely exhilarating in you, like a mischievous excitement, as if you were about to hatch a secret plan doomed to fail, yet thrilling precisely because of the forbidden nature of it all.

At the same time, you couldn’t fully process her reaction. Tilting your head slightly, you frowned, skepticism evident on your face.

“What do you mean you're not calling me crazy or immoral? Shouldn’t you be scolding me, telling me I should divorce him instead of choosing to cheat?”

Yunjin let out a soft sigh, a subtle and kind exhale, as a small smile danced on her lightly pink-tinted lips.

“Y/N, my princess... After everything you’ve been through, seeing you reach a point where you’re ready to break free from that awful man, even if it’s not in the ‘right’ way, makes me happy and proud. So, I don’t care if you start this journey with an affair or a murder–”

“I'm not murdering anyone!” You quickly cut her off, widened eyes shooting a warning glance.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes playfully, the corner of her lips twitching within a smirk. “Either way, I’ll support and help you, because I know that getting rid of that piece of trash will bring you as much peace and joy as it will bring me.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong, but there was one critical detail she didn’t know yet, one that sent a thrill through you just imagining saying it aloud. For the first time, you realized you could actually put yourself first.

“I’m not cheating on Brendon to get revenge,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’m cheating on Brendon because Heeseung is hot, and I deserve better.”

Your trembling fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, each pounding beat of your heart showing how nervous you were as you stood in front of that door.

It had been a few days since your talk with Yunjin – days made even more painful and exhausting by your husband’s behavior. He had been nothing but a spoiled, petulant child as usual, a true pain in the ass with his petty, insufferable attitude. It felt as though he was deliberately testing your limits, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, waiting for the moment you would snap.

It was always the same game. He would provoke you until you reached your breaking point, only to paint himself as the victim once you finally exploded. He had done it before, twisting the narrative to label you as the irrational, overly sensitive one, incapable of handling even the smallest criticism. Of course, his idea of “small criticism” was laughably detached from the reality of his hurtful words and actions.

The truth was undeniable: your relationship had long since turned cold, deprived of warmth in every sense of the word. The affection that once tied you together had dissolved after the first year of marriage, slipping away like water into a vast, unyielding ocean of discontent and sorrow.

Over time, you grew used to the scraps, and eventually, to nothing at all. You convinced yourself to accept whatever he offered, clinging to the hollow promise you had made – to love each other no matter the circumstances. But deep down, you knew that love had died a long time ago. You just hadn’t found the courage to bury it.

“Fuck you, Brendon. Go to hell!”

Those were your penultimate words before storming out of the house you once shared, grabbing only the essentials – your keys, your phone, and your bag. The last thing you said when he demanded to know where you were going was a truth laced with a hidden lie, where, in fact, you answered him correctly, only omitting the true intention behind your trip.

“Somewhere far away from you.”

That’s how you ended up here, standing in front of a plain white door that now served as the only barrier between you and the reckless choice you were about to make.

Summoning a fleeting jolt of courage, you raised your hand and pressed the doorbell. The moment the sound echoed, your stomach dropped and the weight of what you were doing crashed down on you like a wave. There was no turning back now.

The sound of a key turning in the lock made your breath hitch. Each passing millisecond felt like an eternity, your uneven breathing exposing the anxiety surging through your body.

You had rehearsed a dozen speeches on your way here – carefully thought-out words that would explain everything, rationalize your decision, maybe even give it some dignity. But the second the door opened and his familiar face came into view, every carefully crafted sentence vanished.

All that remained were the raw, desperate words that spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“I wanna relieve my stress, Heeseung.”

Without noticing, your eyes fluttered closed when you blurted out, as if you couldn’t bear to see Heeseung’s reaction to it, extremely embarrassed of how you voiced your inner desire. However, his silence was more than enough to make you hesitantly reopen then, expecting anything but the scenery that blessed your sight, making your throat close and the simple action of breathing extremely hard.

Heeseung stood there, freshly out of the shower after arriving from a very exhausting day at work. Clearly not expecting company, he had thrown on only a comfortable pair of sweatpants that hung low on his waist, the waistband of his underwear peeking out teasingly.

His exposed torso was graced with droplets of water that danced slowly through its extension, his mild tanned and flustered skin serving as a beautiful background canvas, giving you a private show you hadn’t requested, yet you were beyond thrilled to witness.

At first, Heeseung was very confused with furrowed brows and lost soft doe eyes scanning you as if trying to resolve a riddle. But then, realization hit in an instant when he pieced the puzzle: you, stress relief, clearly nervous at his door…

“Oh?”

The single word failed to snap you out of your shameless admiration.

Heeseung had an attractive physique, you already knew it. Tall figure, broad shoulders, waist slightly thinner than his hips, effortlessly strong arms; covered in his usual casual suit he was normally the culprit behind your small, careless mistakes, like burning your finger or miscutting a vegetable because your mind wandered a bit too far.

Now it felt like having access to forbidden footage, something you weren’t supposed to see, although you wanted to. Your gaze had been trailing every inch of his exposed form as if you were reading your favorite book, lingering longer on the defined V-line near to where he was covered, almost like daring you to look lower.

You almost didn’t notice how he shifted on his feet, body language switching instantly to match your dark eyes devouring his flesh deliberately.

Heeseung took a step closer and leaned on the door frame, his head dropping forward just to try to search for your hungry eyes, the fragrance of his shampoo permeating your senses like a flood.

“So you want my help?”

The question came quiet, yet sultry as ever, and acted as a stronger trigger to pull you out of your daze bubble completely, only now noticing how close he was.

Your cheeks exposed your mortification at being caught, though you didn’t actually want to hide your need and desire – it was more like a moral shame, knowing that as soon as you allowed Heeseung to cross a specific line, there was no turning back.

With your fingers clutching your purse's handle firmly, you bravely nodded, tracking your eyes up and seeing the movement of Heeseung cocking his head to the side, as well as the curve of his lips turning into a smirk.

“Yes, I–I want your help.”

Hearing your consent replaced Heeseung’s mild doubt by an urge to take action, as if your words ignited something darker, deeper, that reflected each nuance of it on his drooping eyes. Something you hadn't seen in years, because the only gaze your husband managed to flash you was the usual disgusted, angry, disappointed one; something tempting, and unafraid, you took the bait.

“Come in, darling.”

Your trembling legs somehow managed to follow Heeseung's lead. He had made the subtle decision to brush his hand lightly against your waist as he guided you to his bedroom, your gaze unfocused barely paying attention to the decor of his apartment.

The only things your mind could fully grasp were the warmth of his fleeting touch on your lower back, the soft, dim light that bathed the cozy interior of his space, and that the outcome that interaction would lead to was implicitly obvious.

It felt oddly familiar, like when you lost your virginity – the weight of the forbidden, the eagerness to start and explore mingled with the fear of disappointment and regret, the realization that there was no turning back and things would change afterward.

It was a confusing, insecure mixture of emotions that left you dizzy, especially since you had always followed the vows of your marriage, promising to cherish, respect, and remain loyal to your partner.

But it was hard to hold onto that promise when you were the only one making an effort. It felt like an empty promise, broken, shattered, where only your side remained intact.

“What happened?”

Your thoughts were so intense and overwhelming that you didn't even realize Heeseung had ushered you to sit at the edge of his soft bed, while he pulled the chair from the pair in the corner of the room and brought it closer to you, sitting directly in front of you.

You raised your sad, lost gaze to Heeseung, finding in his eyes an offer of care and attention. There was an underlying lust simmering beneath the surface, threatening to take over, but he was determined to stay composed, ensuring your consent came first.

Heeseung communicated with you without words, a connection so deep it made your heart race, as if the two of you could read each other effortlessly. A small, shaky sigh escaped your parted lips as your fingers fidgeted with your bag, seeking grounding in something tangible, something solid amidst the chaos in your mind.

You were about to cheat. Not just your husband but the promise you had made, once sacred. It felt like madness.

“You know I’m here, right?” Heeseung’s reassuring voice pulled you out of the whirlwind of your thoughts, anchoring you to the present. And with that, you nodded and began.

“He's been... strange.”

Your eyes avoided Heeseung’s curious gaze as he leaned forward at first, close enough to rest his elbows on his knees while enveloping your hands in his warm, comforting grasp. He gave you a gentle squeeze, encouraging you to continue. You shivered and gathered strength to keep going.

“We’ve been fighting a lot lately, and it feels like… If I was already not enough before, now I’m even worse.”

"You were never ‘not enough,’ Y/N,” Heeseung interjected gently but firmly. You darted your eyes briefly towards him and he was frowning a bit.

“I know, it’s just…” You swallowed the lump in your throat, holding back tears you didn’t want your husband to deserve. “He’s always put me in this place, and I think I started going there on my own. Like, I’m the incapable one, the one who screws everything up, the one who lost her sex appeal and can’t please him anymore...”

Heeseung listened intently, his thumb softly brushing over the back of your hand like a silent reassurance that he was there for you. It was a comfort unlike anything you had felt in a long time.

“And lately... I think he’s–” You hesitated, your gaze unfocused as it landed on a random spot on the chair behind Heeseung. “He’s been coming home late from work, and honestly, I’m relieved to some extent...” A humorless laugh escaped you. “But with the things he’s been saying, like how he could find something better elsewhere, how I’m dispensable… It’s hard not to think he’s...” You took a trembling breath, the tears you had been holding back falling slowly. “...That he’s cheating on me.”

You weren’t crying in full sobs or breaking down entirely. They were quiet tears of realization, a painful acceptance that everything you had worked to keep standing had already crumbled long ago, now waiting to be buried by you; tears of relief, knowing, somehow, you tried your very best.

Heeseung waited a few moments before raising your hands, still enveloped by his, to place a soft kiss on them. The following words sounded harsh and weighted contrastingly heavy with how tender his lips brushed your skin as he did so.

“He is.”

You froze, feeling your heart skip a beat and your stomach dropping. Your slightly widened eyes snapped to Heeseung’s, searching for any sign of dishonesty or teasing, but all you found was an expression of empathy, compassion that seemed to hurt him almost as much as it hurt you.

“W-What do you mean?”

Even though your voice came reluctantly and your eyes kept drifting to every inch of Heeseung’s expression, as if you expected for it to be a massive lie he was telling you, that new piece of information had your entire being reacting weirdly, awakening – or intensifying – a stronger desire to maintain your previous plan, morality being thrown out the window.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened at your expectant, griefing eyes, and for a moment he looked away as though struggling to find the right words, the ones not to hurt you even more. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but steady, and made you wince with a bittersweet feeling.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with someone in finance these past few weeks,” a sudden pang in your heart made your breath hitch. “And… from what I’ve seen, it’s not just friendly. His hand is always on her waist, and the smiles they exchange...” He trailed off, not wanting to add to your pain, especially by how your lips pursed together into a small sad pout. “I caught them kissing the other day. I didn’t confront them– I didn’t even know how to tell you. I didn’t know where you worked, and the only chance I had to see you was at your house.” He gave a small, almost remorseful smile, avoiding your gaze. “And honestly, I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I saw him.”

His tone was apologetic and sincere, giving you enough to ignite a growing anger in your chest.

If you had doubts before, this was more than a confirmation. Not only about your marriage obviously going down in shambles, but mostly to know you weren’t wrong for searching for Heeseung in the first place.

Your mind was caught in a tug-of-war, split into two opposing forces. One side replayed the vows you had once written for your husband, while the other mercilessly pointed out the everyday moments that made it clear he no longer deserved a single word of those promises.

That latter part desperately sought justification, crafting reasons to convince yourself this wasn’t wrong. He did it first, it whispered. He cheated on you. You have every right to even the score.

But this wasn’t just about revenge. It was something deeper – a mix of fractured morality and raw, unfiltered longing for the man standing before you. A man who had just confessed that he feared losing control if he ever faced your husband.

His words stirred something primal within you, replacing the sting of betrayal with a flicker of desire you couldn’t ignore.

Heeseung, in far less time than your husband had, had proven you were worth it. He showed you that you were someone worth fighting for, someone who deserved more.

The intensity in Heeseung's gaze was palpable, his eyes burning with a heat that made your breath hitch. When your own heavy, searching eyes met his, the air between you thickened, electric and tense. The room felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to make the next move.

Yet, as undeniable as the chemistry was, you were still hurt. The anger bubbling within you was impossible to suppress. Every fiber of your body screamed frustration, the weight of betrayal pounding against your chest like a drumbeat.

There was a fire inside you – a burning rage that demanded release. You wanted to scream, to lash out, to make someone – your husband – feel the same devastation that was ripping through you. It felt like an overwhelming need to break something, to pour all your fury into a physical outlet.

And it was then that you realized you needed to take it out on something.

Before you could act on the reckless thought of leaning forward to claim Heeseung's kissable lips, he rose from his seat with a quiet confidence, still holding your hands. Gently, he tugged you to stand, leaving you momentarily dazed. Your bag slipped from your shoulder onto the chair he was sitting as he guided your body to turn away from him, positioning your back to his chest.

You shivered when his warm breath fanned over your ear, your composure threatening to crumble entirely. Your legs gave a slight, involuntary tremble, as if warning you that, depending on his next actions, you might find yourself falling face-first on the bed in front of you.

“Can I touch you?”

His voice was soft, almost reverent, and the question sparked a mix of confusion and curiosity spiraling through you. You nodded silently, unable to form a coherent response, and his hands moved to your shoulders, his warm touch both soothing and electrifying.

“I know this is all fucked up," he murmured. "But I can’t let you carry all this tension.”

