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satoruhour · 11 months ago

Note

Just thought of something FREAKY in class… Single father Satoru looking for a babysitter and you’re looking for a side income during semester break and the tension goes crazy!!!! “We should’t be doing this my son will wake up” I’M GONNA SCREAMMMM

BLISS, PURE BLISS

a/n: happy new year LMFAOOO. thank you for all the asks btw i promise ill answer them asap 🥹 / @shotorus @osaemu @shidouryusm @mysugu @hyomagiri ♱

wc: 6.4k

warnings: ‘onee-san’ used but more of just addressing reader as an older figure because saying babysitter is kinda weird lol (kind of like how chinese people use 姐姐 even if they are not related), fem!reader, dilf!gojo, age gap (gojo in his late 30s, reader in mid-20s), angst if u squint, bit of slow burn n tension, making out, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, praise, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, multiple rounds, consensual filming, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“no fucking way . .” you mumble mostly to yourself, standing in front of the largest house of the gated community in roppongi, and while you knew the people here were excessively and obnoxiously rich, you’re never quite prepared until you’re getting a key card specifically mailed to your name just so you could enter.

you’re not even shameful when you take a video to send to your best friends, locking your screen almost immediately because you knew you’d never get to the job on time if you replied to them. with calculated steps, you’re walking up the house that’s designed with a modern structure, yet still retaining characteristics of a traditional japanese home. it’s less prominent at the front of the house, though.

“(y/n)-san, was it?” a voice startles you out of your ogling sessions. if the garden was already this nice, what would be in store for you when you went in? you’ll be finding out soon when your employer himself opens the door to you, a man with striking white hair and equally striking blue eyes that seem to look right into you. he’s dressed in a suit, probably no doubt ready to get to work while you’re out here taking your time. you cringe, immediately walking up to the door.

“y-yes! yes, i’m sorry sir, i was just uhm—”

he holds that intimidating stare just for a moment but then he breaks into a smile that mirrors the bright sun that shines down on the porch.

“it’s alright . . it’s not everyday you’re working at some rich guy’s house, right?” he jokes but that strikes a little ick into you — he’s already ticking the boxes of obnoxious and excessively rich, but you hate the effect he’s having on you.

“yeah . . no, i guess,” he hums in reply before sticking a hand out.

“gojo satoru,” he introduces himself, “call me anything but that sir shit, alright, doll?”

you nod obediently, trying not to let the little pet name get to your head because he probably does this to any babysitter who comes through the house, but either way, he’s welcoming you in and it’s like you step into a world unreal. it’s spotless, the floors shining under the sunlight, a large television in the living room, a spacious open concept dining-kitchen area, and this is just the first floor.

gojo takes his time to show you the house — where his kid’s toys were, where the food was, where the bathrooms and bedrooms were, it was never-ending. every step you took made you feel like you were walking the length of the nile, each turn only revealing more rooms and corridors.

and then, finally, his baby boy.

“he’s a cheeky one, takes after his dad,” even with all the cockiness he’s shown to you, you can tell he has a soft spot for his kid. the boy stirs from his father’s voice, gleaming in happiness as he puts out his smaller hands to be picked up. as he settles into his arms, it’s just sinking in how tall your employer is. he makes a toddler look like a baby with how small his son looks wrapped snugly.

“satoshi, hi,” he whispers, bouncing the kid in his arms, “want to say hi to your onee-san?”

you manage a small wave but all he does is turn to hide in his father’s arms, definitely scared from a random stranger suddenly talking to him.

“she’s going to be taking care of you for the next month or so, you know?” he mumbles, brushing a hand through the matching white hair, “be nice to the babysitter, okay?”

all satoshi does is hum into his dad’s neck before he’s giving you a sheepish smile. “he’s like that, don’t worry about him.” and you return the smile, thinking that he wasn’t that obnoxious that you thought and that maybe he’s really a dad trying his hardest for his one kid. you realise he’s taking too much time, though, and so you sought out to remind him.

“oh, uh sir— gojo-san, don’t you have to go to work?”

although he’s mentioned satoshi to be taking after him, the boy goes right back to sleeping when he’s put back into his bed so you follow gojo as he adjusts his cuffs and smoothes out his collar just outside the room and you make the mistake of glancing upon the mirror on the far end of the corridor — it was undeniable that you looked like a high-end couple who’s newly married and raising a kid. you try to shake off the thoughts of adjusting his tie for him.

“it’s not being late if you’re on top.” he smirks and you resist the urge to roll your eyes; at least you weren’t alone in purging the delusional thoughts from your head, he was basically helping you at this point and you struggle between characterising him as conceited and admirable. “but, yeah, i should get going.”

but he stands at the door with backpack slung onto one shoulder while he continues to explain satoshi’s routines to you, his habits and also had to sneak in a few cute photos of the kid while squealing repeatedly and you’re left wondering how this guy could be the CEO of a company.

it’s been like that for as long as you can remember — bidding goodbye to your parents as you tell them that you’re off to your part-time job over the winter break. they’re happy you’re even leaving the house, shoving your lunch into your hands with big smiles that you’re at least doing anything other than sitting in your room. the train ride to the gated residential was nice, too, apart from the very crowded subways for people going to work in roppongi.

gojo greets you every morning when you arrive, reminding you of satoshi’s feeding times and his favourite shows and everything a father should know but don’t have the luxury to experience with aforementioned kid. it’s a little bittersweet, every time you see him kiss satoshi goodbye that turns into remaining in his room, to holding your hand and saying goodbye to daddy from the second floor, to getting carried by you at the front door.

it’s slow but sure progress day after day, from watching his cartoons, feeding him at the kitchen island, playing with his toys, that satoshi feels more and more comfortable with you, learning that while he was a well-behaved boy, he definitely had hints of your employer in him. mannerisms, words, voice, you wonder whether he even got any part of his mother in his genes.

you’d never ask, though, but it was told. unexpectedly.

“i’m home—” the last parts of his word die down into a whisper when he opens the door to see satoshi cuddled up to you, the last bits of home alone playing softly. by now you already know what happens in the movie so you’re texting your friends and laughing softly to yourself, jumping when your boss steps past the doorway. gojo winces when he checks his watch (“fuck. it’s already ten.”), toeing his shoes off and apologising simultaneously.

“oh— man, i’m so sorry, i had a late meeting with the CEO of our neighbouring franchise, i totally forgot about the time—” gojo’s quick to make his way down to the small pit of the house (he likes to call it the conversation pit), settling down on the side where satoshi had his head in your lap as his eyes linger on the movie. instinctively, his hands reach to pat his leg.

“oh, it’s okay, gojo-san, it’s the holidays anyway.”

“yeah?” he turns to you, one arm propped on the back of the sofa, “and why don’t a pretty girl like you have any plans?”

that catches you off-guard, among the many other times he’s called you pretty or sweets like no care in the world. you’re never quite used to it, too, seeking to fluster you. “you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me, gojo-san . .”

“why not?” he’s turned back to the television, now, and you take his place, staring at his side profile as the scenes of the movie move along his face. “i’m a single dad, aren’t i?”

“yeah but . . you could have anyone.”

“what if,” he turns and you chicken out, head snapping back to the front while he watches you and the both of you cannot deny the tiring dance you perform around each other all the time. the clench in his heart when he sees you carry his baby boy at the porch and the small smile he gives you every morning before he leaves for his job. he doesn’t want to go through with it and sighs.

it’s become hard to breathe around you. it’s become hard to hold himself back around you.

“i worked too much.” he suddenly says, facing the TV again. “i was too engrossed and . .”

confusion seeps in at first. yeah, it was no secret he worked his ass off despite being at the very top. your gaze falls to satoshi, curling more into your side like he’s cold and you adjust the blanket. you nod in recognition.

“we fought a lot. i tried— i tried to alter my schedule as much as i could, driving to and fro whenever she needed me, bringing satoshi to work as a baby when we couldn’t come to a compromise, but it was a lot. for her, for satoshi. he could sense whenever we were about to fight, on edge voices, items clattering to the floor . .”

by now, he’s leaned back, back of his hand resting on his forehead, “and he’d cry like he was interrupting us. cheeky, i told you,” and his eyes close, “we hardly reached middle ground. it was either this or that, hire a nanny or we take care of him, my endless job or the joy of life. i’m ashamed that i’ve prioritised my job more, and still do it now.”

“if you didn’t, i wouldn’t be here, would i?”

that draws a chuckle out of him, “correct.”

“she couldn’t take it, not when she was a businesswoman on top of that. she was out doing herself at every aspect in her job, going to greater heights, and while she accused me of putting work first, she isn’t entirely innocent, either. but that’s . .”

“you don’t have to say anything, gojo-san,” you mumble as you watch the reunion of the characters in the movie before the screen cuts the black, no doubt affecting him in some way at the warmth displayed by the movie that contrasts heavily with his situation, “the fact that you even told me is . .”

the heavy atmosphere is disrupted by satoshi gasping, “papa! you’re home.”

you exchange awkward smiles as you watch the boy fight his way out of the blanket to hug gojo, the latter huffing when the boy drops his body weight on him and you take it as a sign to give them a bit of privacy, standing up to clean up the popcorn and cups. laughter and your employer’s voice resonate throughout the place even as they go up the stairs, a rare occasion where gojo is able to get his son ready for bed.

it’s only maybe an hour later when the house falls into silence. mouth burning from the mouthwash, the heater in satoshi’s room turned to a high setting, one bedtime story was read (which, he fell asleep halfway), the boy was out like a light. you felt it inappropriate to leave without at least saying goodbye, but you also didn’t want to cut into their time together; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

so you waited with your things on the kitchen island, getting a risky text just as gojo comes down, still in his suit from work.

[11:02pm, nobara -> you] BITCH GET THAT DICKKKKK!!!!!!!

and you yelp softly, slamming your phone down onto his marble counter. thankfully, he doesn’t notice, eyes close to shutting from fatigue.

“oh, shit, you’re still here?”

“i thought it would be, weird, if i didn’t say goodbye,” you get ready to leave, slinging your tote bag on, “but i also didn’t want to intrude on your time with satoshi, limited as it is.” well, you did also wish something would happen, but you had too much pride to admit it to yourself.

“you got a ride home?” he yawns and you feel guilty for extending your stay already. you didn’t even need to worry about the front door, he lived in a gated community for christ’s sake!

“um, not really, but i can always book an uber home.”

“i’ll drive you home, it’s unsafe,” is all he says like he’s trying to convince himself, “let me just get changed and we can go.”

gojo doesn’t leave you any room to protest before he’s up the stairs again and you’re left with a pounding heart and dizzy head, not sure what might ensue. you know him to be honourable; you’ve seen him with his child, you’ve seen him interact with his neighbours, but a late ride with your boss sounds sketchy as it is.

but it doesn’t feel like it when you feel the tokyo wind blowing through your hair, a slight gap in the window bringing you the chills of the night as he silently drives you back home. sitting in your employer’s car most of all felt weird, but even more so when he’s reaching your home faster than the gps system had predicted. his knuckles are white.

“you—”

your head snaps to him, “yes?”

his car headlights are the brightest in the parking lot where every car is silent, quiet, much like his clammy hands and red cheeks. gojo satoru turns to you, feeling that familiar tug in his heart and lump in his throat for the first time in a while, and he can’t speak.

but you lean forward like your life depends on it and you leap inwardly when you see that he does the same. eyes trained forward, your stares boring into the other, waiting to see who’d close their eyes first. you just stop short of an inch, met with the hypnotising swirls of raging oceans in gojo’s eyes and you swallow when his eyes flit down to your lips and back up like he wouldn’t get caught.

with shaking hands, your fingers trace over his lips and you sigh when you feel just how soft they are, just like his skin, just like his eyes when they look at satoshi. your heart skips a beat when he just lightly kisses the pads of your fingers, and that encourages you to cradle his cheek, up his jaw, up his undercut.

“let’s just kiss, yeah?” he was afraid that if he spoke too loud, he’d shatter the glass, snap the string of tension, voice cracking until you swallow it, you stomach his nervousness with a lively, strong kiss from your lips to his, and he just melts.

gojo hums into the kiss, leaning forward over the stick shift and into the passenger seat before you counter it with your own movements: hand on his shoulders and pushing until you’re on his space of the driver’s seat and playing the game of tug that’s been going on for the past few weeks. you win.

“god, you’re so . .” gojo whines out when you climb onto him, whispering into your mouth while you get comfortable in your straddling position, cutting him off with a second, rougher kiss and you both moan softly, passion taking over in the evident way your arms scramble to wrap around him while he pulls you flush against his front.

the car is filled with sounds of your kissing, something that definitely shouldn’t be done in his home and yet you risk it all in your home’s parking lot. you break the kiss and hide in his neck, already starting the makings of a hickey there while your pelvis selfishly grinds into his front and he kneads your ass. in the mingling of breaths and moans, he’s left to stop the two of you when there’s a muffled ringtone coming from your bag and you swallow at the insanity of the situation.

“i’ll see you, monday, right?” gojo breathlessly says later, bulge still showing through his sweats while you hang outside the driver’s side, not wanting to leave. he takes your hand, planting a peck on it and then brings you in for another harmless kiss.

“yeah, gojo-san . . monday.”

you lose count of how many times you’ve swallowed throughout the night, but he says something to lift the mood just a bit.

“we just made out and you’re still calling me by my last name?”

you laugh lightly, “monday, satoru. i’ll be there, same time, on monday.”

gojo leaves a farewell kiss to the inside of your wrist, “attagirl.”

but if you’re not careful, it might just happen in satoru’s house.

the remainder of your employment at his house is tiring. it’s so hard not to kiss him before he leaves for work, so difficult not to long for him while you take care of satoshi, so entirely harrowing not to claim him as yours as you watch him play after his work. at this point, you’re hoping school will just start soon and the rush of assignments and readings will take your mind off of it, but you cannot deny the excitement every time you leave your house.

“you’ll bring food and cook every monday, wednesday, friday, and i’ll order food for the both of you every tuesday and thursday, how’s that?” gojo thinks it’s time to introduce him to larger pieces of food, but it’s gone past that by now and to your meal arrangements.

“i’m okay with cooking, though!” you assure him, and plus, you loved your parents’ home cooked bentos that they give you everyday, “do we gotta?”

“sorting out meals is tiring, (y/n),” gojo takes the place beside you, leaning against the counter just like you before drinking out of his cup, “i want to at least help at little.”

“you already are.” you smile, “i can see you making the effort.”

“it’s not enough, though, i could be doing better.”

gojo hates how this scene sets up — like two parents just figuring out the best for their kid — it’s a callback to the memory in the same exact kitchen. at least all you do is kiss and make out, because he wouldn’t know what to do if you moan out his name in that same intimate way that threatens his walls to come down again. he loved sex, he loved the bedroom, but he’s riding a thin line the way he’s doing with you.

“you are,” is everything that you say, and you leap forward to kiss him. you do it so hard that he has to put down the glass to fully embrace you, walking you backwards to the conversation pit and he carries you so effortlessly because he doesn’t want you walking backwards down some stairs.

he hates how you bring him into your lips, he hates how gently he lays you down, and he hates how you accept the kisses down your neck and body. you, on the other hand, aren’t doing so well, either — it’s either a hit or miss with a broken man like gojo satoru, and you’re stepping on glass shards hoping you don’t say anything wrong with him because he’s trying his best but he just can’t see it.

“are you okay with this?” he asks halfway down your torso and he gets lightheaded from how well his hands cover your waist. “tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.”

“n-no . . keep going, satoru.”

he exhales shakily at that, fingers tugging your top up and his hands are so cold you resist shivering, but you do anyway from the sheer fucking craziness that gojo drives you into. one pop of your button, and you’re already lifting your hips off the couch for him to remove your pants but movement on the stairs make you halt.

“papa?” satoshi calls out sleepily, rubbing his eyes and pouting. you can see it, almost, with how much time you’ve spent with the kid, and you hope he can’t see you. “i . . i had a nightmare and i just— i wanna sleep with you.”

he’s started sniffling and you feel your heart break that he knows his papa well enough to know he would never sleep in his room. his job always has him sleeping out in the living room.

go. you mouth, kissing your fingers and pressing it to his lips before he puts on a show — yawning, stretching his arms, already making satoshi feel at ease with his theatrics before he’s stopping at the foot of the stairs to look back at you. you already know gojo satoru has redeemed himself a hundred times over. i’ll see you tomorrow.

funnily, satoshi somehow does have some intervention powers, because each time the both of you attempt to go down on each other, he’s either saying he threw up, or he needs to use the toilet, or that he’s hungry. while you both love him to death, it’s also becoming difficult to hold back each time you see each other. his car in your parking lot is all he has and you dare not to go to his workplace where rumours would spark.

so after a tiring night of getting a hyper satoshi to sleep, you’d at least try. at this point, you know not to expect too much out of it, starting always with some talking. it was easy to talk to your boss, and when you phrase it like that, it did come off a little strange, but it was far from that when your boss in his late 30s looked just like he did ten years ago and that he had crazy blue eyes and insane white hair and was hot.

“thank you for taking care of him for the past month and a half,” gojo thanked you, leaning over to give you a peck to the temple, “it means a lot.”

“he’s a sweet boy, plus, i do need the money,” you giggle, nudging him, “and it did let me get to know you . .”

“certainly,” he mumbles. drunk off your scent, he leans in again, kissing you fully on the lips now. you hum softly, going on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulder. swiftly, he props you on the kitchen counter and you yelp in surprise, unable to help the throb of your pussy when he slots himself in between your legs.

jokingly, he puts his hand to his ear. “no satoshi interruption tonight?”

you smack his shoulder, “don’t jinx it.”

he laughs, a proper laugh before he sighs shakily, fingers thumbing your sides gently. “you know . . we shouldn’t be doing this,” you feel your heart sink a little, but he quells it with hovering lips over yours, “he could hear and wake up.”

“then why have you been accepting all my kisses, gojo satoru?” your eyes challenge him, but you know one touch from him would have you submitting to him. his breath fans over your lips, and you can feel his pulse speed up when your fingers go over his neck, to his nape, to his undercut. you run your fingertips through it.

“you have too much power over me, simple.” that sentence has your eyes fluttering close. it’s too much for you and yet you welcome it with open arms, “it’s become so bad that you’re all i think about.”

“is that so?” you pull lightly on his hair.

he nods, foreheads touching now and he’s trying to hold himself back, but, “i’ve been holding back, entirely too much, baby, and i don’t think i can, anymore.”

“yeah?” you whisper, bringing him in with your legs, “show me, then.”

gojo satoru decides that maybe taking the leap isn’t so bad, so he fully gives himself to you, tugging your lips to his in a clashing kiss that has you groaning in pain just a bit. he giggles and apologises and tries again, and this time, it’s got your hips moving against him, whimpering into his mouth. gojo’s hard just from kissing, something that he’s desperate to relieve himself off so — he’s whispering for you to hang on while he slots his hands under your ass and lifts you.

satoru knows his house well, walking up with you in tow and lips still on yours, right into his room. you giggle when he plops you down and he’s already looking forward to ravishing you, but —

“let me check on satoshi for a sec.”

you laugh silently, “of course, satoru, go.”

and once your boss’ made sure his son is out cold in slumber, he’s all over you again and definitely showing you how much he’s been holding himself back. you’re the pure focus of the night, making you chase for more when he pulls away and kissing down your body. he worships it, tongue circling a nipple while his hand plays with the other, eyes staring holes into yours from how intense the blue was.

“s-satoru . .”

“yes, sweets, what is it?”

“feels good—” you whine, back arching into his hold once he leaves your tits and continues down your body. each kiss is like hellfire against your cold skin, and he pops a button and listens out again, both of you sighing in relief and giggling to each other when you don’t hear a knock on the door.

“does it? good.” it’s tantalisingly slow, the pace at which gojo peels your clothes off, but when your pants are finally off, he marvels at your beauty as he brings your legs apart. you’re shy, hiding yourself behind your arms and resisting his hands.

“aht, no, c’mon, show yourself, baby.” he only moans when he sees the dark patch at the centre of your underwear, pressing a finger into your clit and you’re ashamed at how intensely you react to it. gojo continues his torture, thumbing your bud just to watch your face contort into pleasure, “so, so pretty.”

you preen at the praise, even more so when he pulls your panties to the side and sucks slowly on your clit. it’s slow, again, and you’re clutching the sheets so tight when he lays his tongue flat against your pussy. satoru takes his time, savouring each bit of your cunt to make up for lost time, filling the room with the lewdest noises of your sopping cunt on his tongue.

“taste so fuckin’ sweet, pussy’s s’good,” he practically moans into your core, arms wrapping around your thighs to bring you closer while you try to keep your noises down to a minimum. little pants and mewls leave your lips, eyes never leaving the head of hair.

but he’s unpredictable, as gojo always is, so when he’s hovering over you just to give you a little innocent kiss, you think nothing of it, until he’s back in front of your pussy and starts eating you out like a starved man. you let out a loud moan, dragging it out until you’re gulping down your next sounds. it doesn’t help much, though, cause gojo’s slurping at your pussy like it’s the end of the world.

“s-satoru—! too much—” you moan but your hips grind into his mouth, your hands now finding purchase in his hair, “t-too loud.”

“mmf— don’t care,” he mumbles into your cunt, making sure he gets every drop of your arousal on his tongue while he abuses your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking hard and you think it’s the best head you’ve ever gotten.

“not when your cunt’s so perfect,” you only press his head deeper into you like it would stop his muffled sentences, but that only spurs him to suck harder before he just shifts down a little to plunge his tongue into your hole. you choke out a moan as his nose nudges your clit, clenching around his muscle.

“relax— mmhh, you gotta relax, baby,” he’s massaging your thighs but if anything it does the exact opposite, closing your thighs around his head in sensitivity.

“it’s— h-hard to,” you moan out, already feeling the coil in your tummy that’s approaching oh, so quickly when gojo eats you out like this. he shifts his attention back to your puffy clit, eyes flicking up to make contact with yours and you shrivel under his intense stare, “w-when you’re making me feel s’good—!”

you feel him smile into your cunt but he says nothing, taking note of the drop of your jaw, the scrunch of your eyes, the contractions of your stomach. your legs like to straighten out and shake when you’re close, he memorises. when you start to tighten your grip on his hair, he ingrains it in his mind.

“cumming— i’m c-close,” but it’s like satoru doesn’t even need it when his eyes digest the way he sends you over the edge with just his tongue.

“g— god! satoru!” your mouth falls into a silent scream after, head dipping so much into the pillow while you grind your cunt into his face, gushing all over his face with a renewed spirit and regret for all those times that men have rubbed your left lip thinking it was your clit.

“let it go, yeess . . that’s it,” satoru doesn’t hesitate to get sloppy, sucking up all your cum, gasping for air once he’s done with his meal, “pretty girl just came all over my face.”

you struggle to your elbows despite the words he utters, propped up just to catch a glimpse of him and the soaked bottom of his face that stretches into a smile.

“was that better than all the uni boys who’ve never felt the touch of a woman?” you laugh at that, making quick work of grabbing his chin and bringing him back to your lips.

“much, much better.” and you take the opportunity to flip the tables, trembling, shaking legs trying their best to wrap around his torso to straddle him — but once you’re over, you’re not quite sure what to do apart from letting your hands roam all over the expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“and can she do it again all over my cock?” the obscene words sound almost taboo falling from his mouth that your mouth drops open in initial shock, but it subsides into anticipation soon enough.

wordlessly, you take matters into your own hands, fingers making quick work of his trousers while he removes his top impatiently. the scowl on your face is prominent when you struggle to work his belt out and he chuckles with helping hands, the burn on your face deepening.

“there,” gojo giggles and he pulls you in with a peck-filled apology, “don’t worry, we have all the time in the world.”

you hum, “not when your son could knock any time soon.”

that prompts a giggle that fades off into a loud moan once your warm hand wraps around him, something that he’d never tell you how many times he’s fantasised about. slowly, you stroke his cock, excruciatingly slow just like how he’s done to your cunt earlier.

you’re hovering over him, now, dragging his tip along your pussy and whining softly at the pre-cum that mixes together with your juices. you need him into you as soon as possible, and apart from your soon burning thighs, you’ve been wanting this for as long as you’ve stepped foot into his house from the very first day.

inch by inch, you sink down onto gojo’s weeping cock, getting the luxury of feeling his sensitive twitches with the plunge into your cunt. you’re glad at least he had offered to stretch you out just a tad bit earlier, the intrusion of his fingers already having you panting for his dick; and now, when you have the real thing, it drives your mind insane.

“’t-toru— haah . .” your body curls up from the painful stretch, lips muttering the nickname unknowingly as you grasp onto his shoulders for support, and while he helps you on, he never stops saying the most filthy things, grinning each time you clench around him.

“never thought i’d be here, fuckin’ the babysitter, but here we are,” your oh my god is whispered only for the other to hear, body burning up from the words before he grinds his pelvis into yours and you slump forward in pleasure. your words are a bunch of nothingness, a string of incoherence, “and her pussy’s just so fucking— tight!”

giving you one or two breaths of rest, satoru coos in your face, cradling it and littering kisses all over it before he’s moving his hips and you’re breaking the kiss to whine out, moving your hips to meet his as well. you move sooner or later, bouncing on his cock once you’re more used to him in you and the position only hits all your spots just right.

“f-fuck— you’re so big—!” you roll your hips into him, eyes stuck on how there’s just a small bump in your tummy each time you bottom out. your boss from across you is equally ruined, eyes struggling to keep open with wet hair stuck to his forehead. “feel so so g-good . .”

“yeah?” he breathlessly mumbles, hand squeezing and kneading your ass and trying to help you, but the warmth of your cunt around his length just feels too good. “bounce on that dick, baby.”

and you do, planting your feet into the bed and fingers creating bruises along his shoulders as you impale yourself on his fat cock, switching to relaxing in his embrace and letting your hips do the work when your legs start hurting. there, you indulge in gojo’s lips as you hump him, the delicious friction of your clit against his pubes sending you reeling.

“you’re going to be soaking my sheets from how much you’re leaking,” gojo jests, letting your moans take over his mind while his lips trace down your neck, eyes just peeking over to see your ass ripple from the force. “not that i mind. how’s she doin’?”

“she’s getting,” a choked whine interrupts you, “a little tired.”

and that draws a laugh out of gojo who does nothing but tease you, something he likes to do even in makeout sessions, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach over to his bedsie table to grab his phone, leaning back to bask in your glory. here, your body just looks heavenly as you try your best to move on his lap.

“hang on a little more for me, princess,” with one hand, his larger hand leave chills all over your body and the other points his phone at you, not before making sure you were okay with it, “and smile for the camera.”

you try your best even when his hand make his way to your mouth, pulling it open with his fingers to slot it in. you’re sure you look like a whore right now, but the camera pointed your way only turn you on more, like it’s beckoning you to put on a show. and you loved the attention, so you close your lips around his fingers and start sucking, grinding even harsher on his cock that has gojo stuttering.

“y—yeah, attagirl . .” he grins at the video he takes, “show the camera how much of a cockslut you are.”

you whine, bringing the hand to your clit while you shove two hands onto his torso to really work your thighs out, feeling that familiar curl in your stomach once he starts rubbing his saliva-filed fingers along you bundle of nerves.

“r-right there, satoru—!” you swear under your breath, giving hooded eyes to the camera while you chase your high drunkenly, all sort of coherent thought banished from your head. “love your cock, love it, love it—!”

satoru swears he wants to cum from just watching you use him, and even holding himself back is proving difficult when you clamp and tighten around him until his fingers press particularly deep into your clit and you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name, body convulsing all over the video.

“tha’s a good girl . . cream my cock, yeeaaahh . .” gojo watches, hypnotised, as you lose control over your body, but the pleasure-filled whimper that you merge his name with is just too good, that he spills unexpectedly in you. the video is far from stable, so he only slaps the phone down to relish in his orgasm. gojo pushes his hips up and you gasp at the feeling, back arching when you feel his cum seep into you.

you’ve never even given much thought to pregnancy, but the feeling of his cum dribbling into you fogs your mind that you only want more after a mental note to buy the morning after pill tomorrow.

“n-need more,” you beg, fondling at his cheeks and undercut, “w-want more cum in me, satoru . .”

and it’s like a flip switches in him, because he’s flipping you over right after — he has to see his cum leave your pussy first though, taking the still ongoing video and putting it right up to your pussy, using his tip to smear your mixed juices all around.

“who knew i’d hired such a dirty girl?” he addresses the camera more than you, but he catches your flustered glance with a wink and after poorly setting up the camera on his bedside table (he just was too intoxicated on your cunt), he’s pushing back into you with a loud groan, not even caring for the consequences any more. his cum is just so much, too, spilling out the sides.

“only f’r you,” you mumble, grabbing at his forearms needily. your eyes flutter close as he bottoms out, your legs pushed right up to your chest as he folds you whichever way he wants to. at this point, if he wanted to own you, you wouldn’t object one bit, not when gojo satoru’s cock stretches your pretty pussy so nicely. “a cumslut only for you.”

“yeah?” he starts moving his hips and your arch into his hold, “i wonder how i got so — fuck — lucky.” everything is sloppy and wet and disgusting and you love every moment of it, even after he’s cummed in you the second, third, fourth time, you’re happy to be pumped full of his cum, giving him a tired, glistening grin that he returns.

