#the timing of this song ;ㅡ;

[rvnclyd]

i heard when you cry, it rains in heaven.

[mianexil]

◇ POV: He heard/saw how someone was planning to harm you ◇

(pt. 1)

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

💫 [ The reaction of the Windbreaker boys when they heard/saw that someone was going to harass you. Don't worry, cutie, you're under the protection of these boys ]

💫 [ I hope someone will check out the Easter Egg I left here ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Umemiya, Kaji, Nirei, Kiryu

Umemiya

A long-awaited weekend. How pleasant it becomes with the onset of spring. There is even a desire to go out on warm evenings, not to sit at home in a plaid.

And so, one of these evenings. You took your boyfriend out to hang out at a club with great music.

Umemiya stood leaning on the bar and watched with a smile as you enjoyed the music on the dance floor.

Those two jerks were also standing there.

《 Hey, look at the girlie in a black dress on the dance floor there. She has pretty legs... I bet I'm going to give her a good slap 》

The guy rushed towards you, but a step before the unsuspecting you, someone grabbed him tightly by the scruff of the neck. And then he noticed how several pairs of eyes were staring at him rapaciously, and Hajime towered behind him. It seemed that he was about to crush the boy with his menacing gaze full of contempt.

The poor guys did not suspect that if you hang out in a club, then you are surrounded by your boyfriend and at least two Heavenly Kings of Bofurin.

After 10 minutes, this idiot and his friend were already kneeling outside the clubhouse in front of Umemiya and Hiragi, and swore that they would never even look at girls askance again in their lives. While you, without suspecting anything, continued to dance in the club with Tsubakino.

After this incident, Umemiya increased patrols around such places.

Kaji

The other day, Kaji got 2 tickets to a rock concert by some aspiring band "Kessoku Band". This boy loved noisy places, and you didn't mind. So in the evening you went to the semi-basement concert hall together.

You had a great time enjoying the sound of rock music, and then there was a 10-minute break between songs, during which everyone bought drinks, talked, and so on. Kaji was buying 2 glasses of fruit juice for you when he heard a strange guy talking on the phone next to him.

《 Yes, I have already found the right chick. I'm going to give her alcohol to drink and have fun with her tonight. Huh, yeah, as usual, dude. All right, bye, I'm off 》

The vein on Kaji's forehead had already started to swell from hearing the disgusting idea, and when that asshole moved in your direction, Ren lost all control. The glasses of juice he bought for you crashed loudly on the floor.

You heard a loud noise from the crowd, but when you came up, the guy lying on the floor under Kaji already looked more like minced meat than a person. You had to pull your boyfriend away from that guy so Ren wouldn't kill him.

Is it worth saying that you are now banned from that concert hall? However, Kaji has never regretted what he did. He's ready to kill anyone who's going to hurt you.

Nirei

After the exams, the Furin members decided to celebrate at the club. You were relaxing with them, finishing off a sweet milkshake. After active brain work and a little stress, you wanted more sweets.

��� One more milkshake, please 》

After making a request to the bartender, you were distracted by some noise from your group. It looks like Sakura and Sugishita started showing their fangs to each other again and you headed towards them before this catfight blew up the whole club.

At this time, the bartender placed your order on the countertop and your sweet drink, decorated with whipped cream and a cherry on top, was waiting for your return.

At this moment, Nirey, who was actively writing something down in his notebook, looked up and there was such a picture in front of him: two strange guys approach the steam counter and one of them quickly pours some powder into a glass, and then both retire from the crime scene.

Nirei immediately tensed up. For this young collector of information, bandit tricks were known, which are popular for industry in places such as clubs and bars. The yellow-haired boy was already heading towards the bar to inform the bartender about what had happened, but when he saw you coming up and taking the drink in your hands, his hair stood on end and he rushed towards you with all speed.

Akihiko literally put his hand between your lips and the glass at the last moment.

《 Y/N, DON'T DRINK!! 》

He was noticeably nervous at that moment. You had to calm him down, and then Nirey told you and the guys from Furin what happened.

Of course, the guys quickly found these scum and handed them over to the guards, not forgetting to leave them a couple of bruises for prevention.

For the rest of the evening, Nirey did not leave your side and brought you drinks himself, carefully watching how they were prepared.

Kiryu

Kiryu invited you to a street fair. There were various counters and stands with geek themes: from games to anime and manga. Different lanterns and garlands, illuminating the evening street with warm light, created a sweet atmosphere. You both enjoyed spending time buying different stuff like key chains with paired characters, stickers, etc.

At some point, Mitsuki went to the bathroom, leaving you at the stand with "Love Is Hard For Otaku"

Standing at the sink, he heard some guys talking from the far corner.

《 Did you see that girl in the blue and white striped skirt? She's pretty. Let's buy her a drink and offer her a ride on a bike. Maybe we'll get something tonight 》

They were definitely talking about the very skirt that Kiryu helped you choose this morning. When these guys came out of the bathroom, he finished washing his hands and followed right behind them.

Making his way through the crowd, Mitsuki saw you with some kind of glass of juice in your hands, talking to those idiots. It seemed like you were trying to politely refuse, but they kept pressing hard.

Suddenly, someone's warm arms wrapped around your waist from behind and Kiryu leaned over your shoulder, drinking from the glass in your hand through a straw.

《 I'm back, love 》

Then he looked up at the annoying guys from under his brows. Mitsuki had the same relaxed expression when viewed at first glance. But your boyfriend wasn't smiling at those two idiots. It was a silent warning.

A cold light flashed in his green eyes.

The two guys hesitated slightly, muttered something, and left dejectedly. You still didn't understand what it was, but after that, you calmly continued your date, enjoying the rest of the evening.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[grandlinedreams]

|| set in Archeron sibling!reader setting || last installment [here]

|| suggested music: Unknown/Nth; Hozier

|| warnings: lil smidgen of angst, mention of Az's past, soft pining on both ends, I'm in my feelings abt this dynamic today

Azriel doesn't understand your fascination with his hands.

He wonders if he's unknowingly put a glamour on them, tricked you into perceiving them as something else ㅡ and by extension, turned himself into someone he is not.

He's a lot of things ㅡ Illyrian (bastard), Spymaster for Night Court, Shadowsinger. To you, however, he is just Azriel.

The first time you reach for his hand, he yanks it away ㅡ and though the hurt in your eyes makes him want to apologize, he doesn't. Instead, it's you who apologizes to him.

"I should have asked," you say, and he thinks maybe that will be the end of it ㅡ he's never been good with people that aren't the Inner Circle (though you are now part of that too) ㅡ but instead, you try again a couple days later.

"Can I see your hands?"

He doesn't know why you want to. They've seen so much death, destruction, bloodshed. Truth-teller has sang its lethal song in his hands so many times that he's lost count.