You let out a small chuckle, your shoulders wiggling slightly as you did, allowing your head to tilt to the side. The gesture opened a new, vulnerable space for him to explore, and the silent invitation didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m tired…” you whispered, your voice fragile. “Frustrated also. But so, so tired of being with him. And now that I know he cheated on me,” your voice wavered, thick with suppressed anger and sorrow, “I–I think– I know I deserve better, but… I don’t even know what better looks like.”

Heeseung’s thumbs pressed into the tense muscles of your upper back right after you spoke. You swore you could feel the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he leaned closer, his breath grazing your ear sweetly, yet sultrily.

“I can show you what better looks like, darling,” he said lowering an octave, his tone both tempting and genuine, but mostly, filthy.

A low, involuntary hum escaped you, uncertain whether it was from the pleasure of his skilled touch kneading away your tension or the raw temptation dripping from his words, words that lingered in the air like a seductive promise, enticing you towards a darker path, leading to a gate of ruins – the kind born of broken vows and desires forbidden.

“Can you?” you shot back, your voice soft but tinged with challenge and curiosity, enough to elicit a low chuckle from Heeseung.

“Yeah. If you let me…” His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck and a shiver coursed through you, your body instinctively relaxing under his touch. “I can show you. Just say the word, sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, and the now painful, agonizing memories of your dead relationship clouded the course of your next decisions. Not that if you were thinking entirely rationally you would avoid the temptation offered by Heeseung, nor would you shy away from the clear want to have him in a more intimate, more physical way.

Nonetheless, the rising anger towards Brendon, that had dismissed slightly but it hadn’t vanished, was slowly, yet completely taking over your being, controlling your senses and boosting the craving for making a move – a wrong move.

There was an excruciating necessity for feeling the revenge melting deliciously on your tongue, to payback, to be in charge of the trajectory of your life back again.

The morality was long gone.

“Please, Hee.”

You tilted your head back, resting against Heeseung’s shoulder. The chant in your brain yelled for you to stop, to resolve things correctly, how they should be, however your hands had already covered Heeseung’s and deliberately pulled them up, his palms now groping your covered breasts with you inciting it.

“Show me.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, your thoughts failing to keep you away from succumbing to your raw desires – Fuck Brendon, you said to yourself. He is the one to blame.

“Show me what I deserve.”

You were blinded by a mix of desire, lust and anger when Heeseung pulled you closer and began to massage your breasts vigorously, his soft lips kissing the length of your neck, jaw and then, the corner of your mouth, while his fingers varied between pinching your nipples and playing with them.

Your desire to have him was overwhelming and indescribable, your body melted under his slow and gentle touch. But that wasn't what you wanted, no. You wanted more; more intense, more fervent, hotter.

You needed to vent your growing rage, you needed to feel your frustration and pain fading away before you exploded.

“I'm angry, Hee,” you murmured through gritted teeth, your eyes narrowing only so you could turn towards Heeseung and grab him by the neck, the hands that once explored your chest now on your waist. “Don't treat me with care. Not now. Not today.”

And in a frantic movement, you attached your lips to his as if it were the last thing you were doing in your life, not even paying attention to how Heeseung's eyes were darkened and clouded by pure lust.

Heeseung felt struck by lightning when he finally kissed the lips he had dreamed of feeling for so long, but he didn't have time to appreciate a single second of their softness because you soon sought to deepen the touch, exploring his mouth with your tongue, searching for his so you could embark on a messy and needy kiss.

Your hands tugged at his hair lightly, occasionally trailing down to his bare, warm shoulder, shivering under your touch. Your heads moved in an unsynchronized rhythm – there was no time to cherish, to appreciate the intimate connection. You just wanted to feel him closer, to feel him deep in you.

When Heeseung's large hands grabbed your ass, you murmured something that sounded like “more”, quickly indicating with your own hand for him to squeeze harder.

The request was swiftly met, your bodies pressing together hungrily to the point where you noticed the erection that was growing under the few cloths that covered Heeseung. You moaned when you felt him hard against you, your breathing hitching.

When you least expected it your back was laid out on Heeseung's bed, with him on top of you, still kissing your lips, your breaths heavy and interrupted, however not enough to break the connection.

But you still wanted more.

“More, Hee. More.” You exhaled at one point, when for a brief moment, your lips parted.

Heeseung had already thrown his sanity out the window. He had intended to treat you with care, affection, and show you how worthy you were, but his plans seemed to differ from yours; you seemed to need an intense and passionate sex, one that he knew he could offer you.

Without much hesitation, he dared to detach his lips from yours just so he could move them down your still covered torso, grazing the fabric of your shirt and stopping at the edge of the waistband of your slacks.

Heeseung guided his gaze upwards, only to find you slightly disheveled, panting, and with swollen lips. The skin around your mouth was reddened from the intensity of the kiss you shared, and he was sure he wasn’t much different himself.

“Please, don’t stop…” You whined and squirmed a little when you realized he was taking too much time to appreciate your expression of desperation instead of using it to make you feel good.

You felt your panties uncomfortably soaked with your arousal and your whole body boiled with lust and need for more.

More, more, more, it was what the chant in your head was screaming now, completely lost in the lustful haze that overwhelmed you agonizingly, mixed with the anger of having been betrayed, been cheated on.

Your hand fit perfectly on top of Heeseung's head when he finally removed your bottoms along with your panties in one go; his beautiful eyes, previously full of attention and affection, now showed pure need for having you naked and exposed.

“Shit, darling…” Heeseung groaned, seeing your wet folds and pulsing hole. “You’re so fucking perfect, so fucking wet,” he kissed your inner thigh and you winced, throwing your head back on the pillow and trying to relax your breathing. “Release your fucking anger on my hair while I make you fucking cum with my mouth, yeah?”

Although you didn’t see, he flashed you a last mischievous glance and a smirk before darting back to stare at your inviting pussy, his own respiration hitching as his mouth watered.

Wasting no time, Heeseung dipped his flattened tongue all along your extension, sucking at the very end straight on your clit, just to get a preliminary taste but stirring quite a loud moan from you. Your hips waved forward to search for more immediate contact when he briefly leaned away to close his eyes, a phantom of a smile lingering on his lips as he appreciated your flavor melting in his palate.

Your hands pushed his head back down, forcing his face to dive deep into you and he couldn't be happier, even letting out a small giggle with your unashamed eagerness.

It felt amazing to receive an oral that skilled, that warm mouth working perfectly to suck your arousal enthusiastically, big nose nudging in an expert dance against your sensitive bud of nerves and, damn, that tongue assaulting your pulsing hole by entering in and eventually stroking through the other parts, passionately exploring your cunt.

Heeseung was giving you full attention.

Somehow it triggered an urge to cry in between your moans, because you were associating practically everything with your husband – the heated kisses you never really got to receive, the deprivation of sexual interactions where you felt desired, the words that lifted your self esteem.

Brendon had never treated you this way, the right way. He barely even gave you a fraction of the care and attention that Heeseung was now showering upon you, his desire to bring you pleasure evidently being treated as if it was his own, as though having you shaking and pleading for more with your drenching cunt on his mouth riled him up.

Your eyes stung and tears dared to roll down your temples onto the pillow beneath your head, the lump on your throat and a strange feeling filling your chest that only fueled your pain and anger.

Instinctively, your fingers tightened their grip on Heeseung's soft hair, strong enough to make him groan in pain, but not enough to make him complain or ask you to stop. You also forced him down once again, using his face, mouth, tongue, nose, everything to get yourself off and drift the sorrow away.

“F–Fuck–” A whimper escaped your lips when Heeseung entertained your idea instead of backing off, intensifying how he was eating you out deliciously, his own breath growing stronger, ragged within each passing minute he deepened his head between your legs, nearly suffocating himself.

You could feel the foreign knot on your stomach tightening along with the pang in your chest and Heeseung’s grip on your thighs; his hands moved to under them to position on his broad shoulders, skin on skin making you notice how hot both of your bodies were, and, at the same time, serving as a not-so-gentle lucidity reminder of the intimacy you were sharing.

Although the temptation of achieving your release just with Heeseung’s mouth tickled your core, you couldn’t help the sane part of your brain prompting that, perhaps, the ongoing scenario wouldn’t happen even again and you had to live it up the best.

Everything was so confusing. You just had a reckless, frustrated and anger driven decision that led you to have Heeseung buried deep in your pussy, nonetheless you were still married – at least on paper.

You had a husband.

The hand that held Heeseung in place was curiously your left one, as if the whole world wanted to remember you were being a cheater; your pretty ring sparkled amidst his dark locks in a beautiful, nearly artistic mess.

A roll of eyes brought you back to the overwhelming sensation of Heeseung’s warmth involving your sensitiveness, snapped you back into the haze of unawareness of your sad reality. He cherished your climax as much as you, and was willingly determined to make you cum just by his mouth. You, on the other hand, had different plans.

“Hee…” You called in a moan and tried to pull him away, your closed eyes making the unleashed tears flow easily. He shook his head and pushed himself down again, oblivious to the turmoil blending with your pleasure.

He only halted his movements when you added. “Mhm, stop, please–”

A soft kiss within a plop sound was planted on your clit when he stopped, stirring a small shake in your body and a quiet whine. Heeseung lifted his gaze and caught your furrowed brows and bitten-swollen lips, and also noticed your tears.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

His voice carried a hint of concern, unsure if your tears were from pleasure or sadness, especially since you had just asked him to stop, leaving him dealing with mixed signals.

“Nothing's wrong,” you shook your head and smiled, because the man in front of you not only respected your request immediately but also prioritized your well-being over the sex. A rarity in your life.

Even so, Heeseung maneuvered your legs to place them back on the soft mattress and moved to hover comfortably over you, his eyes searching for your still closed ones. You felt a gentle stroke on your cheek, followed by his warm breath fanning your nose and lips, signaling he was closer to you than you had realized.

Your free hand blindly traced the path of his arms to his neck, while the other, still tangled in his hair, pulled him into a kiss with one singular, simple purpose: to drown out all the overthinking that had started to flood your mind.

The tears intensified as your lips moved in sync, and when Heeseung tried to pull back, likely to ask what was wrong, you tugged him down again and silenced the possibility by deepening the kiss.

A terrible feeling began to rise, fighting against the one that had filled the room minutes ago – lust.

You wanted Heeseung as a man. You wanted him to keep touching you as he did moments ago, to give you the pleasure you deserved and wanted, not only because he offered that chance but mainly because you desired it and allowed it.

Yet, it was so messy and confusing. The weight of guilt pressed heavily on your chest, the self-awareness and the realization of cheating beginning to restrict your actions.

And then came the anger.

He betrayed you first. He didn’t treat you right. He didn’t respect you. Maybe, he didn’t even love you.

That marriage had been dead for so long. The façade you had desperately tried to keep intact by scattering beautiful flowers along the path was already thrown in the trash. You deserved better – you deserved a confident, strong, incredible and undeniably attractive gentleman like Heeseung.

Heeseung.

Heeseung, who was right in front of you, so close, kissing you with a slow, addictive heat. Heeseung, who had respected you from the very beginning. Heeseung, who risked parts of his morality, his life, and his values just to get closer to you. Heeseung, who occupied every corner of your mind.

Why was it so hard to accept that you might actually deserve him?

A shaky sigh broke the intoxicating kiss as Heeseung propped himself up on one arm to look into your glossy, reddened eyes. Before any questioning words could escape his swollen lips, you allowed your raw desire to be spoken aloud.

“Fuck me with your fingers,” you demanded, your voice soft, yet firm and serious as your eyes roamed Heeseung’s features.

His forehead was starting to damp some hairs in sweat, his nostrils moved along his intense breathing and his lips, parted, showed your work of art on them, glistening with your saliva and earlier arousal.

Your hand covered the one that still lingered tenderly on your cheek, grabbing it to drive slowly down to your pussy.

“I want to feel you in every way possible, Hee.”

Heeseung couldn’t deny the confusion of your actions, the sudden cry, the smallest hesitation he caught in between the kiss, and now this. He was in no place to deny such a filthy request though, a request that got his neglected, aching dick throbbing in his boxers, nearly screaming for some relief or space to breathe.

Still, an incomprehensive sensation lingered on the back of his head as he tracked your every face motion.

“Are you sure?” The question itself was just a confirmation you were alright, you were still thinking somehow straight and taking decisions you really wanted to live up with.

Cheating wasn’t Heeseung’s game either. He hated the idea of being or having an affair as much as you; infidelity never sounded right to his ears. Nonetheless the situation was so uniquely specific. His true concern was when you would dump that jackass you called a husband, the one who wouldn’t lift a finger to make you happy, the one who, quite the opposite, would be more than thrilled to make you feel worse every passing day.

Selfish as it may be, it was genuine to his intentions. Heeseung had been fully aware of his plan from the start, knowing it wasn’t entirely right to do so, but sounded like the most possible option – to show what you deserve, and how he would willingly give it to you.

Now, he wished he could have stayed loyal to the original intent of this entire thing, where he promised himself to help you out of a toxic relationship without getting personally attached.

But it was you. You, with your charming smile. You, with your pretty expressive eyes. You, with your loving personality. You, with your sincere care for those you loved.

You, taking over his thoughts within every shade of mundanity and profanity, from the most casual to the most profound and intimate area.

Tasting your lips was the first stumble. Venturing in your intimacy was where he fell.

“Yes, Hee,” you nodded, softened eyes showing your need along with a press of his fingertips into your hole, teasing an intrusion. He moaned with you. “I’m sure.”

“Fuck,” a curse slipped from his mouth like a grunt, and his lips pressed against yours to kiss you again, because in no world he would miss the opportunity of having you this close, to drink from your whimpers as he circled his finger on your clenching pussy.