“think i should be transferring over my life savings for a cunt this sweet,” you giggle at the compliment, but don’t protest when he’s pulling up the app to gift you with a hefty amount; both your salary and bonus, all from making gojo satoru fall helplessly just from your touch — something to brag about indeed.

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lightseoul · 2 months ago

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cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (we're getting there, dw), a lot of cussing (bkg-typical), it's time to meet the bakusquad!, mentions of alcohol, a tiny ass mention of smth nsfw

words. 4.3k (this is getting out of hand. this was way too fun to write, tho!)

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7, part 8, part 9

You check your reflection through your phone’s front camera for the umpteenth time, lurching a bit forward and almost smashing your face with the device when the bus you’re riding drives over a bump.

With a sigh, you glance through the window to your right, spotting the familiar landmark that Kirishima mentioned in passing a few days ago.

A few days ago when he waltzed into the conference room in the middle of your heated conversation with Bakugou.

Right when he dropped that nonsensical one-liner, Bakugou was on him in a flash, shoving your other boss so hard that the man stumbled a few steps back in surprise. You watched as they had what seemed to be a wordless exchange, before all the blood appeared to drain from Kirishima’s face, leaving him so pale that you thought the redhead was about to pass out any second.

“Freaking finally—” you recall Kirishima repeating, voice wobbly, “Y-you finally have a g-girlfriend!”

Bakugou didn’t seem too pleased at the shade, encasing his co-founder in a headlock, eventually releasing him after the latter cried out his pleas and apology.

After the man managed to catch his breath, he came up with the suggestion that you hang out with the rest of their friend group.

“It’ll be fun!” he said. “We’d love to get to know you.”

“Tch.” Bakugou merely replied, seemingly not too keen on the idea.

“I don’t know…”

“I can ask PR about it,” Kirishima ignored you, “I bet you being seen with us is good for your image!”

Which leads you to the present moment.

The mechanical voice announces your arrival at the nearest station to the trendy, new, upscale restaurant that Mina specifically picked out for today’s get-together. Kirishima assured you when you, again, showed reluctance when he ran down the details yesterday, saying Kaminari and Sero vouched for it, that it had a built-in arcade or something.

Deep in your thoughts and on autopilot, you hop off the bus and begin your slow but steady trek toward the venue. By the time you reach it, it’s already 6:37 PM, a bit later than your agreed-upon meeting time.

Pushing the glass doors open, you enter the space and swiftly scan the area. Bakugou’s friends, who you just remember also happened to be top pro-heroes, are already packed in a booth near the back of the restaurant. As you walk towards them, you see that Mina, Kirishima, and Sero are seated beside each other while Kaminari is looking a bit lonely on the extra chair at the tail-end of the table. You’re guessing the empty seats in front of the aforementioned three have been reserved for their close friend and you, the fake girlfriend.

Right, you say to yourself. Time to put on a show.

Kirishima is the first one to spot you, and you can’t help the squeeze your heart makes as he visibly brightens up when he does. “Bro, over here!”

At that, you plaster on the friendliest smile you can muster and trudge towards where they are.

“Sorry I’m late, you guys,” you say as you slide into your seat, “I had to call an emergency meeting at work. I came as fast as I could…”

You look at the three, (not really) new faces (because you see them on TV all the time), suddenly feeling nervous and singled out.

Desperate for something familiar to have near you, you ask: “Uh, where’s Bakugou?”

The moment you stutter the question out, you find yourself immediately wanting to take it back, because the air in the room suddenly changes. Sero smirks, Kaminari guffaws, and a devilish grin exponentially grows on Mina’s face.

“Awww, it hasn’t even been ten seconds since you got here and you’re already looking for your mans!” Mina winks at you, “He’s just in the restroom.”

“Bro, it’s about goddamn time Bakugou finally got a girlfriend,” Sero adds.

The girl nods enthusiastically in agreement, “It’s been a long time coming, indeed. Do you have any idea how long he’s been pining for you?”

Negative thirteen days, you think to yourself. But you settle for a hesitant shake of your head.

“Dudes—” Kirishima tries to interject, although his voice is drowned out in the chatter and the marginally too-loud pop music playing in the background.

Sero snorts, “She probably doesn’t, knowing Bakugou. Though—” a look of pure mischief takes over the tape hero’s face as he turns to face you, “—wouldn’t you want to know?”

“I, uh—”

“Remember the first time Bakugou got a text message from her when we were out getting drinks for Ei’s birthday two years ago?” Mina asks the guys, although the question seems more rhetorical than not. “He choked on his beer so hard I was surprised he didn’t cough his freaking lungs out.”

“Mina—” Kirishima tries again.

Sero barks out a laugh at the memory, “That’s nothing compared to when he got so red in the face when I first insinuated he might have a crush that one time he helped me move into my current place. The big guy didn’t even think twice about hurling a box of clothes at me.”

“Sero—”

“Please!” Kaminari finally pipes in, before gesturing the group to get close with a cheesy, ‘come-wither’ gesture. From the corner of your eye, you see Kirishima mouthing something to the blonde but you don’t quite catch it, eyes drifting back to the latter, more curious than you’d like to admit, even if you’re 99% sure they’re making all of this up to humor you.

The electric hero smirks to himself before prolonging the suspenseful air. “Don’t tell him this, but I sneaked into his bedroom during that sleepover we forced him to host during Thanksgiving last year, supposedly to play a harmless prank on him. And get this—I heard him mumble your name in his sleep.”

“Guys!”

Startled, everyone looks at Kirishima, who’s doing the ‘slicing his neck with his hand’ gesture before sheepishly bringing it to rub at his nape when he feels the group’s attention on him. You scan their faces one by one, not knowing how to react yourself, and you notice what you think is realization dawn on everyone’s faces.

Well, everyone except Kaminari.

You look at the guy who’s apparently been looking at you this entire time, and your reaction to his made-up, albeit intriguing story must be priceless because he puffs up with pride before blurting out: “And it sounded like a moan, too!”

Before you can even choke at your spit in response, you see Sero’s long arm appear behind the blonde a split second before he smacks him on the back of the head.

“Hey!” Kaminari cries out, clutching his head in pain, and you can only stare at the situation in front of you, bug-eyed. “What was that for?!”

“That’s for not knowing when to shut up,” Sero hisses, before shifting to face you, a blinding smile now having replaced the chastising look that was on his face just a brief moment ago. “Now, where were we?”

“Aren’t you shitheads going to order?”

You jump at the gruff voice on your left, and you look up to see Bakugou, decked out in his usual black tee and joggers, frowning at you before his eyes dart to study his friends. Wordlessly, he slides into the booth beside you, and you automatically scoot over to make room for him. Suddenly it makes sense to you why his friends designated this entire side to only the two of you—you sometimes forget that their grumpy friend is abnormally huge—a fact that you get reminded of as he brings his arm around to rest on top of the back of your seat, his wingspan covering almost the entire length of it.

It takes a few seconds for everyone to gather their bearings and faithfully decide that no, he probably didn’t hear all of that—he couldn’t, if they wanted to keep their heads attached to the rest of their bodies—but when they do, they all scramble for the menus and act too innocently like they weren’t just making ridiculous shit up behind Bakugou’s back.

You give the man a hesitant smile yourself when he peers at you, before simply passing you the menu Kirishima handed over your direction.

“Hurry up and choose,” he huffs, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “We ain’t got all day.”

Since your boss arrived at your table, the squad hasn’t said a single thing about Bakugou from the past, particularly stories involving you, which further supports your robust theory that they were just trying to embarrass the guy in front of his alleged girlfriend.

No one brings up what has been said, too, and you take that as your cue to follow suit and keep your mouth shut.

Instead, and to your chagrin, they’ve resorted to buzzing around you, asking all sorts of questions about your life like how long you’ve been working at Bakugou and Kirishima’s agency, what kind of work you do, what you like to do for fun, how many siblings you have, and so on. But they’ve especially enjoyed asking you about Bakugou and your budding relationship, dropping a teasing remark or joke every now and then.

Every now and then as in every other sentence.

You’ve been trying to play it off cooly, lying out of your ass while seeming as natural as you can, but Bakugou isn’t taking it as well as you.

Apparently, and you know now, that the man detests being teased—it’s almost comical how red he gets at the slightest taunt, and you failing to repress a chuckle at the sight nearly grants you a shove from the hotheaded blonde. You look at the sole other girl for help, but Mina only grins at you while wiggling her eyebrows playfully as she sits back to witness the exchange.

But aside from all that, you find yourself quickly bringing down your guard and joining in on the conversation every once in a while, eventually coming to the realization that you’re actually having fun.

It doesn’t take a genius to recognize that Bakugou’s friends are great people, and seeing the man in a different environment than the one you usually find him in is interesting, to say the least.

In the midst of great conversation and in the blink of an eye, dinner is served and devoured, and before you know it, it’s 9 PM and everyone except Bakugou and you are around two to three drinks in.

“Come on, man!” Kaminari thrusts a glass of whiskey in Bakugou’s direction. “Let loose a little!”

The man in question merely lets out a ‘Tch’ before swatting the hero’s hand away.

“Don’t worry about him, bestie,” Mina calls out to you reassuringly, noticing you’ve been watching the two as you sipped on your own iced tea. “He just gets cranky when he’s not in bed by 9 PM sharp.”

“How ‘bout you, bro?” Kirishima asks you, this time a glass of gin and tonic in hand. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

You muster the most polite and grateful smile you can. “No thanks, Kirishima-san. I kind of have plans early tomorrow morning.”

Yeah, right, you think to yourself. You just don’t want to risk making a fool of yourself in front of your two bosses and their closest friends.

“Ooooh, is that why Bakugou isn’t drinking as well?” Mina chirps excitedly, “Are you guys doing something tomorrow?”

“Uh, no,” you say, hesitant and irrationally guilty, which swells when Mina’s face drops in palpable disappointment. You scramble to pull out a palatable lie from your ass, “I’m going out of town to meet a good old friend of mine who just got back from the States.”

A chorus of oohs and aahs erupt from the table at your answer; luckily, they don’t press for more details, which you’re grateful for, because you’re running out of lies for the evening.

You feel Bakugou eyeing you at the side, as if trying to figure out if what you just said is true when Sero suddenly speaks up, pointing to the far end of the restaurant.

“Hey, they have a photo booth! Whaddya say we give it a go?”

Everyone cheers in agreement and you find yourself getting ushered into the said photo booth. Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina plant themselves on the front while you get smushed between Bakugou and Sero at the back. You try not to let the close proximity with your boss get to you as Mina starts handing out the props, which you readily accept with a thanks. You look down at the ‘I’m awesome’ signage and rainbow-colored wig you’re holding, weighing your options, before ultimately deciding to make the sacrifice and give Bakugou the former. His crimson eyes trail to you when you tap his shoulder lightly, and down to the sign when you make the gesture of offering it towards him. He wordlessly takes it off your hands, and you can’t help but snort at how out of place he looks with it. He tosses you a glare, although it seems harmless enough.

“Ready?” Mina shouts, and the rest of you say your affirmation. You go through the motions, everyone changing up their poses and swapping props shot after shot, and you find yourself laughing along with the group as the ruckus unfolds around you. After the last click of the camera, you finally move to return the paraphernalia to the front with Bakugou shadowing you, and follow the rest as they hurriedly pile out of the small space when the sliding door suddenly slams shut.

“What the—” you reach for the indented groove and pull it open, but the door refuses to budge.

“Hey,” Bakugou’s booming voice ricochets within the small space, making you jump. “Quit fucking around, you guys.”

A chorus of laughter erupts from the outside, and only then does it dawn on you that you didn’t get locked in because of some stupid gust of wind.

Kaminari, who’s probably the one holding the door shut sounds positively evil when he pipes up with: “You’re not getting out of there until you do a round with just the two of you.”

“Yeah!” Mina adds excitedly. “And y’all better do those cute poses, you hear me? We’re not going home unless you do the classic kiss on the cheek!”

“Just the cheek?” Sero asks, “You should just go all out, Bakugou!”

“This is their idea, bros. I’m not involved here,” you hear Kirishima say in the background.

Oh motherfucking god.

Refusing to accept what’s happening, you try to pry the door open again, but Kaminari’s not letting up by the slightest. You stare at the door, unable to look at Bakugou and what feels like five minutes pass before the man finally speaks up.

“…Let’s just fucking do it.”

You turn around to gape at him, “E-excuse me?”

He sighs, looking as defeated as you’ve ever seen him, a tinge of pink tinting his cheeks in what you think is irritation. “They’re not gonna back down unless we fucking do what they say. Trust me,” he says as he plops down on one of the seats in front of the camera, “I know them.”

Hesitantly, you take the seat to his left, the feeling of resignation blooming in your stomach at his words. “O-okay, then. We can just quickly take the pictures like normal and we’ll be on our way.”

“No—” he starts, and he looks like it pains him to argue with you, “—if we don’t do this as they instructed, the shitheads are just going to make us do it again and again until we do.”

You flush at the implications of his words, “But—what—surely they’ll be reprimanded for hogging the photo booth?”

Bakugou shakes his head, seeming like he’s already surrendered his soul to the antics of his friends. “They don’t normally abuse their power as heroes, but they will for stupid shit like this.”

You can only blink at him, at a loss for words. If you think about it, it’s unnerving how calm and level-headed he’s being right now when you’re getting close to having a major freakout yourself.

“Well?” The man has the audacity to ask.

You shift awkwardly in your seat, choosing to look at the monitor in front of you instead of the pro-hero who you now realize is way too dangerously close for your comfort. “Okay, so the least number of shots we can go for is four.”

Bakugou grunts in what you think is approval.

You continue, “We can do one where we just sit and smile, another where we form a small heart with our hands to appease Mina, and—fuck, two more…”

You expected you’d be the one to do the agonizing task of directing your poses, so you’re surprised when Bakugou chimes in.

“That’s not enough for bug-eyes,” he says as a matter-of-factly, and you find yourself gulping in nervousness despite yourself. “We’ll have to get closer…”

Closer than this?

Bakugou seems like he’s debating something in his head before he gives you a firm nod. “The third one we can place your head on my fucking shoulder or something, and for the last—” he shakes his head in defeat, “just go and fucking kiss me on the cheek.”

“What?”

He shoots you an appalled look as if you jolting away from him at the mere suggestion is a criminal offense committed against him. “Don’t sound so fucking disgusted, idiot.”

You’re not about to tell him you’re the farthest from being disgusted and rather veering dangerously close to flustered. Instead, you croak: “Are you sure about this?”

Bakugou scoffs, “Does it look like we have a choice?” He pauses, before shaking his head rather adamantly, “It’s not like I want to do this…”

You frown, itching to argue that you, in fact, have a choice, but the man is so evidently resigned that any rebuttal dies down in your throat. He does know his friends better than you do. Obviously. You can’t accurately gauge how far they’re willing to go for you just to take these photos with the grump.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you mumble an ‘okay’ before standing to press the Start button.

And so you, once again, go through the motions.

Only this time you’re not laughing.

You can feel your smile straining as you pose for the first photo, and you’re guessing Bakugou is looking like he’s being forced to smile at gunpoint beside you.

Click.

At the tell-tale sound, you lift your left hand, forming half a heart, and bring it next to Bakugou’s right. Beside his, your hand is significantly smaller, and you’re staring at the shape you’ve formed together when the camera goes off again, catching you off guard.

Click.

You’re disoriented and barely registering the pace at which everything’s going when you feel a hand gently tug your head to the right, placing it firmly on top of a firm shoulder.

“Smile, you dumbass,” Bakugou says through gritted teeth. You obey.

Click.

You chance a glance at the man, whose eyes are downcast—staring at the floor. You hesitate, wary of the countdown, “…Can I?”

Bakugou merely closes his eyes in what you think is dreadful anticipation before opening them again, choosing to look straight into the camera instead of meeting your gaze. “Just do it.”

You’re not about to waste any more time and risk missing the timing and having to do this all over again, so you do.

It takes everything in you not to cringe the second your lips touch Bakugou’s cheek, suddenly becoming very aware of how chapped they are. But the thought is almost instantly replaced by the realization of how deceivingly soft his skin is, and you have to fight yourself from jerking away at the ridiculous observation.

The seconds go by so agonizingly slow, and as you wait for the shutter to go off, you notice how tense Bakugou is, whose eyes are now closed again. It occurs to you belatedly how weird it would come out in the photos if you had your eyes wide open this close to the guy, so you immediately slam them shut.

You do it just in time before you hear the all-too-familiar click, at the sound of which you promptly pull away and stand up.

“Great,” you chirp, too cheerily.

“Good,” he grunts at the same time as you.

You look at each other in surprise, and you can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of you. The corners of Bakugou’s mouth twitch ever so minutely, and you could’ve sworn a smile is fighting to take over his lips.

You’re about to say something remotely embarrassing—just anything to fill the air, really—like ‘thanks’ or worse, when the door suddenly opens, startling the both of you.

Mina pokes her head through the small opening, squealing as her eyes dart back and forth between the two of you. “Well, come on, you two! They turned out amazing!”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

It’s about half past 10 when you finally decide as a group that it’s time to wrap things up and go home. Of course, you had to first sit through roughly thirty minutes of Mina gushing on and on about how cute your photos turned out, with Kaminari and Sero at the side teasing Bakugou about how uncharacteristically shy he looks. As you expected, Bakugou turned almost as red as a beet at the teasing, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with the group before getting silenced with a sharp glare from the man.

Despite the plethora of dirty looks he’s tossed your way the entire evening, Bakugou still went out of his way to offer you a ride home as you walked with the group to the exit. You were about to politely decline when you realized everyone else was watching and that it would be weird for you to turn down your boyfriend’s proposal this late into the night.

And so you reluctantly accepted.

Which is how you find yourself waiting by the restaurant’s front door with Mina while Bakugou fetches his car. The other three guys already hit the dirt and carpooled home together, not one of them having bothered to drive here in the first place knowing they’d get drunk, or at the very least, tipsy.

The silence is comfortable as you breathe in the cool, evening breeze, while Mina sways side to side beside you.

“If you ask me, Bakugou didn’t drink tonight because he wanted to drive you home safely.”

You whip around to look at the pink-skinned hero, “Huh?”

Mina only shrugs in response, not bothering to repeat herself. Instead, she reaches for something in her purse, digs through it for a couple of seconds, before pulling out a strip of film that you instantly recognize is that of you and Bakugou from a while ago.

“Sorry, but I’m keeping the one of us as a group,” she sing-songs, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic, before thrusting the string of photos towards you. “But you get to keep the one of you and Bakugou.”

Not knowing what else to do, you gingerly accept it from the girl.

She grins at you, “Keep it safe for him, ‘kay?”

You refrain from telling her that he most definitely doesn’t care about whether or not you keep these photos safe, and instead give her an affirmative nod. Looking down at the object in your hands, you study the images one by one.

Your smile does look a bit strained in the first, and you’re not even smiling in the second, dumbly staring at the heart instead, but you’d say you appear decent enough in the third yet downright foolish in the last. It’s Bakugou that leaves you dumbfounded, though.

He’s not smiling in the first one—at least, not really—but he still managed to look handsome and exude a boyish charm that’s always been characteristic of him. To your surprise, he’s also not looking at the camera in the second; instead, his eyes are directed towards you, a solemn expression on his face. Against your will, you feel yourself warm at the thought of being the object of his attention without your knowledge. In stark contrast, he comes off stiff as hell in the third photo with your head on his shoulder, and in the last one…

His eyes are closed, eyebrows slightly furrowed. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his cheeks are tinged the lightest shade of pink.

Huh.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Mina pipes up out of nowhere, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You flush at her words. “Sorry?”

The girl merely smirks, a knowing expression etched across her beautiful features. “It’s written all over your face.”

Your free hand absentmindedly shoots up to feel your face, and it doesn’t elude you that you’re heating up.

To your relief, Mina doesn’t say anything else. She shrugs again, checking something on her phone before turning to face you once more, “Well, my Uber’s here! Tell Bakugou to drive safely and make sure you get home in one piece, okay, bestie?”

You smile at her concern and the adorable term of endearment she’s assigned to you, “I will.”

Mina seems to hesitate for a second before decidedly stepping closer and bringing you into a warm hug, which you return as best as you can.

You eventually pull away from each other after a moment, and she walks down the stairs and towards the dark maroon car that’s just arrived.

Leaving you with nothing but the space to mull over the ramifications of what has just been said.

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii @beab19 @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @k0z3me @meeeepsworld @asura-rose @dragonscribble @moonz33 @citrustsuki @deadhands69 @lemuhr @rosemarygalaxy @iluv-ace @eyesforbkg @carpe000diem @shushbruv @matchat3a @ttalgi @bakunianadecorazon

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 they really do make a difference! have a lovely day ( ˘ ³˘)♥

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ham-st4r · 1 year ago

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WRONG DOINGS L. HS

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: heeseung + fem reader!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, male masturbation, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, oral, male and female receiving, squirting, stepdad step daughter relationship, daddy kink, car sex, make up sex, mentions of stealing and cheating, home wrecking, infidelity, divorce, crying, abuse, violence, arguments, mentions of blood, cursing, bullying, reader kinda has daddy issues, heeseung gets caught masturbating by reader.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: stepcest, taboo relationship, slow burn.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After your mom got married to your stepdad heeseung, you both finally moved into his mansion together. There, you’ll face the same cruelty from your mother that you always have endless abuse and belittling. Still, when heeseung tries to treat you like his own and get closer to you, it only makes things worse not just for you but him as well, and one too many arguments with your mother leave you and heeseung both wanting more so much more than when she goes on vacation and leaves you both alone, it’s only a matter of time before the both of you commence in 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐𝟖,𝟐𝟓𝟒𝐤

Sorry for the long wait. Thanks for being patient with me. I’m very disappointed with how this turned out, but I hope you guys will enjoy it

"Mom, can you help me with my homework?" You ask your mom meekly as you sit at the dinner table in the kitchen.

You had been struggling with your homework lately, and all you wanted was a little help and attention.

But she couldn't even give that much to you.

"No, absolutely not. No one helped me with mine, and I'm not going to be your crutch. Just stop being so lazy and pay attention." The harsh response was very much expected, but it never hurt any less.

You held your head low and picked at the corners of your notebook, sighing softly.

The relationship between you and your mother was never good, but you still tried to have some type of interaction with her cause you just wanted her love. You wanted her to care no matter how bad she treated you.

"Y/n," heeseung, your stepfather, called to you softly, but you sat up and went to your room. You hadn't exactly gotten a chance to get close to him yet, and you didn't want to be around a complete stranger while you felt like this. "I still don't understand why you find it necessary to talk to her like that," heeseung said to his wife once you got out of earshot.

"And I still don't understand why you're talking to me. You're not even her real father, so what does it have to do with you?" She gives him a stern look from across the dining table.

"Thank you for reminding me of that every two seconds." heeseung chuckled and took a drink of his orange juice. "Baby, I'm not trying to make you upset. I'm just not sure the way you handle things is best for our daughter," he continues.

"Again, she is my daughter, not yours. The way I handle things has zero to do with you," she responds.

Heeseung just sighed and kept his mouth shut after that.

Lately, he had been rethinking his whole marriage because the woman he proposed to was seemingly nowhere to be found.

As bad as that sounds, it was just an undeniable fact.

It was like overnight, his life turned completely upside down.

One minute, he's married to his dream girl, and the next, he's feeling stuck in an unhappy marriage with a stepdaughter who doesn't acknowledge him and a wife that rather be out all day than spend time with him on his days off.

"Where are you going?" He asked his wife as he watched her getting up from the kitchen table.

"Out," she answered without looking at him.

"Okay, where's out?" Heeseung stood up and made his way over to her in the living room.

"There's a new fashion outlet that opened downtown, and I want to check it out," she replies, sounding uninterested.

"Ooh, sounds like fun, can I come with? I'm free all day." he wrapped his hands around her waist from behind.

"No, I already planned to invite others." his grip on her waist loosened as he looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"Without even telling me?" He dropped his hands to his sides.

"Sorry, it must have slipped my mind." She quickly put her heels on and grabbed her purse by the front door. "Besides, it's all women's clothing anyways," she adds.

Heeseung sighed and folded his arms, watching his girl leave the house for what felt like the fifth time this week. "It's okay," he replies back, even though it really wasn't. "Can I at least get a kiss before you go?" He says with a smile.

She quickly rushes over and kisses his cheek. Before he could even say anything, she was already bolting out the door. "Be safe," he says to himself, going back to the kitchen and finishing his cold breakfast all alone.

You sat on your bed and stared at the sheets in front of you blankly. You had zero motivation to even get started on your homework after the way your mother spoke to you.

You're not sure if you'd ever be able to get rid of the hurt in your chest whenever she talked down to you, even after all these years.

You wiped your tears when you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door. "Y/n, can I come in?" You listen to your stepfather's voice from outside your room.

You straightened out your things a bit before allowing him to enter. "Come in," you said in a weak voice.

"Hey," he whispered with a half smile. "Would you like some help?" He offered while shutting the door.

"Uhh, no, I'm fine." You looked at all the untouched materials in front of you, and you were everything but fine.

"Oh, okay." heeseung turned around disappointedly and grabbed the door handle, but your voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Wait." You looked down at your lap and nervously fidgeted with your blankets. "I need help," you admitted to him.

He gave you a warm smile and made his way over to your bed, taking a seat. "Thank you for allowing me to help. I know it's been hard for you adjusting and everything with the new place and living with a total stranger." he laughed, and you smiled a little as the awkwardness between you two started to lessen just a tad. "But I just want you to know that you can come to me too, not just your mom. I'm perfectly friendly, I think?" He scratched his nape and chuckled.

"Okay," you nodded.

"And about earlier, I apolo-" you interrupted him.

"I don't want to talk about it," You quickly dismissed the said topic, and he puffed out a breath of air as his shoulders slumped down a bit.

You understand he was just trying to help, but you didn't need another dad or an apology right now, especially from someone who wasn't even to blame and even more so the fact he had no idea what had even been going on between you and your mother.

He didn't know about all the times she hit you for getting a low grade. He didn't know how she'd keep you up all night until you finished all the chores around the house, and he definitely didn't know that all this was going on behind his back when he left for work.

If he did, you're sure he wouldn't even be married to your mom, let alone welcome her into his lovely mansion of a home, cause from what you could tell, heeseung was far too kind for a woman like her.

"Okay, so let's see what we have he- oh," he chuckles at all the work you have piled up.

You lower your head down in embarrassment while he flips through all your disheveled homework.

"Don't worry, we'll have this done by midnight, and you won't have to worry your little head anymore." he ruffled your hair playfully.

You scrunch up your face and fix your hair while he laughs at you.

The clock had just struck midnight, and as promised, it was all finished. To your surprise, you got through half of it without his help. Honestly, you weren’t dumb when it came to school, so you didn’t really need a lot of help. You just wanted someone to take interest in you. "Thanks for all your help," you whisper shyly.

"Of course, if you ever need help with homework or anything in general, just let me know." he smiles softly at you and takes a look at his watch. "Are you hungry? We've been at it for quite some time now."

"A little," your stomach growls on cue, causing you both to laugh.

"There's a pizza spot down the road that stays open late. Does that sound good?" He offers, and you nod.

"I'd cook for you, but I'd probably burn the mansion down, and we can't have that happening," he laughed.

You both jumped in surprise when the door swung open, revealing your witch of a mother. Of course, she'd have to ruin the one decent interaction that you've had in years. "What is this?" She pointed back and forth between you and heeseung.

"I was just helping y/n with her homework, babe," heeseung sighed. He was already sleepy, and he didn't want to deal with her attitude right now.

"Helping? She doesn't need help. She can do it herself!" She yells at heeseung.

You lowered your head to hide the tears welling in your eyes, and what made it worse was that heeseung was being brought into your drama when he was completely innocent. "She shouldn't have to!" Heeseung yelled back. He was far more frustrated with his situation with his wife lately than the problem at hand, but he used this as an opportunity to lash out a bit. "Y/n, come on." he turned to you with a sympathetic look in his eyes, talking to you with a much calmer tone as he extended his hand out for you to take.

You stood up, reaching your hand out for his, but your mother's loud voice caused you to sit right back down.

"You!" she pointed at heeseung. "Get out! This is between me and her." heeseung looked at you, and you nodded your head weakly cause you weren't his problem to take on.

He didn't want to, but he honored your wish and left out of your room, going upstairs to wash up for the night and head to bed.

He knew he wasn't your biological father, but what was the harm in him just wanting to treat you decently?

His wife always had to go and blow everything out of proportion, making it seem like just cause he wasn't your real father, he couldn't look after you.

He thought it was ridiculous.

But maybe there was something he didn't know about going on between you. Maybe it was something that he had no business sticking his nose in.

He put his toothbrush away and patted his face dry. Once he was all finished, he turned off the bathroom light and went over to his side of the bed, trying to get some much-needed rest.

"So you try to seduce my husband behind my back? I always knew you were nothing but a little slut” your mother said with venom laced in her tone.

"No mo-" you tried to defend yourself to no avail.

"Be quiet." She walked over to your closet, pulling out a coat hanger, and locked the door to your bedroom.