But you ask, and he can't truly find a good reason as to why he should deny you. Your own are so small compared to his as you turn his palms up first, settle your fingertips against his skin ㅡ and despite the slender taper of your fingers, he can feel the callouses. Proof of a life he's slowly learning of, now made timeless and immortal. (That too, is something he's trying to help you ease in to.)

You trace the crease of his palms, studying them ㅡ and then his heart stills as you turn them over.

He expects to see the reflexive horror of seeing the gnarled skin, scarred by his step-brothers, the aftermath of flame against his skin ㅡ and then perhaps pity, and a little disgust.

He sees none of it. There is no recoil, no sudden pull away ㅡ you simply study, then stroke your fingers against the scars.

He wonders if you can hear the hitch in his breath, too afraid to move, to speak ㅡ you have him under your spell, body and mind.

And then your lips are on his knuckles ㅡ the coaxed curl of his fingers over yours so you can bring his hand to your lips. The brush of your mouth is soft ㅡ the whisper of affection that's so sweet that Azriel thinks he might break for how gentle you are.

He's afraid that you may ruin him. That you are so wholly unaware of the effect you have on him, the way he would lay the world at your feet ㅡ all you would have to do is ask.

You ghost your kiss over his other hand and then lower them ㅡ but then it's Azriel who takes your hand, one into both of his. He straightens your fingers, brings your hand up to the soft skin of his cheek ㅡ leans into your palm as your fingers press in answer.

He isn't done though, greedy as he is for these moments ㅡ so often in the late hours of solitude from other people, he goes a step further and tips his head just enough to let his lips graze your palm.

He follows the soft press of your thumb, down ㅡ to your wrist, where your pulse jumps as his eyes ㅡ molten honey and sunlight ㅡ lock with yours.

The shadows that always accompany him wreathe down, dare to ghost against your neck ㅡ and you let them. Because even though you are Cauldron-born a child of starlight, you would happily let him eclipse you in your entirety.

All he would have to do is ask.

[cerisesparadise]

still with you ㅡ park jongseong

genre - romantic drama, contemporary romance, lovers to exes (to lovers again? I’ll let you guys decide <3), slight angst?

pairing - idol ex bf!jay x fem!reader

warnings - none? It’s quite nostalgic and melancholic, fitting to the rainy fall weather (and this week’s theme on bjnet!) does an open ending count? (definitely does for me lol) - lmk if I should add any!

wc -  2.1k

synopsis - In a cosy café where they once shared quiet moments, she now sits alone, missing Jay—an artist whose career has skyrocketed since they mutually parted ways. Though she supports him from afar, she can’t help but wonder: is their story truly over, or is there still a way back to each other?

a/n - hii! welcome to my first official post under bjnet! this week’s theme is “A rainy day”, and since it’s been pouring this whole week, my rainy days playlist came back. On shuffle, Jungkook's Still With You started playing–my absolute favourite song–so I was inspired to write about Jay! Hopefully the weather’s been better for you guys, and enjoy reading! | bookshelf

The rain drummed softly against the café windows, each drop cascading down the glass like tiny rivers tracing a path to nowhere. It was one of those quiet, overcast afternoons when time seemed to slow, and the world outside became a blur of muted colours. Inside the café, the warmth of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of low conversation wrapped around you, but none of it reached deep enough to distract you from the thoughts swirling in your mind.

You sat at the same table by the window, your fingers tracing invisible lines on the surface, where your books used to lie scattered. Back then, this corner had felt like your own private world—yours and Jay's. You could almost see it now, like a film playing out in front of you. He would sit across from you, his notebook open, guitar resting against the chair. Sometimes he’d hum under his breath, scribbling down lyrics, lost in the melodies that only existed in his mind until he could give them life.

You, on the other hand, were always hunched over textbooks and notes, eyes heavy with focus but heart light with the simple joy of being near him. The two of you didn’t always talk; sometimes, hours would pass in comfortable silence, with only the soft scrape of pen on paper or the occasional tap of a key on his laptop breaking the quiet. But it was a silence you cherished—a language all its own, one that spoke of contentment and understanding.

That was before.

Now, you were alone in that same café, staring out at the rain-soaked streets, lost in the bittersweet haze of what was, and what could have been. The weight of the empty chair across from you seemed heavier today, more tangible. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the song softly playing over the café’s speakers—one of his. The familiar notes tugged at something deep inside you, each lyric a reminder of the memories you still carried.

You missed him.

You missed the way his voice would gently pull you out of your thoughts when he caught you zoning out during a study session, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you from across the table, as if to say, I'm here, I'm with you. You missed the way he would sneak a lyric or a phrase into his songs that only you would recognize, something small, something that connected just the two of you in a world where he was meant to belong to everyone.

But life had demanded more of him than just this corner of a café, more than just you. It had demanded his passion, his ambition, his heart. And you had your own path to follow. He was chasing his dream—music, the one constant in his life since long before he had met you. And you had your own dreams too, though they felt a little lonelier now. The decision to part ways hadn’t been easy for either of you, but it had been mutual. Logical, even. You both had careers to build, lives to shape. And you knew, deep down, that holding each other back wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Some days were easier than others. You kept busy with your studies, threw yourself into projects and assignments, and told yourself that this was how it had to be. That it was right. You still believed that. You both deserved to chase the things that made you feel alive. But there were days—days like today—when you’d find yourself back here, sitting at the same table, looking out at the rain and wondering.

Wondering if it was all worth it.

You watched the raindrops slide down the window, each one chasing the other, much like your thoughts. There was a time when you believed that no matter what life threw at you, the two of you could weather it together. But then the opportunities came knocking for him—the tours, the interviews, the endless nights spent in the studio. He had made it. You watched him rise, his name lighting up stages and screens, his music reaching people in ways he had always dreamed of.

And you? You cheered him on. Always. From the shadows, from a distance. Every time you saw his name in the headlines or his face on your feed, a small, proud smile would tug at your lips. That was your Jay up there, living the dream you had seen him work so hard for. You had always known he had it in him. And now the world did too.

But what the world didn’t see was the quiet ache that lived in the spaces between. They didn’t see the way your heart clenched every time his voice filled the room, reminding you of the nights you spent here, when his music was just for you. They didn’t see the way you’d trace the letters of his name absentmindedly, lost in thought, wondering if he still thought of you too.

But sitting here now, with only the rain and the memories, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t think like that, wouldn’t let yourself slip into that spiral of what ifs—but it was hard. Hard not to believe, deep down, that you were supposed to be together. That despite everything, despite the distance, despite the lives you were building separately, you should have found a way to make it work.

A sigh escaped your lips as you picked up your coffee, now lukewarm, and took a small sip. The bitterness matched the mood settling over you, but it was a familiar comfort. The door to the café opened, and you looked up instinctively, your heart fluttering in your chest, just for a moment. There was always that sliver of hope, wasn’t there? That maybe, by some twist of fate, he would walk in. That the universe would bring him back to this table, to you.