Heeseung was skilled in many nuances, you came to realize. But kissing was definitely his most noticeable talent. He knew where and when to move to match your energy, how to use his tongue to grace yours in a deliberate dance that twisted your feelings, leaving you lightheaded and dizzy, craving for more.

You might have taken his supposition of you deserving more a bit too far, because you also noticed Heeseung was apparently tailor-made to provoke your instincts of wanting, of more – it never felt enough.

So when he finally inserted his middle finger, you jolted and gasped mid kiss, without being able to prevent your hips reflexively wiggling to get additional contact, nor your hands tightening around his silky strands, trembling just enough to make your desire noticeable.

“More,” you whispered in a shaky breath, lips brushing against each other before Heeseung’s ones trailed lazily along your cheek, lowering to your neck. You moaned. “Add more, Heeseung–”

Your spongy interior hugged his following finger in a warm, tempting hug and he didn’t hold back his shameless humping against your leg that matched the pump into you, his cock twitching in despair for release, for freedom. It felt tight; both your pussy and the fabric around his length.

Heeseung panted in between the sloppy kisses he delivered along the extension of your goosebumped skin, loving how needy you sounded and acted by clutching his hair stronger and waving your body forward.

His fingers worked wonders inside you, palm brushing lightly against your clit and providing a teasing amount of friction, but didn't give enough fulfillment to leave you satisfied. Both of you grew impatient before the silent shared-thought of Heeseung’s cock filling your pussy, replacing his two fingers, so he could feel all of you and hit your every spot.

A displeased whine followed by a quiet surprised gasp jumped out of your mouth when Heeseung removed his hand from you, lewdly licking his fingers clean with an arousing smirk before quickly sneaking it under your penult clothing piece to unclasp your bra.

You helped by arching your back just to give some space, and didn’t hide your shock by how easily he did it with just one hand; the tight tension that held boobs in place soothed as he removed your shirt altogether, making you sigh and wince a little as the room air fanned your, now, completely naked skin.

“Need to fuck you, darling,” he muttered, voice low, velvety and desperate. “Need it so bad.”

Your eyes followed closely how dilated Heeseung’s pupils were, blown with unfiltered, bare hunger dedicated to you. He unashamedly showed his craving by licking his swollen lips at the sight of your perked nipples aching for some attention, and for brief seconds he cupped your breasts with each of his hands and kneaded softly, just to feel the smoothness of them.

Your lazy smirk and hooded eyes demonstrated your enjoyment with the devotion Heeseung was giving you willingly, without asking anything in return as you were used to; your husband always sharply requested something back if you said you wanted him to play with your body and give you something instead of using it for his own pleasure.

“You’re so fucking hot, darling,” Heeseung complimented with a quiet grin, worshipping your gorgeous body exposed for his eyes, eyes that showered you with want, with genuine interest on what they were seeing.

Such a foreign experience for you.

He grazed his fingertips downwards the fat of your waist and hips as he, himself, lowered all the way on the bed before standing up on his feet.

“You think so?” You asked shyly, barely audible as you propped yourself in one arm to watch the small show Heeseung was giving you by removing his sweatpants; you couldn’t help your salivation or the pulses in your cunt seeing the shape of his cock, drawn along the fabric, and the big dampened portion indicating his leaking tip that teased the subsequent vision.

When Heeseung finally exposed his length completely, you couldn’t hold back the sigh, the wide-eyed stare, or the dry swallow that slid down your throat.

He was big. Long and flushed, angrily aching, begging for relief. And he was about to be inside you.

“Fuck…”

Heeseung’s grin stretched with your adorable, yet sultry reaction – the whisper of your curse traveling straight into his ear, flattering his ego; your legs closing and your thighs clenching involuntarily in order to find some satisfaction stirring a throb on his hardened cock.

“I’m totally sure of it, doll,” the endearment got your needy hole clenching more, and Heeseung seductively hovering on top of you with his piercing eyes locked onto yours didn’t help much. Your breath hitched, eyes gleaming with expectation, but your cheeks warmed after he added. “You’re like a goddess.”

Maybe it wasn’t exactly his words, but how he sustained eye contact while he voiced them. Heeseung had an attitude that got your core bubbling in a rush of excitement, both sexual and… affectionate.

Effortlessly and shamelessly, he had expressed just how deeply you affected him, simply by being in your presence. The way his body responded to yours with such ease, by nothing more than fleeting touches and exchanged words, with your consent, felt surreal. It was so far from the reality you were used to, so unexpected.

“You make me go insane…” He continued, kissing your neck while positioning himself in between your legs.

Your hands grabbed the sheets beneath you as he pressed the tip on your pussy, his free hand caressing your cheek as the other held his support beside your face.

“Dreamed about you from the very first day…”

The confession sounded raw, voice slowly pronouncing each word with care, but hoarse enough to show the sincerity of it, as if he had let down his guard completely and was letting his deepest thoughts escape without filters. It caused an unfamiliar wave within you, something that both eased your nerves and sparked your curiosity, something that got you clutching the sheets harder and your eyes fluttering close.

“When I found out you were married to that pathetic excuse of a man,” Heeseung maintained his tone low and deliberate, matching the rhythm he started to enter you, face still buried in your neck. “I was so, so pissed.”

Your breath hitched, overwhelmed by the feeling of the weight of his length and how deliciously he was stretching your hole.

On top of that, Heeseung’s unfiltered words didn’t leave an open space for you to add anything else, too flustered, aroused, lost in your pleasure and bafflement under the bare feeling of intimacy, leaving the job of talking entirely for him.

So he kept going, taking your silence and how your brows furrowed into a contorted expression of pleasure as a positive reaction.

“I saw him talking shit about you every day,” he murmured, already more than halfway inside you, taking his time, savoring the way you clenched around him. Soft and breathy grunts escaped amidst the speech he chose to vent to you. “And I couldn’t do anything, not back then. I had to get closer to him to get closer to you.”

That piece of information was new, though you could easily deduce it by sorting out the fragments you already had. You wished you could fully comprehend it, respond as you wanted, maybe even thank him or whatever, but the way Heeseung deepened his movements, his body pressing against yours, his pelvis in contact with your skin, was clouding your mind.

“I wanted to destroy your marriage, love. I’m not even ashamed to admit it,” he whispered against your ear like telling you a secret, then raised his head to search your gaze. “So, so, so beautiful…”

You fluttered your lashes, weakly trying to meet his eyes. Your hands, once gripping the sheets, trembled as they found their way to Heeseung's shoulders. He noticed how your eyelids struggled to stay open, feeling the weight of his body on top of yours, knowing that every sensation was pulling you deeper into a space where he believed you truly belonged – completely immersed in raw pleasure.

Your cheeks flushed, and although Heeseung believed it was from the lustful warmth, it was mostly because of his genuine words, the way he told his side of the story, which left you disoriented yet absorbing every sentence.

“You’re gorgeous, darling,” he said once again, as though expecting you to absorb the compliments. Knowing how unwanted your relationship made you feel, he had a mission to make you understand you were wonderful and he was deeply affected by you. “The prettiest woman I ever laid my eyes on.”

You whimpered quietly when he dared to move an inch away, pulling out his cock a little just to pump into you again. With your body already limp, you gave up on keeping watching his handsome face up-close, the glimpse of a tender smile being your last view before closing your eyes.

Heeseung took your decision as a silent invite for a kiss, hand sneaking in between your hair towards you nape, attaching his mouth on yours in a slow and sensual touch that got you melting even more. He muffled his own grunts as he drank in your beautiful moans.

You couldn’t come up with a proper description about the fluttering in your chest and stomach with such a gentle contact, nor the way his hips moved deliberately, allowing you to not only adjust, but feel his deep thrusts everywhere.

Somehow, you really felt Heeseung everywhere.

His tongue twisting softly with yours, sucking your lips with a slow passion that took your breath away. The words, lingering on the back of your head and mixing with the amount of pleasure he was giving you, had your heart beating louder and stronger against your ribcage.

“You deserve more,” he carried on with his mission of making you feel worthy, stopping the kiss to press his lips on the corner of your mouth. “So much more, darling.”

And although you wanted to enjoy the slow sex he was providing you, the words of devotion he was offering with so much ease and genuineness, your messy thoughts and feelings suppressed it.

It felt like Heeseung’s adoration triggered even harder those reminiscences of your broken marriage. You remembered the times you sacrificed yourself, damaging your mental health for someone that threw everything away to cheat you, to have an affair.

Regret was an euphemism to begin with what was going through your head. You felt so ridiculous for letting things get to that point. It was an unpleasant blend of blaming your husband and blaming yourself because, even if you tried to see it from the perspective that he never deserved even a fraction of your care and love, there was still the part where you chose to stay.

And why?

You had always brushed aside the possibility of divorce. At times, questioning why you stayed meant entering a limbo without an exit – or one you didn’t want to find. So, you avoided thinking too much about it. You accepted what he gave you.

But why?

Why did you accept so little?

Your friends had asked you that a few times, but your anger grew at the mere thought of considering the question. Eventually, they stopped asking too.

It was a silent answer you didn’t want to give – acknowledging that the man who had promised you eternal love didn’t love you anymore hurt your ego, hurt your sense of integrity. Instead of leaving, you chose to stay and try to fix it, to make yourself wanted and loved again. But how could you change something immutable?

Anger.

It flared again, thundering in your chest and making you tight your hands into fists. The fingers tangled in Heeseung’s hair gripped a tuft tightly, pulling unconsciously as a way to release your rising rage. He hissed right after, furrowing his brows trying to understand what was happening with you.

Heeseung felt like perceiving your actions and moods with surprising ease after spending quite some time along with you, observing your demeanor and how you changed expressions due to something in particular, either for good or bad.

However, right at that moment, when he was fucking you nice and slow, kissing you with care and giving you the amount of fondness he felt you deserved, he sensed confusing signals about what you really wanted. Or maybe he was interpreting your needs through his own perspective, assuming you sought love and affection when, in fact, you craved for something tougher.

Heeseung pressed your lips together once more, but now with less delicacy than before as testing the waters. You gave an immediate reaction, gradually loosening your grip on his locks to something teetering the bearable and actually pulling him closer, deepening whatever you could deep while kissing him.

The frustration in your chest dissipated as your tongues clashed aggressively against one another, suppressing your growing moans as he started to thrust faster. Within seconds, Heeseung started to hit a certain spot that got you shivering and letting out a particular loud moan under his strong hold on your body.

He quickly noticed the change in your body language and adapted himself to it. One last tug on your lower lip between his teeth, strong enough to almost leave bloody marks and elicit a groan from your throat, was what told you he was about to change positions.

Heeseung slightly raised his upper body to position himself on his knees and looked at you with a certain fierceness, with hunger, and you, now with your eyes mildly open, saw the bareness of his lust stirring the most profound heated desire carved in your soul, bringing back to life something you didn’t notice you had lost.

“So this is what you wanted, huh?” Heeseung flashed you a devilish grin, his voice low and notably teasing, finding support on your open thighs.

His pelvis, once slow, began to move with more urgency, gradually increasing the pace together with the smirk that graced the corner of his reddened lips. You winced, feeling dizzy with the sound of his low moans and the slapping skin-on-skin.

Rolling your eyes with a content smile and a quiet nod was your failed attempt to give a proper response, because you felt too lost embracing the sudden switch that got your core throbbing in excitement, at the same time that released your tensed nerves.

“S’good,” you whimpered and arched your back slightly, head being thrown back as you did so.

Heeseung cooed at the view of your boobs bouncing with each of his deep pounds into you, together with how your hands desperately struggled to find a grounding physical piece as you grabbed everything around you – the sheets, his arms, the pillow.

He had picked up a rhythm that kept you swaying on the edge of your growing release, so extremely close to snapping you into a bliss of pleasure, yet far enough to drive you insane.

He was playing with you like a toy – his favorite. Denying you the climax of your desire – so freaking amazing.

“Y’could have told me earlier, darling,” he clicked his tongue with faux disappointment, breathing heavy in between his sharp words. “Would be fucking you like this from the very begining.”

You even tried to murmur a soft apology, but it got lost amidst your messy whimpers, your hazed mind, foggy with need making it hard to think of anything other than Heeseung’s cock, Heeseung’s voice, Heeseung’s name. Heeseung.

And you wanted more. Always. Fucking. More.

So with your lips falling open, you were able to only plead.

“More… Please, Hee, more…”

Heeseung was going crazy as much as you. He felt his body becoming exhausted with each passing thrust, however, he had no intention of stopping too soon, not without feeling the amazing clench of your pussy hugging his dick so fucking good as you cummed all over his shaft, not without letting his release fullfill you in a way that you would never forget who fucked you dumb so good like that.

It felt like a magic spell, drifting him back and forth into reality and insanity, because of how good your cunt were making him feel, allowing his length to go fast, deep and strong into your pulsing hole; spongy interior pressing his hardened cock that ached for an orgasm.

“Fucking pussy– Fucking tight pussy, makes me insane– Shit–” He panted in between breathy moans, voice coming out low, yet strained as his body faltered forward.

You lost count on how many times your eyes had rolled, not that you were actually trying to number it; the ecstasy Heeseung was providing you was wild, lunatic even. You only noticed his closeness again when his lips brushed your neck, not kissing or anything. He was just… there, as lost in his pleasure as you, muttering a row of curses and your name within gorgeous moans.

You wanted to cum so, so bad, and somehow you couldn’t let go of it fully, the pressing knot on your lower stomach refusing to unfold into your orgasm.