You tried to hide under your blankets, but she quickly yanked them down to your ankles and whipped your bare legs repeatedly with the hanger, adding fresh welts to your already bruised skin.

You had to cup your mouth to muffle your screams and cries so you wouldn't alert heeseung to what was happening to you behind his back.

"Maybe this will teach you not to be such a fucking useless disrespectful whore” tears streamed down your cheeks from the pain she inflicted on you. "I didn't raise you like this." Her face was twisted in nothing but anger as she hit you countless times before finally putting an end to the abuse.

"Think twice before you try touching what's mine." You sobbed quietly and pulled your blankets over your head as she laughed at your poor state and left you crying alone in your room. You had no idea why she was accusing you of something you didn't even do.

She left you alone and went upstairs, joining heeseung in the bedroom, laying down beside him like nothing ever happened. "I didn't mean to make you mad, baby," she whispered softly as she held onto his waist. She kissed the back of his neck and tried to trail her hand to the front of his boxers, but he quickly gripped her wrist and stopped her from doing so.

"I forgive you, but I'm just not in the mood right now." he turned over to face her and pulled her into his chest, kissing her forehead softly. "Y/n's okay?" He asked while stroking her back.

"Yeah, I apologized," she flat-out lied.

"There's my girl," he smiled. "I'm proud of you, baby. I know things are difficult for us right now, but try not to get too stressed. I'm sorry too, okay? We still just have to adjust to some things."

"Okay," she muttered back and discreetly rolled her eyes.

"Goodnight, baby," he whispered after a couple of minutes.

"Night," she murmured.

When you woke up the next day, you immediately winced in pain.

You tried to move the covers back, but you couldn't cause they were stuck to your legs from all the dried-up blood. Normally, you would have tried to bandage yourself up, but you didn't have the willpower to last night after everything occurred.

You slowly peeled the blanket back as tears gathered in your eyes from the pain.

You let out a shaky breath once you had finally removed the material.

Tears leaked down your cheeks as you saw the wounds. You could barely even stand up without pain, but you managed to somehow.

You went to the bathroom and grabbed your first aid kit, cleaning off all the dried-up blood.

Once the blood was gone, you applied some ointment and gauze, praying that the cuts wouldn't get infected this time around like before.

You got ready for school and waited in bed until it was time to leave.

"Is y/n coming down for breakfast?" Heeseung inquired to his wife, remembering you didn't get to eat last night, so you must have still been pretty hungry.

She just shrugged her shoulders and finished making her iced coffee.

Heeseung sighed and went upstairs to check on you himself. He knocked softly just in case you might still be asleep since you both stayed up so late last night. “Y/n?” He called your name quietly.

When he didn't get a response, he peeked his head inside the door and saw you still sleeping. He smiled pitifully and closed the door before going back downstairs, only to see his wife all dressed up and ready to head out.

"Let me guess out?" He said half-jokingly, half serious. "Come here and give me a kiss before you leave." She walked over to him and pecked his cheek like usual. "That's not a real kiss. I mean one like this." he smiled and gripped her backside in his palms, groping the soft flesh as he stuck his tongue inside her mouth and kissed her eagerly. It's been months since the last time he had sex with her, and his neediness for her was definitely showing in the heated kiss. "Like that," he pulled back with a small smirk on his lips. "Come back soon so I can give you a little surprise" he bit his lip and spanked her ass.

"Yes, Mr. Lee," she said flirtatiously and winked at him before releasing herself from his hold and going out the door.

Needless to say, heeseung couldn't wait til tonight.

He was standing in the living room, a smile still lingering on his face, when you came downstairs. He whipped his head in your direction when he heard your footsteps. "Morning! You scared me," he laughed.

You forced a smile and tried your best not to limp downstairs. The last thing you wanted was to raise any suspicion.

"Your mom just left, but I could pick you up something for breakfast since you're probably still hungry from last night." You knew it was just a polite offer from him, but the mention of last night made you flinch in horror, and the worried look that took over your face was hard not to miss.

"N-no thanks," you declined.

"Do you at least want a ride?" You just shook your head and limped to the front door. "Y/n, Is everything alright?" He asked you worriedly. You weren't like this at all last night, so what changed so drastically? As far as he knew, You guys apologized and made up.

You didn't respond back and walked out the door, leaving him standing in the middle of the living room, confused.

You had gotten home from another terrible day at school, which was nothing new to you just like everything else in your life.

You opened the door with your house key. Once you got inside, you saw heeseung lying on the couch asleep while some random TV show was on.

You twisted the knob and shut the door quietly while slipping your shoes off.

After you hung up your backpack, you went over to the kitchen to make something to eat since you hadn't eaten all day.

You collected all the ingredients from the refrigerator to make a proper meal for yourself.

As you were preparing the vegetables, you decided to cut extra in case heeseung was hungry when he woke up. You felt bad about the way you treated him this morning, especially cause it wasn't even his fault, so the least you could do was make him a meal as an apology.

You quietly moved around in the kitchen so you wouldn't wake him, and after about thirty minutes, everything was ready. You turned off the stove and put away some extras in a glass container, setting it on the table where heeseung usually sits before going to your room to eat. You never liked eating at the table. It always brought back too many memories that you wished you could forget.

It was midnight when Heeseung finally woke up. He stretched out on the sofa as his eyes wandered to the big wall clock above the TV. "Damn," he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

All the lights were off, so he assumed everyone was already asleep.

He went to the kitchen to grab some water from the fridge but halted when his eyes landed on the container of food you had prepared for him. "Ooh," he opened the lid, scanning all the different foods inside, and his mouth watered instantly.

He grabbed his water from the fridge and sat down at his spot before grabbing the fork placed neatly beside the container. "Thank you, baby." he smiled happily and dug into his food, and he was not disappointed at all. He hasn't had a good home-cooked meal for a while, and this definitely hit the spot.

He wasn't complaining about not having food when he came home from work cause he knew that his wife was busy with her own things, but he couldn't deny he'd love it if he had a meal cooked by his wife more than just a few times a month.

He ate every last morsel, not letting anything go to waste. After he finished dinner, he washed the container and put it inside the dish rack.

He headed upstairs to wash up before going to sleep. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he removed his pants and t-shirt, slipping into bed next to his beautiful wife. "Thank you for dinner, baby." he draped his arm around his wife's waist and kissed the crown of her head. "Goodnight," he whispers while shutting his eyes and falling asleep a little while later.

Heeseung had gotten up earlier than usual since he slept all day yesterday. He pulled his sheets back and stepped out of bed, going straight to the bathroom and taking a quick shower to get freshened up and ready for work.

He sighed as he tucked his dress shirt into his pants. Those two days off weren't quite enough after all the hours he's been putting in lately, but luckily, he had some vacation time, and he planned on putting it to good use very soon.

He kissed his wife on the cheek before shutting the door behind him quietly so he wouldn't wake his sleeping beauty.

You jumped slightly when you heard footsteps coming downstairs, but you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that it was only heeseung and not your mom.

"Oh! Good morning, y/n!" Heeseung smiled widely, and he was surprised to see you up this early.

"Morning," you reply and turn back to the stove to finish your meal. You had a few leftover ingredients from last night, so you decided to just take it for lunch at school today.

"Smells good," he chimed as he caught a whiff of whatever you were cooking. After a few moments, it dawned on him that the smell was very similar to the food he had the night prior, and his eyebrows creased in confusion once you set down the plate of food. "Did you… Did you cook last night?"

"Yes," you answered quietly, hoping he wasn't going to say that it was bad or something like that.

"Hmm," he nodded to himself as he realized that it wasn't his wife who cooked and that it was you all along, which left him greatly disappointed, but either way, it was still good, and he appreciated you for it. "It was delicious, thank you."

"You're welcome." You gave him a small smile.

He walked near you, reaching into the cabinet to grab a bag of ground coffee. "So, how's school been?" He asked while making his cup of coffee.

"Good," you said simply.

"Just remember, if you need any help, you can always come to me," he assured you.

You nodded your head while getting your food ready for school.

"Leaving so soon?" He questioned while rolling up his suit jacket sleeve and checking the time.

The truth is you just didn't want to face your mother after the other night, so if that meant waking up hours earlier than her and going to school early, then that's what you were going to do to avoid her at all costs.

"You know what, I'm up early. You're up early, so why don't you let me drive you?" He says while pouring his piping hot coffee into a travel mug.

"It's fine." he didn't listen and just grabbed his keys from the hook so he could drive you to school.

He knew you and your mother were not on great terms as of late, but he wanted to take it upon himself to be of some type of assistance to you cause he could obviously see that you weren't feeling all that well lately and what type of person would he have to be to just sit on the sidelines and watch someone go through something like that alone?

"Come on!" He held the front door open for you.

Needless to say, the whole car ride was dead silent. It wasn't that you didn't want to talk to him. It was just weird because he was basically a whole stranger driving you to school.

He put on some music to make the silence less awkward. He occasionally hummed along while tapping the steering wheel.

After maybe eight minutes, give or take, you two arrived. He pulled right up to the curb, unlocking your door so you could get out.

"See you later. Have fun!" He gave you a small wave while you thanked him for dropping you.

There was still at least half an hour before he had work, so he stopped to grab some breakfast for himself.

He dialed his wife's number and frowned. When the call went to voicemail, he assumed she was probably still asleep.

So he texted her instead.

Heeseung: Morning, baby! I miss you :(

He took a picture of the lousy breakfast sandwich he got. The bread was limp, the bacon was undercooked, and the egg tasted fake.

He chuckled and sent it to his wife.

Heeseung: Not even close to being as good as the one you make.

After the second bite, he didn't even bother finishing it, and he opened up the text messages with his wife again.

Heeseung: I'm missing you so bad right now, and it's not even afternoon. Baby, call me when you get this.

He put his phone in the passenger seat and drove out of the restaurant parking lot, heading to work.

School was unbearable like it always was, but you were just thankful that it was finally over with. You went upstairs and changed out of your old bandages. Luckily, nothing was infected, but it still looked like it'd take a little while to heal.

You changed into some comfortable clothes and lay down in bed. You would have cried, but you had no more tears left to cry.

The cycle had been going on for so long that you grew accustomed to it. It was just another part of your tiresome routine.

You tucked yourself inside your blanket and sighed deeply before shutting your eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Heeseung was in the middle of working when he got a text from his wife.

Best wife in the whole world💍: Can't wait for you to get home.

She attached a photo of her in a lacy black outfit with the straps pulled down but not enough to show too much.

He bit his lip when he saw the photo and quickly replied.

Heeseung: My wife looks so sexy😍

Best wife in the whole world💍: Hurry home soon.

Heeseung: You got it, baby. I'm gonna see if I can get out early tonight just for you😉

She left his text on read, and he shut his phone off so he could focus back on his work.

Five hours passed quicker than he expected, and he did get his work finished in time so he could leave a little sooner.

Heeseung: On my way, baby. I can't wait to see you.

He texted on his way to his car. He unlocked the door and put on his seat belt, heading home after another stressful day of work.

"Baby!" He called out while he loosened his tie and slipped his shoes off at the door.

He went to the kitchen, setting his suitcase on the table and hanging his jacket on the back of the chair. "Baby?" He called while walking upstairs and opened his bedroom door. "Baby, I'm ho-" he stopped mid-sentence when he saw that she was already fast asleep. "Are you kidding me?" He whined as he closed the door and went back downstairs. "So much for that idea," he sighed as he went to the kitchen to make some ramen for himself. Since it was still early, he decided to watch some TV until he felt sleepy.

You stirred in your sleep and rolled over on your bed, opening your eyes to see your alarm clock that read half past midnight.

You turned on your back and sighed while staring at the ceiling. You knew you shouldn't be eating this late, but you felt extremely hungry cause, after all, you did only eat one time today.

You went downstairs to make a midnight snack. Once you reached the end of the stairs, you noticed the lights were off, but the TV was still on. Your eyes traveled to the couch, where you saw heeseung lying down fast asleep.

With a tiny shake of your head, you went to the refrigerator, grabbing an apple, taking a bite while going to the living room, and turning off the TV before draping a blanket over heeseung's exhausted-looking body.

You went back to bed and finished your apple. There wasn't much to do other than a little more homework, and when that was all finished, you curled back up in your bed and went back to sleep for the night.

This same boring pattern repeated itself. Your mom was always out of the house spending heeseung's money that she stole from him right under his nose. heeseung would go to work, come home late, and go to sleep on the sofa while you went to school, did homework, and went to sleep.

Heeseung was currently sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for his wife to come down.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat when he heard yelling upstairs. He started to go up there, but he already knew what the outcome would be. "She's not your daughter. You don't know what's best for her, blah blah blah."

After a couple of minutes, the yelling had quieted down, and he cleared his throat as his wife came down the stairs. "Is y/n having breakfast with us?" He asked while scrolling through some emails on his phone.

"No," he set his phone aside and looked at his wife.

"Why not?" No matter what was going on between you and your mother, you still made it a point to come down for breakfast every morning, so you skipping these past few days was unusual to him.

"Cause she didn't clean and she barely did any homework, she doesn't deserve a meal," his wife stated, seemingly unbothered.

"Baby…" he sighed. "Don't you think you're being unreasonable here? I understand where you're coming from, but what you're doing is a bit too much."

"Too much?" She scoffed. "What would you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I already know I'm not her real dad," he said, annoyed, but he didn't have to be a parent to know that what was happening was not right.

"Excuse you? Who do you think you're talking to like that?" She responds, and he can tell from her tone that she was starting to get annoyed, too.

"I didn't mean it like that, oka-" he tried to explain himself but got interrupted.

"No, I think that's exactly how you meant it." She tossed her dishcloth on the table. "You're taking her side over mine."

"I never said anything about sides. You're getting me all wrong here. All I'm saying is to go easy on her," he reasoned calmly. The last thing he wanted was to argue this early in the morning.

"She's already a lost cause. Going easy on her would make her completely useless," she says, unrelenting with her hateful words towards you.

Heeseung's face morphed in absolute disgust at the distasteful words coming from his wife's mouth. How could someone talk about their own daughter that way? He wasn't even your real dad, and he would never talk about you like that to anyone, let alone his significant other. "Well, I'm sure if you just helped her out here and there, it might not be that way," he said dryly.

"So you're saying this is my fault?" She twisted his words once again.

"You're putting words into my mouth. What I'm saying is maybe try helping her out a bit, that's all." he put his hands up in defense.

"No one ever helped me, and I turned out perfectly fine.” She just comes up with excuse after excuse.

"Really? First of all, she's not you, and all I've ever seen was her politely asking for your help. She's trying, but when you shut her down and tell her that she's useless, how do you think she's going to feel? I sure know I wouldn't be motivated by that" if the conversation kept going in this direction. It was only a matter of time before things got out of hand.

"You really must be dumb to think that way," she mumbles under her breath.

"What did you just say to me?" He stood up from his chair and walked over to where she was standing.

She stood up straight and stared him in the face, repeating her words. "I said you must be du-"

"Do not dare say that to me again. You're under my roof, and I've never once said one thing disrespectful to you." he looked at her with a cold stare in his eyes. "Now I'm done having this conversation with you. Go get y/n, and I don't want to hear another word from you."

Her eyes shook in fear as he made his way back to his chair, and she scampered upstairs to tell you that breakfast would be ready soon.

You came downstairs a few minutes later and sat at the table per your mother's request. You picked your fork up timidly, and heeseung didn't miss the way your hands shook when you lifted the fork to your lips.

He sighed and glared at his wife, shaking his head in disapproval. "So, y/n, how are you doing with school? Do you have any homework you need help with?"

Your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes, and you just stayed silent.

Heeseung patted your shoulder, encouraging you to speak. Your eyes flickered over to your mom, and she was already looking at you with an evil glare.

You quickly shook heeseung's hand off your shoulder. "I-it's fine, I-I'm fine," you stuttered nervously.

"Y/n, will you excuse us?" Heeseung asked you, and you nodded your head timidly. "Babe, I need to have a word with you upstairs." he sat up from his seat and walked upstairs with his wife following soon after.

"You mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Heeseung asked as he leaned against the wall with his arms folded.

"Nothing to concern yourself wi-"

"That's bullshit, and you know it!" Heeseung cut her off.

You were still at the table when you heard heeseung yelling from upstairs. You flinched and wrapped your arms around your body attempting to somewhat comfort yourself.

"She's afraid to even come downstairs. She was literally shaking at the table. What the fuck did you say to her?" He asked as he felt his anger rising.

"I didn't say anything," his wife replied carelessly.

"So she's just been avoiding you for no reason. Is that what you're telling me?" He says losing his temper.

"I'll tell you the reason it's cause she doesn't want to be responsible. She fails all her tests, her room is filthy, and she doesn't take care of anything around the house," she continues with her same old reasoning.

Heeseung sighed in frustration. "At this point, I don't know what to tell you cause everything I say is going in one ear and out the other."

"I understand what you're saying perfectly fine you're taking that bitches side over mine!" she shouts.

"Don't call her that again!" His voice was so loud it easily overpowered hers.

You covered your ears and ran upstairs, locking yourself in your room and hiding under your covers. It felt like deja vu all over again when your mom and dad used to fight. Even though your dad left you and they were divorced, it felt like you were in that same situation all over again.

Heeseung instantly regretted getting loud like that, and when he saw the scared look on his wife's face, he quickly apologized. "Babe, I'm sorry." he walked closer to her and wrapped his arms around her shaking body. "Shh, please don't cry, baby. I'm so sorry." he rubbed her back softly as she encircled her arms around his waist. "Look at me, sweetheart." he gripped her chin with his thumb and index finger tilting her head up so he could look into her watery eyes. "I won't ever lash out on you like that again, okay?" He used his thumb to swipe the tears off her cheeks.

"Okay," she whispers softly.

"Let's just try to get along from now on, yeah?" He pecked her lips, and she nodded her head. "I'm sorry," he pouted. "I'm a big fat jerk, aren't I?" He said to lighten the mood and got a small chuckle from her in response.

"You are," she smiles, knowing her little victim tactic was working on him.

"But I'm your big fat jerk." he smiled and backed her up until she reached the bed frame and laid her down on the bed gently. "Let me make it up to you, yeah?" he whispered and got down on his knees.

"Wait," she sat up on the bed and held his hands.

"What is it, baby?" He gave her a concerned look and rubbed small circles on her thighs.

"It's late. I have to get going." She made an excuse like she always did, just so she didn't have to do anything with him.

"Baby…." He sighed disappointingly as she got up from the bed. "You have to be kidding me." he stood up with a clear look of annoyance on his face.

"Sorry, love, but I have to go, or else I'll be late." She kissed his cheek before leaving the bedroom.

He flopped down on the mattress and sighed. “Bye,” he muttered to himself.

Maybe he was overthinking things, but he was starting to feel a bit undesirable. He hadn't had sex with his wife since the wedding, and that was months ago. He didn't want to ever think this way, but he couldn't help it, and he was starting to think he didn't know how to please his woman anymore.

Before the wedding, it was multiple times a week, and he wasn't always the only one initiating either. If anything, she initiated more than he did, but after getting married, his love life seemed nonexistent.

It's almost like the wedding was what made his life complicated. Everything was completely fine before, but now there seemed to be so many other things to account for, and maybe it was his fault for not preparing to have two more people living under his roof, but either way, things had been taking a toll on him lately.

He ran his fingers through his hair and got out of bed, figuring he should probably go check on you after his outburst earlier.

“Y/n?” He knocked on your door softly, waiting for you to answer.

"Y-yeah?" You stuttered, still a bit shaken from what happened earlier.

"I'm sorry about earlier. Can I come in?" He rested his forehead on the door when you didn't respond. He sighed before opening it, and he felt terrible when he saw you balled up under the blankets.

He invited himself in and sat down at the foot of your bed. "Your mom left a little while ago, but I want to apologize on her behalf and for what I did earlier." You instantly felt relieved when you found out that your mom was gone, but it'd take a while for you to get over what just occurred. "We patched things up, so don't worry, okay?"

He patted your shoulder before getting up from your bed and walking to the door. "I took the day off from work, so if you need anything, I'll be here." he gave you a half smile and left you alone just in case you wanted some time to yourself.

He went back to his room and took off his work clothes, after calling in, stripping down to nothing but his underwear before lying down on the bed.

Deciding to kill some time he scrolled through his phone for a while. And after that got boring, he turned it off opting to read a book instead.

Some hours had passed since heeseung came to check on you, and you were feeling a lot better. You were glad to know that he and your mom were able to talk things out cause you wouldn't be able to take getting yelled at by your mom and having to hear her yell at him, too.

You looked to your left, and it was the same old story a stack of homework needed to be done, but since heeseung was willing to help you, you decided to take him up on his offer if he was still awake that is.

Heeseung sighed as he set the book he was reading aside. He was bored out of his mind. You were mad at him, and his wife was gone, and there was nothing else to do.

But there was actually one thing he could do since he finally did have some alone time. He wasn't going to let it go to waste. Besides, he was stressed, and he needed some relief cause his wife wasn't doing it for him.

A feeling of guilt rose in his chest for getting off without his wife, but he couldn't wait any longer cause she had been putting him off for months now.

He placed his hand over his crotch and pressed down gently, hissing from the sensitivity when he felt himself shiver from the slight touch. He realized just how long it’s been since he last masturbated.

Shimmying out of his boxers, he revealed his soft cock squeezing his base and working his hand lower until he reached the tip. "Fuck” he breathed out as he swirled his palm around the head of his cock softly.

Reaching inside his bedside drawer he pulled out a bottle of lotion, pumping a few squirts in his hand, rubbing it up and down, coating his thick length.

"Mmm, that's so good" he tilted his head to the side slightly and pursed his lips as he watched his dick getting harder with every stroke.

He pumped his length faster, groaning quietly as sticky sounds filled up his quiet bedroom.

He licked the pad of his index finger and placed it on his left nipple, rubbing it in small circles. “Just like that” he bucked his hips up and fucked his cock into his fist.

He swallowed thickly, forehead damp with sweat already as he circled the tip with his thumb and index finger, jerking his cock faster and faster. “Oh shit,” he moaned, slowing his pace, panting as he edged himself and biting on his lip while squeezing his balls with his left hand.

His hips jerked upward, and he couldn’t resist the urge to fuck into his palm faster. He brought his hand up to his mouth and spit on it, smearing the sticky substance all over his full sack. “Oh my fucking god,” he breathed out shakily. “Fuck me” he kept going and going until the feeling of arousal in the pit of his stomach was seconds away from bursting.

You went down the hall quietly and decided to just peek inside his door in case he was asleep cause you didn’t want to bother him with your problems. “Fuck fuck fuck” you heard as soon as you opened his door. You gasped at the sight before your eyes, covering your mouth as you stood there frozen in the doorway.

“Y/n?” He looked at you wide-eyed, confused and panicked when he saw you standing in the doorway. By the time he noticed you, it was far too late, and he couldn’t stop himself from cumming long white spurts of cum. “Mmh fuck!” he whimpered at the feeling, his abdomen tightening as he tried to grab his blankets and cover up the rest of his release.

You watched as thick ropes of cum shot out of his pink tip, and that must have brought you back to reality cause you ran back to your room, clutching your heart while trying to catch your breath.

Heeseung rested his head against the backboard of his bed, panting loudly. “Fuck” he knew he really screwed up by not locking the door, but he thought you’d be asleep by now.

He had an internal debate with himself about whether he should go and talk to you or just leave it be, but he supposed he should get it over with while it was still fresh cause the longer he avoided it, the more awkward it would be, and he didn’t want you dodging him because you had caught him touching himself.

He got out of bed and went to the bathroom, putting a clean rag underneath the faucet and running warm water on it to wipe his shaft clean before changing into a new pair of boxers and shorts, along with a shirt.

He prayed that he didn’t scar you with that image, and not to say it’d make it any better, but the fact you came in right as he was cumming was like the worst-case scenario.

“That’s so embarrassing,” he facepalmed and knocked on your door.

You sat on your bed replaying that image of your stepdad over and over again, seemingly not being able to get the sight of his cock out of your mind, and you felt so terrible cause you think deep down there was a part of you that actually enjoyed seeing him like that.

The more you thought about it, the louder the words your mother called you rang in your head, and maybe she was right about you. Maybe you were just a slut cause what kind of step daughter would look at her stepdad in a sexual way.

You buried your face in your hands but quickly sat up straight when the knock on your door brought you back to reality. “Y/n, about what happened just now, I’m uhh, I’m really sorry,” he scratched the tip of his nose uncomfortably while standing in your doorway.

You did your utmost best to hide the flustered look on your face. You understood why he was apologizing, but he didn’t need to cause to you there was nothing to apologize for, at least not to you anyway. “It’s okay,” you smiled at him shyly.

“So, did you need me for something?” He asked and clears his throat, hoping to gloss over the whole situation entirely.

You nodded and showed him your homework. He was thankful that you still even wanted to be around him after what you saw, and he was more than willing to help you out.

“Okay, let’s get started then.” he sat next to you like the other night, but something about the way his knee was brushing your thigh made a little something stir inside you.

You could hardly focus on what he was teaching you cause you were too busy staring at his body. You could see his hard nipples peeking through his white t-shirt, and your eyes flashed to his smooth-looking thighs. His shorts had ridden up a bit, revealing the flesh to your eyes.

“Are you getting the hang of it a little better now?” He asked once he finished explaining, and you shook your head back and forth as he just smiled and dropped his head in defeat. “Well, it’s getting late. Would you like to pick this up tomorrow night after I get home from work?”

“Sure,” you agreed with a small smile. “Goodnight, heeseung,” you whispered shyly.

He turned around and looked at you with a pleasant smile on his face. “Goodnight, y/n. Get some rest, okay?” You nodded, and he closed your door, going back inside his room to an empty bed, but he wasn’t expecting any less. He took off his shorts and laid down on the bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow.

“Wow, it’s only eleven, and we’re already done,” heeseung smiled at you. He had just gotten off of work and was helping you with your homework like he promised you last night. “I’m proud of you, kiddo.” he patted your head like you were a little kid, and you pouted. “Now, next week, I want you to finish at least half, and I’ll do the other half deal?”

“Only if you stay a little longer,” you said and inched closer to him. To your luck, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Why?” He asked to his knowledge all your work was done.

“Just help me organize a little,” you said sheepishly.

“Fine, okay, but promise me you’ll clean your room after? It looks like a tornado came by,” he laughed.

“Stop,” you giggled and pushed his shoulder.

He smiled at the simple interaction between the two of you, feeling happy that you were finally opening up to him and accepting him in your life.

“Fine, I’ll be quiet.” he put his hands up in defense while laughing softly.

After you were both done organizing all the mess, heeseung’s phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hey baby,” he answers the phone while holding up his finger for you to give him a minute. “Not for another hour?” he frowned. “Okay, I’ll see you later, love,” he hung up the phone. “That was your mom. She said she won’t be back until later, so…” he said sadly. He knew she was busy working on her own things, but the constant coming home late for the past few months was getting to be quite annoying to him.

The time he had with his wife was basically nothing. He was starting to feel lonely every single day and night. The only thing that kinda cheered him up was coming home and getting closer to you, but that didn’t make up for all the lost time with his lover.

You noticed his sad expression, and you felt bad cause you knew exactly how he was feeling. One thing you knew about your mother was every day after work, she went out to drink, leaving you sad and alone, before she met heeseung, she hooked up with men at the bar, and you’re sure she is still doing that to this very day cause nothing about her has changed, not even after getting married to a guy like heeseung.

She was a lost cause ever since the day you’ve known her. Maybe that’s why your real dad divorced her, but you can’t say you thought very highly of him because he left you all alone with her.

While heeseung was sulking at her absence, she was probably wasted and in the passenger seat of some random guy's car. That’s just the type of girl your mom was, sadly.

You still don’t understand how she managed to get a guy like heeseung, so far from what you’ve seen. He was sweet, caring, and thoughtful. You hadn’t known him for long, but he seemed like a good man.

And you knew it would probably crush him if he found out that she was stealing money from his drawer behind his back and talking about him to her friends. You didn’t have the heart to tell him either besides, it wasn’t your business to get into. “I’m actually not feeling too well.” he left your room quietly with his head hung low.

Since he was always trying to cheer you up, you decided to return the favor since he liked the dinner you made for him the other day you were going to cook for him. You knew he always ate out most of the time, and that wasn’t nurturing for a hard-working man like himself.

You left your room and knocked on his door. “Hey, I’m gonna go out for a while, just so you know,” you informed him.

“Want me to drive you? I don’t mind,” he suggests.

“Nope, I’m good.” You politely refuse his offer cause you just wanted him to have a break.

“Oh,” he sighed, feeling even more useless than he usually does. “Be safe, yeah?”

“I will!” You smiled and shut his door.

“I guess I’m not needed by anyone,” he mutters to himself, and he can’t help but overthink things about his relationship and marriage with his wife. Things had just been progressively going downhill, and he didn’t even know why. “Whatever.” he rubbed his eyes and laid back on his bed. There was nothing else to do, so he decided he might as well get some rest for work tomorrow.

About an hour later, he unfortunately woke up from his nap and went downstairs to see you in the kitchen. “Mom not home yet?” He asks as he sat down at the kitchen table.

You shook your head back and forth, and you were getting slightly annoyed by him talking about her all day. “I cooked dinner for you since she’s not here to do it for you,” you added to show him that you could be there for him when she wasn’t.