But it wasn’t him. It never was. You smiled at yourself ruefully, shaking your head at the foolishness of it. Jay wasn’t coming back—not in the way you hoped, anyway. His path was set, and so was yours.

And yet, a part of you would always be here, in this café, waiting. Waiting for the impossible, for something that felt unfinished, unresolved. You could support him from a distance, as you always had. You could celebrate his successes, take pride in his accomplishments, cheer him on silently from the sidelines. But there would always be this ache, this quiet longing for the life you imagined, the one where you didn’t have to choose between love and dreams.

The rain continued to fall, a steady, rhythmic patter against the glass. And as you sat there, lost in thought, you knew that no matter how far apart your lives grew, no matter how much time passed, a part of you would always be with him. Just as he had said once, a long time ago, when things were simpler: “I’m still with you, even when I’m not.”

And in some ways, you still were too. Always with him.

As you continue to sit there, lost in the rhythm of the raindrops against the window, the café seems to melt away, taking you further into the labyrinth of your memories. You could still hear his laugh, feel the warmth of his hand when he’d reach out to touch yours, grounding you in the moment.

But now, that warmth is gone, replaced by the distant hum of the café, the clinking of mugs, the murmur of people around you. You sigh for the nth time, gripping your coffee cup tighter as if holding onto something that was never meant to stay.

Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks through the soft chatter. You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. It’s coming from the café’s radio–a voice you’d recognise anywhere. Jay’s voice. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding as the barista turns the volume up just a bit. You hadn’t heard his voice this way in months, not like this–so close, so familiar.

“...and that was Jay Park’s latest single, Still With You, topping the charts yet again. An instant hit since its release, fans are raving about the emotional depth and the heartfelt lyrics. We actually have Jay with us on the line. Jay, congratulations! Can you tell us a little more about the song?”

Your chest tightens, and you sit up a little straighter, pulse racing. Still With you? That can’t be. That was your song. The one he’d written in this very café, the one he’d promised was for you. He’d never intended to release it, or at least, you thought he wouldn’t–especially after the two of you had parted ways. But here it was, playing on the radio for the entire world to hear.

You lean forward, your heart pounding louder than the rain as Jay’s voice comes through the speakers again, soft but steady, like a familiar embrace.

“I wrote this song a while back… for someone special in my life,” he begins, his tone thoughtful. “She was… she still is special, even though she’s not by my side anymore. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am now. I wouldn’t have found the courage to chase this dream. So I guess this song is my way of saying thank you… and maybe hoping for another chance. I don’t know if she’ll ever hear it, but—” He pauses, and for a moment, you could almost imagine him looking down, smiling softly the way he used to. “—I hope she’s still out there somewhere, hoping for another chance at love, just like I am.”

The radio host fills the silence with congratulations and questions about his tour, but you’re no longer listening. The world around you seems to blur, fading into the background as your heart races in your chest. His words echo in your mind, crashing over you like the rain against the window.

“She’s still special. I hope she’s still out there, hoping for another chance. Just like I am”

Jay. The song, the message—it was for you. It had always been for you.

The rain outside felt heavier now, or maybe it was just your pulse beating in your ears, drowning out everything else. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself, but it was impossible to ignore the sudden rush of emotion rising inside you. He hadn’t forgotten. Even after all this time, all the distance, he hadn’t let go. He was still thinking of you, still hoping, just as you had been, quietly, all this time.

Could this be it?

For a moment, you wondered if this was the sign you’d been waiting for—the universe’s way of telling you that maybe, despite everything, your story wasn’t over yet. It felt surreal–like something out of a dream. Jay, the one person you couldn’t forget, was reaching out, even if he didn’t know it.

You glanced out at the rain-soaked street beyond the café window, your reflection staring back at you with wide eyes and a heart full of questions. Could it really be that after all this time, Jay was still waiting for another chance? And more importantly, were you ready to find out?

The rain continued to fall, but for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel so heavy. Instead, it felt like the beginning of something—something you weren’t quite sure of yet, but something that made your heart beat just a little faster.

You inhaled sharply, trying to ground yourself. Was this the sign you had been waiting for? A second chance? You had been so convinced that your story with Jay had ended, but now–now, it felt as if the universe was pulling you back together, one note at a time.

You stood up slowly, gathering your things, mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. Maybe today, you’d just walk home. Maybe tomorrow, you’d listen to his song again, really listen. And maybe, just maybe, you’d find the courage to reach out.

But for now, the café door opened with a soft chime, and you stepped out into the rain—unsure of where it would lead you, but feeling, for the first time in a long time, like the world had offered you a possibility.

A possibility of a second chance.

© cerisesheaven — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my works. thank you angel!

[lzucid]

ㅡ A song for you

Genre : Fluff, Slight Angst? idol!jimin × reader

Summary : Jimin has been distant lately, lost in rehearsals and schedules. But tonight, he comes back to you with something special—something that speaks louder than words. ☾ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

Author's note : i'm writing after a really long time so i have no idea if anyone will like this, but i hope you guys enjoy! <3

The rain had been falling for hours. You watched as tiny droplets slid down the apartment window, tracing their slow, aimless paths before disappearing into the dark. The city outside was alive—cars honking, people rushing under umbrellas—but inside, it was quiet. Too quiet.

You pulled the sleeves of Jimin’s oversized hoodie over your hands, trying to find comfort in the lingering scent of him. It had been days since you had last seen him, and even longer since you’d had a real conversation. His texts were short, his calls rushed. "Sorry, practice ran late. I’ll call you tomorrow. Miss you."

You knew he was busy. That was part of loving someone like him—an idol, a star. But knowing didn’t make it easier.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you leaned your head against the couch. Just as you were about to reach for your phone, the familiar sound of the front door unlocking made your heart jump.

Jimin stepped inside, shaking the rain from his hair. His black hoodie clung to him, damp from the weather, and his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold.

You stood up immediately. “Jimin?”

His tired eyes softened when they met yours. “Hey,” he breathed, shutting the door behind him. He let his bag slip from his shoulder, kicking off his shoes. “You’re still up.”

You crossed your arms. “Hard to sleep when my boyfriend has been MIA.”

Jimin winced, running a hand through his wet hair. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You sighed, not wanting to argue. “Did you even eat?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Maybe a snack between rehearsals?”

Shaking your head, you walked past him to the kitchen, already grabbing a bowl of leftover soup from the fridge. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

As you placed the bowl in the microwave, you felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, his body warm despite the chill from outside.

"I missed you." he murmured, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

Your heart clenched, but you refused to let him off that easily. “You sure? You’ve been too busy to say more than two words to me lately.”

Jimin sighed, pulling back just enough to spin you around and face him. His dark eyes searched yours. “I know,” he admitted softly. “That’s why I came here. I have something for you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Unless it’s a time machine that lets us get back all the nights you missed, I’m not sure—”

Jimin cut you off with a small, teasing smile. “Just sit,” he said, leading you back to the couch. He reached for the guitar resting against the wall—his guitar, the one he rarely played in front of anyone.