“Hee– Mhm–”

Heeseung was in love with how distant and broken you sounded, babbling nonsense as he pounded deeper. In love with how hot and sweaty your skin was in contact with his equal one, showing how intimate you two were. In love with your beautiful noises, that made his balls tight with his near climax.

“Fuck– You like cheating on your jerk husband with me, don't you?” The breathy question murmured against your earlobe had no purpose of getting an answer, yet you gave one, echoing ‘yes’ like a prayer, hand in fist hitting lightly Heeseung’s broad shoulder as a way to find an anchor. You were so close. “It's okay, darling. It’s okay, yeah?”

Heeseung kissed your neck, then your lips.

“You deserve better.”

Heeseung led his fingers to rub your clit, eyes locked on your contorted face. So close.

“I can give you better.”

Heeseung’s body trembled nearly at the same time as yours started to shake uncontrollably. The wave of pleasure that coursed through your body was too much to handle, so you simply let go, relaxing your entire being and allowing it to take control of your movements without thinking deep into it.

You saw the world turning into white for a few seconds, your ears ringing with an annoying, far noise that clouded your mind and numbed your limbs. Heeseung's name escaped your lips, the ones stained due to the long, passionate kisses and delicious bites, like a sob that was both painful and sweet.

You barely heard anything Heeseung cursed through his heavy breath and addictive moans, nor your name being called as he filled you with thick ropes of his warm cum, let alone the kiss he placed on your chin right after or the chuckle he let out when noticing your drool.

The burning sensation in your stomach traveled its path until it reached your cunt, releasing in a squirt as you cried and squirmed.

You cried, tears dancing on your face as you, slowly yet impactful, went through every possible sensation, but not really feeling all of them. It was weirdly good, an unprecedented experience you didn’t know you needed to have until right at that moment.

You wanted to make it last forever.

After what you decided to define as minutes passed, remotely distant, like a muffed blur, fighting with the dense fog inside your head, you started to hear Heeseung’s voice trying to bring you back to him.

“Hey, darling,” he kissed your cheek softly, brushing his thumb on your lower lip, a contact that contrasted absurdly with the fact that he was still buried deep within you. “I’ve got you, mhm?”

And he followed to shower you with affectionate sweet words, asking if you were alright, for you to open your eyes, to say some words just to know you were fine. At some random moment you lazily blinked, hardly actually seeing Heeseung due to your tear-drenched eyes.

“You made me squirt,” you whispered weakly, the lingering touch of Heeseung’s lips on yours still feeling like a ghostly caress, though you felt his body trembling as well as his smile when he chuckled.

“Hell yeah, I did.”

Heeseung slowly searched for air to his exhausted lungs, his body relaxing but making sure not to press your exhausted one. He was worried about your integrity after such a long and hard orgasm.

“You good, baby?”

The pet name felt natural, as if for Heeseung, calling you with endearing nicknames was as common as drinking water on a daily basis.

The warmth of his touch – he had let his hand, which had once gently caressed your face and brushed away sweat-drenched strands of hair, travel to your waist – was loving, making you yearn for more while feeling valued.

His gaze, full of care, radiated an aura of calm, like a magical magnet pulling you closer; there was no other explanation for your desperate desire to kiss him, as a way to reciprocate what he offered you freely.

Heeseung made you feel wanted, cherished, and respected in ways you hadn't known in far too long. It was all so new, though not entirely; it was confusing and messy and chaotic, but so, so good.

You gave a small nod in response and pulled him into another kiss, this time slow and gentle. You felt him pull his softened length from you, a small hiss and a frown coming from your side due to your sensitiveness.

“Sorry,” Heeseung whispered in a genuine apologetic tone before diving back again to keep his tongue brushing deliberately on yours.

He was kissing you with so much feeling, yet in a sensual motion that got your breath caught in your throat, the beats of your heart matching the pace of the subtle pressure of his swollen lips against yours.

You could feel a phantom of a smile coming from Heeseung in between the kiss, as if he was thrilled about what just happened with you two – and to be honest, so were you. He had given you not only an unreal, breathtaking sexual experience that led your body to feel limp and extremely relaxed, but he mostly showed you the possibility beyond your current life.

Heeseung unveiled, somehow, your freedom to quit the confines you were trapped in, a way out of the prison that held you in place, restricting your needs, your wants and, mainly, your love and affection.

He had shown you an escape. Maybe a ruined one, but still an escape.

Nonetheless, as quickly the sweet moment started, it stopped, when a sudden wave of realization hit Heeseung. The once hazy mind that drove you both into an intense path, leading towards a more serene one, was now reactive and alert.

“Oh, fuck…” Heeseung’s voice was dripping with exasperated concern when he broke the kiss by leaning back from you with widened eyes.

The moment you saw his expression, you couldn’t help but frown, a confused pout forming on your lips. He started scanning the bed frantically, his gaze darting around as if searching for something if it was used, would be on his… “Shit.” He glanced down to see the obvious. No condom.

His mouth opened and closed, as if the words were stuck somewhere between his brain and his tongue. He exhaled deeply, searching for comfort in your gaze, but, obviously, you wouldn’t be offering a quarter of it to him. Actually, your curious-dumbfounded eyes increased his nervousness.

“We didn’t use protection,” he finally blurted, his voice heavy with anxiety.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the whole soothing atmosphere suddenly fading in a snap as the room seemed to shift, the air growing thick. You felt a shiver running down your spine and instinctively you lifted your body, propping yourself up on your elbows, your eyes widening with a surge of fear.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You glanced back at him, your eyes wide with alarm, completely unaware of how Heeseung’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed dryly.

His usual calm demeanor faltered before your reaction, and the fear was clear in his current state, with his body tense, pupils blown and dilated, as well as his short bursts of breath that grazed your face, blending with your equally rapid one.

The following question got your chest tightening even stronger, the weight on the room now teetering unbearable.

“B–But you take your pills… Right..?” His voice wavered, his eyes desperately searched for reassurance in yours, his hand once gently holding you, now gripping quite fiercely on your hips.

Your immediate silence was more than enough of an answer, still you shook your head, denying. A cold spread through your chest when you realized you had made a huge mistake, your body falling back on the bed as you said, voice barely above a whisper as you did so, filled with terror.

“I stopped taking it when my sex life stopped existing.”

Reading the situation, more specifically when he noticed your eyes brimming with fresh tears before you closed them, Heeseung quickly rushed to change his behavior, and instead of causing you even more pain and suffering, he sought to calm you.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, alright?” He positioned himself on his knees, gently taking your hands to pull you to sit as well. “We always have the option of the plan B pill, right?”

Fluttering your lids open, you sobbed, the view of Heeseung’s disheveled hair blurring due to your watered eyes.

“But if he finds out–”

“He won’t,” Heeseung immediately interrupted, cupping your face tenderly.

He opted to ignore the pain in his chest because your instant line of thought somehow fueled a wave of realization that, despite his attempt to pull you away from that broken relationship, you might still go back to your husband as if nothing happened.

“I’ll buy it before you leave, okay?”

You let your gaze travel over Heeseung’s caring form as he gently caressed your face and placed random kisses on your lips. Your heart warmed, relief and genuine happiness flowing through every part of your body as you relaxed back, regulating your breathing. He nodded along with you, flashing a small smile that got your heartbeats thumping faster.

“But just know that if– No. Forget it.” Heeseung started, but then cut himself off with a quiet, mysterious laugh and a shake of head.

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him inquisitively with your head cocking to the side.

“Now you have to tell me.”

A sigh escaped his lips when he realized you were unwavering in your demand and decided to speak, avoiding your stare.

“I was going to say that...” He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up. “That I wouldn’t mind you carrying a child of ours.”

If it weren’t for the quietness of his room, you probably wouldn’t be able to hear a word of what he had said. Unfortunately – or not –, you heard each single part of it and your reaction was to freeze.

Heeseung immediately noticed how you tensed, the grip on his hand tightening since he hadn’t let go of one of your hands. He blushed in a deep shade of crimson, feeling mortified for saying something so outrageous, but… He freaked out. He wanted to make you feel comfortable and secure, offering you a safe place with options for any possible outcome due to both of your irresponsibility. However, he made it worse.

“Sorry. I– We don’t know each other well enough for me to say that, but... You’re special, amazing, beautiful, smart... A child of yours would be a blessing, that’s what I meant.”

He tried to explain himself and he couldn’t pinpoint if it made the situation worse. The words caught in your throat because you hadn’t prepared for such a raw declaration after such intense and wonderful sex.

Heeseung was proving to you, once again, that you deserved more and better, even in between stumbled sentences of a rambled speech.

“In any case...” He continued, gulping. “I wouldn’t want a child of ours– Yours. Mine?” He giggled, embarrassed. “To be conceived in… Y’know…”

Your stomach dropped with the realization of what you just did. Yeah. A cheating sex. You cheated on your husband. Yes, you had a husband to start with.

How had you forgotten?

Once again, you found yourself torn in between your chaotic feelings, unable to make proper decisions due to your sensitive mind. You just had an amazing moment with Heeseung and would be willing to extend for some more encounters. On the other hand, there was still so much you needed to work through – both internally and externally – and it involved another person as well.

The one who was supposed to be the love of your life, just as the promises of youth had once told you.

But those promises now felt like distant echoes, fading against the weight of reality. The life you imagined with Brendon had been clouded by too many unanswered questions, too many unsaid things throughout plenty of years. It crashed down now, like a tide that dragged you towards the deep, profound ocean of uncertainty.

The connection that was supposed to bring comfort now seemed like a distant and extremely painful memory, because, afterall, he betrayed you first.

Lost in your reminiscences and confusing mind, you didn’t notice when Heeseung laid you back down on the mattress, cleaning you gently while leaving you to your thoughts. He was aware of the necessity of you having to think. He couldn’t even imagine what was going on in your mind and, honestly, he didn’t know if you wanted to share with him.

Especially with him.

Heeseung was not only an acquaintance of your husband anymore. He was the man that helped you to cheat. He was your affair, the wrong side of your life, the lack of morality, of honesty, of loyalty. He would be associated with that for the rest of your days, and strangely enough, he had no regrets.

Heeseung was aware that despite all the wrong decisions made that night, in the end, you got what you deserved: affection and the feeling of being cared for.

That was what you deserved, forever; to be desired, to be adored, to be placed on a pedestal as the incredibly wonderful goddess that you were.

Brendon didn’t deserve the heart-shaped sandwiches or the love notes you worked so hard to make every day, nor the meticulous care you put into the home he lived in, even though you worked as much as he did.

He didn’t deserve the way you looked at him with fondness, although most of the time it was a pretense, hiding the real layer of what you had felt for so long and refused to accept.

He didn’t deserve to hear your beautiful voice excitedly talking about a new flower arrangement you made or the new recipe you learned and nailed on the first try. He didn’t deserve to hear your laughter while watching comedy films or when something went wrong and you giggled, embarrassed.

Heeseung didn’t know if he, himself, deserved any of that, but he wanted to make you realize that you were so much more than just a facade of a wife.

You were so much more… To him.

“How do I go back to my house now?” You asked quietly after a while, your voice breaking the silence of the room like an anvil falling into a glass-floor.

The question, however, wasn’t exactly directed to anyone in particular, you didn’t even notice you said aloud.

Heeseung’s response caught you off guard.

“Do you want me to take you?”

You sighed, looking at him. As said before, you had laid back on the bed and he was right by your side, caressing you while you spent your last minutes thinking about your life and your future decisions.

Heeseung driving you back to your house would make things worse, though you wanted to see how Brendon would react to that.

Brendon. Why does his reaction still mattered to you? He literally chose the same path you did tonight, but way before you and keeping his cool, as if he wasn’t throwing his whole marriage into the thrash for some random chick at his work.

“No.” You answered after a brief, yet close inspection. “I need some time alone.”

And Heeseung’s chest tightened in pain. You could still choose to stay with your husband after everything, it has always been one of the options when everything first started.

He swallowed the urge to try to convince you of his… Love? He couldn’t even name it yet, but something was definitely blooming into his heart and you, with your beautiful presence, was the big picture in that scenario.

“Okay,” he whispered, agreeing with you.

And although you, yourself, weren’t sure of much, Heeseung was of one thing.

It was more than worth it.

When you got back home, the silence and the darkness of your house greeted you, embracing your confused and broken self with something bittersweet – your home was supposed to be your comfort spot, however it felt wrong.

Everything felt misplaced, even though nothing had moved out of position.

You scanned every corner of the living room, and yet, despite its familiarity, it felt foreign, like you didn’t belong there anymore. Perhaps you never did.

The walls were adorned with photos of you and Brendon, frozen moments from a life that now felt distant. The blanket draped over the couch was in your favorite color, a choice you had made once. On the coffee table sat an empty beer bottle, a quiet marker of your husband’s absence.

There were traces of you both scattered throughout the room, but more of you – too much of you, as if you had been trying to compensate for something. It felt forced, a desperate attempt to fit into a space that no longer welcomed you, if it ever had.

The realization clawed at your chest, leaving a dull ache behind. How had you gone so long without seeing it? Was it Heeseung – his touch, his words – that finally broke through the carefully constructed denial? Had he been the catalyst for you noticing just how distant you had become, not only from your marriage but from yourself?

You felt like an afterthought, an appendage to someone else’s story, shaped and reshaped to fit a mold that was never meant for you. When had you started losing yourself? How had it come to this?

Those questions lingered as you retreated to the guest bedroom that night, claiming it as your sanctuary. For the first time in years, you felt the stirrings of autonomy, fragile but liberating. The divorce was inevitable now, and though the thought of it was daunting, it also carried a bittersweet promise of freedom.