“Wow, okay!” He laughed. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he said once you placed the plate down in front of him.

You bit your lip to hide your satisfied smile. “I’m glad.” You poured him a glass of water and sat it down next to his plate.

“Thank you,” he grinned before digging into the food you cooked for him. “Mmm, it’s good.” he nodded his head approvingly as he piled up his fork with another big bite.

“You’re welcome.” You walked behind his chair and placed your hands on his big shoulders, giving him a small massage.

“Oh,” he chuckled airily. “What did I do to deserve this king treatment?” He asked with an amused tone.

“Oh, nothing. You’re just always doing things for me, so I decided to return the favor.” You used the pads of your thumbs to massage out the tension in his neck.

“It’s nothing for me, really, so you don’t need to,” he assures.

“But I want to,” you whisper and place your hands lower on his back.

“Mmm, that feels so good,” he sighed in relief as his eyes fell shut.

“Yeah?” You applied more pressure, and he groaned when you hit an extra sore spot.

“Yeah, it does feel good.” he leaned forward in his chair so you could reach further down his back. It’s been a really, really long time since he’s gotten a massage, and your hands worked wonders on him. “Really good”

Once you got done with his back, you trailed your hands around his waist and up his wide chest, massaging his hard pecs.

Though what you were doing felt good, it was a bit awkward for him, and it didn’t feel quite right. “Umm, aren’t you gonna eat?” He asked you. “I mean, your food will probably get cold, so you should eat.” he cleared his throat as you sat down at the table. “Thanks again for this.” he smiled at you, but you didn’t look at him because of the way he basically told you off.

You ate in silence, and once you were done, you went to your room and left him at the table, confused once again by your ever-changing behavior towards him.

After that initial strangeness on your end, you and heeseung started to get along better despite your little mood changes whenever he brought up your mom. You knew he was married to her, but she didn’t act like his wife nor service him the way you did, so why wasn’t he looking at you? You did everything and more for him, but you still weren’t getting the affection from him that you craved.

You wanted him to praise you for doing your homework and tell you you did a good job when you cleaned, but he merely thanked you and went on about his day. You knew it was irrational to want him to feel the same way you felt about him for you.

But you couldn’t help it, and you chalked it up to having a terrible childhood. You didn’t get love from your parents, and you always got bullied at school, so when the first person started showing you any ounce of decency, you wanted more and more, and you were willing to do whatever it took to make heeseung notice your efforts.

And since your mom was going on vacation today, this would be the perfect time to make your move.

“Why do you never tell me about these things?!” Heeseung shouted at his wife angrily. “All you do is run out of the house. You barely tell me what you’re doing, and you ignore me all the time.” So much for not lashing out again, but after weeks of his wife’s absence, could he even be at fault for getting angry anymore?

“Baby, I know it’s sudden, but it was for me too, okay? I’ll tell you everything next time. I promise I’ll let you know all my schedules a week in advance,” she told him calmly.

Truth be told, she didn’t have any schedules. Her “schedules” were simply hanging out with friends or strange men til ungodly hours of the night.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I know, I know. I’m sorry for yelling again.” he frowned. “I’m just so stressed with work, and when I get home, you’re gone, baby. I’ve just been missing you so bad lately.” he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug, savoring the last moment with her until she left for a whole week. “Just make sure to answer my calls, okay? And don’t leave me on read. You know I hate that more than anything,” he chuckled.

“I promise I will.” he pecked her lips softly.

“Don’t go,” he whined. “Wouldn’t it look better attending your event with a charming rich husband hanging off your arm?” He laughed.

“Right.” She rolled her eyes playfully and laughed. “Plus, you have work.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” he cupped her cheeks in his hands and pressed one long kiss to her lips. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I know, baby, me too, but I have to go.” She pried his arms off of her waist and grabbed her bags.

“Let me help you.” he tried to grab the suitcase, but she took it from him.

“Thanks, babe, but I have it, okay?” She rushed out.

“Okay, have fun and be safe,” he rambled as she was making her way out the door. “I love you!” He shouted as the door shut. He walked over to the windows and watched her loading up the car and backing out of the driveway.

Sitting down on the bed, he let out a long sigh, something he’s noticed he’s been doing a lot recently. This was going to be one tough week without her.

Only two days had gone by, and heeseung felt like he was going to go crazy. It was already bad enough that he didn’t get to see her after work, but not seeing her at all or being able to cuddle at night was killing him.

What made it all worse was that she did the very thing he hated the most, leaving his messages on read and not answering his calls.

He wasn’t extremely clingy or needy, not to his knowledge anyway, but one thing that grinds his gears was being ignored, and his wife had been doing just that.

He went to his contacts before he could tap the call option. An incoming call from his wife showed up, and his face lit up. “Baby!” He answers the phone happily.

She didn’t genuinely call him cause she cared. She just wanted him to stop blowing up her phone, especially around company. “Hey babe”

“I miss you. I was just about to call you. How’s everything been?” He smiled faintly at the sound of her voice, and he felt relieved cause she actually made it a point to call him instead of waiting for him to initiate.

“It’s good, but I have to stay another week to finish some business,” she lied.

“You have to be kidding me? I can’t wait for you that long. I need to see you,” he said in a whiny tone.

“You will love, I promise. I have to come back for a few hours and pick up some things, so you’ll see me this week,” she cheers, but it couldn’t be more fake.

“Thank god, I feel like I’m going crazy without you,” he pouted.

“Aww, you’re such a lover, boy.” she put her phone on speaker and let her friends hear. They all knew her situation, and they just thought it was funny how heeseung let her use him so blindly.

“Yes, I am, but only for you, baby, you know that,” she muted the phone while she and her friends laughed hysterically at his sappy sayings. “Baby?” He asked when she didn’t answer. The phone was still connected, so he waited for her a bit.

“Of course, I know. I have to go now, see you next week bye,” she hung up.

“Bye, love,” the call ended quickly, and he smiled at the thought of seeing her this week. “Come home soon,” he said to himself and picked up the picture frame of him and his wife together on their wedding day.

Even though you had all this time alone with heeseung, he was always either at work or asleep, and when you asked him for help with your homework, he just told you he was too tired to help you out this week.

So, the whole week went by without you getting him to give you his undivided attention.

But that wasn’t enough to make you stop.

For the rest of the time that your mother was away, you washed, dried, and ironed his suits for him every morning. You made sure he went to work with a full stomach and a clean suit. You even went as far as to run him occasional baths so he could relax when he got home from work. “Thanks for the bath.” he came into the kitchen with a towel around his shoulders.

“No problem,” you smiled once he sat down at the dinner table.

You went to grab a fork out of the drawer for him, and you pretended to drop it on the floor so you could bend over and give him a peek up your tiny shorts.

His eyes flickered down for a moment before he focused on the plate of food in front of him.

Once you finally grabbed it, you turned around and smiled at him. “Sorry,” you whisper and grab a new set of utensils for him. “Here you are.” he smiled in appreciation while you took a seat.

“It’s hot in here.” You pulled down the zipper on your grey hoodie, revealing the top of your cleavage to him as you fanned your chest and moved your hair to the side. “Are you hot?” You ask innocently.

“No, no, I’m good.” he kept his eyes glued to his plate and cleared his throat.

“I’m like really hot,” you exclaim and take off your hoodie, leaving you with nothing but a sports bra on that showed your perky nipples through.

He shook his head and tried to erase the image he had just seen, but unfortunately, it didn’t work. He doesn’t even know why he was looking in the first place, but it was hard not to when you literally had your tits pushed into his view. “Sorry I’ve been so busy this week, but I’ll be able to help you out a little more next week.” he averted his eyes and started a conversation to distract himself.

“Take your time. There’s no rush,” you assured him and placed your hand on the back of his, leaving it there for a few moments too long.

He chuckled awkwardly and moved his hand away from you. “Yeah, you know it is a bit hot. I’m just gonna take this to my room.” he got up and took his plate and glass with him.

He doesn’t know if his mind was just in the gutter, or you were just being overly nice, or the fact he hadn’t been intimate with his wife, but no matter the case, it just didn’t feel right having you be that affectionate towards him, sure he wanted to get close with you but not that close.

He was very appreciative of the things you did for him, but at the same time, there needed to be some boundaries cause he can’t think of a logical reason for your treatment towards him lately. As bad as it sounds, It was almost like you were coming on to him, and in his sad, lonely state, he could almost feel himself breaking and giving in to you. “What am I thinking?” He rubbed at his temples, trying to get rid of the forming headache. “She’s just nice to me, that’s all,” he convinced himself and erased it from his mind, trying to pretend nothing odd was happening between the two of you.

“Is there a reason you answered none of my calls?” He spoke to his wife while she was busy packing and not paying any attention to him. She had just got back, and she was already leaving again.

“I’m busy. I can’t be here twenty-four seven and answering you at your every call,” she said, annoyed.

“I’m not asking you to answer my every call. I’m just saying maybe you could text me and at least tell me you’re alright.” he followed her from room to room so he could get the answers that he’s been wanting for the last couple of months.

“Sorry, when we got married, I didn’t know I was signing up to be your right hand,” she scoffed.

“You’re fucking kidding me right now. You make it seem like I’m just calling you all the time,” heeseung defends himself.

“You do. It’s been one week, and there are more than fifty calls from you. It’s annoying when I’m dealing with my own life,” she groans.

“Well, baby, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be that way,” his tone softened. “You know that, right?”

“I don’t want an apology. I just want you to let me breathe a little.”

“Well, I miss my wife, okay? All I do is sleep and go to work, and at night, I just want to spend time with my girl. Is that really asking so much?” His temper rose once again.

“I really just need to pack right now, okay? Now please move,” she brushed past him.

“No! You always do this. Just run out whenever you feel like it. You don’t ever tell me shit. I mean, come on, you’re daughter is fucking here alone, and you have nothing to say to her after you’ve been gone for a whole week? I can’t be the fucking crazy one here,” he yells in frustration.

“I said I’m busy!” She screamed and slapped him across his face.

He looked at her in utter disbelief, the harsh slap echoing throughout the bedroom as the once-heated room began to cool down.

He held his cheek in his palm, and he was at a loss for words. “I’m so sick of you acting like you know everything. You don’t know shit you’re just a pathetic excuse for a man.”

“Baby, come on, you don’t mean that,” he said quietly. He could get loud sometimes, but he was still very fragile at heart.

“I’m starting to, can’t believe I married someone like you in the first place.” The longer she spoke, the more hurtful her words became.

He could almost hear his heart breaking into a million little pieces as he blankly stared at her, packing up her things. “B-but you still love me, right, babe? You’re just saying that because you’re angry, you don’t mean it.” he felt himself becoming weaker and weaker by the second.

“Heeseung, not now. I’m running late as it is.” Deciding to ignore his question, she zipped up her suitcase and started preparing to head out.

“What did you call me?” After they both got married, she never called him anything but babe or baby, so to hear his real name falling from her lips absolutely broke him.

She stood up straight and huffed out a heavy breath. “I’m not going to tell you again. Just leave me alone, and we’ll talk later when I get back.”

“O-okay.” he nodded quietly and sat on the bed so he wouldn’t get in her way as he watched her pack up the rest of her things. He wanted to tell her that he loved her so much before she left, but the words just didn’t come out.

Hours passed by, and he was still just sitting there blankly staring at the wall, wondering what this meant for his marriage.

Years of love and happiness were nowhere to be found these past few months, and he couldn’t help but think this was the beginning of the end of his marriage.

He ran his thumb over the gold band on his ring finger as a tear escaped from his eye.

He quickly composed himself when you walked in his room. “I heard what happened just now. Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, just don’t bother me right now,” he said coldly.

You frowned and closed the door, leaving him to sort out his feelings on his own.

After the way he talked to you, you didn’t feel like doing much, so you just laid in bed, hoping he’d feel better by tomorrow. You resented your mother even more after the way she treated him. You could see her abusing you cause you were her daughter, and she thought you were a failure, but heeseung never did anything wrong, so what right did she have to treat him so harshly?

You closed your eyes, thinking of ways to cheer him up tomorrow before drifting off to sleep.

Heeseung tried calling his wife the next day just to say he was sorry, but he kept getting the dial tone, so he gave up.

He called in to work again. There’s no way he could go to work with this still fresh in his mind cause he couldn’t focus, and he knows that would lead to him not getting a thing done.

He heard rustles in the kitchen, and he went downstairs to see what you were up to. “Morning, y/n,” he mumbled while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey, hee, I’m making breakfast. Would you like some?” He chuckled at the new nickname.

“Hee?” It was pretty random for him, but he still thought it was cute.

“Yeah, unless you don’t like it,” you pouted. “I won’t call you that again.”

“No, it’s fine. It just surprised me, that’s all, so what’s for breakfast?” He joined you at the table.

“Your favorite” you served him like you did every other morning. “Enjoy,” you said and winked at him. You went upstairs to grab his laundry and yours so it would be finished by the time he went back to work.

Once you came back, heeseung had finished eating and was sitting on the couch watching TV. “Hey, I hope you don’t mind. I borrowed one of your shirts since I’m all out of laundry.”

He turned his head in your direction, eyeing you up and down. “I don’t mind at all,” he nods while checking out your exposed chest and your bare thighs.

As wrong as it was, he couldn’t deny that you looked absolutely stunning wearing his shirt.

You smiled when you saw him checking you out, and you sat next to him on the couch. “What are you watching?” You asked innocently as you brushed your knee against his thigh.

“Just uhh, some show I don’t know.” he threw his hand up and let them fall back on his lap softly.

You giggled. “You’re watching something, and you don’t even know what it is?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I guess so,” he gulped as he looked down at your leg.

He knew damn well what he was watching, but it was hard to even think properly when his shirt was riding up your smooth thighs and just inches away from showing off your underwear.

Fuck, this was so wrong. He excused himself and went to the bathroom to catch a breather. He blamed this on the fact of not getting any for so long, but even he knew that was a trash ass excuse.

He tossed some cool water on his face and dried off with a towel, hoping that’d give him some type of clarity.

It didn’t.

He took out his phone from his pocket and tried to phone his wife, but again, still no answer. But for some reason, deep, deep down, he was almost happy she didn’t answer him. “Damn,” he went back to the sofa and sat at least a whole two cushions away from you.

You noticed his distance, but you were determined to get him to finally break for you, so naturally, you moved closer to him once again.

His breath hitched when he saw just how close you were to touching him, and he nearly lost it when you placed your hand on his thigh while focusing on the TV.

A smile finds your lips. When you see how flustered he looks, you can tell he is close to giving in. “I bet you’re tired. Hmm?” You purr next to his ear, subtly stroking his thigh, causing him to release a shaky breath.

“Yes,” he tilts his head back and turns to look at you, eyes already glossed over by desire.

“Yeah? I bet you just want a break after working so hard?” You use the sweetest tone you can muster while slipping your hand under his shirt and rubbing your palm over his pecs.

“You have no idea,” he sighs and leans into your touch more.

“I think I have an idea. I haven’t heard anything coming from upstairs,” you pout and look at him with a sympathetic expression.

“Your mom's just been busy, that’s all. I can handle it,” he replied, knowing exactly what you were getting at, and he told a white lie he couldn’t handle it.

“I can tell,” you hold in a laugh, referring to the night you had caught him “handling it.�� “Why don’t you let me help?” You placed your hand above his clothed crotch, pressing down on it slightly. “I can see just how unhappy, tired, and lonely you are.” You leaned in and kissed his neck, tipping him off the edge with your words. “I’ll do what she doesn’t.” You reached inside his pajamas, gripping his shaft, earning a strained groan from him.

That’s what did it.

He couldn’t resist anymore. You had caught him at his absolute lowest, and at this point, all he wanted was some attention. He just wanted someone to care about him. You were there, and his wife just wasn’t.

“You wanna help your daddy, huh?” The idea that this was wrong completely vanished from his mind in this moment. He didn’t care about cheating. How could he when he had his pretty little pliant stepdaughter so eager to make him feel better?

You nodded, getting ready to listen to any and everything that your stepdad desired.

“Keep stroking it, princess” he lazily spread his legs, giving you more space to work his cock up and down. “Why do you wanna help me so bad? Hmm, pretty?” His hand came up to your cheek, rubbing it softly.

“Cause you deserve it, Daddy” You bite your lip, arousal already seeping from your untouched cunt as your tiny hand jerks his pulsing shaft. He felt so thick and warm inside your hand.

“That’s daddy’s good girl.” he laid back, resting his head against the couch, watching you pleasure him.

When you grabbed the waist of his pants, he immediately lifted his hips so you could free his huge leaking cock.

“Daddy,” you gasp from the size of him eyes sparkling when you see just how big he is, and you can’t help but stick your tongue out and swipe it over his tip, tasting his salty precum. “Hmm, so good” you lap at his slit to get another taste.

“Yeah?” He chuckles slightly as he cocks an eyebrow tilting his head to the side so he can see the way your tongue swirls around his thick cock head.

You hum, too busy with licking his length to respond properly.

He lifted his shirt up a little higher when you wrapped your lips around him and sunk down halfway, his face automatically scrunching in pleasure.

Strings of saliva trickled down his cock as you forced yourself to take him in deeper, hollowing your cheeks and making sure not to scrape him with your teeth. “Fuck princess, you’re sucking daddy so g-good” his hand was placed on the back of your head, stroking your hair as you leaned down further, attempting to take him balls deep only to gag once you got a little more than halfway. “Oh shit,” he grunted as your throat tightened up on his cock. The sound of you gagging on his length was like music to his ears. “That’s daddy’s good little girl,” you moaned as you tried to take him again, but he was so big that you choked every single time you tried. But judging by his quick breaths and moans, you must have been doing something he liked.

You held onto his thighs, pulling off his length gripping his base, and tapping his tip on your tongue before encasing his hard cock again. “There you go precious, take my dick” he slowly bucked his hips up fucking into your throat, making you gag every time his tip met your tonsils. “Gonna make your daddy cum” he throat fucked you faster, deeper rougher as your nails dug into his thighs. The slight pain only added more to the pleasure as he pushed your head down until your bottom lip kissed his balls.

You almost felt like you were going to regurgitate, but you wanted to please him, so you did your best to hold it down as you felt him twitching in your mouth.

His rough thrusts came to a stop finally after his cock had rubbed your throat raw. “Cumming!” You could barely register his words before you felt his thick, creamy seed squirting down your throat and spilling on your tongue. “Swallow princess,” his breath was unsteady as he rolled his hips, riding out his high while you drank his cum like a good little obedient stepdaughter. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off his softening cock and turning your face to him so he could kiss you. “Come here,” he whispers, and you barely comprehend what he says, but your body slowly moves closer to him when you see him awaiting your kiss. “Hmm,” he moans, feeling your hot mouth on his and the strong taste of his cum still lingering in your mouth.

You whimper into the kiss, and he grips your waist, easily lifting you up and placing your core right on top of his cock. “Daddy,” you mewl when you feel his hot length pressed between your pussy lips, and you can’t control your hips as you start grinding on him.

“Naughty” he nibbles your bottom lip and grabs your ass with his big hands to guide your delicate body over his hardening girth. “Wanna ride me, is that it?” He groans against your neck, stealing a few kisses while he waits for your answer.

“Mmm, yes, daddy.” you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. You’ve never been with a guy before cause your mother always forbade you, so all this was new to you, but the feeling of wanting something inside of you was so strong that you couldn’t help but say yes.

“Let daddy make you feel good first.” he grabbed your thighs, lifting you up and switching positions on the couch. He stood up for a moment, pulling his pants off the rest of the way and ripping his shirt off.

As you lay on the couch, getting the full view of his bare body, you can’t help but gush arousal from your core, and you realize the little glimpse of him you got when you caught him touching himself left so so much more to be desired.

Once he got down on his knees, he spread your legs open and wasted no time burying his face deep into your soaking clothed core, inhaling your strong scent. “You smell so fucking amazing” his eyes nearly roll back in his head once he sniffs you again.

You squirmed on the couch from his words, feeling embarrassed. “Baby wasn’t so shy to suck daddy off earlier,” he teased, gripping your shorts and pulling them down like you did to him minutes ago. You followed his lead, raising your hips up so he could strip you of your clothing, and just the sight of your little pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing had him throbbing so hard. “You’re really wet,” he whispers in complete awe of the translucent liquid staining your little hole and thighs. You looked so pretty he wished he could take a picture to capture this moment forever. “You must really like sucking your stepdad off, huh?” He chuckled darkly, leaving you to feel embarrassed yet turned on at the same time.

“Yes,” you reply. He wasn’t expecting you to even say anything back, but he wasn’t disappointed either.

“That’s my girl,” he smirked and rubbed over your thighs with his warm hands, getting you nice and comfortable kissing on your inner thighs to get you loosened up a bit more.

You shivered at every single one of his touches, only getting wetter by the second, you bit your lips, whimpering needily as your body began to grow impatient with need for your stepdad.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good, pretty.” Those were his last words before his head got lost between your thighs as he slowly tongued down your dripping folds.

“Oh, Daddy.” The loud moan coming from your lips makes him chuckle, sending a little vibration through your core, which gains another unfiltered moan from you. Luckily for you both, he has a mansion cause if he didn’t, those two screams alone would have wakened the neighbors.

He reached his hands under your shirt, gripping your soft mounds, adding to the already mind-numbing pleasure.

You placed your hands over his as he fondled your breasts. “Fuck heeseung” his eyes fell shut when you said his name, and he was so close to humping the sofa to relieve the built up tension between his legs, but he wanted to hold it so he could cum in you after he ate you out.

You’re so lost in pleasure that you mindlessly roll your hips, rubbing your clit on his perfect pointy nose while he slurps your yummy wetness. “Keep fucking daddy’s face,” he rasps against your core. That’s what made you notice what you had been doing the whole time, and to say you were embarrassed would be a huge understatement, but you couldn’t stop rolling your hips cause his face and tongue felt so good.

He dropped one of his hands between your legs, easily finding your hole and sticking a finger knuckle deep into your wet heat.

“O-oh,” all the air got sucked from your body when you felt his digit invading your insides, and you rode his finger, eyes rolling back while you focused on the delicious feeling of something being so deep inside you, your own fingers never satisfied you the way his were right now.

He looked up from between your legs, eyeing your blissed-out state, the sight making his cock stiff as he plunged another finger inside you, desperate to see and hear your reactions to what he was doing to you.

“Mmh fuck!” you cried when you felt your walls being stretched open more than they ever had before. “It feels s-so good, Daddy” You close your eyes, too far gone to even care that you’re now shamelessly fucking his face and fingers as you run a hand through his hair.

He wouldn’t have it any other way, and the suspicion he once had about himself not being able to please a woman quickly went out the window as he saw you in complete euphoria.

He pumped your tight hole full of his digits, curling them up and caressing your upper walls to bring you the utmost satisfaction. He laid his tongue flat on your clit, and you swore you saw stars heat flooded your whole body, a weight forming in your lower stomach and your body quivering intensely.

All it took was one glance between your legs and the tip of his skilled tongue flicking on your clit to make you clamp down on his fingers as your high took over your entire body. “Fuck fuck!” He hummed, encouraging you to let yourself go as you creamed his fingers with your milky white release.

He kissed your clit, praising you as your walls finally let go of his fingers. “My good girl cumming on daddy’s fingers,” he hums. “Can’t get enough of you, princess, tastes too fucking good,” he mumbled into your core, licking up all your sticky wetness until you were clean and covered in nothing but his stringy spit.

“H-heeseung,” you pant his name in broken syllables, trying to regain your composure.

“Did you like cumming on my fingers, pretty?” He laughs softly.

You nod, too shy to tell him how you really feel. “So shy,” he grins and kisses each of your thighs softly. “Adorable”

He stands up off the carpet sitting next to you on the couch once again, setting you down on top of his dick, only this time you’re without your underwear. “You ready for me?” He smirks, feeling your pussy throbbing on top of his dick, knowing you want it.

You nod and immediately hide your face in his neck, which he finds adorable. He’d never seen someone so shy yet so eager for him. “Daddy’s girl,” he puts his hands on your waist, grinding you back and forth, lubing up his dick for you to sink down on as he wraps his arm around you holding you up slightly so he can slip his cock in your hole. “Ready, princess?” he whispers in your ear, his tip positioned at your opening.

He waits a moment and soon withdraws a bit after a minute of waiting for your confirmation. “Hey, you’re okay. Look at me.” he held your face in his hands, scanning your worried-looking features. “If you want to stop, we can,” he said softly and stroked your cheek, eyes filled with nothing but concern.

You felt terrible now cause of his words, the fact that you had led him on without knowing how to please him, and now that he was going to sacrifice his pleasure for your comfort made you feel even worse. “No, just wanna please you, Daddy.” You roll your hips, but he immediately holds you still.

“You already did, princess. Just let Daddy clean you up and take care of you.” he kissed your cheek, but you put your hands on his chest, determined to give him what he deserves.

“I’m sorry for disappointing you,” you mumbled. “I wish I could please you, but I’m a virgin, and I don’t know how.” you’re on the brink of tears, fearful that you had let him down or made him upset and your biggest fear was letting yet another person you cared about down.

He looked at you intently, and he couldn’t believe what you had said. He was far from upset with you. If anything, he was angry at himself. He didn’t know you hadn’t been touched by someone else yet, especially cause you were so nice and beautiful. What idiots were passing up someone like you? He wished he had of asked if you were a virgin before doing anything with you cause he could have made your first time so much more special and intimate.

“Sorry,” you whisper, tears in your eyes. And his silence was only making it worse.

“No, princess, don’t apologize.” he shushed you and caressed your sides. “I’m not mad at you,” he assured. “I’m mad at myself for not asking and taking my time with you. Give me a kiss.” he leaned in, a sound of approval coming from his mouth when you pulled away. “You still wanna take care of your Daddy, right?” He smiles when you nod. “Then let’s go upstairs. Let Daddy be the first one to have you. What do you say, hmm? You trust me, right?”

“Yes,” he picked you up like nothing and walked up to your room, laying you in your bed.

He quickly shuts the door and locks it just in case while you slip off his shirt from your shoulders. “I’ll go slow, okay?” he mutters once he’s on top of you.

You instinctively wrap your legs and arms around him as he bends down, pressing his lips to yours, starting out slow and gradually rutting his cock against your swollen pussy.

He kissed down your jaw and your neck, licking slowly and sensually to build you up for what was to come just so you could come crashing down on his cock when the time comes.

“Hee,” whines leave your lips as you etched your nails into his toned back.

He moans on your skin, flicking your earlobe with his tongue, making you shiver before he works his way down to suck your hard nipple into his mouth. “Ah ah,” You arch up into him, meeting his slow thrust and rutting yourself on his rock hard dick.

“So pretty.” He tightly gripped your bedsheets, feeling his need for you grow stronger with each passing second.

A glob of spit falls from his mouth, and he smears it over your tit before sucking it back into his mouth. “So good.” You place one hand in his hair, the other still on his back as your body silently begs for him to be inside.

Switching to your other nipple with a soft moan, he swirls his tongue in a circle, bringing his hand down to cup your left breast. “So soft.” his warm breath blows against your chest, making you shiver with need.

“Want more” you cry as his length slides through your wet folds. You feel like you’re going to explode if you don’t feel him inside you. Though the idea of losing your virginity was scary, the need for him was too strong for you to worry about that, especially when his tip kept poking your hole teasingly.

A relieved sigh leaves his mouth, the words he so badly wanted to hear from you finally coming out. He looks you in the eyes, leaning down to get a taste of your lips one more time. “Daddy’s gonna deflower you now, okay, princess?” You eagerly nod, leaving him with no apprehension as he angles his hips, rutting forward and pressing the head of his cock past your tight entrance.

He grunts from the tightness. It’s almost unbearable. He can barely move with how you keep clamping down on him, and he already feels like he could cum just from that. “Mmm,” he groans, staring at your face, waiting for you to give him any reaction. “Are you okay?” He wills himself to say despite your walls hugging him so tight.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe, trying to adjust. He definitely feels big, and you can’t deny the stretch is painful, and the pain continues on even when he’s halfway inside or what feels like halfway, but when you look down, you see he’s barely even past the tip, and you feel like you’re going to pass out if you try to take him in all the way. “Daddy,” you moan and squirm beneath him, trying to get him to pull out, but he stays nestled inside you, stroking your cheek and shushing you.

“You’re doing so good, princess.” With a kiss on your forehead, he bucks his hips, going in deeper. “I swear it’s gonna feel so good soon.” he inches in and out, feeling a little less resistance, but it’s still really tight.

“Hee,” you struggle to breathe, gripping tightly onto his biceps from the pain.

“Relax, princess, breathe” he nudges his nose against your cheek bringing a hand down to your clit to distract you from the slight discomfort. “That’s it.” he smiles when he hears you moaning softly. “Making Daddy proud,” he grunts when he feels you squeezing his cock impossibly tight.

Your breath managed to stabilize a bit. Moving your hands to his back, you dig your nails deep into his flesh, trying to hang on for dear life before your orgasm hits. “All for Daddy.” your high-pitched moans are a sign that you’re really starting to enjoy it now, so he pushed in halfway and stayed still.