Your breath caught. “Jimin…?”

He sat down beside you, adjusting the instrument in his lap before meeting your gaze. “Just listen.”

Then, he started playing.

The first few notes were soft, hesitant, but the moment his voice joined the melody, the room changed. Jimin’s voice was always beautiful—smooth like honey, rich with emotion—but this was different. It wasn’t the polished, perfected sound of an idol on stage. It was raw. Personal.

The lyrics spoke of quiet mornings tangled in sheets, of stolen glances across crowded rooms, of whispered confessions in the dead of night. They spoke of waiting, of longing, of loving someone from a distance but never letting go.

They spoke of you.

Tears pricked at your eyes before you even realised it, but you blinked them away.

Jimin’s voice wavered slightly as he sang the last note, his fingers stilling on the strings. He exhaled, looking at you nervously. “I wrote it for you,” he admitted, biting his lip. “I know I haven’t been around, but… I needed you to know that no matter how far I am, no matter how busy I get, you’re always here.” He reached out, gently pressing his hand over your heart.

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

Jimin blinked. “Wait—what?”

You sniffled, shaking your head with a smile. “You didn’t have to go and write me a whole song, Jimin. I just needed you to show up.”

He let out a breath of relief, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. “So… you liked it?”

Instead of answering, you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. He let out a surprised laugh before pulling you in tightly, his warmth chasing away every lonely night you had spent missing him.

“I missed you,” you whispered against his shoulder.

Jimin sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you more.”

Outside, the rain continued to fall, the world moving on. But in that moment, with Jimin’s arms around you and his song still lingering in the air, nothing else mattered.

ㅡ thank you for reading, have an amazing day! ☾ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

[tokkiwrites]

My love!! I saw you’re taking requests!! Could you possibly do something with Javier P or Frankie relating to Heartbeat by Childish Gambino?? 😍😍🥵

hello anon, thank you for this request! i love love loove heartbeat, one of my fave songs. I hope it was what you envisioned :( • reqs

javier pena x f!reader, infidelity, fwb pretty much, ex javi, toxic rs, p in v (unprotected), kind of angst

The motel room is dim, the only light coming from a flickering streetlamp outside. You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. It’s been hours since you last saw him, and the weight of everything hangs between you like smoke—too thick to ignore, but too fragile to touch.

When Javier walks in, he looks as tired as you feel, but there’s something else in his eyes. Anger, maybe. Or guilt. It’s hard to tell anymore. He shuts the door behind him, leans against it for a second like he needs the support. His jacket's slung over his shoulder, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and for a moment, all you can focus on is the rise and fall of his chest.

"You left," he says, his voice low, rough. He’s not asking—he already knows why. You don't answer right away, because what is there to say? Instead, you just stare at him, the silence stretching between you like a heartbeat, fast and uneven.

"I didn’t know what else to do," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Javier’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move. He’s watching you with that same intensity, like he’s trying to figure out how you’re both still standing here, in the middle of all the mess. He drops his jacket on the floor and takes a step toward you, shaking his head slightly.

"I can't keep doing this," he mutters, but the way he looks at you says something else entirely. You look up at him, your heart racing. The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. "Then don't."

For a split second, neither of you moves. It's as if the air itself holds its breath, waiting.

Then, suddenly, Javier is on you, his hand cupping your jaw, the other gripping your waist as he pulls you against him. His mouth crashes onto yours with a kind of desperation you weren't prepared for, the kiss hard and rough, like he's trying to pour everything he can't say into it.

You melt into him, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as he kisses you deeper, like this is the only thing in the world that makes sense right now. The tension, the frustration, the heat-it all explodes in that moment, the room spinning around you until there's nothing left but him, and the way his lips move against yours, claiming you without a word.

He pulls back for a moment, taking you all in as if you were a precious porcelain statuette. The tips of his fingers trace your face and what can you do but lean into his touch. "No matter what the others say just know I'll always choose you. It'll always be you. Stop running away and let me show you that."

the rhythm of you heartbeat quickens and you let thoughts flood your mind for just a little. it was wrong. your boyfriend was at home, probably worried sick yet your brain was always too preoccupied with Javier choosing someone that isn’t you. He wasn't yours, but you were hisㅡ at least it felt that way. You kept promising you'd never go back, or call him again crying, let him come over, but you never stopped. you couldn’t. it wasn’t fair how all of you belonged to Javier yet you still couldn't let go of your boyfriend. Even whilst Javier was between your thighs, you still thought you can make it work, figure something out.

"Why'd you have to go?" Your voice broke the silence between the two of you. "Why didn't you..ㅡ Why did you just disappear? when we broke up..." You feel tears brimming at the corner of your eyes as his palm comes up and cups your cheek. "Is this the time you wanna talk about what happened, baby?" he's almost mocking you. "We aren't together butㅡ but you hold me when we wake up, you always look for me, you call me beautiful when I'm laying on your chest, so... so what are we, Javi?"

Javier's hand stays on your cheek, his eyes searching yours in the dim light, the weight of your question hanging between you. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might pull away. But then he speaks, his voice low and rough, barely heard.

"Don’t do this," he says, his thumb brushing over your skin, almost tender. "You know what this is. I’m not good for you. You know that." His words hit hard, but it’s the truth you've been avoiding. The truth that’s been haunting you in the quiet moments, when your phone lights up with his name and your heart jumps, when your boyfriend’s arms feel safe but not enough. You search his face, trying to find something there that makes sense, but all you see is the same old, the same heartbreak you keep coming back to. "I can’t keep being yours when you’re never really mine."

For a second, he says nothing, just watches you, his hand slipping down to rest on your neck. His thumb traces slow circles over your skin, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "Maybe you shouldn’t be," he mutters, his words thick, like they’re hard to get out. But his hand stays there, holding you, pulling you closer. "But I can’t stay away from you."

The honesty in his voice cuts deeper than anything. He kisses you again, but it’s different this time—softer, lingering, like he's trying to say something without words. You feel his hesitation, the way his grip tightens like he knows this might be the last time, but still he holds on. "You deserve better," he whispers against your lips, his breath shaky. "I know that. You know that. But I don’t—"

"Then let me go," you whisper back, but you already know he won’t. You feel it in the way he kisses you again, the way his body presses against yours, full of all the things neither of you can say. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his hand still cradling your face. "I don’t know how," he admits, his voice raw, his forehead pressing against yours again. The confession makes your heart jump, one you both already knew but never said out loud.

"I don't want to."

And just like every other time, you let him pull you back in.

your lips found each other in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire that felt deeper and more genuine than anything, maybe it was because of the truth, or maybe out of feat. Javier's hands roamed up your body, pulling you closer to him as the kiss became increasingly intense.