Years of effort and devotion would be discarded, left behind like relics of a life you no longer wanted. But there was still so much ahead of you – a chance to rediscover who you were, to seek experiences that might lead you closer to the version of yourself you once dreamed of becoming.

Heeseung had shown you that in such a short time.

And there he was again, invading your mind without warning, his presence haunting you in ways you couldn’t shake. You still feared that you might not be able to untangle your motives, whether they were born from the rage of betrayal and the years wasted on Brendon or from the fleeting warmth Heeseung had offered you with such tenderness and sincerity.

It felt good to be wanted, cherished even, but a painful truth gnawed at the edges of your resolve: you couldn’t just leap from one branch to another. It was your life, not Brendon’s, not Heeseung’s. Yours.

In the bittersweet goodbye that had left a knot in your throat and tears threatening to spill, Heeseung had told you he would wait, that there was something he felt for you that went beyond how your relationship had begun, tangled in raw desire and masked in the shadow of infidelity.

But no matter how grateful you were for him, you knew there was a path you had to walk alone first.

It was with that conviction, and Yunjin’s steady hand gripping yours, that you signed the divorce papers the following week after an argument tinged with sorrow, regret and truths being yelled out.

None of the words Brendon said to you would be forgotten. The contempt, the look of disgust, the bitterness as he harshly verbalized that you were never good enough for him. Yet, you would keep them in a special box, as a poignant reminder that you went through the worst, that you overcame the heaviest moment of your life.

You wouldn’t forget the hatred he made you feel for yourself, because it was through it that you allowed yourself to start loving you again.

Your chest tightened, anxiety and anticipation intertwining as you faced the blank slate of what came next. You had no idea where this journey would take you – but for the first time in years, it was entirely yours.

A first date.

You vaguely remembered the last time your body felt this nervous at the thought of meeting someone. It definitely hadn’t been with your now ex-husband, but it had been long enough to leave you sweating under your arms.

After a few encouraging words with Yunjin through your phone and a “good luck” text from your mom – who had been thrilled to hear about your divorce and provided immense physical and emotional support during those first few weeks – you stepped outside your apartment.

You had saved enough money to maintain yourself, still working at the flower shop on weekends as a hobby, after landing a job at a photography studio specializing in model shoots.

It was a passion that had been crushed when your ex made you believe your work was inferior and lame, forcing you to shrink yourself to fit into his impossible standards by leaving your best sides outside.

Now, freedom was your closest companion. You went out for coffee by yourself, enjoyed lunches at pleasant restaurants in your own company, and never felt sad or shaken by being alone – because you were alone, but you didn’t feel lonely.

The autonomy surrounding you was intoxicating, filling you with radiance to push forward with your days, even in the face of difficulties.

A quick greeting with the doorman snapped you back to reality as you headed to the restaurant that would be graced by your presence tonight. The difference this time was that you wouldn’t be dining alone.

The soft door noise indicated your entrance at the place, and instinctively your fierce eyes swerved through the small crowd looking out for someone. The way your heart raced made it feel like it might burst out of your chest the moment you saw his broad, unforgettable shoulders.

“Hee?”

He was standing, his tall figure casually leaning on the countertop chatting with someone at the little open bar in the corner of the restaurant. When he heard your angelic voice calling him, it took him seconds to turn and face you.

“Y/N.”

Your name left his kissable lips like a relieved sigh. And truly, he was relieved. Not that he thought you would stand him up, but after receiving an anonymous message – followed by the revelation that it was from you, a year after everything that had happened between you two –, asking for a meeting, it was hard for him to think positively about anything.

The walk as you approached felt as if the world had blurred into nothingness. The background music softened until it became a distant echo, your eyes fixed on Heeseung like he was the main subject through the lens of your camera, with everything else fading into obscurity.

Even in your daze, you caught the hesitant twitch of his hand, as though he wanted to reach for you but feared you might vanish the moment he did. The thought of him yearning for you as much as you desired him made your heart pound harder, stronger, and the flutter in your stomach increased.

In the past year, your mind often wandered back to how he made you feel in every nuance, from both physically and emotionally. It was undeniable that the heated night you shared replayed in your head like an irresistible, delicious film, tempting your urge to give up completely on your healing plan and run towards him.

But you couldn’t let yourself act in such a way, not when you promised you would be sure of your decisions from now on, and Heeseung was still a fragile subject back then.

His height difference was striking enough to make you tilt your head up to meet his gaze, a movement that made you feel shyly adorable, and before Heeseung could help himself, a compliment slipped from his lips.

“You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks burned with fluster, unprepared for such an open and genuine remark. But it was Heeseung – effortlessly charming, naturally disarming. “Thank you,” you muttered, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “You look amazing, as always.”

Your compliment wasn’t just polite – he truly did look gorgeous. He looked delectable, dressed in casual all-black attire. His button-up shirt was left slightly undone, teasing you with a glimpse of his sun-kissed chest adorned with a golden chain that only added to his allure.

And then there was his brand new haircut. Heeseung had gone for an undercut, a style that veered away from his usual office persona but perfectly captured his seductive, magnetic charm. At least to you, it worked far too well.

On the other hand, Heeseung had to actively remind himself of how to keep air in and out of his lungs, otherwise he would pass out before your alluring, enticing, beautiful, provocative, goddess-like, unreal figure.

You had changed a lot, for better; not that you were anything other than stunning and attractive before, but you now carried your presence with confidence, you had a special glow that shone brighter than any chandelier in that fancy dinner place, enough to make Heeseung struggle to keep his cool, relaxed demeanor.

He could feel his self-control faltering, slipping through his fingers like sand, utterly unable to think straight as you quietly, yet intensely analyzed his features with your pretty eyes.

“I reserved a table for us,” he managed to voice out, although it sounded slightly hushed.

You giggled with his unexpected nervous behavior, clutching your bag strap as you nodded. “Bet you did.”

And with that, Heeseung guided you towards the mentioned table, placed far enough from the general crowd to grant you both a bit of privacy, with his hand touching your lower back. The area heated enough to leave you tense, yet thrilled with the fact that the atmosphere was slowly loosening.

The conversation that followed felt awkward at first – unsurprisingly, considering your last encounter had been chaotic, brimmed with lust, guilt, and anger over circumstances neither of you could fully control. And, of course, it had all unfolded under the veil of cheating.

But as the initial tension began to dissipate, you found the exchange becoming more fluid. Heeseung’s responses gradually eased your nerves, just as your candidness gave him obvious clues about your intentions.

He admitted he wasn’t seeing anyone. In fact, since your last encounter, he had gone on a handful of dates, none of which, he confessed with a shy chuckle, had left him remotely satisfied. This revelation only came after he relaxed enough to let it slip, his words hesitant yet genuine.

If you had to describe him in one word, it would be anxious. And he was, in fact, very anxious about the outcome of the night, about the new details of your life, about what might unfold beyond this dinner.

There was a distinct tension lingering in the air between you, a silent but undeniable pull. It was as if the thought of your lips attaching together was a shared, unspoken desire – loud enough to keep ringing in your minds, connected by the lustful want of being each other’s.

It made its way subtly through the playful banter, through your soft laughter over his silly jokes, and mostly, through the fleeting touches on your shoulders and thighs.

“Y’know, after the whole thing we did, I was afraid I might back out with the divorce,” you blurted suddenly, after relaxing on the small couch they used as seats for that table.

Heeseung was sitting on your side, after you asked him to do so, instead of taking the seat in front of you. The minimal seconds with him were enough to make you crave more – Heeseung’s natural effect on you –, and you were glad he embarked on your request, even placing his arm on the back of your headset.

This was the first time you mentioned the occurrence, though.

Heeseung wasn’t sure about it, but throughout the night he eventually figured out there was no way you would be acting this happy and sincere, beaming with your achievements and living an apparent good life, if you were still with that jerk.

Either way, hearing you speak brought the weight of reality – the weight that you were finally away from that shitty man, and even if it sparked a small flame of hope that maybe you might let him care for you the way he had wanted, his relief was already established by knowing you were no longer trapped in a burden relationship that aimed to destroy your beautiful soul.

He sipped on his drink before muttering, eyes never once glancing away from yours. You felt seen.

“And what made you keep with it?”

For a moment, a brief feeling of embarrassment flushed through you, although you didn’t let it take over your following response, sounding firm and, somehow, determined.

“You.”

After you answered with such a soft tone, you tracked the movement of Heeseung’s Adam’s apple moving as he gulped, but he didn’t show any signal of hesitation when he smirked and leaned slightly forward as his brightened gaze wandered through your face, deliberately taking in your beautiful, serene expression.

He was offering you such a breathtaking visage, his demeanor finally at ease, yet magnetically pulling you to react to an unspokenly demand.

His lips were covered with a layer of his drink from the last sip, gleaming under the dim light that hovered you both, taunting your need of having them pressed on yours. His iris slightly dilated as they followed the movements of your eyelashes fluttering open and close in a slow dance, just to drift back to your lipstick colored lips, as if silently asking you for a kiss.

As if automatically, your faces began to slowly lean closer, breaths blending together with a mix of alcohol from your side and a strawberry flavor from Heesegun’s.

But just as quickly as the atmosphere shifted into something more charged, it disappeared, as a waiter suddenly appeared to serve the dessert you had ordered. Embarrassed, you both pulled back briefly, sharing a subtle laugh and looked up to acknowledge the waiter, but Heeseung immediately cut in.

“Thank–”

“That can’t be real.”

A sharp pang in your stomach, your heart racing, and your throat immediately drying out. These were the initial reactions, before your hands began to tremble and a rush of heat spread through your body, making you feel utterly reactive.

“Brendon?” You whispered, disbelief making your voice shake as you processed that, after a year, you were seeing him during a sweet evening with Heeseung.

You had done everything to avoid him, taking every precaution to keep him out of your life, even deleting your social media, afraid of what he might do. There had never been a physical threat, but after the breakup, you feared he might become volatile, wanting to take his anger out on you.

Thankfully, none of your friends had ever known about him, and you had never bothered to find out about him either.

But now, here he was, standing right in front of you two, his expression in complete disdain, his eyes seething with fury.

“You piece of shit,” was the first thing he spat out, as he saw the situation unfold – his ex-wife, now with what he considered his former friend. Betrayal.

You didn’t even notice how tightly he gripped the metal tray at his side. You also didn’t realize that Heeseung, who had been sitting at the edge of the couch, had already risen to his feet, his hands clenched into fists, his jaw clenched, and his eyes burning with rage.

He was ready to strike.

“So, it was for him that you left me, you whore?”

He barely managed to finish the slur because Heeseung moved too quickly. The collective gasp from the surrounding people was what made you realize exactly what had just happened.

You saw Heeseung throw a powerful punch, landing accurately on Brendon's face. Brendon staggered back, dropping the metal tray before quickly retaliating with a weak jab to Heeseung’s cheek.

Heeseung’s expression hardened after a stunned moment in place, processing the impact that got the area tingling, but the subsequent pain was far from being his main concern.

He smirked dryly and then grabbed Brendon by the shoulders to shove him back with force, sending him crashing into a nearby chair. Brendon struggled to regain his footing, but Heeseung advanced, his eyes burning with rage, and with a swift move, he knocked Brendon to the ground with another punch, leaving him unable to fight back.

The men around you quickly rushed in, trying to break up the fight. But you didn’t care about them, you shoved anyone who tried to intervene, the ones attempting to cling to Heeseung, trying to drag him back, or at least seeking comfort in the chaos that was unraveling within you.

“Hee–”

Your weak, tearful voice was cut off. Heeseung instinctively wrapped his arms around you in a protective embrace, not even realizing what he was doing as he pointed a finger at Brendon, who had managed to get back on his feet with help from the others.

“Shut the fuck up before you say a word about Y/N, you piece of shit,” he growled, his vision distorted by the boiling rage in his chest. He had been waiting for this moment from the very beginning, the moment to unleash all his frustration, all the hatred he had toward that man. “You’re useless. A worthless bastard who couldn’t recognize the fucking queen you had in your life.”

Heeseung’s large hands tightened around your waist, almost unconsciously, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your face as it pressed into him. Tears slowly started to coat your cheeks, your trembling body finding support in Heeseung’s tensed one.

“I hope you fucking burn in hell and get torn apart in the worst way. You don’t deserve a single ounce of the love Y/N gave you, and you had the fucking audacity to cheat on her.”

Brendon spat out blood, his lip split from Heeseung’s earlier punch. He smirked sarcastically, looking around the crowd that watched the scene.

“She cheated on me too,” he muttered, his voice weak but laced with venom.

Heeseung scoffed, almost rolling his eyes and nearly advancing on Brendon again; you felt the sudden attempt that immediately stopped when you whispered a quiet, hurtful “No…”

You looked up, your eyes glossy with tears, finding Heeseung’s now worried ones. He softened before your pouty, scared expression.

He caressed your face tenderly, holding you closer as a way to keep you under his protection, although he knew Brendon wouldn’t have the guts to try anything else. After, he drove his attention back to the asshole standing weakly in front of him.

“You didn’t even have the decency to give her the bare minimum, you worthless cunt,” he spat, words full of rage. “Let alone decent fucking sex. Of course she would cheat on you.”

That triggered a jolt from Brendon to charge at Heeseung, but it was quickly stopped by those holding him back, his ego riled up by the insult.

Heeseung let out a humorless laugh. “She searched out for someone who could give her what she truly deserves,” he said, his gaze shifting to you. His expression softened into a gentle smile, one that was genuine but sharp in contrast to the situation. “And if she'll allow me, I’ll keep being that man for her.”

Your eyes widened at his abrupt and sincere confession. Heeseung didn’t expect a response, honestly, so he turned his attention back to Brendon, his warning clear in every word.