“Fuck doll, so good for your Daddy” he looks down, seeing his cock buried in your tiny cunt, and the sight makes drool pool in his mouth. Your wet walls wrapped around him was the best fucking feeling in the whole world. He’s never felt this good ever. Not even his own wife made him feel this satisfied.

“Feel like I’m gonna cum” Your lips pout, and the longer he circles your throbbing clit, the closer you get to having your second high of the night. “I’m cumming!”

“Cream on this dick, princess,” he nearly cums with you. The way you grip his cock has his mind in a sub-space. He feels so far gone, too far gone, that just your fluttering walls have him emptying his balls deep inside you. “Fuck” he grunts, his shaft pushing inside you with each rope of gooey cum that paints your walls.

“D-daddy,” you claw at his chest, feeling full to the absolute brim. With the way you squeeze around him so tightly.

“Take daddy’s cum” he messily kisses the side of your mouth, sticking his tongue inside and exploring you. “Yeah? You like that? Being full with daddy’s cum” he massages your clit, bringing you down from your high as he fills up your hole with every last dribble of cum.

“Yes, Daddy.” Your compliance makes him completely melt. He can’t understand how you’re so good to him, especially since it’s your first time, and the fact that you were so eager to please him makes him want to please you tenfold.

The slippery, wet sounds coming from your lower half make you tuck away behind your arms, but Heeseung wasn’t having none of that. “No, no, none of that.” he pins your arms above your head, making sure you don’t pull something like that again. “You’re gonna look me in the eyes when I fill you up, understand?”

“Understand.” You nod, and it makes him smile above you.

“That’s daddy’s good girl” Even after cumming he was still hard. He couldn’t seem to get enough of you as he rolled his hips, easily sliding in now due to all the slickness between your bodies. When he bottomed out, you couldn’t help but cry continuously in pleasure, your moans encouraging him to speed up his thrust til he found a perfect pace. He pulled out halfway and pushed back in, drawing out more loud moans from you. “So fucking tight,” he grunts, gripping your wrist tightly above your head while his balls slap against your cum covered ass. “Look at that creamy little pussy swallowing my cock so well.” He moans.

You were writhing on his cock, body quivering in pleasure as you laid there and took what your daddy had to give you like a good girl. “Heeseung,” you said his name weakly. It was all just too much for you to handle. The room felt like it was spinning and everything felt so hot.

“Shh, doll, just hold onto me.” he released your arms, and you immediately clung to his body for some type of support and to ground yourself. “That’s it,” he whispers and kisses your face all over. “So good for me” he lowered himself to his elbows, gripping onto the sheets again before fucking into you faster. “All for me”

You’re not even sure what sounds you were making at this point, but you had been completely given over to pleasure as he pounded into you, his sweaty skin clapping against yours and adding to the already filthy sounds in the steamy room. “Want more of daddy’s cum princess?” His hips falter, and this time, you can actually feel him twitching inside you, and it makes your eyes roll back in your head.

“Yes, yes, yes! Daddy fuck me full of your cum. Give it to me, please.” Your mouth falls open as little continuous uh sounds leave your lips. Each time his tip kissed your cervix.

“Yeah, daddy’s gonna fuck his princess full” You clench around him when you hear him grunting as he speeds up his hips fucking into you hard, just how you deserve it. You automatically pull him closer so you can kiss him. If you could even call it a kiss, both of your mouths hung open, moaning loudly as you messily swirl your tongues together.

He thumbs your clit, and you could no longer keep up with the kiss. Despite you not kissing him anymore, he still made out with your swollen lips, swiping his tongue over them and nibbling softly as you both exchanged saliva.

Your arms hung loosely around him, your legs shaking and toes curling as the knot in your stomach snapped and pleasuring shockwaves flowed throughout your body. “Oh my god,” he growls inside your mouth as your velvety walls give him the most pleasure he’s ever felt in his life. “Keep going, keep soaking your daddy’s big cock, fuck- cumming!”

“D-daddy,” you stutter against his lips, gripping his waist harshly as he fucks his load deep inside you filling you up with spurt after spurt of his cum.

“Oh fuck, so good” he kissed you one last time, leaning back to stroke your cheek a little while after he finished, he quickly checked on you instead of marveling in the aftermath. “You alright?” He asks, looking down at your skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and chest heaving.

You weakly nodded, and he smiled, leaning down to you and kissing all over your chest once he caught his breath. “Was that good for your first time? He asks with a seriousness in his tone. He knew you didn’t have any prior experience to compare to, but he still wanted to know if you enjoyed it as much as him.

“It was perfect,” you croak out, and he can’t help the huge grin that takes over his face.

He ever so carefully pulls out of you, biting on his lip as he watches gushes of white leaking from your cunt. “I’m gonna go grab something to clean you up, okay?” He tells you softly, stroking your arms up and down soothingly, yet you hang onto him, not letting him move any further from his spot.

“Later,” you whine, and he feels your body still trembling, and he can’t help but smile, knowing that he gave it to you that good to the point you were shaking.

“Later,” he reiterates with a chuckle, ducking his head down to kiss you some more.

And not for one second did he regret anything that he had just done. Even when he saw the gold wedding band shining on his ring finger, he simply slipped it off, putting it on the nightstand before taking you to the bathroom to bathe together a little while later.

“Just like that princess,” your stepdad groans as you bounce up and down on his big thick cock.

This has been going on for the past couple of days. You and heeseung had been going at it like complete animals nonstop. No part of the house was untouched when you were together.

The day before yesterday, he had you bent over the kitchen counter while you were making breakfast. He came downstairs and snuck up behind you, pressing his morning hard-on against your ass, persuading you to turn off the stove so he could stuff you full of his cock and cum, which led to you both skipping breakfast only to go another round in the shower later.

The next day, he took you from behind on the staircase cause when he came home from work, he was too impatient to go upstairs.

Today, he decided to let you ride him on the couch while his wife was still away on vacation. “Does it feel g-good, Daddy?” You bit your lip, toying with your breasts right in front of his eyes as you bounced up and down on his dick, and the way your tits jiggled with every movement had him completely mesmerized by you.

“Fuck yes! don’t fucking stop, princess. Daddy’s gonna cum in this pussy again” Oh, you forgot to mention he had already fucked you on the couch in missionary prior to you riding him.

“Give me all your cum, Daddy” You rotated your hips, sinking lower on him, making a mess on his stomach and the sofa beneath your bodies.

“Fuck” he hissed, throwing his head back and digging his fingertips into your plush ass as he came for the second time today. “Shit,” he grits his teeth, gripping your hips tightly to lift you up and down your ass colliding with his thighs as he finished inside you. Once he was done, he smacked your ass, making you clench around him as his cum dripped out of your swollen cunt and down his pulsating shaft.

“Hmm, Daddy,” you whine, still grinding your hips and fucking yourself on his cock.

He lifts you off his lap and chuckles slightly when you whine at the loss of him inside you. “Lay down for me love.”

You immediately obey and lay your back down on the couch as he situates himself between your legs, sticking his tongue out flat and slurping up his cum mixed with your wetness. “Always taste so fucking good” he stuffed your cunt full of his fingers, curling them deep inside you and rubbing your walls just the way he knows you like it. “Suck on daddy’s fingers, baby” he taps your lip with his fingers and slowly guides them into your mouth. You start sucking on them the same way you do to his cock. “Good,” he cooed, going back to licking at your clit.

His hot breath fans your heat, and you swear you see stars when he presses down on your tongue, gagging you with his long, thick fingers.

You feel yourself going crossed eyed as he sucks your clit, bringing you closer to your high you try to say your step dads name, but you can’t cause his fingers are shoved deep down your throat, not to say you’d even be able to speak cause the way he finger fucked you was just so good it left you speechless.

He locked his eyes with yours. Loving the nasty scene in front of him, drool was dripping from your lips as you played with your hard nipples.

“Cum” he mumbled while eating you out and flicking his tongue on your swollen clit.

Whenever he said that word, it didn’t take you long to cream around him. “Yes, Daddy,” you shirked, legs shaking while he worked you through the pleasure. He got a little carried away and continued to lap at your clit to hear your pretty noises some more, “No m-more,” you cry out, but your plea falls on deaf ears as he sucks on your clit harder. Your body jolts. It’s a mixture of pain but undeniable pleasure, and before you can protest, another orgasm is rippled from you, and it feels even more intense than the first one as you squirted all over his face. You felt embarrassed and tried to pull away, but he held you close, rubbing his face all over your pussy and flicking your upper walls until he got everything out of you.

“God damn,” he groans, finally pulling away to catch a breather but diving right back in between your legs, gulping loudly and hungrily, swallowing up all your essence. “So fucking good” your taste was making him feel so weak. You could literally bring him to his knees any time you pleased cause he couldn’t get enough of your addictive taste.

He pulled his fingers away from your mouth to open you up. He spread your thighs, cleaning everything up with his tongue, and he was so tempted to lick the residual squirt off the couch, but he controlled himself and opted to lick your hole, hoping to get every last drop out of you.

You were moaning continuously, barely coherent of what was going on, but you knew you didn’t want him to stop even if you felt like passing out. “Love this pussy” he kissed your clit. “From now on, this pussy is mine, so sweet, so perfect” he went on and on about you just burying his face into your cunt, wishing he could drown in your arousal.

“Daddy,” you say, mustering up every ounce of strength to look down between your legs, only to fall back down when you see his warm skilled tongue roaming every inch of your vulva.

“Hmm, princess,” his eyes fluttered shut, getting lost in the taste of you. Even when his tongue felt sore, he didn’t stop. “Fuck” he spat on your crotch, slurping it back up only to do it again over and over, just devouring your hole with every lick and suck.

After five more minutes of your constant whining while he licked you clean, he was hard again, and he finally pulled away to get some relief. “Where do you want it?” He said, jerking his cock in front of you.

You beckoned him closer, taking his shaft in your hand and rubbing his precum-stained tip on your lips before sucking him inside your mouth. “So fucking to me,” he grunted while slowly fucking your throat. He reached down, placing his hand on your neck, feeling it bulge when you swallowed him all the way down. “Fuck I can’t hold it. Gonna cum” he splutters out, tightly gripping your throat and violently cumming in your precious little mouth. “Ah fuck! Mhm- so g-good that’s it swallow for daddy,” he pants, thighs tensing and balls tightening as he gave you his cum for the third time today. He gently pulled out of your mouth, gripping his base and softly tapping his tip on your bottom lip. “My good girl,” he breathes out, stroking your cheek as you smile up at him from his possessive words, and you felt happy knowing that you were finally able to please and satisfy someone.

Neither of you were even able to speak after that. he laid right beside you, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and laying it over your tired bodies, knowing you were far too tired to be concerned with cleaning up, and rightfully so cause he was absolutely exhausted as well.

As fun as everything was in the moment when heeseung laid eyes on his wife once she got back from vacation, he felt incredibly guilty. He felt terrible, especially cause she was treating him so well for the first time ever since the move-in.

His conscience was eating him alive whenever she’d make dinner for him and go out of her way to make him feel special. One of the worst feelings was when she’d come to him in the bedroom, no matter if he wanted to or not. He just couldn’t get in the mood to do anything cause he knew he’d see your beautiful face and hear your precious moans every single time.

“You don’t want me?” She asks back, hugging him while he sits at the edge of the bed.

“No baby, i do, I do, but I’m just so tired right now, okay? We can do something tomorrow, yeah?” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

She didn’t exactly care cause she didn’t want anything to do with him anyway, but she pretended to treat him good since she came back from vacation so he wouldn’t still be upset with her. She had to stay on his good side for a little longer to collect more money before she filed for a divorce.

She never loved him to begin with. She just saw that he was oblivious and unreasonably nice, and she used that to her advantage to get with him. She had someone younger and better-looking living across the country, and she couldn’t wait to leave this hell hole and go live the life she’s been dreaming of.

“I mean it, anything you want, we’ll do it tomorrow.” he turned around, pulling her smaller body to his chest, not even believing the words he was spewing out himself.

“Hey,” you say with a shy smile as heeseung enters your room.

“Hi,” he says timidly and wipes his sweaty palms on his pants.

You stood up and walked over to him, standing on your tippy toes to kiss him, but he dodged it. “What’s wrong? Is my mom here?” You say, confused because that’s the only thing you could think of that was making him shy away from your kisses. He just shook his head as a no and sighed. “So kiss me.” You leaned into him, placing your hands on his hard chest and going in for a second kiss, only for him to reject you a second time.

“Y/n,” he holds your wrists, pushing you back slightly. “We can’t do this anymore,” he says regretfully.

Your expression morphed into a sad one as you heard him say those words to you. “Why? Did I do something wrong? I can fix it, I promise.” You drop your hands to his zipper, desperate to right your wrongs, but he just holds you still yet again.

Fuck he thought to himself when he saw you getting ready to get on your knees for him. Always such a good little girl for your daddy. He quickly shook his head, ignoring those thoughts cause that was a thing of the past. You’d never be his princess again, and he would never be your daddy. From now on, it was strictly a stepdad-stepdaughter relationship, nothing more.

“Look what we did,” he sighs. “I made a mistake, okay?” He lied. He didn’t think it was a mistake at all, but he just felt like it was the right thing to say right now. “I-I was just hurt, sad, and lonely, and I did something stupid it meant nothing to me, okay? I have a wife that I love very much, and I’m here because I’m asking you not to say anything to her about what we did together.” You did your best to keep a straight face, but it was hard because, yet again, here you were, getting your feelings ignored and overlooked. Even when you did everything to please him, it still wasn’t good enough, and maybe everything your mom said about you was true. Maybe you were just useless.

“Okay,” you give him a fake smile and walk back to your bed.

“So we’re okay? You’re not gonna say anything to her, right?” He checks with you just to make sure you’re both on the same page, and you nod your head. “Okay,” he whispers. “And you’re sure you’re fine? Nothings gonna change between us?” He asks once more before leaving.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Like you said, it was just a stupid mistake people make mistakes.” You shrugged, pretending like the past week you were with him didn’t mean anything to you. Unfortunately, it did, and though your initial plan was to just get validated, recognized and cared for, those feelings quickly changed into something more when heeseung treated you like his princess. How could you not grow a liking for him? You knew it was wrong cause he was your stepdad, but he didn’t treat you like that. He cared for you in a different way, catering to your needs and making you feel good, something that you’ve never felt in your life before, and now that it was being taken away, of course, you cared. It hurt you deeply, but you realized you’d never be important to anyone no matter what you did, not to your parents, not to Heeseung, absolutely no one.

“But..” he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something stupid.

He knows he said it was a mistake, but he wasn’t expecting you to say that, too. Even though it has only been a week, he did feel a connection to you, something deeper than he’s ever felt before, something he’s never felt with his wife or anyone for that matter, and to hear you say that it was a mistake after you made it seem like you were into him for more than just sex made him feel extremely hurt. “Yeah, nothing more but a stupid mistake,” he chuckled and left your room, slamming the door shut on his way out.

And despite having his wife by his side, that same lonely feeling was creeping up on him, and once again, he felt useless, like he wasn’t wanted or needed by anyone.

“Baby, come to me,” he called his wife over to the couch. “You wanna watch a movie with me?” He asked, and she joined him on the sofa, kissing his cheek.

“Sure!” She cuddles up next to him, acting extra fake.

“Do you want to pick?” He says, stroking her shoulder lightly, finding it hard to even smile next to her.

“You can, babe,” she responds as he’s scrolling through the movies. He decided on something that sounded interesting.

He felt nothing but undeniable guilt.

Twenty minutes later, you come downstairs and go into the fridge, grabbing some water.

Heeseung can’t help but turn his attention towards you, and he wished he hadn’t when he saw you in the skimpiest sleepwear a girl could buy. “Fuck” he mutters under his breath.

“Hmm?” His wife looked up at him.

“Oh, nothing,” he fake laughs.

You walk back upstairs, and heeseung cranes his neck to the side, staring at you until you were out of his sight.

You came down dressed like that on purpose to show him what he was missing out on. Even if he was just using you cause he was lonely, you still knew he couldn’t resist your body, and you were going to make him pay for thinking that you were just there as free use to him.

“Hey, y/n, how are you?” There’s no doubt you hear your step dads voice coming from the kitchen when you walk in from school, but you pay him no attention, going straight upstairs to your room.

His smile faded as he massaged at his temples, releasing a long sigh.

“I told you you shouldn’t have gone easy on her. Now look, she disrespects you the same way she does me,” his wife annoyingly chimes in.

“And here we go with this again,” an annoyed expression is visible on his face as he sits up from his chair and goes to your room while she makes another remark under her breath.

This back-and-forth shit was really pissing him off more and more. One day, he and his wife were getting along perfectly fine like before, and then the next day, he was feeling like he wanted a divorce cause she was treating him like complete garbage.

That route was sounding really good right now because before you and your mom came into his life, it was far less complicated, and he was never angry. Now, every day, he was stressed and he was the only one trying to make ends meet just to have a normal family, but he wasn’t blind. He could see that wasn’t happening because his wife just wasn’t the same. There was a time when all she wanted was to spend time with him and treat him with respect and love, but now it’s like she couldn’t even stand to be in his presence.

And as far as things go with you and him, he didn’t know, but seeing how you thought being intimate with him was a mistake, he could only assume you wouldn’t miss him if he did file for a divorce. “Y/n?” His voice comes out soft and quiet while he twists the door knob entering your room without any warning.

When you hear his voice, you immediately turn around in bed, not wanting to see his face.

You hear him sigh as the door closes. A few footsteps later, you can feel his weight sinking into your bed. “What’s happening between you and me?” He gets right to the point. “Because you agreed things wouldn’t be different, and maybe I’m blind, but things are so different.” Although he wasn’t trying to have a romantic relationship with you, he still missed your guy’s interactions, like cooking together and watching movies while his wife was away, and even though it took a long time to complete, he even missed helping you study.

The boldness of his statement baffled you. Of course, you knew things were going to be different between you and him, so maybe you shouldn’t have lied about that. But you did it to protect your feelings, and now that he was coming to you in such a way was more than offensive cause was he really that dense not to know that things were bound to be different after fucking your stepdaughter not once but multiple times for multiple days did he really think he could bathe you after sex cuddle you to sleep and make snacks for you in the morning without things changing between you two? Well, apparently, he did because he’s asking you this ridiculous question, but you supposed if you were in his shoes and used someone for pleasure and emotional support just to ditch them when you felt like it, you understood where he was coming from, but that just made you even angrier. “What do you mean?” You sat up and looked at him, sounding completely unbothered.

“Come on, y/n, don’t do this, you know what I mean” he maintains eye contact with you.

“I’ve just been busy, that’s all.” You lie again because there was no point in telling him that you actually liked him. It’d never work, cause he didn’t feel the same for you.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but even I get busy sometimes, and that’s never made me act like you or your mom don’t exist. Whenever I even try to talk to you, you just shut me out, and it’s really annoying.” heeseung was desperate for your attention at this point. He missed you, your body, the passionate moments you shared, the one-on-one conversations, and the bond he had formed with you over the small time span of a week is what he’s been searching for. He thought he had found that with his wife, and in the beginning, it was damn near close, but after spending just a little bit of time with you, he knew that’s what he’s been longing for, the way you begged for him in bed made him feel wanted whenever you asked him for help made him feel needed and at night when you’d sleep in his arms he finally found that peace that was able to take away any stress from his long day.

It was selfish trying to string you along while trying to make things work in his marriage, but right now, and maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly, but he wanted you. He could see a future in your eyes, one he didn’t see with his wife ever.

The only thing stopping him from going through with the divorce was that he’d lose you too, and he wasn’t ready for that at all, at least not yet.

You laugh dryly. “Not everyone is like you.” An accusatory tone can clearly be detected in your voice, and when he hears you say that, he’s not sure if he can continue having this conversation with you because he wasn’t ready for you to tell him about all his flaws. Cause it’d hurt way too bad. Especially hearing it from you.

“You’re right.” The weight on your bed lessens as he stands up and opens your door. “If I can ever help you with anything, just let me know. Hopefully, you won’t be busy too much longer, y/n.” A half smile is the last thing you see before he quietly shuts the door behind him, and you finally allow the tears to gather in your eyes as you lay back down.

Heeseung knew you were lying when you said you were busy. He knew you were ignoring him, or maybe now that you had sex with him, you didn’t care about him at all. He doesn’t really know, and those are a lot of options to choose from, but at the back of his mind, one made more sense than all the others, and that was the fact that you probably just didn’t care about him for real in the first place.

Either way, he was going to find out, he had to because he needed to move on from whatever the hell this was that you and him had going on.

He was having dreams about you, imagining you in his bed. Instead, he even had a dream of marrying you, but he blames that on the fact that divorce has been on his mind lately.

The fact that you and his wife seemed to care nothing about him made him feel worthless as a husband, as a man, and as a stepfather, for what that’s worth.

But he still tried.

He was currently parked outside your school, patiently waiting for you to get out, which would be any minute now. He wanted to take you on a little drive and just talk about everything that’s transpired in the last couple of months.

After he checked the time on his watch, he looked up and saw you walking out of the building. His smile quickly fell when he saw a guy next to you with his arm draped on your shoulder, and man, did that make his blood fucking boil. “Y/n!” He rolls down the window and shouts for you to get into the car.

Unfortunately, your classmate and bully just so happened to follow you out of class today, hugging his arm around you each time you pushed him away. He just kept pestering you, and you weakly gave in like you always did. “Come back to my place, hmm? You look sad, baby. Let me take it away,” he whispered in your ear, making you shudder uncomfortably, which only makes him laugh in your face. “Come on, I know you want it. Wanna feel my big coc.” a loud horn distracted your classmate, and you looked in the direction of it, immediately relieved to see heeseung waiting at the curb for you, yelling for you to get into his car.

You were thankful that he showed up and saved you from your bully, but you were upset because here he was once again, making you care about him even more when you were trying to ignore all those feelings that you gained for him in only a week's time. “I have to go,” you mutter to your classmate and run to heeseung’s car, quickly getting in and shaking off the yucky feeling from your classmate.

“Who was that?” Heeseung asks, trying to keep his composure.

When you don’t answer and choose to look out the window instead of him, his composure had quickly depleted. “I said, who was that?” You still don’t answer, and he grips your chin softly despite how angry he is. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” he restrains himself from yelling, but he doesn’t know for how much longer that will be.

“Why do you care?” You snap and push his hand away from you.

He clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Just cause you won’t tell me doesn’t mean I don’t already know. It’s obvious that he’s your boyfriend.”

Your brows furrow, and he continues. “So you’re just opening your legs for any guy now, huh?” He chuckles sarcastically, and you want to slap him in the face for saying something so stupid. “Should have known, you couldn’t go a day without my cock in you, so now you have to get it somewhere else.”

You part your mouth to say something, but instead, you close it, opting to just say nothing. If he wanted to be that dumb, then you’d let him.

“Does he fuck you better than me?” Heeseung let his jealousy take over his whole body, and he just kept saying stupid shit, but he was too deep in to stop now.

It didn’t make sense to you at first why he seemed angry, but you soon pieced two and two together, remembering how possessive he always was when he was with you. You remembered all the times he’d call you his while cumming in you. “So much better” You roll your eyes, you know you’re being petty, but it’s only fair to push his buttons a little if he wanted to say ridiculous stuff about you.

Heeseung’s face drops along with his heart, knowing his suspicions about you having a boyfriend were true. He knew you just used him for sex, and nothing you said to him in between the sheets was real, and he couldn’t take knowing that he never meant anything to you in the first place. “I’m sure it’s easy to please a whore like you,” he retaliates.

“Oh, I’m the whore? Says the guy who fucks his stepdaughter and cheats on his wife” You scoff, and to think you weren’t even having sex with your disgusting classmate made this all the more amusing to you.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that. I liked you better when all you did was take my dick and keep your pretty little mouth shut” Your breath hitched when he said that, and you could feel yourself getting turned on by his words and his dominant aura. It took you back to that unforgettable week when you had him all to yourself. “Didn’t you?” His eyes fall on your little skirt, and he can’t help but grip your thigh and trail his hand up your dress, cupping your mound.

“Daddy,” you hold his wrist, keeping his hand in place over your pulsing cunt.

That’s all it takes for him to start his car and pull around the school building, parking in the closest thing to a blind spot. “Back seat now,” he rushes out, turning off the car and yanking his belt off.

You scampered to the back seat, automatically laying on your back. He climbs in after you, smirking when he sees you’re already in position for him. “That’s a good girl.” You melt hearing him call you that after so long and it makes a gush of wetness leak from your hole. “But,” he says, pausing to take off his belt and unfasten his jeans. “You still have to be punished for giving Daddy’s pussy away.”

You were going to tell him you didn’t, but you’re not sure if, in the heat of the moment, he’d believe you, plus you'd rather be punished by him anyway cause it’s what you were used to. “Gonna take daddy’s lesson like a good girl?

“Yes, Daddy,” he smiles, that weird feeling in his chest returning. He loved you so damn much, always just so good to him.

He rolled your dress up your waist, not bothering to fully undress you. This had to be a quickie cause if your mom came home, he didn’t have a valid excuse as to why you two were out for so long.

He swallows the drool that gathers in his mouth when he sees your cute little baby pink panties, the ones he always loved so much cause they always revealed just how wet you were. “Princess,” his eyebrows draw together, and he basically moans at the sight of your pussy. He’s missed it so much that he feels himself losing all type of strength in his body, and it was dangerous because any time you wanted, you could have him however you liked.

The time it takes for him to drop his pants is nonexistent. He reveals his hard veiny cock for your eyes to feast on.

You rubbed your legs together, clenching around nothing at the sight. You miss him inside you so much, and you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again after so long.

He throws his suit tie over his shoulder and hovers over you laying his heavy cock on your core teasingly. “What to do with you?” He hums. “Such a naughty slut giving away what’s not yours” he kissed your cheek, brushing the tip of his nose along your jawline, feeling you up while he thought about how to punish you. “You don’t even deserve my cock” he whispered and licked the shell of your ear.

“Daddy, please,” you whine, already on the verge of tears because you need to feel him so bad your body has been craving him ever since that week you spent with him.

“No, don’t say please now. You should have thought about that when you let another man inside you,” he grunted and pressed his hips into you roughly. “As a matter of fact,” he leans back and sits on the seat in the back, legs spread open, giving you a clear view of his hard leaking cock. He wants nothing more than to feel you wrapped around him, but now both of you have to suffer because you decided to be naughty. “Yes,” he hisses, throwing his head back into the seat while slowly tugging his cock as you sit there and helplessly watch. “Since you wanted to be bad, here’s your punishment,” he spits on his shaft, using it as a lubricant to work his length up and down nice and slow, quickly checking his surroundings before focusing back on you. “You can look, but don’t touch,” he smirks at you while touching himself, and it’s not even a fraction of when you do it, but it’ll have to suffice for now.

“No, Daddy, I swear I didn’t do anything with him.” you instantly tell the truth. At first, the idea of being punished sounded fun, but you didn’t know it’d be like this.

“Now, princess, if you keep lying to me, I won’t even let you watch,” he threatens.

“Please believe me.” You inch closer to him, your round, innocent eyes making him feel weak, but he keeps his ground.

“Another word out of you, and we’re going home,” he warns you, and you sit there helplessly leaking arousal and watching him touch himself.

You bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something, and you eye his tip wishing you could lick it clean for him, suck him off, and make him feel real good.

“Like what you see? This is what did it for you in the first place, yeah? Walking in on your stepdad getting off, you liked that right? fucking nasty little thing” he pumps his cock faster, spitting again to wet it up. You moaned quietly when little wet sounds entered the small space of the back seat as his fist met his full balls.

Just touching himself alone wasn’t going to get him there, but usually, a little added dirty talk always did the trick, but not even today was that working. He was getting so close, but it wasn’t quite working because he needed you. He couldn’t get off anymore if it wasn’t you. “Lift up your skirt, show Daddy that wet pussy, baby,” he commanded, his fist working on his stiff cock desperately.

You immediately spread your legs and pull up your skirt, slipping your panties to the side so he can see how wet you are for him. “Fuck” He wishes he could just bend you over and fuck into you rough and hard, but you needed to learn your fucking lesson.

You swiped a finger through your slit, gathering your slick on your fingers, giving him a show. “Daddy’s gonna fucking cum” he looks at you, noticing the tears in your eyes, and he immediately stops knowing he might have taken things a bit too far. He wasn’t trying to make you sad or upset. He just wanted you to learn not to give away what was his. “Princess, what’s wrong?” He asks with worry, doing a complete 180 in mere seconds.

“Don’t want daddy to cum alone, wanna make you feel good” he nearly cums from your words alone, and he swears he’d never get used to you being so eager just to please him.

“I know, princess, but you gotta learn.” he cups your face, swiping away your tears.

“Daddy, I promise I wouldn’t do anything with anyone else but you. I only said it to make you jealous.” You sniffle and hug your arms around his waist.

He stiffened in your hold, freezing up at your confession. He said all those things to you, and it wasn’t even true. To say he felt stupid would be an understatement. “So you didn’t have sex with anyone else but me?” He says, almost afraid to even ask cause the thought of you with someone else other than him made his stomach turn.

“Nope,” you reply, rejoicing that his tone was less harsh than before.

“And you did it just to make me jealous?” He asks again just to confirm.