When you finally pulled away, you were both were left panting, eyes locked in a dance only you two knew. "fuck," Javier whispered, his voice melted with desire. "do you know how long I've waited for this? all week, baby. all I could think about was you." javier's lips crash onto your neck, sucking small spots, the skin blooming red as roses whilst you hastily start to undress each other.

"You gonna let me take care of you, sweetheart?" You reply "pleaseㅡ" desperation. and maybe something a little more that he couldn't quite name yet. Javier's fingers dance upon your skin, trailing up to where your bra clasp was. in one swift motion, he undoes the garment, letting your breasts fall down into one of his palms. inching closer, he starts to trace kisses down your shoulder to your cleavage, nipping slightly at the sensitive skin between your chest. "You're so beautiful."

he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the side as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, analyzing the way it glistened in the dimly lit room. "so pretty. my pretty girl." you moan weakly in response. placing his palm behind your knees, he lifts up your legs as to press light pecks onto your plush thighs, his thumb now tracing down your pulsing clit. javier starts to slowly swirl his finger, still kissing your thigh. "I'm gonna stretch out that pretty pussy, it'll be all you think about." but it already was all you could think about.

cunningly, javier moved his finger into your cunt, squelching sounds and moans lapping off the walls and into his ears like melodies. "that's right. want you to come on my fingers, hermosa." it didn't take long for him to get what he asked for, coming just from javier's fingers, body writhing as soft whines dripped from your lips.

"i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body as if it was the first time he saw you this way. he takes off his briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip. taking his length into his fist, javier pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your velvet entrance that trickled with arousal. he teases your swolled bud, then goes in fully, making you to claw at his back. "moveㅡ please..."

"fuck.." Javier groans, almost coming right then with the way you stared up at him through your lashes, wet with tears. "fuck, sweet girlㅡ" he starts to pump inside of you, harder and deeper, roughly hitting that one spot continously. you moan, head empty, vision blurry, and mouth agape. you were a mess, the prettiest mess he'd ever seen.

the man moves back and forth harshly, feeling himself so close as your walls wrapped perfectly around him. "shitㅡ you were made for my cock, baby. my girl." he moans, pressing his head between your breasts, nails digging bruises into your hips that'll still be there next week.

a few moments later, your head is completely blank, incoherent babbles skipping from your mouth as Javier fucks deep into you. "you gonna come, hermosa?" and you nod rapidly "go aheadㅡ fuck! go ahead, come on this cock, show me how good you are to me."

you come once again, nimbly wrapping around javier like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight it gets him over the edge, making him release warm, white ropes inside of your pulsing cunt. you both sit like that for a few minutes, you can still feel his seed inside, and some dripping around his shaft. you look him in the eyes, searching for the words that desperately need to make their way out. instead, you kiss him again, pulling him closer to you as your warmth mixes with his.

"I wish we never did this." it all settles over you. if this is loveㅡ if this is how bad it hurts, you can get used to the pain.

[calico-cat-jm]

TO JIMIN. ♡

ㅡ supportive messages in korean w/ english translation. you can use them on weverse, twitter, vlive, instagram, soundcloud, naver or the platform of your choice. made by @iesbjimin

💌SWEET PHRASES:

1. jimin, no matter the circumstances, i'll always be with you. i respect and love you a lot because you are the best person in this world. thank you for being my inspiration in life ♡

ㅡ 지민아, 어떤 상황에서도 난 항상 너와 함께 할 거야. 난 네가 이 세상에서 가장 좋은 사람이기 때문에 널 많이 존경하고 사랑해. 내 인생에 영감이 되어줘서 고마워 ♡

2. even if i'm struggling i keep making efforts to be happy because i know there is a person in Korea, in the city of Seoul, who understands me. every time i think about that i feel protected and loved. you are my comfort, thank you a lot jimin ♡

ㅡ 비록 내가 힘들지라도, 나는 행복해지려고 계속 노력한다. 왜냐하면 나는 한국에, 서울에, 나를 이해해 주는 단 한 사람이 있다는 것을 알기 때문이다. 내가 그것에 대해 생각할 때마다 나는 보호받고 사랑받는다고 느낀다. 너는 나의 위안이야, 정말 고마워 지민아. ♡

3. jimin please eat well and don't overwork yourself, your happiness and well being makes us happy so please take good care of your health

지민아 밥 잘 챙겨먹고 과로하지 말아줘요ㅡ 지민이가 행복하고 잘 지내는 게 곧 아미의 행복이니까! 지민이 건강 잘 돌봐야해요

4. thank you for coming into my life. you mean more to me than you'll ever know

ㅡ 지민이를 알게 해줘서 고마워요. 지민이가 저에게 얼마나 큰 의미인지 지민이는 절대 모를거예요

5. you are the most beautiful star in the entire galaxy.

ㅡ 당신은 전체 은하계에서 가장 아름다운 별입니다

6. jiminie your voice is so unique and calms me when i need comfort

ㅡ 지민이 목소리 넘나 특이하고 위로가 필

7. the moments with our jimin singing are so happy

ㅡ 우리 지민이 노래와 함께하는 순간들은 참 행복해요

8. healing while listening to jimin songs today

ㅡ 오늘도 지민이 노래 들으며 힐링

9. you deserve all the happiness in the world

ㅡ 당신은 세상의 모든 행복을받을 자격이 있습니다

10. your health and happiness are most important to us

ㅡ 너의 건강과 행복이 우리에게는제일 중요해요

11. we are so proud of you, jimin. your voice is heavenly and brings me joy every time. my life is happier knowing that you exist and understand me no matter what.

ㅡ 우리는 네가 정말 자랑스러워, 지민아. 당신의 목소리는 천상이고 매번 나에게 기쁨을 줍니다. 당신이 존재하고 무슨 일이 있어도 나를 이해한다는 것을 알기에 내 삶은 더 행복합니다.

12. jimin, i am immensely proud of your first solo project. you did it so well, it really touched my heart. thank you for always bringing me comfort and happiness. i love you more than love.

ㅡ 지민아, 나는 너의 첫 솔로 프로젝트가 매우 자랑스러워. 너무 잘해줘서 정말 감동이야. 항상 위로와 행복을 가져다줘서 고마워. 나는 사랑보다 너를 더 사랑한다.

13. when i see you smiling brightly, i'm going to forget all my struggles, thank you always and thank you again

ㅡ 환하게 웃는 너를 마주할때면, 지금의 나의 힘듬을 다 잊어버리게 돼, 너에게 항상 고맙고 또 감사해

14. your fans are looking forward to your solo works! we will give lots of love as soon as you release it!

ㅡ 팬들이 솔로곡 기대하고 있어요! 발매하자마자 사랑폭격예정!ㅋㅋ

15. jimin i want to meet you at the concert

ㅡ 지민이를 하루 빨리 콘서트장에서 만나고 싶어.

16. i hope you have a great day! you mean the world to me

ㅡ 좋을날이돼길바래요! 당신은 저한테 세상이에요.