“Get near her again, and I’ll make sure there’s no one around to stop you from getting your ass kicked, you little shit.”

He began pulling you towards the exit of the restaurant, but as he passed Brendon, he leaned in close to murmur just loud enough for him to hear.

“Just so you know, she cheated on you long after you did… And, oh, I’m sure you don’t know that, but she looks fucking gorgeous when she's squirting.”

Until you settled into the passenger seat of Heeseung’s car, everything felt like a blur, robbing you of the awareness to even notice he had paid for dinner before driving off. His voice had broken through just once, a soft “Are you okay?” before he retreated into an oppressive silence.

At first, you welcomed the break from words, needing time to process the storm of emotions swirling inside you. There was anger, because Brendon had crashed your date. Sadness, for having to relive that chapter of your life all over again. Gratitude, since Heeseung had defended you without hesitation. And then... there was desire, because he had looked absurdly damn good while doing it.

God dammit, you cursed silently in your head, shrinking into your seat and glancing away from Heeseung. You felt like a teenager stealing glances at a crush and pretending you weren’t staring when caught.

Worse, you felt like a dog in heat, your thoughts obsessing over how ridiculously attractive he was. His clenched jaw, hands tightening and relaxing on the steering wheel in an effort to calm himself, the slight cut on his lip, and the faint bruise forming on his cheek – likely from a ring Brendon had been wearing – all combined to give him an effortlessly rugged, devastating appeal.

The wound wasn’t deep, nothing to be overly concerned about, but it added an edge to his already striking features. You knew you would take care of it the moment you got to his apartment, but until then, you had to deal with the mixture of lust and a bunch of other things bubbling in your core.

Heeseung, however, was a bit different from you.

Seeing you so broken and tearful had hit him like a bullet to the chest. He never wanted the night to end like this, but there was no regret in the brutal way he had taken out his frustration on Brendon.

Heeseung’s mind raced, tangled with worry and anticipation over how you would react once the adrenaline wore off and you were in a comfortable space to properly talk things through.

He couldn’t get a read on you – not only because his eyes were mostly fixed on the road, but because you kept stealing glances at him and quickly looking away whenever he dared to glance back. Your behavior gave him no clear hint of what was truly going through your mind.

A flicker of anxiety sparked within him. Maybe you were nervous – possibly even considering ditching him altogether and ending whatever it was between you before it could truly begin. The mere thought gnawed at him, amplifying his own anxiety.

The fact that you had suggested going to his apartment instead of your own had caught him off guard. It was enough to confuse him even more, given the contrast with your otherwise unreadable demeanor.

Still, he opted to keep the quietness over the air, since he needed a time to think deeply about his actions.

He acted out of impulse, for sure, but he wanted to make sure you understood he had absolutely no regrets and he would do it again, and again, and again.

To protect your integrity, he would settle a war if necessary.

The moment you two reached the place you had visited once before, a sense of an odd nostalgia crept up your spine. Without even realizing it, you were both walking towards the elevator directed to Heeseung’s apartment’s floor.

Your eyes were glued on your feet as a way to hide your fluster, struggling to fight the urge of jumping into that handsome man standing on your side. Your head was spinning with the most lascivious, filthy thoughts about how you would kneel right at that moment and give Heeseung the head of his life in order to pay back his earlier demeanor.

So. Fucking. Hot.

And contrastingly enough, there was Heeseung, frustrated with himself for making you witness such violent acts.

He leaned his back and head against the cold metal walls of the elevator, eyes closing as a shaky breath escaped his lips. After a long moment, he finally spoke, carrying off a guilt you didn’t understand at first.

“I'm sorry you had to go through that,” he said, his voice gentle, yet filled with regret. You turned to face him, catching the movement of his beautiful neck exposed for you. You gulped. “I’m sorry you had to witness all of that. And I’m sorry for being a bit of a dick at the end... I got carried away.” He then opened his eyes to look at you, his expression almost vulnerable, his cheeks with a faint blush exposing his embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to objectify y–”

Before he could finish, you cut him off, practically throwing yourself into his body to attach your mouths together. Your lips collided with his bruised ones in a kiss that tasted of longing, and something metallic, like blood, and your fingers crawled their way towards his nape.

Heeseung let out a pained groan, but didn’t stop you at all. Actually, he held you by the waist to press your chest on his torso.

However, you immediately pulled back, your eyes wide with worry as your hands held his face delicately.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Hee…” you gasped, looking at him in alarm.

He chuckled, the sound deep, sensual, and made your heart flutter despite your current state of concern.

“You're good,” he said, shaking his head slightly with a teasing grin adorning his features. He didn’t care about any pain if that meant having your tongue swirling with his in that addictive motion he once got to try.

With a tilt of head, he murmured. “Come here, mhm?”

“But your lip–” you tried to counter his words, but Heeseung’s hands seemed unwilling to let you go so easily.

“Shh,” he shushed softly, pressing a tender kiss against your lips. “I heard kisses heal wounds.”

A giggle escaped you, light and fleeting, before it melted into the moment, swept away by the kiss that happened subsequently. It began slowly, unhurried, as if both of you were savoring every second together.

His lips moved against yours with a sensual, deliberate rhythm, one that carried not just desire but something deeper – affection, yearning, a tenderness that spoke volumes.

It was as if Heeseung feared breaking you with his touch, or perhaps losing you altogether. You could feel it in the way his hands cradled your face, in the way his thumbs brushed softly against your skin. And you, in return, clung to him like he was your lifeline, your own quiet fear mirrored in the way your fingers twisted in his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

The metallic tang of blood on his lips barely registered; it was overshadowed by the warmth and electricity of the moment. His tongue traced the shape of your lips, a gentle request you didn’t hesitate to grant, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

His tongue caressed yours with a languid, intoxicating ease, exploring, coaxing, as if he wanted to memorize the taste of you.

Your breath hitched, heart racing in a chaotic rhythm that matched the way his hand slid down your side, fingers possessively holding your waist, as the air grew heavier within each passing second. You wondered for a moment when would the elevator stop, barely noticing the opened door.

Heeseung broke the kiss briefly and realized the open door, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and shallow as it mingled with your own.

“Inside,” he rasped simply, tone dropping an octave, thick with desire that dripped from his beautiful swollen lips.

You nodded, unaware of what exactly he meant, leaving the mission of being guided completely at his hands as you pulled him back into another kiss, this time urgent and rushed.

Heeseung frowned and moaned against your mouth, the collision of his bruised area stirring his thristness, awakening his most profound hunger for you; elicited an immediate reaction that got him stumbling with his own legs as you pushed him into his apartment.

A fleeting moment of clarity pierced through the haze in your mind as Heeseung groaned in pain once again, this time caused by your teeth accidentally grazing his injured lip in the heat of the moment.

“Hee–” you murmured, trying to pull back from the kiss, but he didn’t let you go easily. Only when you gently pushed against his chest did he finally retract, his dark eyes clouded with lust as they bore into yours.

“Let me take care of this first, please?” You whispered, your voice tinged with a teasing whine, paired with the kind of faux-innocent eyes that made him melt on the spot.

His firm resolve faltered instantly, and his temptation only seemed to deepen because of that very expression.

With a faint smirk, Heeseung pressed one last lingering kiss to your lips before stepping away. He disappeared into the bathroom to grab a first-aid kit, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the living room with your heart still hammering.

He wasn’t gone for long, but by the time he returned, you had already settled yourself on the sofa. Without a word, he joined you, sitting close by as you carefully tended to his wound.

A sharp hiss escaped his lips as the antiseptic made contact, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly, murmuring a soft apology.

His gaze never wavered from you, watching with an almost disarming tenderness, his large hand resting casually on your thigh as if to ground himself.

And when you finished, you lingered, your eyes tracing his features. Damn it, how did this man manage to look impossibly hotter even when roughed up?

“Stop looking at me with those eyes,” Heeseung broke the silence, his voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl.

Your gaze, which had shamelessly held contact on his lips – not because of the injury, but because you craved them – snapped up to meet him properly.

“What eyes?” you challenged softly, your voice laced with subtle mischief that matched nothing with your small pout and frown.

Heeseung’s hand shifted from your thigh to your jaw, his touch firm and gentle as he tilted your face closer to his.

“Like you want me to fuck you,” he murmured, his words hitting like a jolt of euphoria.

A sly smile crept onto your lips, your eyelids growing heavier as the air between you thickened with tension. “You know that I do,” you replied, biting your bottom lip as your fingers traced a slow, invisible pattern over his chest.

A thought crossed your mind, bold and unbidden, and you let it spill.

“Y’know, last time I came to your apartment…”

“Yeah?” Heeseung prompted, his voice soft but loaded, his hands effortlessly guiding you to settle in his lap. You obliged with a grace that didn’t break the magnetic pull of your eyes locked on his, though they flickered occasionally to his kiss-bruised lips.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Hee.”

His lips curved into a soft smile, relief flickering across his features as your words unintentionally reassured him in ways you couldn’t have known he needed. His hands traced a comforting path along your hips, keeping you steady in his lap.

“I’m glad to hear that, darling.”

The term of endearment may have been simple to anyone else, but to you, it meant so much more. It sent your heart stumbling over its rhythm, your body instinctively leaning closer to his warmth. It made your breath hitch, especially when he leaned in as well, his words brushing against your lips like a gentle breeze.

“Let me remind you what you deserve,” his tone was intoxicatingly soft yet laced with a darker edge that tempted you to fall head-first into it. “How does that sound?”

Your lips quirked into a smirk as you cupped his face with deliberate tenderness, careful to avoid hurting him further.

“I know what I deserve, Hee,” you shot back, your voice daring as you teased his lips with a featherlight graze of your own. “And I also know what I want.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched as he teetered on the edge of self-control, your provocations pushing him closer to the brink. But he played along, matching your game, because he loved your game.

“And what do you want, darling?” He asked back, a question that was dripping with anticipation.

Your eyes softened briefly with a mix of affection and unrelenting desire before you let the fire in your gaze take over.

“More.”

#heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #heegyukeluv works #read the warnings! sensitive topics were addressed in this story

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princesssmars · 2 months ago

Text

better leave your man at home!

mini stories of vi, sevika, abby, and ellie showing you your true worth.

wc : 7.306

contains : sfw and nsfw. fxf. fem!reader. cheating on the men's part until ellie's part lol. ellie’s is a modern!au the rest are in canon. mentions of violence and alcohol. silco but he's chill. owen but he's not chill. reader can be interpreted as bi or comphet i think!

a/n : ladies if you're reading this...cheat on him. or cheat back. yknow what just leave him.

VIOLET ꨄ

ʚɞ ever since getting out of prison and restarting her life, vi had been looking for a new purpose.

ʚɞ she had found a solid job, managed to reconnect with wither last siblings left alive, and started to build up a life for herself, but still, she felt...aimless. she longed for a deeper connection than the ones she had, someone she could yet again.

ʚɞ and then she meets you, a sweet little store owner with a voice that sounds like a symphony and an attitude as sweet as cookies. the first time she even met you she bumped into you on the street outside your bakery, knocking you supplies for your treats all over the ground. she's expecting that usual zaunite 'watch where you're going!' but instead you tell her not to worry, that you were carrying too many things anyway.

ʚɞ it was almost instinct for her to assure you she was at fault, downright demanding she help you carry everything that dropped inside and that it was the least she could do. you call her a sweetheart and tell her if she does you'll send her home with a plate of her favorite dessert. how could she say no?

ʚɞ she cant help but to quickly hang out with you whenever she can. after her shifts she stops by to help you close up, telling you its the least she could do for someone who was oh-so sweet. you seem to welcome her affections, whispering one late night when making some extra batter that you always appreciate when she stops by. she goes home on a high that night.

ʚɞ but then the worst thing ever happens. you get a boyfriend.

ʚɞ apparently he's some old family friend who moved back to the city when he found a small fortune overseas and was ready to come back to 'win you over like he tried years ago'. you told the story with a slightly wistful voice but all vi could do was nod along with wide eyes and a shut mouth.

ʚɞ eventually, she meets the guy, a tall and rather weasly looking guy who was waiting impatiently outside the store. she gave him a simple greeting and all he could do was tilt his head in recognition that she was there, apparently. she passed him and went to the back of the store and asked you what he was doing standing outside looking all suspicious. her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when you told her he was waiting to take you out but had to stand outside because he couldn't stand the smell of bread.

ʚɞ yeah, this definitely wasn't gonna last long. she’d just have to get you to see that.

ʚɞ sadly, she didn't have to do much work. ton a sunny day when the two of you were walking through the upper city levels together you stopped in your tracks, a talking vi whose arm was wrapped with yours questioning what made you stop before following your eyesight to see your boyfriend in the arms of another woman, way too close for comfort. vi wanted nothing more in that moment than to go and knock the bastard's lights out, but she had to prioritize you first.

ʚɞ you go into a depression for a week, your shop closed and your apartment locked as you skulk and cry in your home. but thankfully you gave vi a key not too long into your friendship, and she wakes you up one afternoon and demands you go and clean yourself up while she takes care of your chores.

ʚɞ you come out of the shower feeling rejuvenated and refreshed, your mood only lifting higher at the smell of cookies in the air. you pad out to the kitchen and cant help but smile when you see vi standing with a tray of perfectly made chocolate chip cookies on the island counter.

ʚɞ you sit up on your counter and moan at the taste of the cookies, vi accepting your praise of her baking skills with pride as she rubs over your bare thighs. eventually the topic steers to your recent heartbreak and vi makes sure you can complain and vent to her all you want.