“Yeah, just wanted your attention, Daddy. Did it work?” You say playfully.

“Yeah, it worked,” you giggle softly, tears drying now that he wasn’t upset with you anymore. “You really are a bad girl,” he grins completely relieved, and he doesn’t care how naughty you are. As long as you didn’t let anyone touch you, you could be as bad as you wanted. “Bend over, you little trouble maker” he released you from his grip, and you bent over immediately, pulling your underwear down for him to have access to your dripping cunt. “Now that’s a good girl,” he spanks your ass, earning a whimper from you. “Stick that ass in the air for me” You shift a bit more, arching your back and sticking your ass up just the way he liked it. “There you go” he spanked you again and smoothed over your plump cheeks with his palms slotting his hard cock between your ass. “Tell Daddy how bad you want it, how bad you miss it,” he says in a daze-like state already, softly rutting himself against your supple flesh.

“So bad, miss you inside me wanna feel you fucking me deep and stuffing me with your cum daddy please” You don’t care how desperate you sound because it’s true you just need him to fill you up whenever he was inside you you felt complete.

“Aww, my princess, daddy’s got you.” You felt relieved from his words, your eyes falling shut as you rested your cheek in the backseat, just waiting to feel him deep inside you.

He doesn’t want to make you wait any longer than he already has, so without preparation, he slowly starts easing his way in. It feels tight, almost too tight to fit, but when he checked on you, you told him to keep going, and he wasn’t about to protest. “Always so wet,” he murmured behind you, lifting up his shirt and tucking it beneath his chin to watch his dick getting lost inside your tight cunt.

“Yes,” you sigh in pleasure. The stretch is a little painful, but you can take it cause it still feels really good.

He lazily rocks his hips, burying himself deeper inside you inch by inch. He loves hearing you whine every time he feeds more dick into you. He always thought you sounded so cute when you took him nice and deep.

He groaned and bit his lip, dick twitching as he feels you clenching down on his cock hard. “Feel good, princess?” his voice sounds far too sweet for what he’s doing to you, but the naughty-to-nice contrast just makes it feel even better.

You moan in response, but that’s good enough for him. He bends down, placing a single kiss on the back of your neck. “You’re so tight,” he whispers and bottoms out. “I missed this so much,” he admits. “You don’t understand.” he massaged your hips with his large hands, letting his thoughts run wild. “Been dreaming about you,” and he may have a habit of saying too much sometimes, but does he care? fuck no, he feels safe with you, safe enough to let his genuine thoughts out for the first time in a long time. “Haven’t even touched my wife since I had you.”

“Daddy,” you whine from his confession. You’ve felt the same ever since your first time with him. You dreamt of you and him together every night. “Missed you too.”

Something about that name wasn’t sounding quite right to him at this moment. This was far more than just some quick fuck to him. “Call me by my name, angel.” he tilts his head to the side, maintaining that perfect pace, the one he figured out you liked the most, which just so happened to be his favorite too, or maybe it became his favorite because of you who really knows.

You whimper weakly and slowly push yourself against him, matching his sensual thrusts, and somehow, this feels so much more intimate than anything you’ve ever done with him before. Despite the lack of space, the location, and the position, this felt raw and real. “Heeseung, it feels so good,” you pant out.

“Yeah?” his response comes out in one long breath as he watches you rocking back and forth on his girth. “So good. Wanna see your pretty face, my Angel girl” he withdraws from your hole, leaving you clenching and empty, but not for long as he turns you over and slides right back in, both of you, letting out loud breathy noises as he does so. “Beautiful,” he pecked your lips. “So beautiful.” he guided your legs around his waist, taking his spot between them slowly stroking your silky walls. “Give me your hands,” he says softly. You catch a glimpse of the look in his eyes, and it’s so sweet and tender it makes your chest swell. “I love you.” he clasps his hands with yours. “I swear I do.” he touched his forehead with yours, taking a leap of faith with his confession. Even if you didn’t like him that way, he just needed you to know that’s how he felt about you.

Nothing but warmth flooded your body at his confession. “I love you too, heeseung,” he swears he hears wrong until you say it again. “I love you so much.”

He wasn’t the type to cry often, but after hearing that, it was impossible for him to hold it in and seeing him cry made you tear up as well. “Yeah?” He laughs slightly, making your heart melt as a tear runs down his cheek.

“Yes, heeseung.” he rolls his hips, unable to keep himself still after your confession. He needs all of you. He wants to feel and hear every last precious sound you make for him.

“You’re perfect for me, so perfect.” he buried himself to the hilt inside you, stroking you deeply, every last inch of him imprinting your walls, marking you as his, as his tip stretched you wide opening you up to take his full length. “Fuck angel,” he whimpers, and he felt so helpless as you gripped his cock so snugly.

“Mmh hee,” you breathe into his mouth, back arching so far it almost hurt, but it was no concern when you felt his tip softly bumping your cervix. “You’re so big, can feel you so deep,” you cry out as you place your hands on his pecs, unintentionally stimulating his erect nipples. “Love the way you feel,” you whisper and close the gap between you both. His lips automatically work against yours, and nothing else fills his mind but the need to please you to the fullest.

He moaned into the kiss, sweat building on his forehead as that pleasuring tingling sensation crept up on him. He felt so good, so warm, so safe and secure in your presence. “Y/n, I’m- oh, I’m cumming” he breaks away from you, strained groans falling from his lips as you feel him twitching inside you, the mix of him stuffing you full of cum and the way his abdomen grinds against your clit sends you to your end, little pleas and whimpers coming from your shaking figure as you feel full of nothing but love. “That’s it, baby, let go,” he says while rotating his skilled hips.

“Hee.” You moan, running your hands through his damp silky hair, and then place your palm on his cheek. He immediately nuzzles his face into your touch as his eyes flutter close momentarily when they open again. They are full of nothing but adoration. There’s no denying it. “I love you.”

He smiled shyly. “Love you too,” he mutters, and you both laugh in happiness together in the back seat of his car behind your school. Not where you thought you’d be today, but neither of you were complaining.

“Home?” He asks you after you both calm down a bit.

“Yeah,” you swipe your thumb over his bottom lip affectionately. “Home”

He grins excitedly, kissing all over your face. He’s probably a little too excited, but he can’t help it cause the weight he’s been carrying finally feels nonexistent, and you’re finally in his arms again, and that’s all that ever mattered.

When you both arrived home, it was no surprise that your mom wasn’t. Once heeseung saw the coast was clear, he back-hugged you at the door. “Just you and me, angel,” he whispers in your ear. “Shower with me.” he kissed your neck, rubbing his palm over your stomach, making you feel butterflies all over. “Please.” he tightened his grip on you, making it even harder for you to say no.

“What if-“

“Shh, don’t worry about that, just come with me,” he says in your ear, and you caved in immediately.

“Okay,” you say as he steps to your side, ducking down to hook his arm around the back of your leg. You instinctively put your arm around his neck as he lifted you up bridal style and walked you upstairs.

“Hee,” you giggle and push your face into his neck, tickling him.

The shower was filled with nothing but loving touches and soft, breathless laughter as you both took turns washing each other's bodies.

Once you finished, you helped each other get dressed, and you went downstairs hand in hand. He ordered food, and you both waited on the couch for it to arrive.

After eating, you both cuddled up to each other on the couch and watched TV, sharing kisses here and there, but you couldn’t fully relax knowing that your mom could be home any minute. “Hee, I know you said not to worry, but wha-“

“Mmm, don’t worry, angel. I checked her location. She’s still forty minutes out.” he kissed your temple softly and laced his hand with yours.

“Okay,” you murmur softly and hold onto him, seeking his warmth as you lay your head on his chest.

This.

This feeling is all heeseung’s ever wanted.

“What have you been doing while I was away?” Your mother is currently standing in front of you, interrogating you about why heeseung has been treating her so differently lately. “What have you told him?” She raises her voice, not bothering how loud she gets cause heeseung was at work, and there was no one to hear your cries or protect you.

“Mom, I haven’t told him anything. I swear he doesn’t know,” you reply, tears gathering in your eyes as you tuck your knees to your chest.

“Then why won’t he touch me? Why is he not talking to me?” she steps closer, gripping you by your hair tightly, making you whimper in pain.

“No, Mom, please,” you beg, on the verge of crying when she smacks you across the face.

“Quit lying!” She screams and yanks you off your mattress, when your knees hit the carpet on the floor you wince in pain. “Whatever you did, fix it. If he finds out, I’ll lose everything, so you better keep your mouth shut, you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME??!” you nod your head weakly, but just for good measure, she goes to your window, grabbing the wand, and detaching it from your blinds.

“Mom!” You cry out as she whips your bare skin, avoiding your arms and legs on purpose so no one would notice. “Please,” you beg past your tears, pleading with her to stop, but she doesn’t. She never does. “I won’t say anything,” you choke out, tears running out as she ignores you and keeps hitting you ruthlessly. Your body shook on the ground, and you couldn’t do anything but sit there and let it happen. She’d probably kill you if you ever tried to fight back.

“Remember what I told you,” she huffs out a breath, tossing the rod on your body, making you flinch before she walks to your door, leaving you a hyperventilating mess on the floor. “I’m going out. Don’t you dare say a word to him when he gets back, or else next time will be so much worse.”

Heeseung came home in good spirits after work. His wife was gone, and he knew you’d be home at this time.

It’s funny, less than a month ago, he’d be sad that his wife wasn’t home, but now he didn’t much care as bad as it sounds, he just didn’t feel anything towards her anymore, not like he used to.

He walked upstairs, taking a peek inside your room. Pouting when he saw that your back was turned and you were sleeping, but it was okay you probably needed to rest. He knew you had a habit of working your little brain over time.

He cleaned up a bit and went to his bed, killing some time with a little bit of light reading before bed.

You shifted uncomfortably in your sleep, and you woke up from the slight ache in your body. The pain definitely wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

Your eyes landed on the clock. They lit up once you realized it was half past ten, and heeseung had gotten home a little while ago. You sprung out of bed, running to the bathroom to bandage your wounds and wash up.

When you were finished, you immediately went to his room, opening the door right away, not even concerned if he was still awake or not cause you were just too excited to see him. “Hey!” He smiles as soon as you enter and playfully jump on his bed.

“Hi,” you smile and rest your face in your palms, happily kicking your feet.

“Come here.” he sets his book on the nightstand and takes his glasses off as you climb up on his chest, burying your face in his pecs, making him chuckle from your cuteness.

“Miss you,” you say, muffled into his bare chest, listening to the soft bass in his voice when he laughs.

“I was just about to say that.” he placed his large hand over the small of your back, stroking it lightly as you trailed his chest muscles between the opening of his unbuttoned shirt.

You scooted back on the bed, leveling your face with his crotch area as he cocked his brow, watching you settle yourself between his legs as you rested your cheek on his thigh, eyeing the soft bulge in his pants.

You rubbed his thighs up and down teasingly, nudging your cheek on his clothed cock. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You giggle and pop open the button on his black suit pants and pull down the zipper.

His expression turns dark instantly as he watches you. “Y/n,” he groans as you grip his semi-hard cock.

He lifts his hips up ever so slightly to bring his pants further down for you.

You peel back the fabric covering the tiny hole in the front, drool pooling in your mouth instantly at the sight of his thick veiny girth. Pursing your lips, you pull his cock out, kissing it immediately, and he moans quietly from the feeling of your soft warm lips running along his hard leaking cock.

You licked the tip clean as you pumped the lower part and playfully tapped his thick head on your lips, a thin string of precum sticking to your pretty plump lips. You quit with the teasing and open your mouth wide, taking him balls deep right away.

His legs tremble when he feels your warm, wet mouth taking him deep. “Angel, your mouth feels like heaven,” he breathed out, listening to the sounds of your mouth slurping and sucking on his hard dick.

“Yeah?” You say when you pull off him with a pop to take a small breather.

“Yes,” you could feel yourself throbbing when you hear his high-pitched, whiny voice, you loved hearing him get like that for you.

You twist your wrist, fisting his cock as you trail your free hand to the hem of his shirt, pushing the material out of the way. You lean down, sucking a nipple into your mouth, earning a loud groan from him. “What the-fuck!” he moans, unable to comprehend the pleasure he’s feeling. His wife has never ever done anything like what you are doing to him right now. He’s never felt so much pleasure at once. The way you paid close attention to every little detail about him made him love you oh so much more.

You hum against his chest, flicking each of his nipples with the tip of your tongue, making him squeeze your waist as you pump his dick faster.

You replace your mouth with your hand, still stimulating his nipples while you wrap your mouth around his cock once more. “Oh fuck” his whimpers fill your ears, and you’re more than pleased that he’s so vocal it just lets you know that you’re the one making him feel so good that he just can’t keep quiet.

“Y/n, can you?” he immediately shuts his mouth, feeling way too embarrassed to admit what he really wants. He always wanted to experience the feeling, but he never dared ask his wife in case she thought it was weird, and even though he trusted you with his life, he still didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“Hmm?” You hum around his dick, swirling your tongue on the tip.

“It’s nothing,” he lies.

“Hee, come on, you can tell me,” you say softly after pulling off him momentarily.

When you ask so prettily, he can’t resist telling you, even if that meant you’d stop what you were doing to him. “My…” his face gets hot, and he’s actually not sure if he can go through with this. “Suck..” he muttered, guiding your hand to cup his balls, moaning loud at the small contact.

You grin lustfully and lightly squeeze on his full sack, earning a whimper from him. “Want me to suck your balls?” He nods shyly. “Yeah?”

“Yes, please,” he loses his voice the instant you suck one into your mouth. “Uhh, that’s it,” he moans, eyelids drooping even more from the pleasure. “Keep sucking on my balls, angel” he peeled his shirt to the side, fondling his nipples while you jerked him off and inhaled his balls, sucking on them lightly, and you’re doing such a good job he feels like he’s in heaven. “Gonna cum soon,” he losses himself, mouth hung wide open and whimpering loudly while watching each of his balls disappear into your petty little mouth.

You quickly put your lips back on his tip, awaiting his cum on your tongue while fondling his heavy balls. “Take all my cum, angel” he pinched his nipples hard and shot his thick milky load in your throat, his hips involuntarily bucking up to gently fuck your mouth as he filled you up, moaning your name over and over again, it felt so good that his toes curled down into the mattress, muscles twitching and body jerking with each spill of seed as his balls continued to throb on your bottom lip while you hungrily swallowed all of his hot cum.

Sucking him through his high, you release his soft cock from your mouth and lick the corners of your lips, collecting all his cum before kissing his tip one last time. “Good?” You smile mischievously, already knowing his answer.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes lidded and filled with love.

You began tucking his cock back inside his boxers. “No.” he reached for the waistband of his underwear, getting ready to take them off cause it was your turn now. “I’m gonna make you feel good too.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, remembering the wounds on your skin. There’s no way you could let him find out what was happening behind his back. Your mother would never forgive you.

He looked at you, a hint of disappointment in his eyes from your lack of enthusiasm for him. “Do you just not want to…?” he lifts his slacks back around his waist.

“No, it’s not that I just wanted to do something nice for you, nothing in return.” you hope he believes what you’re saying. Of course, you want him, but even your horrible mother had to get in the way of your relationship with heeseung.

“What? That’s nonsense. I want to give you something in return,” he says and reaches for your shirt, but you flee from his touch.

“Heeseung, it’s really okay,” you lie.

“So…. you just don’t want me?” He says, clearly confused.

“No!” You’re quick to clarify. “Of course I do!”

“Then get back over here,” he giggles, relieved that you weren’t telling him off.

You try to scoot off the bed, but he quickly catches you. “Got you!” he smiles while hovering over you.

“Let me go!” You giggle and squirm, but it’s no use. He’s far too strong for you.

“You’re all mine now,” he giggles, and as soon as his hand makes contact to tickle you, you wince in pain.

Shit.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He pouted and leaned back, making sure he wasn’t crushing you.

“No, I’m fine.” you gripped the hem of your shirt, making sure he couldn’t lift it up.

“Y/n, what’s going on?” He says sternly there’s definitely something more going on. You saying you didn’t want anything in return the strange behavior, and now you’re covering up.

“I’m just tired, that’s all.” you come up with every lie on the spot. The only problem was that not a single one was believable.

“Then let me do all the work.” he gets back on top of you, and even though you try to hold your shirt down, he immediately lifts it up, breath hitching when he sees the wounds on your skin. His eyes flash to every one, and his brows crease together. “Angel,” he whispers in shock, eyes going wide as the room falls silent while he runs his thumb over the bruise softly.

You lean back immediately, covering yourself and hugging your knees to your chest with tears gathering in your eyes.

It was silent for a half minute before he cradled you in his arms. He didn’t say anything and waited before he jumped to any conclusions about what exactly happened. “Please don’t cry,” he says softly and strokes your hair, but it was too late. Tears were already running down your face from fear, anger, and embarrassment. “Tell me what happened when you’re ready, okay?” He smoothed over your thigh and patted your back, kissing your head gently.

After a few minutes, you calmed down a bit. He leaned back, analyzing your broken expression before kissing the tears away from your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you sob quietly. Thoughts begin stirring in his head about what you could possibly be sorry for, and no matter how anxious he was, he simply waits for an answer cause he doesn’t want to pressure you into speaking if you don’t want to.

Your cries were literally breaking his heart. He just wanted to know what was wrong so he could try to fix it. “Shh, just breathe, okay? I’m here, y/n, I’m here.” he kissed your forehead, reassuring you over and over that he was there for you.

“Promise you won’t tell my mom, and you won’t be mad?” You hug him closer, thinking that he might run away after you told him the truth.

That was a big promise for him to keep, but he’d keep it for you. “I promise.”

“Mom,” that’s all you said, and you felt him tense up, which made you clutch onto him tighter.

“Angel, what are you saying?” If you were implying what he thought you were, then he’s not sure if he could keep the promise that he just made.

You wordlessly revealed the bruises on your midsection, and he clenched his jaw.

“You’re saying that my wife y-your mom did this to you?” His voice was laced with pure disgust as he examined your poor state. “N-no,” he shook his head back and forth in denial, not because he didn’t believe you but because you were going through this, and he had no idea you were suffering all alone. “Angel, no,” his eyes shook, tears welling in them as they turned bloodshot, but his sadness quickly turned into pure anger at the thought of your mother hurting you like this. “You can’t really expect me not to do anything about this!”

“Heeseung, don’t please,” you cried.

“No! You can’t keep going through this,” he yelled, and you flinched. “Fuck” he mutters softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, Angel. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Don’t, I’ll be fine. It’s nothing new anyway.” you zipped your mouth after that, trying not to reveal anything more, but it was too late.

“How long?” He asked, running his fingers through his hair.

“Since before I met you,” your lips wobbled, your body shaking with fear and anxiety.

Now everything made sense. No wonder your mom treated you like that. No wonder every time he stuck up for you, she got upset. “Hey, look at me,” he cupped your cheeks, smiling slightly because at least now your suffering would all be over. He was going to make sure you never got harmed by anyone ever again. “I’ll protect you.” You’re not sure how he’d go about doing that since every time he left for work, she’d hit you, but you trusted him. The look in his eyes made you believe that his words are true and that he’d protect you. “Okay?” He cupped your cheek, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips.

“Okay,” you whisper against his mouth and go in for another kiss.

He hums, letting you take the lead. He wasn’t going to make any moves that might kill the moment or make you uncomfortable.

You deepen the kiss, leaning into him more and placing your hand on his thigh. He matched your movements easily, keeping up with the slow pace of things.

You whine, and he grabs your thigh, pulling you onto his lap. Immediately you roll your hips, humping the bulge in his slacks. “Are you sure you want this right now?” He asked while rubbing your hips.

“Yes, want you to take the pain away,” you whispered and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Need you, Seung,” you moan, feeling his cock brushing against your clit through your clothing.

“I will, angel, I promise,” he whispers, entranced by you, and he needs you just as much as you needed him, if not more.

“I love you so much,” heeseung confesses. Your clothes long gone, his wedding ring far away from his finger as well as his picture frame from the wedding facing the wall, and he looks into your eyes so lovingly while stroking your cheek with his thumb and rolling his hips, reaching the deepest parts of you.

“I love you too, Seung,” you say breathlessly, your high feeling closer than ever as he runs his thumb over your clit.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again,” he promises and ducks his head down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, sealing all his love for you in that moment.

“Hee,” you whimper his words, taking you right to the edge as you spasm around him.

“Close, angel?” He moans, using every muscle in his body to make you feel good. He made out with your pretty wet folds earlier, stretched your beautiful hole open just right so he could make you feel full to the brim, and he kissed every single bruise on your precious, delicate skin, taking the pain away and replacing it with his love for you everything about this night was beyond perfect and not a second went by where you didn’t feel loved by the man above you he was so perfect and you made sure he knew it.

You nod confirming his words. Just seconds later, you release on his length, making you both gasp out and cry in pleasure as he messily locks lips with you again and again.

“Love you, seung, love you so much.” you breathe into his mouth, teeth clashing together, but neither of you can care, too caught up in this moment of complete bliss and euphoria.

“Love you too, my precious y/n,” strangled moans leave his lips, the first rope of cum spurting inside you, covering your insides white. The second one follows, and you feel that warmth that you loved so much, that feeling that only he could give to you.

When you see the tears in his eyes, you cry with himea, and he smiles at you.

He wraps you up in his arms, sharing his warmth as your highs take over your body. He’s still lazily rolling his hips and softly playing with your little pearl until you both reach your highest point and slowly come back down.

When the initial pleasure fades, he nudges your nose and finds his face buried in your neck. You’re both panting heavily and exhausted from lovemaking, and all you want to do is bask in each other's arms.

And that’s what you do, but the risk of getting caught is too high, especially cause you’re both in his bed. After you fall asleep, he takes you to your room and quickly changes the sheets so your mom won’t notice anything and goes back to sleep. He wishes you could be there with him, but he’d make that happen really soon.

“What is this?” Your mother barges through the door angrily, catching you and heeseung on the sofa holding each other. You quickly jump off his lap in shock, heart racing uncontrollably in your chest meanwhile, heeseung sits still, hiding you behind him. “How could you do this to me heeseung?!” She fake cries using her little victim tactic, except this time, it doesn’t work.

Usually, when heeseung heard his wife’s cries, it broke him to bits, but now he could only chuckle because of her nerve. Earlier in the morning, you had opened up to heeseung about everything that had been going on cause he deserved to know the full truth, and when he asked you to tell him what had been happening, you told him everything straight from the beginning.

And normally, it would have been upsetting for him to hear that his own wife was cheating on him, but he had no feelings other than relief from knowing she gave him just another reason to file for divorce after he found out the things she had done to you he had no love in his heart for her not even an ounce.

He never suspected his wife of being a cheater. He always trusted her no matter how many times she went out without telling him her whereabouts, but it also wasn’t a surprise when he found out cause the dots were connecting now. He no longer wondered why she was gone cause now he knew she was out cheating or hanging out with friends and spending his money. No wonder she didn’t want to treat him like a husband. It’s because she had someone else on the side. No wonder she didn’t want his body, no wonder after they got married, she showed zero interest in him. Now, he knew it was all just a ploy and a scheme to get half his assets and leave. Boy, was he blind, but thankfully, he now had you to show him to truth. Now he had someone that actually appreciated him, and instead of regretting his whole marriage, he was thankful for it cause it’s what ultimately led him to you, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“How could I do this to you?” He stands up and folds his arms an amused smile on his lips. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“W-what are you saying?” Her eyes shake between you both, and before anything can get thrown her way or accuse her of anything, she puts her dirty little plan in motion. “I can’t believe you’d break up the family like this, and I never thought I’d say this, but heeseung, I-I want a divorce!”

When he doesn’t give her the desired reaction is when she finally shows her true colors. “You’re right. It is the other way around,” she laughs, and heeseung can’t believe he ever even thought she was beautiful cause now everything about her was mean, ugly, and evil. “But at least now I’m finally free away from you both. You disgust me. I only ever stayed for your money. I never loved you. You know why I never had sex with you after we married? It’s because I despised you and I hated how I had to be attached to you, but in the end, it was all worth it cause now I get to live my life far away from you and that disgrace of a daughter of mine now I can live with the man of my dreams, and you can stay stuck with that disgusting bitch!” She yells at you, and you flinch, tears stinging your eyes cause through everything, she was still your mother.

“Funny how you call someone else a bitch” he laughs. “Are you done? Cause if you are, get out, and if I ever hear you call her out of her name again, I won’t be as nice.” Heeseung puts a protective arm around you for comfort. He could only imagine how you were feeling. Hell, it was hard for him, and he was just her husband, but as a daughter, it must feel so much worse.

“Not till half of everything is mine,” she states confidently.

“All yours.” he doesn’t fight back cause he has one little trick up his sleeve that neither of you knew about.

“Heeseung,” you whisper to him. He couldn’t just give her everything after what she’s done.

“It’s okay, angel, I got us, I swear” he kissed the crown of your head, and she scoffed.

“I want all my stuff packed by morning and I expect you to be nowhere in sight.” She turns on her heels confidently, striding out the door.

“Come here, angel, don’t mind anything she says, okay? I love you, my precious Angel, and you’re the furthest thing from any of those foul names she called you.” he rubs your cheek softly, and you melt into his touch. It would be hard moving on from this and living a life without your mother for the first time, but with heeseung, you felt like you could do anything. He made you feel safe, and he always knew the right words to say to make everything better.

“I love you, hee.” You hug him tightly, inhaling his scent, never wanting to let him go. You both sat in silence, taking everything in as he promised he’d do his best to make you feel loved the right way. “But what about all your stuff? Are you really going to let her take it all?” He just smiled at you, appreciating your concern for him and his belongings, but he had that covered too.

“Angel, I have cameras throughout the entire mansion so anything she’s ever done is on tape” he never once in his life thought that he’d have to use his cameras for abuse in his own family, but unfortunately, that’s what it’s come to, and though this would be a long grueling process in the court for you and him, he just knew after everything you both could live happily ever after, he could show you what real love felt like and he would keep you safe from all your mother's 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

𝐅𝐈𝐍.

Wrong doings taglist 🔖@enmayz @ethelia @donghyckl @heedeungieluvbot @skzenhalove @heebrry @hrutoxxie @yohanabanana @rayofsunshineeee @shiningnono @baribaaari @mixtape-racha @enhypen--stan @rizzhee @t1nywoniee @beomibeom @yourmomscuntis2tighy @lilizinho @3ranch @vampenha @lprww @valhrts @heelvsted @iamliacamila bold can’t be tagged :/

Permanent taglist 🔖 @hoyeonheeseung @furious-eagle @heeseungssidechick

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback. - 🐹

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jaysng · 9 days ago

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post arguement — yang jungown

PAIRING. husband!jungwon, preg!wife!reader

GENRE. angst, fluff

WORD CNT. 695

NOTE. sorry i haven’t been posting and haven’t replied to anyone in a while, life has been tough and i hope you understand. also been messing with the themes lately. don’t know what looks good. trying.

you woke up in bed, warmth enveloping you in a way that felt both familiar and surprising. your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft blur of the room. the last thing you remembered was curling up on the couch, raw from the argument with jungwon.

the silence of that moment had been heavy, charged with words that couldn’t be unsaid. you had fallen asleep with tear-streaked cheeks and the ache of his voice replaying in your head, cutting deeper each time.

but now, here you were, back in your shared bed. your fingers brushed the comforter, trying to piece together how you’d gotten there. a slight shift behind you made your heart stutter; jungwon was close, his arm resting lightly around your waist, cautious.

his breath was warm against your back, slow but uneven, as if he’d been awake for a while.

the faint nausea that lingered in the mornings pulled at you, a reminder that this moment wasn’t just yours. the baby growing inside you made everything sharper, more fragile.

last night’s argument had felt even more painful because of it, and the guilt weighed heavily on you now.

jungwon’s arm tightened slightly, and you felt him press his forehead gently against your shoulder. the quiet stretched on, the tension humming between you like a current. he took a shaky breath, breaking the silence.

“i’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, almost breaking. it caught you off-guard; jungwon was rarely this raw, this unguarded. “i shouldn’t have let you sleep out there. i shouldn’t have said anything that made you feel like you had to.”

the sincerity, the guilt in his tone, cracked something open inside you. you didn’t turn to face him, not yet. it felt safer to speak without looking into his eyes. “i shouldn’t have said what i did either,” you whispered, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “but it hurt, jungwon.”

his hand moved from your waist to rest on your arm, tentative, as if afraid you’d pull away. “i know,” he admitted, his voice so quiet it almost disappeared. “i was so caught up in being right, in feeling frustrated… i didn’t think about you. about us.”

you felt his breath hitch, and it only deepened the ache in your chest. “and when i saw you on the couch, curled up like that… it felt like everything shattered.”

you finally turned, shifting to face him. jungwon’s eyes were red-rimmed, guilt swimming in their depths. you could see how much he’d carried through the night, how it weighed on him now. “did you stay up?” you asked, noticing the exhaustion etched across his features.

he nodded, a rueful smile touching his lips for a fleeting moment. “i couldn’t sleep. i kept thinking about how wrong it was, having you out there. and with the baby… i couldn’t let it stay that way.”

your eyes filled with tears, and you blinked them back, not wanting to let the moment spiral into more sadness. “thank you for bringing me back,” you said softly, fingers brushing against his. “i didn’t realize…”

“you shouldn’t have had to,” he said, voice steadying but still thick with emotion. “you’re my everything. both of you are.” he hesitated, eyes searching yours as if he needed to find a sign of forgiveness. “i know saying sorry isn’t enough. but i need you to know that i’m here. i’m here, and i’ll be better.”

the sincerity in his voice, the guilt that laced every word, made your heart clench. you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “i know,” you whispered, feeling the first hint of relief loosen the knot in your chest. “we’ll figure it out. together.”

jungwon’s eyes softened, and he exhaled, as if releasing a breath he’d been holding all night. he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the touch warm and reassuring. “together,” he echoed, the word carrying a promise that filled the space between you with something tender, something healing.

it wasn’t perfect, and maybe it wouldn’t be for a while. but as he pulled you closer, careful and loving, you felt that for now, it was enough.

do not copy or repost — @/jaysng

#enhypen #enha #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #jungwon enhypen

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reilemon · 1 month ago

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Beneath the Collar

♡︎ synopsis: What do you tell yourself when you develop a crush on a hot priest? 'It'll pass.' But what if it doesn't?