17. jimin we are always proud to call you our singer

ㅡ 지민아 네가 우리 가수여서 너무 자랑스러워

18. our jimin is happy, and i will be happy too

ㅡ 우리 지민이 행복하고, 나도 행복할게

19. our jimin is the coolest person in the world

ㅡ 세상에서 젤멋쮠 우리지민이~

20. i love you yesterday, today, tomorrow and forever.

ㅡ 어제도 오늘도 내일도 앞으로도 영원히 사랑해.

21. thank you so much jimin for making a pretty song and singing it with a pretty voice

ㅡ 예쁜 노래 만들어서 예쁜 목소리로 불러준 지민이가 너무 고마워요

22. my very precious jimin, let's be together for a long time

ㅡ 너무나도 소중한 나의 지민아, 오래오래 함께하자

[terekayasa]

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ ㅡ Dear, Juun the Blue Calm

Beneath the sky, where whispers roam,

A sea of blue, serene as home.

Her eyes, like oceans vast and deep,

Where every secret tides to sleep.

In her presence, time stands still,

A tranquil wave, an endless thrill.

Her beauty, soft as ocean's song,

A quiet force that draws me along.

Juun, a calm in the stormy seas,

A perfect peace in the shifting breeze.

#juun #hearts2hearts

[ceofjohnlennon]

"I never heard Paul and John actually writing songs together, but I knew they must have been penning some tunes on the road: in a hotel room, in the back of the Electra jet, a dressing room or anyplace they could find a quiet corner away from the craziness. Wherever Paul went, he carried with him a battered and scuffed fat brown briefcase. Every time I went into their suite that old bag with bronze, rusting buckles was sitting there, on the bed, on a bedside table or on the floor. And if Paul didn't have it, then Neil was the keeper of the case. Carrying it under his arm or wearing it on a strap over his shoulder. Once — after we had arrived in Toronto — I walked into his room at the King Edward Hotel to scrounge a drink. The suite was already a mess, the television on, predictably without the sound, and there, shoeless, sitting cross-legged on the floor like a couple of kids at play, were Paul and John surrounded by a sea of notepaper. It looked like someone had emptied a wastebasket onto the carpet, with dozens of sheets scattered on the floor and other pages spilling out of the voluminous briefcase. In 1964, Paul confessed to writer Al Aronowitz: 'None of us really knows how to read or write music. The way we work it is like we just whistle. John will whistle at me, and I whistle back at him.'"

ㅡ From the book "The Beatles And Me On Tour" by Ivor Davis.

[mianexil]

◇ Misunderstanding ◇

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

⭕️ Warning: Angst ⭕️

💫 [ I love these boys so much, and I don't want them to worry, but I couldn't get this angst out of my head, I had to write it ]

💫 [ Cuties, I'm sorry I've been away for so long. I needed to rest and regain my mental strength after the recent events in my life. I have managed to do a lot during this time. Although the July rainy season was killing me with the weather, but I'm already fine. My small trips that I have made during this time have allowed me to find inspiration again, so I am with you again ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Umemiya, Sakura

Umemiya

The white-haired head of Bofurin had just returned home, humming to himself some song he had heard from the radio while working with vegetables on the roof.

Umemiya was impatient with the desire to embrace the love of his life, which warmed his heart like a ray of sunshine. So, after taking off his shoes, he immediately headed to the kitchen, where you were presumably.

However, before entering the kitchen, he froze when he heard a sharp exclamation.

《 Why did you come here again?! 》

"Why did you come here again..?"

Umemiya's hand trembled over the handle of the door, which he had not yet managed to open, and immediately another stream of curses rang out.

《 Why are there so many of you?! I'm suffocating! Can you just leave me alone for a day? 》

Hajime's heart sank into his heels.

“What? Why? Suffocating? ...I..am I boring her..?"

Thoughts instantly flashed through the white-haired man's head, and then there was an overly loud minute of silence in his thought space.

It seemed that his heart was about to stop from realizing all this.

Pain pinched in his chest and moisture had already appeared in his blue eyes, but Umemiya restrained himself.

Deep breath.

Umemiya is the type of person who will go and talk even if he is in pain, even if he knows that he is about to get a dagger in his heart, because you are the love of his life. He is ready to open his heart for that very dagger himself, if it is in your hand.

He needs to hear it directly, listen to you, talk and fully understand the situation, even if it hurts him.

Nevertheless, the hand presses the door handle and the desperate gaze of Umemiya is presented with a picture of how you, with slightly swollen eyes and a clogged nose, express dissatisfaction to a large piece of fluff that you hold between your fingers.

Someone planted poplar fluff on your street and now, with the onset of summer, it clogs the whole street and flies into the windows, preventing you from living peacefully without allergies.

Turning around at the sound of the door opening, you see your boyfriend, who seems to be on the verge. The sight of Umemiya, who now looks more like the most unhappy puppy in the world, makes you go into shock for a few seconds.

Of course, you immediately rush to your lover with dumbfounded eyes and gently wrap your hands around his face.

When asked about what happened, he asks you in a firm voice, as usual, but slightly trembling at the end, who your previous words were intended for.

Having clarified the situation, you immediately find yourself in his strong and silent embrace. The silence is broken only by his soft sob.

This poor boy has just gone through too much in 3 minutes.

For the next hour, you will have to hold Umemiya in your arms, wipe away tears, soothe and assure him that you are not tired of him, that you still love him more than anything in the world and that he will never be "too much" in your life.

Oh, dear, take care of him, because he loves you too much.

Sakura

《 You don't understand, he's constantly nervous and yelling at me all the time. I'm sick of it already! To me..it seems to me that soon I will simply not stand it and leave.. 》

You were so immersed, emotionally complaining to your friend on the phone about the new teacher, that you didn't notice how your boyfriend froze in the doorway and had been listening to your conversation for several seconds.

Turning away from the window, you finally noticed Sakura.

ㅡ Oh, honey

Quickly concluding your dialogue with your friend with the promise that you will call back soon, you went to him.

ㅡ Has something happened?

You pull your hand to his forehead to remove the two-colored hair that fell over his eyes, covering his face, but he silently intercepted your hand.

ㅡ Why...

ㅡ What?..

ㅡ Why are you touching me?

There is anger in his tone, but you both understand that pain and resentment are hidden behind it. You felt the feeling of Sakura still holding, but not squeezing your hand. Even now, he treated you with care.

The voice dropped almost to a whisper, leading you more and more into misunderstanding and making you wary.

《 Do you hate me? 》

At that moment, there was silence in the room. Fright washed over you in an instant.

It seemed like another second and he would have run away, but you managed to grab him by the collar. A firm but careful grip.

《 What are you saying, Sakura? 》

This conversation didn't last long, but it was hard. You were so worried that you made this kitten go through this moment of shock, and it took Sakura at least ten minutes for him to let go of the shock of those experiences.