ʚɞ but the last thing she wants to hear is you blaming yourself, teary-eyed and mumbling about how maybe you were too overbearing in your affections. she gently but sternly brings your attention to her, making sure you look her in the eyes when she goes on about how you’re the nicest and most soft-natured person she’s ever known and he was a fool to not see what an amazing woman he had in front of him.

ʚɞ and you cant help but feel even worse at the clear effect her affection has on you, unconsciously biting her lip at her praise and closeness. her eyes dart down to your lips and back to your eyes, slowly inching her head forward for permission. as soon as you slightly nod your head she’s kissing you with months of pent-up adoration, warmth, and lust.

ʚɞ a small part of you feels guilty for moving on to your close friend only a week after you broke up with your boyfriend, but when her fingers are drifting down to your cunt and making you cry as you cum over and over again, you can't find it in you to care.

ʚɞ “he was an idiot to give up on someone as sweet as you. but down worry muffin, i’m not gonna take that chance.”

SEVIKA ꨄ

ʚɞ sevika had made a promise to herself years ago: don't mess with married women.

ʚɞ she could give herself some grace, she was young and dumb, and the woman was incredibly gorgeous. and when a woman with legs that could bring any person woman or man to their knees comes up to you and asks you your plans for the night, you cant exactly pass up the opportunity. though she wishes she did after her partner caught them together in bed and she got in one of the worst fights of her life.

ʚɞ but she had to admit things in her life were getting a bit…stale, to say the least. her schedule was a steady routine of doing tasks for silco, reeling in jinx, and keeping the last drop working like a well-oiled machine. she didn't want anything drastic that would screw up their plans to happen, just…something.

ʚɞ and oh, does she get it. some out of towner got too rowdy in the bar and started a bar fight and before she could come in and get things under control theirams leg gets broken. so now she’s tasked with finding a good enough replacement to cover him for the few months it gets healed since he for some reason couldn't just take a shimmer dose and get back on his feet in no time.

ʚɞ she goes through dozens of recruits, all either too disobedient or downright atrocious behind a bar. she’s just about to give up and force one of the goons to do it when you come through the door. you’re rather unassuming, and at first she things you’re joking until you travel behind the bar and instruct her to give you any drink and you can make it. after ten different drinks she’s more than convinced.

ʚɞ she doesn't talk to you much at first, you’re just another cog in the machine that keeps the enterprise running smoothly. obviously she’s noticed that you’re attractive, surrounded by a stern but easy-going aura that makes most customers sit and want to talk to you for hours on end. it amused her when she watched how you convinced three different patrons to buy some more drinks so you’d continue telling them a wild story of some adventure you apparently had in bilgewater years back.

ʚɞ she can't help but ask you if its true later when the bar is closing and you’re wiping everything down, rolling her eyes when you call her out for listening to your conversations. you reveal that all your stories of adventure and excitement are true, but that you gave that life up when you decided to settle down after you get married.

ʚɞ she scoffs that the woman you married must be a hell of a catch to get you to leave behind such an exciting life, and she sees your eyes drop when you reveal that life with your husband is a nice and quiet alternative to your days of danger. sevika’s always had a good poker face, and she’s really glad she has it now after hearing you gave up all of that for a guy. and that her gaydar was apparently wrong, which never happens.

ʚɞ but its almost like this is the challenge her mind has been looking for, because after that conversation she keeps having late-night talks with you when no one else is around. you’re disarmingly easy to talk to, able to show a compassion and understanding that isn’t common for the folks down here. its only a few hours after she gets a bit too tipsy and accidentally lets slip a story about her upbringing that she lays in bed and slaps her human hand to her forehead in frustration when instead of being embarrassed all she can think about is your soft hand gently rubbing her shoulder as she poured her heart out.

ʚɞ she is so screwed.

ʚɞ eventually, you draw silco’s attention. mostly because the profits from the bar have nearly doubled since you started working, partly because he can tell a certain someone is distracting sevika. he gave her a list of tasks one day that he could tell she hated doing and she went off with a nod and without a word, and she either had a new woman in her life or she was about to snap. he made sure to find out about you a few minutes later, and asked/demanded to know more about your life. in particular, any outside connections you had.

ʚɞ sevika doesn't know whether she wants to thank silco or kill him when you’re given a more permanent position at the bar and finally introduce the crew to your husband, a man who silco has apparently given a job in his booking department. when sevika pulls him aside later to ask why he would od something like that, he just. shrugs. silco never just shrugs.

ʚɞ now that you’ve basically part of their little crime family it's even easier for sevika to spend more time with you. unfortunately for you jinx has taken a liking to you, but you handle it well and always make sure to give the girl her favorite drink in her favorite cup whenever she stops in the bar to babble on about some new weapon of mayhem she’s decided to make.

ʚɞ but after a few weeks she notices your mood start to sour, how you start getting snippy with some of the more rowdy drunks who stumble through the bar. she catches you a few hours after closing sat behind the bar with a half drunken bottle in your hand and mascara running down your cheeks. normally if this was anyone else she’d scoff to herself and quickly make her exit but instead she plops herself down next to you and demands you tell her what's wrong. through hiccups and tears, you tell her that you’re pretty sure your husband is lying to you. about a lot. in particular about where he spends his nights and comes back grumbling about ‘unfair bets’ and losing cash.

ʚɞ sevika assures you she’ll get to the bottom of it, and it only takes her a few hours of trailing thee guy to find out the problem. it seems your betrothed has been gambling your money away in seedy gambling circles, with some guys she swore she told to cut it out months ago when it came to rigging their dice when playing with tourists. but the amounts he’s using are definitely more than what either of you are making on a salary.

ʚɞ she tries not to smile when she picks the excuse of a man up by the back of his neck with her mech hand, reveling in the horrified look on his face as he makes up excuse after excuse for why he’s been stealing money from you and the boss, that he swears he’ll make it back up to silco-

ʚɞ you come in the next day as confused as ever, whispering that your husband packed up his things in the middle of the night and disappeared. sevika sits you down and explains that your husband was a thief, stealing hundreds from silco rather sloppily under his nose, and was dealt with in a timely manner. but she assures you that you won't be affected by any debts he may have had, she’ll make sure of it and make sure none of those gamblers come after you.

ʚɞ you only grow closer and closer after that night, and its no surprise you start to catch feelings for the gorgeous woman who constantly makes sure you’re safe and protected. its on one of the bars rather more exciting nights that you relent and play a drinking game with some members of the crew, and in a moment of weakness accidentally admit that since your husband left you haven't been laid in weeks, and in an additional moment of weakness admit that the first person you’d like to rock your world would be none other than silco’s second hand.

ʚɞ it was just your luck that the woman was walking by when the words left your lips, and fueled by her own dose of liquid courage came up behind you and whispered that she was free at that moment.

ʚɞ you expected many things when you settled down in zaun, and getting bent in half for hours on end by the second in command to the rule of the underground was not one of them. but when sevika groans in your ear and moans about how you have the tightest pussy she’s ever had the pleasure of taking, you’re really glad it happened to you.

ʚɞ “god, i’m really not gonna be able to stay away from you now. promise that the next time you get married you’re not gonna have to worry about being disappointed ever again.”

ʚɞ (when sevika walks in the next morning with a rare smile on her face silco does admit that he hired your husband knowing he’d be an idiot that she’d have to get rid of. you’re welcome.)

ABBY ꨄ

ʚɞ abby never saw herself as a jealous person. she’d only been in one relationship before, and even though it ended rather sourly she knew it was only natural that they’d both eventually move on. but when she sees you, a new wlf recruit walking and smiling side by side with owen, she feels…weird. really weird.

ʚɞ she does feel bad that as soon as he introduces you all to the group at a small party thrown by some of the soldiers all she can manage is tight-lipped smile and a small wave. you visibly deflate and smile it off, immediately pulled away by nora and leah to grab some drinks. manny butts her shoulder with his, giving her that ‘what the hell?’ look he loves to do. she defensively apologizes, because how should she react? her ex-boyfriend clearly has a thing for you, is she supposed to be all buddy buddy with you?

ʚɞ it doesn't help that its clear to everyone that you’re pretty. like, weirdly pretty for someone in the middle of an apocalyptic setting. crystal clear skin, smooth lips, and eyes of a beautiful shade. she caught herself staring once in the gym as you laughed with one of the trainers and had to quickly get herself together.

ʚɞ isaac must be playing a sick game because you then get assigned to go with her on patrol. she initially resented, questioning why you were tagging along when you mostly worked with the medics and mel was already trailing along. he said that apparently you had asked for the chance to get some more field practice and left it at that, dismissing her with a wave.

ʚɞ she was quiet for most of the ride to the patrol spot, hands tight on the steering wheel as you sat in the back of the truck with the others in the group and laughed at some story one the guys was talking about.

ʚɞ god, even your laugh is cute, she thinks as she carefully maneuvers the truck around a downed tree. youre like if a dream girl was placed down in this wasteland to torture her, a giant sign to tell her of course owen went after you, you were perfect. more perfect than she could be.

ʚɞ it isnt helpful that shes left partnered with you as you clear out the abandoned store in the strip mall they've all been sent to check and re-clear the spaces if necessary. she finds herself frustrated when you very reasonably and very smartly stick to her side the whole time. she swears she almost trips over an overgrown branch when she catches a whiff of your soap and she doesnt know where the hell you managed to snag vanilla flavored anything.

ʚɞ everything is fine for a while. you both remain vigilant as you walk through the barely lit aisles of the department store, the only action when a clicker jumps up out of nowhere and nearly tackled you before she’s roughly pushing you out of the way and kicking out its knees before bashing in its head with her boot. she’s panting and catching her breath before roughly asking if you were alright and reminding you to stay vigilant, taking your wide eyed stare for shock at a close encounter to what would be a rather painful death.

ʚɞ but despite her rather abrasive attitude you try your best to be friendly with her. you reveal that owen did confide about their past relationship, and as awkward as the situation sometimes was you wouldn’t let it drive a wedge between you, that you in fact wanted to be friends with abby. you had heard a great many things about her, how she was a loyal friend, a courageous leader, clearly an incredibly strong soldier-

ʚɞ her brain. short circuits a bit. the way you called her strong, like it was fact that was so obvious that she’d already proven it to you just by being out here. sure she’d pushed you of out the trajectory of that clicker but that was normal, anyone should and would do the same. she realizes you wouldn’t get the chance to see any displays of strength like that back in the base save for the visits to the gym, and a foreign voice in her head laments what a shame that is.

ʚɞ she doesn’t realize until a day later just how screwed she is.

ʚɞ whatever weird…feelings she has for you don’t even get a chance to go away or settle, just fester and multiply with your constant presence. where abby is her friends are close by, and that now includes you. at small get togethers, shared gym workouts, breakfast lunch and dinner hangouts, you’re always there with a bright smile and a warm greeting for her. she thinks she’s hiding whatever it is she’s hiding pretty well until nora pulls her to the side and asks why she just keeps staring at you whenever you’re around, that she understand there might be some lingering feelings of jealousy and resentment towards owen but that’s no reason to treat you rudely.

ʚɞ abby stumbles over her words, insisting that she’s not treating you rudely, that’s the last thing she would want to do. who would ever do that to someone as nice and sweet and gorgeous as you? she ends her mini explanation with a stiff chuckle and looks at nora who’s now staring at her with an open mouth and a flabbergasted look on her face.

ʚɞ so it’s clear that abby likes you. she doesn’t know how to grapple with the fact, and decides its best to just deal with it privately and wait for it to just pass as most things do. the only person who knows is nora, who after not talking to her for a few hours after their last encounter came back to abby’s room to apologize for walking out on her in a moment where they so clearly needed to talk more about what was just revealed. she assures abby that she’ll help her through this but it’s very confusing to herself as well. it’s not every day you have to deal with your best friend falling in love with her boyfriends new girlfriend.

ʚɞ she doesn’t agree with abby’s method, frequently telling her that dealing with this in private will only have the opposite effect. and just like normally she’s right, abby’s increased attempt at distance from you only peaks your worry and drives you to constantly check in on her to make sure she’s okay. one day you come by her room after one of your workouts, and the sight of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat in shorts and a tank asking her sweetly if she’s feeling okay and if she’d like to join you for lunch let’s her know for sure that she really can’t do this for much longer.

ʚɞ so she’s tries her best to try a different approach : exposure therapy. as bad as it sounds, she’s sure once she starts spending more time with you she’ll realize you aren’t some mythical girl of of her dreams and are just a normal person who’s dating her ex and who she can totally just be normal friends with. she comes up to you in the halls a few days later and asks if you’d like her to help you train for more field work and you beam up at her before wrapping your arms around her neck and thanking her a multitude of times before composing yourself. you go one about how you were so eager to prove yourself and you’d do no better than to have the abby anderson teaching you the basics. she zoned out as soon as she felt your skin against the back of her neck, nodding along to all of your words with a doe-eyed blank look.

ʚɞ it’s really nice bonding with you over the course of a few short weeks. you quickly pick up on the things she teaches you, and whatever you don’t she’s more than eager to help you learn. she hates to admit it but her conscious cheered a little bit when you told her you needed help aiming one of the bigger rifles, and it nearly screamed when she got to place herself behind you and helped you aim at the target practice. maybe she’s a bit delusional at this point but she swears she felt your body relax into hers, felt your breath stutter just a bit when her chest met your back.

ʚɞ and she knows it’s serious when she trusts you enough to share her space in the library. it’s a night when manny has a girl over so she’s in her usual cozy spot surrounded by the book shelves when she shears your gentle footsteps and call of her name, remarking that you initially went to the room out of loneliness about owen being gone for the night but came here when a breathless and shirtless manny told you her usual sleepover spot. she invites you to settle in with her in her heap of old blankets surrounded by dusty novels, trying her best to remain calm when you lean your head on her shoulders and insisted she keep reading her current book aloud.