♡︎ pairing: priest!Zayne x fem!reader

♡︎ cw: personal sacrilege, mutual masturbation

♡︎ word count: 13k

♡︎ a/n: the fifth story for kinktober 2024. i know i wrote something else as a prompt for this story, but it kinda didn't fit into the vibe. I hope you'll still like it.

♡︎ Thanks to my dearest friend and beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

You’d been absentmindedly wiping down the counter, eyes flicking to the clock every couple of minutes. You were anticipating the weekend as if it was your lifeline. The shop was nearly empty, just a couple pastries left. You could already taste the freedom that awaited once you locked up. Saturday nights were your escape. You’d head out of town and finally let loose with your old friends. You couldn’t wait to slip into a tight dress, feel the beat of music thrumming through your veins, and drown the stress of your quiet life with a few too many drinks.

You loved the buzz, the way you could disappear into the crowd. It was so different from the slow, predictable pace of this town—so different from the way you had to be here, composed, calm, responsible. You could already imagine the way your friends would greet you with shrieks and hugs, the taste of sweet cocktails on your lips, the feel of someone’s hands on your waist as you danced the night away.

You hadn’t realized how tightly wound you’d become until you started thinking about it. The endless days of baking, of small talk with customers who didn’t really know you, of going home to an empty apartment. This wasn’t the life you’d imagined.

The chime above the door rings, pulling you back from your thoughts. You straighten instinctively, slipping back into your practiced routine, eyes flicking up with a tired smile ready—until you see him.

The man who steps in isn’t like any customer you’ve seen before. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark, understated clothes. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the stark white collar around his neck—the unmistakable sign of a priest. Yet you can’t help but stare at his features - his sharp jawline, the raven-black hair falling slightly across his forehead, and those intense green eyes. He looks cold, distant, his gaze hard and unreadable as it sweeps the room before landing squarely on you.

You can feel your heart pound as your breath catches. You aren’t supposed to feel this way. He’s a priest, for God’s sake. Yet here you are, rooted in place, unable to tear your eyes away from him. You shouldn’t be thinking about how strong his hands look, or how his lips might feel if they ever touched yours. Guilt twists in your gut, making you flush with shame.

You swallow hard, the professional smile faltering for a second as your thoughts race. What is a man like him doing here? He doesn’t look like the type to indulge in something sweet.

He steps forward, approaching the counter, and the closer he gets, the more you can feel your façade slipping. You force yourself to break eye contact, focusing instead on the pastries.

You need to say something, anything to break the tension. “Good evening,” you finally manage.

“I’m sorry for coming in so late,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, instantly making you feel butterflies. “I was hoping to grab something before you closed.”

You nod, trying to keep the conversation professional, though your mind is anything but. “Of course,” you reply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze again.

His eyes flick over the display case before returning to you, making your heart flutter. “Macarons,” he says after a moment. “Do you have any left?”

You blink, thrown off by the unexpected request, by how he knows exactly what he wants. “Ah—no,” you stammer, shaking your head. “Sorry, they sold out earlier today.”

He nods once, but doesn’t seem disappointed. You half-expect him to say something more, maybe ask about the next batch or try one of the remaining pastries. But he doesn’t. His eyes flick to the empty spot where the macarons should’ve been, then back to you.

"Thank you," He doesn’t smile, just offers a polite nod before he turns and walks toward the door. The air feels lighter the moment he steps out, but your heart is still racing, your mind still tangled in thoughts you shouldn’t have.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what just happened, your hand still resting on the counter as if anchoring you back to reality. Slowly, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

‘What the hell was that?’

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Later that evening, you stand in front of your mirror, smoothing your dress down over your hips, but your thoughts are miles away. You’ve been looking forward to this night all week— but now, you can’t stop thinking about him.

As you spray the perfume on your neck, your mind drifts back to the way those cold green eyes had fixed on you with such unnerving intensity. You replay the interaction over and over in your head as you fix your lipstick, each swipe of color across your lips bringing back the memory of his deep, steady voice.

You grab your heels and slide them on, trying to push the image of him away. It’s your night - you should be thinking about the friends you’ll be laughing with, the strangers you might flirt with, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. And that damn collar, the way it stood out against his sharp jaw, mocking you.

You sigh, frustrated with yourself as you grab your clutch and head for the door. Tonight is about fun, freedom. As you step outside, you convince yourself that by the end of the night you will forget all about him.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You stand just outside the church, a box of macarons clutched in your hands. The crisp autumn air hits your face, cooling the remnants of your hangover. You wince slightly as the last pulse of your headache throbs behind your eyes. But it’s nothing compared to the nervous energy swirling in your stomach. The night before is a blur of music, laughter, and drinks—too many drinks—and yet, through it all, he was still there. No matter how hard you tried your mind kept circling back to the priest.

You woke up early this morning, despite the dull ache in your head, the need to see him again pulling you out of bed far earlier than your body wanted. You spent more time than usual getting ready, trying to make yourself look presentable. Like you hadn’t spent half the night dancing under neon lights, sweat mingling with perfume. Like you were fresh and composed, not some hungover mess delivering macarons to a man who probably didn’t even remember you.

Now, as you stand outside the church, watching as the last of the congregation trickles out from Sunday mass, you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous. ‘What the hell am I doing?’ You glance down at the box in your hands. Last night, you’d come home and found the extra macarons sitting in your fridge—fresh, untouched. And somehow, in your alcohol-soaked brain, you’d convinced yourself that bringing them to him would make sense. That maybe, just maybe, seeing him again would clear your thoughts.

Inside, you hear the faint echoes of voices, the last goodbyes being exchanged. Your pulse quickens, the nerves settling in deeper now. ‘What if he thinks I’m crazy?’ You glance up at the church doors as they swing open again. More people spill out, some of them familiar faces, regulars from your shop. You offer a small, polite smile to those who glance your way, though the last thing you want is to be seen here, holding this box like some desperate girl with a crush.

The crowd thins, and finally, you see him. He steps out of the church, tall and composed, his dark coat catching the cool breeze as he exchanges polite nods and handshakes with the remaining parishioners. Your heart stutters in your chest when his eyes land on you, sharp and focused, just like yesterday. His gaze flickers with confusion as he approaches. The contrast between the two of you couldn’t be more stark. He’s the picture of calm and control, while you feel like a bundle of frayed nerves.

"Good morning," he greets, his voice low and even, though there’s a hint of curiosity in it. His eyes drop to the box in your hands, and then back up to meet your gaze. "I didn’t expect to see you here."

You force a small smile, suddenly feeling foolish again for showing up like this. "I, um..." You glance down at the box before awkwardly extending it toward him. "I brought these... for you. Macarons. I had some extras, and I thought..." Your voice trails off as you realize how ridiculous you sound.

He hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the gesture, his brow furrowing slightly as he looks between you and the box. "That’s very kind of you," he says after a beat, his tone polite but still laced with confusion. He takes the box from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through you. "But I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why bring them here?"

You feel your face heat up, the embarrassment creeping in again as you try to explain. "I just... yesterday, you asked about the macarons. And I had some left at home, so I thought..." You trail off again, unsure how to finish without sounding completely absurd.

His eyes soften slightly, the confusion changing into something more like understanding. "I see," he says quietly. He looks down at the box in his hands, then back at you. "Thank you. This was... thoughtful."

There’s a long, awkward pause before you gather the nerve to ask, "Have you visited my shop before? I mean, you knew we sold macarons, but I don’t remember seeing you."

He glances away for a moment, then returns his gaze to you, his tone still measured and calm. "I have stopped by a few times, yes. But more often than not, my colleagues bring me your macarons. They speak highly of your pastries." His lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but the closest thing you’ve seen from him. "They’ve made sure I know where to find the best sweets in town."

You blink, processing that information. ‘So, he has been there.’ A strange mix of relief and disappointment washes over you—relief that he’s not a complete stranger to your shop, but disappointment that you missed those visits. Still, knowing he’s tasted your work fills you with a sense of pride.

"I see," you murmur, nodding. "I wasn’t sure, since... well, you don’t seem like the type to indulge in sweets."

He raises an eyebrow. "I do, on occasion," he says, then adds, almost as an afterthought, "Especially macarons."

Another silence falls between you. The cold morning air feels sharper now, the quiet around the church almost too loud as the last of the parishioners filter away, leaving just the two of you standing there.

You feel the urge to say something, anything. "I hope you enjoy them," you say quickly, nodding toward the box in his hands.

His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than feels comfortable. "I’m sure I will," he replies, his voice softer now, though his serious demeanor never wavers. "Thank you again. This was... unexpected."

You nod, unsure what else to say, and suddenly, the weight of what you’re doing—standing outside a church, hungover, giving a priest macarons—hits you all over again. You swallow hard, feeling the need to leave before you make things even more awkward.

"I should probably go," you blurt out, taking a small step back. "I didn’t mean to interrupt your morning."

He watches you, his gaze steady, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to say something to stop you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he simply nods. "Take care,"

You turn and start walking away, your heart pounding in your chest, the cool air biting at your skin. You feel a little silly, a little reckless, but something about the way he looked at you, the way his eyes softened just a fraction when he accepted the macarons... it stays with you.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next Sunday arrives quicker than expected, and this time, you're determined to play it cool. You still went out the night before, but you kept it light—a couple of drinks, no wild partying. The ache behind your eyes this morning is faint, nothing like last week’s pounding. You’d woken up with enough time to fix your hair and choose an outfit that’s both casual and appropriate, though you spent longer than you’d like to admit deciding on it.

As you step inside the church, the scent of old wood and candles washes over you, calming your racing heart just a little. The crowd is larger than you expected—families, couples, elderly regulars. You quietly slip into a pew near the back, hoping to blend in.

You settle in, your eyes scanning the front of the church, seeking him out. There he is, standing at the altar in his robes, his presence as commanding as ever. He’s facing the congregation, his expression stoic, speaking in that calm, steady voice that fills the room with reverence. At first, he doesn’t notice you. He’s focused on his sermon, his attention on the crowd as he guides them through the service.

And then, as if he can sense you watching him, his gaze flickers toward the back of the church—and locks onto you.

For a moment, the rest of the congregation fades into the background. It’s just you and him, his eyes lingering on you longer than they should. There’s no surprise in his expression, but his gaze isn’t the distant, detached look you remember from before. Your breath catches, and for a second, you’re not sure what to do. You glance down at your hands, trying to steady yourself, but when you look back up, his eyes are still on you. He’s quick to recover, though, returning his focus to the sermon, but the brief connection leaves your pulse racing.

The rest of the mass is a blur. You try to listen, to follow along with the prayers, but all you can think about is the way he looked at you. The quiet intensity of his gaze, the way it felt like he was seeing more than just another face in the crowd.

As the mass ends and people begin to rise from their seats, you remain seated for a moment longer. You watch as the crowd shuffles toward the exit, murmuring quietly amongst themselves, offering their thanks and farewells. For a second, you think about slipping out quietly and disappearing before he notices you again. It would be the easiest thing to do—walk away, avoid any awkward conversations.

But just as you start to stand, your eyes find his across the room. He’s still speaking with a couple of elderly women near the front, but his gaze shifts—briefly, unmistakably—back to you. And there’s something in that moment that makes it impossible to leave. Before you know it, you’re moving toward him, your pulse quickening with each step.

You tell yourself it’s only polite to say hello, maybe thank him for the sermon. It’s what people do, right? But the truth is, you haven’t attended a church service in so long, you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to talk to a priest. What do people even say in these situations? Your mind races as you approach, trying to figure out what you’re supposed to say.

When you reach him, he finishes his conversation with the elderly women, offering them a polite nod before turning his attention to you. For a moment, you stand there, unsure of how to start, but before you can stumble over a greeting, he speaks first.

"Good to see you again," Zayne says, as he offers you a barely visible smile. It’s subtle, just a small upturn at the corner of his lips, but it’s enough to make your heart race. "I don’t recall seeing you here before last week."

You blink, feeling like you’re caught red handed. You fumble for a response, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Oh, no, I—I haven’t been here before," you admit, glancing down at your hands before looking back up at him. "I mean, I used to go to church when I was younger, but... it’s been a while." You force a small smile. "I’ve been in this town for a few months now, but I guess I still feel kind of... new. I’m trying to, you know, be a part of the community."

It’s a half-truth, but close enough to reality.

Zayne listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he considers your words. "It’s understandable," he says after a moment, his voice softer now. "Moving to a new place can feel... isolating." His gaze lingers on you. "I’m glad you’re finding your place here."

You nod, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. "Yeah, I think I’m making some progress."

You’re unsure of what to say next, but Zayne is the one that speaks next. "Those macarons you brought last week," he begins. "There was one flavor I hadn’t tried before—rose, I believe?"

You hadn’t expected him to bring it up. "Oh, yeah," you say, a giddy smile creeping onto your lips. "I like to experiment with new flavors in my free time. I wasn’t sure if anyone would like that one."

He nods, with a faint smile. "It was... different. Unexpected, but in a good way."

Your smile widens at that, unable to contain the warmth blooming in your chest. You hadn’t realized how much his opinion would matter to you. "I’m always experimenting," you admit, feeling more at ease now. "Sometimes I stay up late trying out new combinations."

The air between you feels lighter, warmer. "I can tell you put a lot of effort into it."

The compliment catches you off guard, and you’re not sure how to respond. But before you can say anything, Zayne shifts the conversation slightly. "We’re hosting a bake sale next week," he says, "It’s for a local charity. I was wondering if you’d have the time to volunteer."

Volunteer? At the church? You’ve never done anything like that before. But the idea of working with him, of contributing in some way—it tugs at you, and before you can think it through too much, you find yourself nodding.

"Yeah, I’d love to," you say quickly, the giddiness from earlier still bubbling beneath the surface. "I mean, I’m sure I could make time."

His gaze softens, and there’s that almost smile again. "Good," he says. "I think your talents would be appreciated."

You nod, feeling strangely content. Working with him, even if it’s just for something simple like a bake sale—seems like a small step forward, a way to stay close without pushing too far.

As the crowd continues to thin, you realize you’ve lingered long enough. You take a small step back, your heart still racing from the interaction. "I’ll see you next week, then," you say softly, offering him a final smile before turning to leave.

"Yes," he replies. "Next week."

You can feel his gaze on your back as you exit the church, the weight of it lingering long after you step outside into the cool autumn air. And though you try to tell yourself that it’s just a bake sale, just a way to be part of the community, you can’t shake the excitement simmering beneath the surface.

Next week couldn’t come soon enough.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The bake sale was a success. The air was filled with the scent of baked goods and laughter, but you hardly had time to enjoy it. Zayne, ever the center of attention, had been pulled away in a dozen directions the entire day. When you’d arrived early that morning, hands full of pastries and stomach full of butterflies, you barely got a chance to exchange more than a quick greeting.

He had smiled at you, brief but warm, though his attention was quickly snatched away by people needing his assistance, asking for advice, or organizing last-minute details. Of course, he handled everything with calm efficiency. You watched him navigate the chaos with admiration, though a part of you ached for more than those fleeting glances you stole throughout the day.

Now, as the sun begins to set and the crowd dissipates, everything is finally winding down. The tables have been mostly cleared, the leftover baked goods packed up, and most of the volunteers have either left or are chatting amongst themselves. You’re still tidying up, folding a tablecloth when you feel a presence beside you. Zayne.

"Need any help?" he asks.

You offer him a small smile, shaking your head. "I’ve got it," you say, too aware of how close he’s standing. "But thank you."

"You did a lot today," he says quietly. "The bake sale wouldn’t have been as successful without you."

The compliment, though simple, warms your chest, and you can’t help the slight flush that rises to your cheeks. "I’m just glad I could help," you reply, glancing at him, and there it is again—his gaze, lingering just a fraction too long.

"Will you be attending mass tomorrow?" he asks after a pause, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

For a moment, you’re not sure how to answer. Attending Sunday mass on a regular basis was not something you imagined for yourself when you moved here. But neither was the crush on a priest. You tilt your head slightly, offering a small smile. "I might," you say. "But... I’d be more than happy to help out around the church too. If you need extra hands for events or... anything else." The offer hangs in the air.

Zayne’s eyes hold yours for a moment longer, before he nods, his lips curving into that barely-there smile that always makes your heart race. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As you both finish the last of the cleanup, the weight of the day settles over you. The connection between you and Zayne feels more real.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Days pass after the Sunday mass, and your mind is restless. You had hoped—foolishly—that this crush would fade. That the flutters in your stomach and the lingering heat in your chest, and somewhere else, would disappear. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s grown stronger. It’s more than just attraction now—it’s curiosity, fascination, a desire to know him beyond the surface.

You had gone to mass that Sunday, and the entire service, your eyes had found his. After the service, you exchanged pleasantries as usual, but there was something beneath the surface. The way he smiled at you, as if holding back. And then, before you left, he had handed you his phone, suggesting that you exchange numbers, “in case there’s any more help needed with events.”

It was a perfectly reasonable request, and yet, your hands had trembled slightly when you typed your number in. A simple exchange of phone numbers shouldn’t feel like this, but you couldn’t shake the thrill it gave you.

Now, days later, you’ve been staring at his name in your phone for what feels like hours. Your fingers hover over the screen, your mind spinning with a thousand excuses you could use to text him.

‘Just invite yourself over.’ Tell him you’ve been working on new desserts and want to share them. It’s innocent enough—after all, you’ve done it before, and he was more than happy to accept. Why should this time be any different?

You lean back, the phone still in your hand, your thoughts a tangled mess. ‘It’s not wrong to want to see him, is it?’ When you’d exchanged numbers, had there been something in the way his hand brushed yours? Something more than just casual contact?

Your thumb hovers over his name on your phone, heart pounding in your chest. ‘One message. That’s all. Just one message to bring him something.’ It’s innocent. Harmless.

You begin to type. “Hey, I’ve been experimenting with some new dessert recipes. Thought you might like to try them. Could I drop some by?”

Before you can second-guess yourself again, you hit send.

The message disappears, leaving you staring at the screen, your heart racing.

Your phone buzzes a minute later, and you can hardly breathe as you open the message.

“That sounds great. I’d love to try them.”

His reply is simple, casual, but the effect it has on you is anything but. You glance around your apartment, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’ve done. You’re going to see him again, and this time, the meeting will be more personal, more intimate. ‘Just you, him, and those damn desserts.’

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You close the shop with shaky hands, flipping the sign to "closed" and locking the door behind. You try to calm your nerves as you walk toward the church.

‘Why am I doing this?’ you ask yourself for the hundredth time. You always shared your new recipes with your two employees—they were your taste-testers, your go-to feedback. So why now? Why are you heading to a priest, of all people?

‘He’s the customer experience,’ you remind yourself, a weak excuse at best. However, if anyone could give an honest opinion, it would be him—level-headed, composed, with that quiet seriousness that always unnerves and excites you. It’s just an opinion, nothing more. You repeat it like a mantra as you approach the church.

The doors creak open as you step inside, the familiar scent of incense filling your senses. The church is mostly empty, the soft glow of evening light filtering through the stained-glass windows. As you enter, you spot Zayne standing outside the confessional. He’s speaking quietly with an older woman, but his eyes flick up as soon as you walk in. The moment he sees you, his expression changes for a split second, barely noticeable, but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat.

The woman finishes her conversation, offering him a polite smile before heading toward the door. Zayne watches her go, and when she’s gone, he turns his full attention to you.

His lips curve into a subtle smile. "Good evening," he greets you with that calm authority that always makes you feel both at ease and strangely vulnerable at the same time. "Thank you for coming. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble."

You shake your head, trying to keep your voice steady as you return his smile. "No trouble at all. I just closed up the shop, so... it worked out."

He nods, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before gesturing toward the back of the church. "Shall we?" He leads you down the quiet hallway, until you reach his office—a small, private room tucked away from the rest of the church. The walls are lined with bookshelves, a modest desk in the middle, and a soft lamp casting a warm glow. Zayne closes the door behind you, and for a second, the air between you feels thicker than it had before.

You sit across from each other at the small desk. You set the box between you, showing a display of your latest creations. Zayne’s intense green eyes take in the array of sweets.

"These look incredible," he says as he leans in. He reaches for one, pausing as if to savor the moment. "Shall we start?"

You nod, your voice wavering as you describe the little creation.

As he finishes the first dessert, followed by more praise, his eyes drift over the others in the box. His eyes linger on a small orange-tinted one. His brow furrows slightly, and he glances up at you. "Is that… carrot?" he asks, with reluctance in his tone.

You laugh softly, "Yes, it’s a mini carrot cake," you say, your voice light and teasing. "I’ve been thinking about adding it to the menu."

Zayne’s smile tightens just a little. His fingers hover near the pastry, but he doesn’t reach for it. "Carrot cake... that’s..." He trails off, clearly searching for the right words, though his discomfort is obvious. "I’m sure it’s delicious," he adds, his tone strained with effort.

You can’t help but chuckle softly at his expression, the idea of Zayne being uncomfortable with something as simple as a carrot cake is both endearing and amusing. "You don’t like carrots, do you?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him with a grin.

Zayne shifts slightly, his ears tinged with a faint blush as he gives a sheepish smile. "I’ve never been... fond of them," he admits.

You laugh again. "That’s completely fine," you say, shaking your head. "You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended."

Relief washes over his face, and you can’t help but find it charming. "Thank you," he says with a smile, his voice more relaxed now. "I’m sure it’s wonderful. Just... not for me."

You nod, smiling back at him as you make a mental note not to add the carrot cake to the menu after all. Who would have thought Zayne, of all people, would have such a small but specific dislike?

As you both settle into a comfortable rhythm of tasting the remaining pastries, the earlier tension eases, replaced by the easy conversation and laughter that flows between you. There’s something natural, almost soothing, about this—sharing these quiet moments, watching his reactions as he tries each new flavor, the occasional teasing smile crossing his lips.

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to push the boundary just a little. “I won’t ask what made you become a priest at such a young age,” you begin, offering a shy smile to lighten the weight of your words. “But I have to admit... I do wonder what you do when you’re not here. What’s Zayne like when he’s not... well, Father Zayne?”

Zayne’s lips twitch slightly at the question, as though he’s surprised but also amused by your boldness. He leans back in his chair, his posture relaxing a bit.

“Well,” he begins, a faint chuckle escaping his lips, “I don’t have much free time, to be honest. Between the church, the community events, and my other responsibilities, it’s hard to find a moment just for myself.”

He pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “But when I do get some time, I like to read. Mostly fiction—novels, stories that take me somewhere else for a little while.” His voice softens with a hint of something like nostalgia. “I also try to visit new restaurants when I can. There aren’t many options in this town, so sometimes I take trips to the city just to try something different.”

There’s something so relaxed, almost vulnerable, in the way he talks about it that makes you feel like you’re seeing a side of him that few people do. A side that isn’t weighed down by the responsibilities of his role, but is simply... Zayne.

He shifts the conversation, leaning forward slightly as he looks at you. “What about you?” he asks, his voice warm with genuine curiosity. “When you’re not experimenting with food, what do you do in your free time?”

“Well,” you begin, shifting in your seat, “when I do take a break, I like to drive out of town, too. I’d meet up with old friends, go out for a drink or two... but honestly, I like the quiet here. It’s different. Calming, in a way.”

Zayne nods, his expression thoughtful. “I can see that. There’s something peaceful about being here, away from the noise. But I imagine it must get lonely sometimes.”

His words strike a chord in you, and for a moment, you feel a vulnerability creeping in. You hadn’t expected him to understand, but somehow, he does.

“Yeah,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “It does.”

You glance at him, and for a moment, you feel like you’re seeing him in a new light— as someone who, like you, is navigating his own struggles, his own desires.

The rest of the evening continues with light topics and soft laughter. But as you glance out the window you see it’s pitch-black outside. You glance at your watch, feeling a pang of reluctance as you realize it’s time to go.

“I should probably head out,” you say softly, not wanting to break the moment but knowing it has to end.

Zayne nods, though there’s a hint of something in his eyes that shows he feels the same reluctance. He stands, walking you to the door of his office. “Thank you for the desserts,” he says, his voice feeling more personal now. “And for the conversation.”

You smile. “Thank you for listening. And for the... honesty.” There’s a moment of hesitation before you step toward the door, the space between you suddenly feeling too close. He opens the door, and as you step out into the quiet hall, you glance back at him one last time.

His eyes linger on you. “Goodnight,” he says, his voice low, and for a second, it feels like there’s more he wants to say, but the moment passes.

“Goodnight,” you reply, turning to leave, your heart still racing from the quiet intimacy of the evening.

As you walk out into the cool night air, you can’t help but feel that this connection—whatever it is between you and Zayne—has deepened. And as you head home, your thoughts linger on him, wondering where this path will lead.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next day, your phone buzzes. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips a beat. It’s a message from Zayne.

“The desserts were incredible,” it reads. “You have a real gift for combining flavors. Thank you again.”

You smile, rereading the message a few times before typing out a casual reply. His words, the thoughtfulness behind them, mean more than they should. You tell yourself it’s just feedback—he’s just being kind, just acknowledging your work—but the fact that he took the effort to write this message... it lingers in your mind.

Days pass, and the messages continue. They’re not frequent, but every other day, you’ll receive something from him—a thoughtful comment on one of your desserts or a small exchange that feels more personal than before.

One evening, your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a picture—a grainy snapshot of a small, scruffy-looking cat sitting outside the church doors.

“This little guy hangs around the church sometimes. I think he’s starting to expect me to feed him,” the message reads.

You can’t help but laugh softly to yourself as you look at the picture. You quickly type out a response: “He’s adorable! Have you tried petting him yet?”

A minute later, Zayne replies: “I’ve tried. He runs away every time I get close.”

You smile to yourself, finding the image of Zayne—a man so composed, so in control—being outwitted by a stray cat endearing. You imagine him, kneeling down, trying to coax the little creature closer, only for it to scurry away. There’s something so human about it, so... normal.

“That’s adorable,” you reply, the smile still on your face. “Keep feeding him, and he’ll come around eventually.”

The conversation carries on like that—simple, easy exchanges that make you feel more connected to him in ways you hadn’t expected. But with every message, every small insight into Zayne’s life outside of his role as a priest, the ache in your chest grows. The attraction you’d hoped would fade has only grown stronger, and now it’s not just about the way he looks or the way his voice makes your heart race. It’s about him—his quiet strength, his thoughtfulness, the way he seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders but still finds time to send you a picture of a stray cat.

You know you shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a priest, and you’re well aware of the boundaries that are supposed to exist between you. You’ve tried telling yourself that it’s just a crush, something that will pass.

But it hasn’t.

Late at night, you lie in bed, staring at your phone, your thumb hovering over the screen as you reread his latest message for the hundredth time. You feel a warmth spread through your chest, a soft ache blooming alongside it—a gnawing longing.

Your set the phone beside you as you exhale, closing your eyes. The ache doesn’t go away. The thought of him consumes you. Every night, it’s the same. You tell yourself not to think about him, not to let your mind wander to those places where it’s dangerous to go, but you’re powerless to stop it.

You imagine his hands—strong yet gentle—the way they would feel against your skin. You think about his lips, how they’d taste, how they’d move against yours, how they’d trail lower. Your body heats at the thought and before you can stop yourself, your hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties. The room feels too quiet, too still, as your breath quickens, and all you can think of is him.

Every night, you touch yourself to the thought of him. It’s become your secret ritual, a way to chase the frustration and desire that builds up inside you. You picture the way his body would feel pressed against yours, the way his breath would hitch as he gives in, as the control he fights so hard to maintain finally snaps. You can almost hear his voice—low, rough with need—as he murmurs your name, telling you how much he’s wanted you, how long he’s been fighting it.

Your fingers move faster. And just as you reach the edge, teetering on the brink of release, you whisper his name into the darkness, your voice barely audible.

When it’s over, you lie there, breathless, your heart pounding in the silence of your room. The guilt creeps in, just like every night.

During the day, at the shop, you go through the motions—serving customers, smiling, chatting. But your mind drifts back to him, and you wonder –

‘Does he ever think about me like that?’

You think of him during the slow afternoons at the shop, when the world feels like it’s moving on without you. You wonder what he’s doing, if you cross his mind in those rare moments when he’s alone. Or if you’re just another parishioner to him, someone he texts about cats and pastries and nothing more.