You spent the rest of the day together. His head rested on your lap, and his hands were still gently but tightly wrapped around your waist while you gently hugged him, stroking his head, restoring him from shock and occasionally scolding him for allowing such a terrible thought that you would treat him so cruelly. Sakura, on the other hand, was silent for a lot, but when he spoke, it was with words of apology and a quiet, but incredibly warm for your heart declaration of love.

His fragile heart is in your hands and you both know it. He gave it to you himself, so take care of it.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[hyunsoolgc]

◎ PAGE 012

ㅡ FAMILY CONCERT 2K23 / Q&A PANEL

When Hyunsoo initially put forth the effort to become an actor, he assumed there would be many times in which he could become lonely ㅡ isolated with the exception of being on set or script readings. He expects that public conferences with a panel of his co-stars would be likely in the future, but he hardly expects the company to put forth all of the actors and models into one. The stage is relatively crowded, and Hyunsoo keeps to the back, despite the protests from his fans jumping up trying to see him.

Fans... such a foreign concept to him still. He hardly expected that anyone would be as enamored with him to actually put forth questions for him to answer. It is a pleasant surprise when he is handed a microphone of his own for answering whatever it is they ask of him for his small segment. There are a number of cheers from the crowd, one girl especially enthusiastic about expressing her affection with a loud scream. He suppresses a laugh, simply muttering into the microphone, "Oh, thank you." It earns a gentle chuckle throughout the audience, and he can already feel his ears becoming bright red.

He moves onto the first question, his eyes and ears scanning over the words in his head. He has to make it quick ㅡ the others are waiting for their time up.

"What sort of projects would you like to do in the future?"

It's a relatively standard question, one he expects to get a numerous amount of times. He lifts the microphone and hums quietly. "I've thought about this a lot. I would really enjoy if I could act in some thrillers or horror... maybe action or a detective drama or movie. Those sort of roles that are more serious are something I'm more interested in. I want to be part of something that can offer a level of escapism into an entirely different world."

He quickly moves on to the next. "Have you thought about doing other things beyond acting during your career?"

Hyunsoo looks off to the side, pursing his lips. He is not being entirely fun enough in comparison to his more outgoing coworkers but the awkward fumbling around with public speaking is entirely new for him. Behind the camera in a controlled environment is far easier. "For now, I want to just focus on acting and establishing myself! I haven't considered singing or anything of the sort. I don't think things involving music are for me. Unless you count dancing badly."

He chuckles and a fan shouts for him to do a dance for them. His eyes dart around toward the host and the other actors and models, some of which encourage him to go forward. Various loud voices from the crowd egg him on. With his usual stiff disposition, he begins to dance to a bit of Nova's debut song, then Fabula's recent comeback with the moves he had been forcefully taught by Hayoung. His minimal training in dancing is clear but he does far better than he initially expected.

His segment is wrapped up with far more smiles than he expects. He bows to the audience, waving to a few who had signs with his name on it. Perhaps he is not so bad at this, after all.

[grandlinedreams]

|| out of the comfort zone for a little smthing with 🐊

[Heads up!: afab!reader, highkey not a very healthy relationship, fingering, tiny touch of edging, piv, unprotected sex (make safe and informed decisions kids!), creampie, tiny breeding kink if you squint]

The man before you is a monster.

You know this, all too aware of the whispers that follow him, his reputation and power that backs up those claims ㅡ he is not someone you should be involved with.

What you should and shouldn't do are separated by a fraying line. You should tell him to keep his distance, make it clear that you aren't interested in giving him whatever it is he wants from you, that his silver tongue won't work.

You don't do any of that. You've never done any of that, which is what's landed you in this mess to begin with.

"Glaring at me like that won't win you any favors, my little viper." He crosses the room, unbothered by the way you tense as he nears you, raising an eyebrow at the dagger you bring up, hilt gripped tightly and blade gleaming. "I see. Perhaps 'little scorpion' would be more appropriate tonight."

Crocodile presses closer, unbothered by the flash of the dagger, the point at the unguarded flesh of his neck. "Get out." 

"Don't be silly, little viper." Cold metal presses beneath your chin, hook forcing your head back to meet his eyes. "We both know you won't use that."

You wish you could. Drive the blade in, be rid of him once and for all. The dagger drops to the floor, and Crocodile smirks.

"That's what I thought."

In a perfect world, you still fight him. You don't give in, and you definitely don't let him kiss you. You sink your fangs into him like the viper he so often compares you to. 

In this world, you don't. But this is familiar, the song and dance kept up for appearances. You sigh at the bite of his teeth in your neck, shiver at the drag of cold metal beneath the flimsy fabric of your shirt. 

"On your knees."

It should be embarrassing, the way that you fold in all ways, bend of your knees to cool floorboards beneath. You keep your gaze down, knowing how much faster the last of your stubborn resolve will dissolve if you look at him.

There's the creak of your bed, whisper of blanket beneath him as Crocodile settles himself on it ㅡ and you think of all the ways you'll still find him later, even though he never stays. 

"Come here."

The wedge of his leg between yours is familiar in ways you care little to admit to anyone but him, practiced ease in the way you bend to his will. 

The slide of his fingers up your spine makes you shiver, the easy pop of the buttons to your clothing ㅡ at least he isn't ruining another outfit this time. (Even when he has, you've found replacements delivered outside your door, tied with a neat bow and smelling of his cologne and barest hint of smoke.)

"My little viper," he murmurs, and you arch into the press of his mouth to your shoulder, the downward drift to your chest. You hate how he says it now, with reverence ㅡ and you hate that it makes your heart skip a beat.

His touch is both rough and covetous, claiming you in ways only he ever has, in ways only he ever will ㅡ you have no idle fantasies that Crocodile feels anything like love towards you, but the intention is still the same.

You belong to him.

In all the ways that both matter and don't — subtle claims made to you in order to ensure that his stance is clear. In the beginning, you'd fought him. Flirted freely, let your eyes wander — and paid for it, breathless and writhing, helpless to do anything but take what he gave you.

Now, the slide of his hand down your abdomen to cup between your legs is welcomed by the traitorous need of your body, the sink of one finger quickly joined by a second as you shudder and whimper. It gets a laugh from him, low rasp of amusement as his eyes gleam. "Act like you hate me all you want, little viper. I know better."

Your walls tighten at his taunt, the curl of his fingertips against the spot that drives a fresh spike of desperate need into the pit of your stomach.

He lets you grind your hips against his hand, watches the way you stiffen with a cry as he works his thumb roughly against your clit, coaxing you along the edge of orgasm before ripping it away. The slip of his fingers from you is lewd for how slick you are, ragged sob as that razor edge of pleasure ebbs. This too is familiar, the way he amps you up, makes you beg for him.

And beg you do, shame gone for wanton need, words you'll hate yourself for in the morning but let spill from your lips freely. Crocodile's eyes spark, electric as he feeds off of your desperation.