ʚɞ she wakes up to the early morning light with her head rested on top of yours, snuggled up to battle the chill of the stadium air and your hand clamped around her arm. when she looks down at your face and wishes she could see you like this every day she realizes that she is really, really screwed.

ʚɞ luckily she doesn’t have to wait long to see you like that again. well, the circumstances are rather horrid. yet another soldier was having small secret party ok one of the larger stadium dorms and you were glued to abby’s side. everyone besides nora was confused but happy that the two of you seemed to be getting along so well, and nora herself kept giving abby looks that were a mixture between pity, worry, and just a bit of ‘you need to just get this off of your chest to anyone else but me’ annoyance.

ʚɞ abby was your designated drink manager, constantly making sure you weren’t too drunk and were drinking enough water to stave off any of the negative effects of the smuggled in alcohol they brought in for the party. you’re both sitting on one of the couches and observing the party when you make an off handed comment about not seeing owen for a while and abby decides to sit you down snuggly on the couch while she goes to look for him to appease your tipsy haze. her search leads her down the hallway, and it’s only when she hears an object drop in a nearby maintenance closet does she find out the truth.

ʚɞ she whips open the door to see owen and mel in a rather…well, let’s just say a really lewd position. in the midst of being disgusted and infuriated she finds a bit of amusement at mousy mel of all people doing a drunken hookup in a dingy closet. owen hurriedly tries to fix himself and his pants, insisting to abby that it’s not what it looks like, and suddenly his eyes lock on an object behind her and she turns around to see you, teary eyed and clearly betrayed before you silently stoop off to the direction of your own room.

ʚɞ abby is normally a calm person. as a soldier she isn’t afforded the luxury to let her emotions get the better of her in moments of stress. but seeing you with tears in your eyes and a wobbly lip makes her wish she broke owen’s nose on the spot. collecting all of her composure, she slaws the closet door in his face and quickly runs after you.

ʚɞ she quickly chases after you, making her way down the stadium halls until she finds your bedroom door agape, quickly knocking and entering when she hears your quiet cry demanding owen leave. she makes sure to announce who she is once she settles in beside you on your bed, gently extending her hands to make sure shes allowed to physically comfort you before pulling you into a tight hug once you let her know it’s okay.

ʚɞ she had again struggles to keep her composure when you cry into her shoulder, not minding the tears staining her t-shirt when she hears you weep about what a fool you wer, how you were such an idiot to believe that someone like him could truly care about you.

ʚɞ in the morning, she can blame the weeks of pent up feelings, or maybe the cup of beer she had an hour before, but she can’t stop herself from grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards her, commanding your attention before she reveals that should’ve warned you about owen earlier, that she should’ve known he would take advantage of someone with as sweet a nature as you. She’s always known he was a fool, but to ruin his chances of someone like you is the dumbest thing he ever could’ve done.

ʚɞ when you sniffle and look up at her with those shiny eyes and puffy lips and ask her if that’s true she feels her composed facade slipping, hands shaky as she reaches up to wipe your tears away before letting her palm letting her fingers trail down your face, biting her lip when she sees your eyelids flutter closer when her hands start to ghost down your neck.

ʚɞ she doesn’t feel sorry when she watches you take off your top, doesn’t feel guilt when she pushes you down to the bed and lets her lips bite and kiss from your neck to her chest and draw out all manners of whines and gasps from your throat. and when she feels your hips lift up and grind into her crotch, when her hands attach themselves to your hips and forces you to bring yourself to an orgasm in your pants, she doesn’t give a shit how it’ll seem when she parades you around the stadium tomorrow.

ʚɞ manny and nora are open mouthed and shocked when you walk hand in hand into the cafeteria the next morning, both starry eyed and covered in love bites as you sit together nearly attached at the hip. when owen walks in a few minutes later and quickly storms out after seeing the two of you, abby can’t help but shrug when manny asked her what the hell is going on.

ʚɞ “owen had his chance, and he should learn that jealously is a monster.”

ELLIE ꨄ

ʚɞ in moments like these ellie remembers laughing at how her fellow lesbians would fall for their straight friends in middle and high school and end up with broken hearts and broken friendships. and now as she sits across from you and listens to you lament about your boyfriend, she realizes that karma is real and she is totally a bitch.

ʚɞ truly, she has no one to blame, but herself the moment she saw you walk into the record store she worked at she knew that this would only lead to trouble for herself. It was obvious to Dina, who lightly pushed his shoulder and told her to stop drooling and to focus on her work and not fall into another relationship so soon after her catastrophic breakup with cat. she had rolled her eyes at the brunette and assured her nothing would happen, that she’d politely introduce herself, help you buy a product, and never think about or see you again.

ʚɞ god, what an idiot she was.

ʚɞ as soon as she introduced herself, you complemented her tattoo, mention that you had wanted one but were too indecisive about a design and placement. before she can even think of what she wants to say she’s telling you that wouldn’t mind hooking you up with her tattoo artist who could help you decide what you wanted. hell, she wouldn’t mind helping you decide what kind of vibe you were going for when it came to the body art and where exactly on your body would be best to showcase it.

ʚɞ you’re beaming up at her and thanking her, telling her that she really is just too kind. she’s even kinder when she continues to talk to you as she helps you look through the store, helping you decide which record would be best for your collection.

ʚɞ and helping you pick out another record as a gift. for your boyfriend. she can hear dina snicker at the counter all the way from three aisles away, passing it off as allergies when you turn to look at her.

ʚɞ but it’s not like she’s gonna fall for you. she gives you her number, but that’s because she already promised she’d help you with the tattoo stuff. and sure she talks with you for hours the following week and even goes with you to the parlor for moral support, but that’s because she’s a good person! and you even told her she’s a great friend for helping you with this! she’s just being friendly.

ʚɞ soon enough she basically becomes your new best friend. she doesn’t know how it happened really, somewhere between helping you when your car broke down in the middle of the road and having dinner with your parents when they demand to meet the person who’s been taking up an extra chunk of their daughters time. it’s frightening how easy it is to just be with you, to talk to you about any and everything. she remembers it took dina pestering her at work for weeks for them to become friends, and here she is laughing with your dad over roasted chicken after a month.

ʚɞ dina and jesse call her delusional. when the former shows the latter a picture of you on the instagram account you have to ellie he folds over in laughter and tells ellie oh so eloquently that she’s definitely going to fall for you, it’s only inevitable. but she remains vigilant that she wouldn’t do something so dumb. i mean yeah you’re basically exactly her type, like a deity went into one of her wet dreams and plucked the woman she manifested and placed you in the real world, but she was strong. there were plenty of fish in the sea. plenty of gay fish, to be exact.

ʚɞ she tries to go on dates, scrolls through tinder and likes every other attractive viable woman she sees. she even manages to have a few hookups. its really just a coincidence that they have some of your similar characteristics, truly. she’s not actually looking for you in any of these girls, that’d just be weird.

ʚɞ but then it happens. she has a girl over, her leg thrown over her shoulder as she grinds herself into the pretty girl’s cunt. she’s lost in a high after the blunt they’d shared earlier and her heads thrown back as she’s letting out expletive after expletive, and then she does it. she moans your name. she pauses, the girl pauses, and its silent as they remove their entangled limbs from each other and rigidly lay in bed side by side. it hurts even worse than the embarrassment when the girl pats her shoulder with a smile after she’s put her clothes back on, wishing her luck with whatever’s goin on between the two of you.

ʚɞ there’s no point in denying it then. she doesn't even get the chance to keep it to herself, the next day when she’s watching a movie on your couch you poke and prod at her until she reveals what’s got her in such a sour mood. she doesn't tell you the full story, of course, just that something absolutely mortifying happened last night when she was riding some girl. she groans that she didn't even get to finish and that was way worse then what she said, hoping the joke will ease some of the embarrassment she has telling the story and the guilt about passively lying to you.

ʚɞ she doesn't notice how you hips shift in your seat, how your teeth bite at the skin of your lip. she does notice when you question what she meant by riding a girl. she cant help but think about how adorable you are before explaining the position in the nicest way possible. you hum and turn your attention back to the movie and she thinks that's the end of the conversation. but only seconds later you’re asking her to show you.

ʚɞ she thinks she's dreaming. no, she knows she's dreaming. its happened before, weird dreams she has after a strong high where she swears her dreams become all the more vivid and lifelike. it was super annoying the second time it happened, she woke up to a world where she in fact did not win the lottery and get to make out with her celebrity crush. but this is just cruel, she didn't know her brain could be so masochistic. but no, the feel of your hand shaking her shoulder and shyly asking if you’ve made her uncomfortable is real, your big eyes flitting to anywhere but hers is real.

ʚɞ she stutters over her words, asking if you really mean it. and you say yeah, you’d been curious about this anyway. it wouldn't hurt to do it with ellie, you were friends, right? and god what an idiot she was because she’s nodding along like of course, this couldn’t make your friendship weird at all, right? so she gets to work, not doing anything too lewd except for gently pushing you to lie on your back as she maneuvers her body over yours, placing her crotch over yours until she can feel the heat of you through her jeans. she tries not to show a reaction to the sight of you looking up at her, curious and flushed as your hand briefly comes up to rest on her hip. its only when your hips delicately press up into hers that she abruptly removes herself from on top of you, stiffly chuckling before recommending you get back to the movie.

ʚɞ neither of you bring it up again.

ʚɞ it’s so much more difficult to be around you now. before she was resolute in the fact that she was alone in whatever weird feelings she had towards you, but eventually she might move on. but with only a few actions you threw that whole viewpoint out the window. now it was clear that you were interested. maybe not in ellie but in sex with another woman. a small part of her is upset at the fact it might not be her. its only cliche that if you started having these feelings you’d fall for your gay best friend, who the hell else were you thinking about? whatever, that wasn't important.

ʚɞ what was important was what occurred over the next few weeks. it happens slowly but surely, your complaints about your intimate troubles with your boyfriend. now ellie had met the guy before, and it made her feel slightly better that she had a valid reason right from the start not to like him. the man was clearly an ass, looking her up and down the first time they met and giving her a ‘yeah you’re weird’ look that he apparently didn’t think she’d recognize. luckily she didn’t have to see him often, only seeing him in passing when she spent time with you at yours or picked you up to go hang out.

ʚɞ but now his weirdness is apparently front and center. she nearly chokes on her chipotle when you tell her that he questioned why the two of you were spending so much time together, feeling like ellie was going to make a move on you.

ʚɞ and yeah, it was offensive. just because she was a lesbian didn’t mean she wanted to jump the bones of every woman she met. unfortunately that didn’t apply here because she very much did want to jump your bones. not like he knew that. hopefully.

ʚɞ but she doesn’t want to get in the way of your relationship, begrudgingly recommending that maybe the two of you should spend some time apart so he can chill out and realize he’s being paranoid. she’s very happy to hear your quick rebuttal, remarking how you’d rather dump him then spend any more time away from her.

ʚɞ god you are making this so confusing. and it only reaches a head the next time she sees you. you’d texted her to ask if she could come over late at night and obviously she said she would, along with a bag of your favorite drinks and snacks just in case you got peckish. so she’s sitting on the couch as you both eat some shareable m&ms when the topic becomes a bit more…intimate.

ʚɞ she notices your rigid shoulders as you sit stark straight on the couch and laughs about how pent up you must be. your following laugh is awkward as you agree that you have been a bit stressed lately. so she tells a joke, that your boyfriend isn’t up to par in bed. she expects you to laugh and hit her shoulder but you nod your head.

ʚɞ you…nod your head. and then you turn to her, and she’s getting flashbacks to the last time you were this close on your couch. her face is hot as whisper that the past few times you’ve tried to sleep with your boyfriend he, as you eloquently put it, ‘just pumps and dumps’, and brushes you off whenever you bring up the fact that you haven’t had a release. that as much as it ashamed you to say it, once he falls asleep next to you you sometimes find your hand trailing under your shorts and thinking back to her stories of the hookups she told you about, wishing she could show you how all of that felt.

ʚɞ ellie has always liked your bedroom. its soft and sweet, with vines of fake ivy hanging across the ceiling and a large canopy hanging over the bed. you even have an adorable collection of stuffed animals, a few of them gifted to you by her throughout the months of your friendship. all of the little guys have been shoved to the floor now, and for a fleeting moment she things they’re really just going to have to understand before her mind is consumed again with you, how you’re pretty flushed face is staring and moaning up at her as her wrist nearly cramps with how fast her fingers are pistoning into your wet cunt.

ʚɞ you haven’t even touched her and she’s already on cloud nine. your confession nearly made her pass out, and she swore she had died and gone to heaven when you asked her to help you with your problem and grabbed her hand to lead her to your bed. it was like her horniest dream come true to see you undress, to feel over your skin, to lower her head to your pussy and try her best to suck out your soul in the most loving way possible.

ʚɞ she feels her boxers get soaked when you cum around her fingers again, legs wrapping around her waist and head raising to muffle your sounds in her shoulder. she swore she nearly came when you bit into her shoulders, already knowing she was going to look into the mirror later to look at the mark your teeth left on her with a smile. but she didn’t predict for you to be so insatiable, for as soon as she pulls her fingers out of your cunt you’re whining and grinding your hips up into hers, whispering little *‘please, el, need more’*s

ʚɞ “don’t worry, baby, i’ll give you whatever you want. swear once i’m done you’re never even gonna think of that stupid boyfriend of yours again.”

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