The next time your phone buzzes, and you see Zayne’s name light up the screen, your heart skips a beat, followed by that all-too-familiar flutter in your belly. He’s sent another picture of the cat, this time with a playful caption:

“Still no luck with petting him. I think he likes to torment me.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. Warmth spreads through your chest, but the ache follows closely behind.

You type out a response, light-hearted to match his tone. “Maybe he’s playing hard to get. He knows you’ll keep trying.”

The response comes seconds later, “You’re probably right. I’ll keep trying. Maybe one day he’ll trust me.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next Sunday mass comes, and you sit quietly in the back, as you’ve grown accustomed to. Zayne stands at the altar, delivering his sermon with the same calm and captivating demeanor. The words, though meaningful, drift over you like a gentle breeze—comforting, yet distant. You can’t help but let your mind wander, your gaze occasionally flitting up to meet his. Each time your eyes find his, there’s a momentary spark, a flicker of something that passes between you.

At first, it’s subtle—a glance, nothing more. But as the moments pass, the weight of his attention seems to grow heavier. His gaze lingers on you for just a heartbeat longer than it should. The words coming from his mouth slow for the briefest second, just enough to notice, before he corrects himself and continues. But the flicker is there, a momentary lapse in the composed, unwavering Father Zayne.

You feel a rush of heat rise in your chest. ‘Is he losing focus because of me?’ The thought sends a thrill through you, though you immediately try to brush it off as wishful thinking. But then, it happens again.

Zayne’s sermon flows smoothly as usual, but this time, when his eyes find yours again, there’s a subtle shift in his expression. His voice falters, just slightly, as if he’s momentarily forgotten his place. He pauses, clearing his throat, his gaze quickly flicking away. You feel your heart pound in your chest, and you know he felt it too—his usual calm shaken, if only for a moment.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. A pair of elderly women seated a few pews ahead of you exchange a glance, their heads turning slightly as if they’re trying to figure out what—or who—might have caused the good Father to stumble. They lean toward each other, whispering quietly, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, a mixture of excitement and guilt flooding through you.

Zayne continues, his voice steady once more, but you can see the subtle tension in his posture now—the way his hands grip the edges of the lectern just a little tighter, the slight crease between his brows as if he’s fighting to regain control. You try to focus on the sermon again, to pull yourself out of this strange, charged moment, but it’s impossible.

When the service ends, and the last of the parishioners trickle out, you step forward, your heart still pounding in your chest. Zayne looks up, and you can tell he’s still unsettled from earlier.

But he smiles. "Good morning," he says, his voice quieter now. "I—uh, hope you enjoyed the service."

You nod, offering him a small smile in return. "I did. Though, I have to admit... I still don’t understand most of it."

Zayne chuckles, "As long as you’re here, that’s what matters," he replies, and for a moment it seems as if there’s more he wants to say but can’t quite find the words.

Before either of you can speak again, you glance toward the doors and realize that, during the service, the skies outside have opened up. Rain pours down, tapping against the windows with a steady rhythm. You curse softly under your breath, realizing you hadn’t brought an umbrella.

"Looks like I’m stuck for a while," you murmur, half to yourself, half to Zayne.

He follows your gaze, then turns back to you with a thoughtful expression. "You don’t have an umbrella?" he asks.

You shake your head, feeling a bit foolish. "No, I didn’t think it would rain today."

Zayne pauses for a moment, as if thinking about something, before he speaks again. "I could walk you home," he offers. "I have an umbrella, and I need to head out anyway. We could talk about the next bake sale on the way."

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of walking alone with him.

"Are you sure?" you ask, though you already know what his answer will be.

Zayne nods, that soft smile returning to his lips. "Of course. It’s no trouble."

And just like that, the decision is made. You follow him to the coat rack near the entrance, where he retrieves a large, dark umbrella. He opens it with a swift motion, then gestures for you to step under it with him. As you do, the two of you step out into the rain, the world around you suddenly feeling smaller.

You walk side by side, the umbrella barely covering both of you, forcing your bodies to press close together. His arm brushes against yours every few steps, the warmth of his presence almost too much, making it difficult to focus on what he’s saying. The scent of rain mingles with the faint hint of his cologne, and it makes your head dizzy.

At one point, your eyes meet again, and for a split second, Zayne’s step falters, just slightly. His words stumble as he’s explaining something about the church’s plans for the sale. He catches himself quickly, but when you glance up at him, there’s a flush of color in his cheeks. And in that moment, you wonder – ‘Is he affected by this as well?’

As you walk, the rain begins to lighten, turning into a soft drizzle, but neither of you rush to part ways. The conversation continues, easy and unhurried, and for a moment, you forget about everything else—the church, the responsibilities, the complicated emotions swirling between you. It’s just the two of you, walking in the rain.

When you finally reach your street, Zayne stops in front of your building.

"Thank you," you say with a smile.

Zayne smiles, that familiar softness in his eyes again. "It was my pleasure."

There’s a brief pause, and for a moment, it feels like something hangs in the air between you. But before either of you can break the silence, Zayne steps back, offering a small nod.

"I’ll see you soon," he says, his voice quiet.

You nod, watching as he turns and walks away. As you head inside, you can’t shake the feeling that the space between you and Zayne is growing smaller with every encounter. You wonder if the boundary between friendship and something more is becoming increasingly blurred.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next day, you couldn’t stop replaying it all in your head. The way he had looked at you, the subtle hesitations in his words, the fleeting touches. You found yourself waiting for a message from him, hoping for a hint that he felt something.

But the message never came.

You tried to brush it off at first. ‘He’s busy.’ The church had its demands, and the bake sale was coming up soon. He probably had a hundred things to take care of. But as the days passed, the silence grew heavier. Each time your phone buzzed, you found yourself hoping it was him, only to feel that familiar stab of disappointment when it wasn’t.

When you finally couldn’t stand the silence any longer, you sent him a message, keeping it casual. You told yourself that it wasn’t a big deal, that he’d reply, and everything would be fine. But when his response came, it was short, almost curt.

Your stomach sank as you stared at the screen. You told yourself you were imagining things, that maybe he was just having an off day. But the pattern repeated itself. Another message from you, another short, impersonal reply from him. It was as if a wall had gone up between you, growing taller with every passing day.

And then there was the shop. Zayne had always made a point of visiting at least once a week, stopping by for a quick chat and dessert. But that week, he didn’t come. Each day, you glanced toward the door, half-expecting to see him walk through it with that quiet smile, but the door never opened for him.

The absence weighted on your mind, leaving you questioning everything. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ you wondered, replaying your last conversations over and over in your head.

You tried to focus on work, on the bake sale preparations, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You thought about sending another message, something more direct. But each time, you hesitated. ‘What if he’s distancing himself on purpose?’ The thought left a hollow feeling in your chest.

By the time the weekend approached, the doubt and confusion had hardened into something else—hurt. You couldn’t understand why he had gone so cold, why the easy warmth between you had turned into this frigid distance.

And as you stood behind the counter of your shop, watching the door and waiting for a familiar face that never came, you realized something. ‘He’s avoiding me.’

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next Saturday, the church is buzzing with activity. Tables are set up along the hall, covered in pastries, cakes, and breads that you had carefully crafted over the week. The sight of them should be enough to fill Zayne with excitement. He usually enjoyed events like these. Always eager to chat with volunteers, admire the work of the community, and, if he was honest with himself, look forward to seeing you.

But today, as he scans the room, his gaze lingers on the table where your pastries sit, beautifully arranged and ready to be sold. He can feel a flutter of anticipation. ‘She’ll be here.’ he thinks to himself, hoping to see you among the busy volunteers. You hadn’t come to last Sunday’s mass, and even though he had tried to keep his distance, part of him had been looking forward to seeing you today. He hadn’t realized how much he missed your presence until you weren’t there.

But as the minutes tick by, his eyes sweep over the table again, and something unsettling clicks into place. You’re not here. Instead, your two employees are standing behind the table, chatting with customers, offering samples and smiling as they go about their work. The sight of them, rather than you, feels like a punch to the gut.

Zayne takes a deep breath, as he walks over to the table. He exchanges polite greetings with your employees, but his mind is racing. ‘Why didn’t she come?’ He expected you to be here, after all the work you had put into the preparations. He glances around the room again, hoping maybe you’re somewhere else, mingling with the other volunteers. But you’re nowhere to be seen.

The knot in his chest tightens. For the first time in days, the weight of his own silence, his distance, hits him with full force. ‘She didn’t come because of me.’ His guilt, which he had been trying to push down, now rises to the surface. This time, for a different reason. He remembers the unanswered messages, the short replies, the way he had deliberately pulled away, thinking it was the right thing to do.

He moves through the rest of the bake sale with that guilt gnawing at him. Every time he passes your table, he feels the weight of your absence, the emptiness it leaves behind. And though he tries to focus on the event, shaking hands and exchanging small talk with parishioners, his mind is elsewhere—on you, and how he pushed you away with his silence.

As the crowd thins and things begin to slow down, he can’t resist any longer. He approaches your employees again, keeping his tone casual.

“She did an incredible job with everything,” Zayne says, offering a small smile as he glances over the leftover pastries. “I was hoping to thank her in person, though. Is she around?”

One of your employees, a young woman with a friendly smile, looks up at him. “Oh, she’s not here,” she says. “She’s actually out of town right now. I think she’s with her friends for the weekend.”

Zayne’s chest tightens. ‘Out of town?’ ‘With friends?’ The information feels like another blow. He hides his reaction, nodding politely.

“Ah, I see. Thank you both for participating,” he says, his voice a little more strained than he intends.

As he walks away from the table, the guilt intensifies. The thought of you spending the weekend elsewhere, with your friends, leaving the bake sale in the hands of someone else, feels like a quiet rejection. ‘She didn’t want to see me.’ The guilt twists in his chest, tighter and heavier than before.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You stood in your kitchen for a few minutes, debating what to do. You weren’t planning on attending tomorrow’s Sunday mass—again. The thought of sitting there, with Zayne at the altar, pretending everything was normal, made your stomach twist. But the tablecloths. They needed to be returned, and the idea of just dropping them off quickly, quietly, without having to see anyone—without having to see him—seemed like the easiest solution.

You didn’t expect the rain. The sky had been calm when you left, but halfway to the church, the clouds burst open. Within seconds, the rain comes down in torrents, soaking through your clothes as you clutch the tablecloths tighter, your feet pounding against the wet pavement.

By the time you reach the church, you're drenched, the fabric in your arms heavy and useless. Gasping for breath, you push open the door. Your shoes squeak on the stone floor as you step inside, water dripping from your clothes and pooling beneath you. You wipe a hand over your face, trying to gather yourself.

"Hey," a voice calls from deeper within the church.

Your heart skips a beat. You recognize that voice immediately. Of course, it had to be him.

You’re standing there, dripping wet, trying to catch your breath and your bearings when Zayne steps closer, his eyes scanning over your soaked clothes. There’s a flash of concern in his expression, though he quickly tries to mask it with something lighter, a smile playing on his lips.

"You really don’t like carrying an umbrella with you, do you?" he teases softly, trying to ease the tension, and it works—just for a moment. You chuckle, shaking your head.

"I guess not," you manage to say, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your shivering.

His smile fades slightly as he takes in the sight of you, soaked and visibly trembling. “You’re freezing,” he says, his voice gentler now, more serious. “Why don’t you come to the rectory? You can dry off and change into something warm.”

The idea of going to the rectory, the space where Zayne lives, feels like crossing a line, a line you’ve been tiptoeing around for weeks. You shake your head, stepping back slightly. “I’ll just call a cab. I’m just here to return these,” you say quickly, you murmur, gesturing to the tablecloths. "I don’t want to intrude."

But Zayne steps forward, his brow furrowed as he looks you over. "You’re not intruding." he says, his voice more insistent now. "You’ll get sick if you walk back out like this. Please, just let me help."

You look up at him, the concern in his eyes stirring something deep inside you, something you’ve been trying to suppress. The rain outside is relentless, and despite your instinct to retreat, you find yourself nodding. "Okay," you whisper.

Relief flashes in Zayne’s eyes, and he nods, stepping aside to lead the way. "Good. Follow me."

Zayne leads you into the rectory, the warmth of his home. He guides you toward a small bathroom. “Take a hot shower,” he says, “I’ll put your clothes in the dryer, and I’ll leave some of my pajamas for you to change into.”

You nod, stepping inside the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

As the hot water runs over your skin, you feel the tension in your body begin to ease, the heat chasing away the lingering chill. You try to focus on the steam rising around you, on anything but the fact that you’re in his home, about to wear his clothes.

When you finally step out of the shower, you glance at the folded set of Zayne’s pajamas waiting for you on the bathroom counter. You slip into them, the soft material comforting against your skin, and can’t help but take in the smell of his fabric softener – fresh, floral scent. As you step out the bathroom, suddenly you’re self-conscious, aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. The loose fabric brushes against your skin with every movement.

You walk timidly toward the living room, your heart pounding in your chest. As you step into the room, you find Zayne waiting for you, seated on the far end of the sofa. He’s placed two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits on the coffee table. The room feels intimate, almost too intimate, with just the two of you here, the rain still tapping against the windows outside.

Zayne looks up as you enter, and for a moment, his breath seems to catch in his throat. His eyes widen slightly, and a blush creeps up his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you in his clothes, fresh from the shower. He clears his throat, his gaze quickly dropping to the tea in front of him, but the redness on his face betrays him.

You feel your own cheeks burn in response, suddenly hyper-aware of the way the loose fabric hangs on you. You move quickly to the far end of the sofa, sitting down with careful distance between the two of you.

"Thank you... for the shower," you say. "And for letting me stay while my clothes dry."

Zayne glances at you, his eyes flickering briefly over you again before he focuses on his hands resting in his lap. "Of course," he murmurs, his voice a little strained.

You give him a small smile, wrapping your hands around the warm mug of tea, grateful for something to do with your hands.

Zayne speaks first, before the uncomfortable silence could stretch, “I heard you were out of town,” he says, his voice soft but probing. “What are you doing here?”

His question catches you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to bring it up so directly.

“I was supposed to be,” you say quietly, your fingers tightening around the cup of tea, the warmth barely grounding you. “But... the friend I was supposed to go out with caught a cold. She cancelled last minute.”

The explanation hangs between you, and even though it’s true, it feels flimsy. You look down, staring into your cup. ‘I shouldn’t have come here.’

Zayne’s gaze remains fixed on you, as if he’s waiting for something more. Then, he continues. “And the bake sale?” he asks, “You didn’t come.”

The question lands like a blow. You know why, of course. Your throat tightens as you try to form a response.

“I—uh, I got caught up,” you say, your voice faltering.

You know how weak that lie sounds. But he doesn’t push. Instead his gaze softens as he looks at you. "I’m glad you’re here now," he says quietly.

You stare at him for a moment, his words sinking in, and a small, ironic chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it. "I find that hard to believe,"

Zayne looks at you, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, his brow furrowing slightly as he waits for you to elaborate.

"I thought..." you begin, but then pause, biting your lip as you glance away, trying to gather your thoughts. "I thought you didn’t want me around."

The room falls into an uncomfortable silence.

Your eyes find his and the vulnerability in them makes your chest tighten.

"I’m sorry," he says softly. "For keeping my distance. For... pulling away."

The apology lingers between you, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity behind them, but also the pain. He’s struggling—just as much as you are, maybe more.

"I thought..." he starts, his voice faltering for a second. He pauses, his hand moving to the white collar at his throat. "I thought keeping my distance would help, that it would protect both of us. But it only made things worse."

You swallow hard as you watch him. His fingers linger on the collar for a moment longer before he drops his hand, his eyes filled with a quiet regret. He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I started hearing things. Rumors. People talking about... us." The words make your heart skip a beat. "It was like a wake-up call, a hard one." His fingers brush the collar again, this time more deliberately. "That I’m a priest. And I took vows. Vows I can’t break."

You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt you see in his eyes, but before you can, he continues, his voice even softer now. "But no matter how much distance I try to put between us, you’re always on my mind." He looks away for a second. "Everywhere I go, everything I do... I can’t stop thinking about you."

You don’t know what to say, what to do. Zayne’s vulnerability, his confession of how deeply you’ve affected him, makes the tension between you almost unbearable.

His eyes meet yours again. "You’re everywhere," he whispers, his voice almost breaking. "And I don’t know what to do about it."

Zayne’s words linger in the air, pulling at your heartstrings. You want to say something, to ease the pain, and you don’t know if you can. Not when you’ve been feeling the same way.

"Zayne..." you say softly, "I don’t want to be the reason you’re struggling," Zayne’s gaze drops to the floor, shoulders tense. Seeing him like this makes your chest tighten, but you can’t stop now. There’s too much unsaid.

"But I can’t stop thinking about you either," you confess, your voice trembling slightly. The words make you feel exposed, but it’s the truth you’ve been holding in for so long. "You’re in my thoughts all the time. It’s like... no matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing, I just want to be near you."

Zayne looks back at you, and you fight every fiber in your body to close the distance between you.

"I care about you, Zayne," you whisper. "And I hate seeing you like this. But I can’t pretend that what I feel isn’t real."

He’s quiet, his breathing shallow as he processes your words. Neither of you has the answers, but in this moment, it’s enough to know that you’re not alone.

"I’ve tried to ignore it," you continue, your voice shaky but honest. "I’ve tried to stay away, to give you space, but..." You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what’s been burning inside you for so long. "It’s not just the little things. It’s all of it. The way your touch lingers... even when you barely graze my skin. I keep thinking about it, imagining more, wishing you would... touch me, hold me.”

Your cheeks burn as the words leave your lips. This is it. There’s no turning back now. You’ve held this in for so long. And now, it’s out there between you, impossible to ignore, to pretend it doesn’t exist.

"I want to feel you," you confess softly. "I want to feel your hands on me. I can’t pretend I don’t need this anymore."

For a moment, Zayne doesn’t move. His breath is shallow, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers flex slightly against the fabric of his pants. You wait, breathless, watching him.

"I want to touch you," he whispers finally. "I’ve thought about it more than I should. About how it would feel…” Then, his expression falters, frustration flashing across his face. “But I can’t."

The empathetic side of you understands him completely, and you don’t want to push him. But at the same time, you can’t just let this moment slip away.

Your hand moves instinctively, slowly sliding down your chest in a deliberate motion. "You don’t have to." you murmur.

You don’t wait for him to respond as you reach up, your fingers tracing the top button of the shirt. Then, one by one, the buttons come undone, exposing your skin to the warm air of the room. You hesitate for just a moment, your breath catching in your throat as you look at Zayne. His gaze is fixed on you, the unbuttoned shirt, eyes betraying everything his words deny.

Your fingers slide along the edges of the unbuttoned shirt, and, with a steadying breath, you shrug your shoulders slightly, letting the material slip down your arms. The shirt falls away, delicately sliding off your skin. Your skin is bare now, exposed under the dim light, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Your nipples are hard as the air brushes over your skin.

Zayne’s reaction is immediate. His eyes widen, and you can see the deep flush flood his cheeks and ears. His gaze roams over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin, his pupils dilated. He’s stunned, frozen in place, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing—what he’s allowed himself to see.

His hand twitches, as if he wants to reach out, to touch you, but he doesn’t. He’s rooted to the spot, his body betraying him with how tightly he’s gripping the sofa, the knuckles of his hand turning white from the force of his restraint. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak—he’s completely consumed by the sight of you.

Without another word, you let your hand slide down, your fingers brushing against the waistband of your pants. Zayne’s eyes follow your movements. You pause for a moment, savoring the anticipation. Zayne lets out a ragged breath, his body tensing as he watches you, helpless to do anything but stare. Your fingers tremble as you hook them into the waistband of your pants, eyes never leaving Zayne’s. You push the pants down slowly, the fabric sliding over your legs and pooling at your feet, leaving you sitting in just your underwear.

For a moment, you hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest. You give him one last chance to stop you, to pull back before things go any further. "If you want me to leave," you say, your voice low, "you should say it now."

Your words hang in the air, the final chance for him to take control, to push you away. But Zayne says nothing. His lips part slightly, but no words come. He doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t tell you to leave. Instead, his eyes stay locked on yours, his silence a wordless plea for more.

That’s all the confirmation you need.

Your hand slides down slowly, Zayne’s eyes following every move. You let your fingers brush over the front of your underwear, and you know he can see the obvious damp spot, his presence alone having you already soaked through the fabric.

His pupils dilate as he watches, and for a second, you think you hear him let out a soft, involuntary sound—something like a groan—but it’s barely audible. His chest heaves, and his grip on the sofa tightens even more, as if he’s hanging on by a thread.

"I think about you all the time, Zayne," you whisper, your voice trembling. "And when I do... this is how I touch myself." Your hand presses down on the damp fabric. "There’s nothing wrong with this," you continue, your voice silky and sweet. "Not if you just watch."

The words feel like a challenge, a tease. Zayne’s face is a mixture of conflict and desire, but he doesn’t stop you. His eyes are glued to your hand, to the way your fingers move against the fabric of your underwear, his gaze filled with hunger he can’t hide anymore.

Your hand moves in slow, deliberate circles over your underwear, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body, and you let out a soft moan. The sound makes his jaw tighten, and he shifts in his seat, clearly aroused but still holding himself back. His gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes and your body, torn between wanting to pull away and being unable to look anywhere but at you.

Then, finally, his voice breaks the silence. "Take it off," he rasps, his voice trembling with the weight of his words. His eyes meet yours, and there’s no mistaking the command in them now. "I need to see... all of you."

His words send a rush of heat through you, making your entire body tingle. There’s no hesitation in his voice this time. Without a word, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, your fingers trembling slightly as you slowly slide the fabric down your hips. The underwear slips down your legs, falling softly to the floor, leaving you completely exposed before him. You sit there, vulnerable, your skin glistening with arousal. You can feel his gaze on every inch of your body, lingering on your thighs, your hips, and finally, on the slick wetness between your legs.

"You’re... so beautiful." he breathes, his voice barely audible, filled with astonishment and desire. Zayne swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to steady himself. "Show me," he says, his voice low, trembling with desire. "Show me how you touch yourself... when you’re thinking about me."

Your heart races, your entire body flushed with heat as you slowly slide your hand down your stomach, your fingers grazing over your slick skin. You let out a soft moan as you begin to touch yourself, your eyes fixed on Zayne. He’s completely captivated, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he watches you.

Your fingers move with a growing urgency, sliding over the slickness between your folds. The sight of you touching yourself, moaning softly, has him teetering on the edge of his restraint. You’re watching him just as intently as he watches you, and you need to see more.

"Touch yourself too," you whisper softly. His eyes snap up to yours, stunned. "It’s not so bad," you add. "You’re not touching me. We’ll just… watch each other."

Zayne’s jaw clenches. His eyes are locked on yours, a storm of guilt and desire brewing beneath the surface. But then he slowly reaches up and unclasps the white collar at his throat.

For a moment, he holds it in his hand, his fingers trembling as he looks down at the small strip of fabric. Then, with a quiet exhale, he sets it aside on the table beside him. His hands move to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, each motion slow, as though he’s still hesitating at the threshold. When he’s halfway down, Zayne pauses, then pulls the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, slipping free, leaving him bare from the waist up.

The muscles beneath his shirt are more defined than you had imagined. Your eyes roam over every line, every curve of his body, taking in the way his chest moves with each heavy breath. He sits there for a moment, shirtless, his collar gone, his identity as Father Zayne falling away along with it.

He’s just a man now—just Zayne.

You swallow hard, your fingers still moving, your own arousal building with each second that passes. "Please," you whisper. "I want to see you. All of you."

Zayne’s hesitation doesn’t linger for long, before he undoes his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. Your pulse races as the pants drop to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his underwear, his arousal straining against the thin material. His eyes flick to yours, searching, almost pleading. He’s asking without words—asking if this is what you want, if this is what you’re ready for. And you are.

You nod, biting your lip, your body trembling with anticipation. With a shaky breath, Zayne hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, and you can see the tremor in his hands. But he doesn’t stop. He slides them down slowly, the fabric falling in one fluid motion, leaving him completely naked.

Your breath hitches, a soft gasp slipping from your lips as you take in the sight of him. His erection stands thick and heavy, the tip glistening with need. Every inch of him is raw, masculine, breathtaking. He’s stunning, more than you could have imagined, and for a moment, you’re lost in the sheer power of him—his vulnerability and strength laid bare before you.

Your fingers slide over yourself again, the slick heat of your arousal making you moan softly, your body shuddering from the touch. Zayne’s erection throbs visibly as he watches you. His hand twitches at his side, his body screaming for release, but he waits for you to give him permission, waiting to be told it’s okay to let go.

"Touch yourself," your voice is breathy, filled with need. "Please, Zayne."

His eyes flick between your hand and your face, but then, slowly, he wraps his hand around his length. The sight of him finally surrendering, of his strong hand gripping himself, sends a surge of heat straight to your core. You can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your lips as your fingers move faster.

Zayne lets out a low groan, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he strokes himself. The room is filled with the sound of your combined breathing, the soft moans that slip from your lips, the slick sound of your fingers slipping inside your wet entrance. You’re both completely lost in each other now, and there’s no going back.

Zayne’s hand moves slowly, rhythmically over his length, his breathing heavy and uneven as he watches you, his eyes filled with a hunger so intense it makes your pulse race even faster. His breath catches in his throat, and you know he’s still holding back.

“Relax,” you whisper, your voice shaky but filled with warmth. “It’s okay... I want this. You don’t have to hold back.”

Your words seem to wash over him, his eyes flickering with something like relief. His gaze is locked on your body, the way your fingers are soaked with your wetness, the slick sound filling the quiet space between you. His jaw clenches as he tries to steady himself, his hand stroking his length with increasing need.

"You’re... beautiful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, barely more than a breath. "God, you’ve been... in my head... in my dreams... almost every night."

His confession makes your squeeze around your fingers, a soft moan escaping your lips. The raw honesty in his voice, makes your body tremble as you teeter on the edge. Your fingers press harder, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you feel the tension in your body building, coiling tight, ready to snap.

You can see he’s close too—his hand moving faster, his body tense with the effort of holding on. But even now, even with his own release so close, his eyes are locked on you, filled with a hunger.

"I want to see you," he whispers, his voice low and rough. "I want to see you... let go. I want to hear you... Please..."

That’s all it takes. His voice, thick with need, and the sight of him on the brink, unravel you completely. Your breath hitches, turning into ragged gasps as pleasure overtakes you, your fingers moving faster, desperate to prolong the sensation as wave after wave crashes through you, each one more intense than the last. And all the while, Zayne watches, his hand moving faster, desperate to join you in the release.

Your breath steadies, your hand still resting on your wet folds, the space between you now feels too wide. "Come closer," you whisper. "I want you closer... please."

The raw need in your voice, the tenderness of your plea, draws him toward you, erasing any hesitation. He hovers over you, kneeling between your legs, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin. His arousal still hard and throbbing, inches away from you, his gaze filled with so much want that it makes your own body heat up again.

"I’m... I’m so close," Zayne gasps, his voice shaking, laced with desperation.

"Let go," you whisper, your voice soft but unyielding. Your eyes lock with his, your breath hitching as you speak. "Let go on me, Zayne."

His eyes widen at your words. He looks conflicted for a moment, as if he’s about to argue, to get up and find something else—a tissue, anything to keep from crossing that final line. But the hunger in your gaze, the trembling of your body beneath him pulls him back into the moment. The sight of your hand sliding over the slickness between your thighs seals his fate. His hand tightens around himself, his strokes quickening as his control shatters.

"Please," you whisper, your soft plea the final push he need.

And then, with a deep, shuddering breath, he finally lets go.

The first hot spurt of his release hits your belly, warm and wet, the sensation eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. His body trembles violently above you, his muscles taut and shaking as his hand moves over himself with desperate need. He groans deeply, the sound raw and primal, as more of his release follows, thick and hot, landing between your thighs, coating your skin. His breath hitches, his body tensing with each spasm of pleasure as he watches the way his release paints your skin. His hand continues to pump his length, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, caught in the overwhelming force of his orgasm.

Zayne closes his eyes as the last drops land on your flushed skin, his body still above yours.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The air is thick with the weight of what just transpired, but there's no guilt, no regret. His breath is still ragged, your own chest rising and falling with the same uneven rhythm.

When Zayne opens his eyes, they’re soft with awe—filled with pure, unguarded admiration.

"You..." he whispers, his voice rough and shaky, barely able to finish the thought. His eyes trace the glistening trail of warmth he’s left on your stomach, the way it pools between your legs, marking you with the undeniable proof of how far you’ve both fallen. "You’re... perfect."

A soft, breathless smile plays on your lips. "So are you," you murmur back.

For a moment, Zayne just stares at you, his eyes filled with something deeper than words can express. Then, he leans forward, pressing a soft, featherlight kiss to your forehead. The gesture is so tender, so filled with affection, that it takes you by surprise. It feels fragile, like something you both need to hold onto, if only for a little longer.

When he pulls back, his eyes meet yours again, and for the first time, there’s a sense of peace. Just the quiet aftermath of something real—messy, complicated, but undeniably real.

And for now, that’s enough.

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