The blunt nudge of him against your soaked entrance is a blessing, fingere curled tight against his shoulders as you sink down onto him, whine muffled by the dig of your teeth into your lip. Tumultuous as your relationship is (if you can call it that), you can't deny how good he feels inside you.

There's the chill of heavy metal against the warm skin of your back, curve of his hook to keep you in place. Though you're seated in his lap, Crocodile calls the shots.

He guides you into a tortuously slow pace, the deliberate drag of his cock against your walls making you shudder, breath hitching as your nails dig against his skin.

It's all he allows you, marks on him gone before morning while his last, kaleidoscopic blossoms of pink and purple that you've become an expert in hiding.

But you can't bring yourself to care as he bucks his hips to meet yours and picks up the pace, the knock of his tip against that spongey spot that makes stars burst across your vision.

"My little viper," he murmurs, "what a mess you've become."

He's far less of a mess than you unless you know where to look, fascinated by the bead of sweat at his temple, the expanse of his pupils, the grip that tightens at your waist as you bounce against him.

With your hands braced at his shoulders, Crocodile snakes his hand up from your hip to your breast, palming it roughly as you shudder and arch into his touch with a gasp.

You come first ㅡ as you always seem to, hard thrust of his cock and grind of your swollen clit against his pelvis too much to not fall apart. You clench around him with a sharp cry, breath staccato as he forces you to keep moving.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears born from overstimulation, though the pain-pleausre is worth it for the way he pushes you down as his hips kick up, pressed as deep as he can go before he shudders with his own release, filling you to the brim with his seed.

"That's it," he almost purrs, "you always take me so well."

You wish you could say that this time, things are different. That Crocodile stays, that your bed has the chance to be occupied by two bodies instead of one.

He's gone by the time you get out of the shower, body damp and pleasantly achy as you stagger towards your bed, dropping onto it ㅡ and stilling at the faint rustle of paper beneath your pillow.

You reach beneath and blink when your fingers hit paper before you pull it out. It's a small box, neatly wrapped in a familiar way ㅡ and you sit up, tugging at the strings to open the box.

Pulling the contents out, you can only stare at the object in your palm. It's weighty even for how small it is, thin glass petals flared out to expose tiny, delicate stamen.

A desert flower, convincing in it's likeness ㅡ amd you cup your fingers around it, admiring the beauty of it as you surround yourself in blankets that smell of cologne and just the barest, softest hint of smoke.

[cerisesparadise]

unspoken roads ㅡ park sunghoon

pairing - rising actor!sunghoon x fem movie director!reader

genre - romantic drama, contemporary romance, coming-of-age, lovers to exes to lovers (everyone deserves a happy ending), slight angst

warnings - none, other than writing this sent me on an emotional rollercoaster :’) maybe somewhat an open ending? (lmk if i missed anything!)

wc -  3.8k

synopsis - Once inseparable in the vibrant city of LA, Sunghoon and Y/N chased their dreams–he, a rising star in modelling and acting; she, a passionate filmmaker. When success pulled them apart, they believed they had lost each other for good. Years later, fate reunites them on the set of a film–she’s the director, he’s the lead actor. As old feelings resurface, they must confront whether their love can survive the same dreams that once tore them apart. Can they rewrite their story, or are some loves meant to remain lost?

a/n - hi!! so I can't even count the amount of times I cried while writing this, it genuinely sent me on a huge rollercoaster of emotions </3 Eitherway, the inspiration for this fic was NIKI's song "La la lost you"! Listening to the song made me think about the intent of the song, two lovers being separated in two different cities so - actor sunghoon in nyc and film director reader in la was born! I promise there will be more fluffy stories, but I hope you enjoy regardless! | bookshelf

On his rare day off, Sunghoon had no real destination in mind. Wrapped up against the biting winter air, he strolled through the streets of New York, the buzz of the city moving around him like a blur. Normally, he thrived in the energy of it all–the constant movement, the endless opportunities–but today felt different. There was nothing pressing on his schedule, no meetings, no rehearsals. Just time.

And in the quiet of that space, his thoughts drifted back to you. It wasn’t the first time. Every now and then, especially on days like this, he’d find himself lost in memories of LA. The way you used to pull him into some obscure café or alley, insisting it was your special place, even though anyone could’ve stumbled upon it. The way you’d get excited about your next project, your eyes shining with that determination he always admired. He hasn’t thought of those moments in a while–not intentionally, anyway–but they had a habit of creeping in when things slowed down, when he wasn’t distracted by work or the hustle of the city.

The cold air stung his skin, but the memories warmed him in a way that left him feeling both nostalgic and hollow. There were no answers in those memories, just lingering what-ifs.

It had been five years since he last saw you, and every moment since then felt like an echo of what his life had been before. The streets of New York had become all too familiar over the past years, yet it wasn’t the familiarity that hurt. Sunghoon had carved out a life here–navigating through the bustling avenues, attending high-profile events, and landing roles that had once felt like distant dreams. But as he walked through the city that had become his home, a weight settled in his chest. The echoes of laughter and love he once shared with you lingered in his mind, making the vibrant lights of the city feel hollow. He couldn’t shake the memories of you–the way you had once laughed beside him in the warm glow of the Los Angeles sun, the way you danced barefoot on the beach together as the sun set behind you. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever feel that spark again, lost in a city that reminded him of everything he had chosen to leave behind. One would say he’s living the dream, but to him it would never be complete without you in it. In LA, everything felt simple. Effortless even. But that was before the distance, before the cold realisation that dreams sometimes took people in different directions.

His breath came out in soft clouds as he walked aimlessly, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He had come here for a reason–some interviews, some shoots, the kind of opportunity he used to dream about when he was younger. Now, it felt hollow, like every victory he earned since you left only reminded him of what he no longer had. He tried to move on, to drown himself in work, but the thought of you lingered in the back of his mind like a song he couldn’t stop humming.

The last time he saw you was back home, standing in the doorway of your shared apartment. You had smiled that bittersweet smile of yours, the one that told him you were proud of him, even though you knew this was goodbye. “New York’s waiting for you,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. “I know you’ll shine there.”

He wanted to believe you, wanted to believe that this was just another chapter, that there would be more time later. But now, with the distance between you stretching not just across cities but across hearts, he wasn’t so sure.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him back to the present. It was a message from one of the guys, asking him to meet up for dinner. He ignored it for now, his gaze drifting up to the skyline. The city felt vast, cold, and impersonal, but it was exactly where you wanted to be–pursuing your own dreams. You always loved New York, even as a child. You used to tell him how you could picture yourself walking down Broadway, sipping coffee in Central Park, living the life you’d always imagined.

And now he was there. Living it without you.

A part of him wished you had asked him to stay, but he knew it wouldn’t have been fair. He couldn’t expect you to give up everything you worked for just because he was chasing his dreams. Love wasn’t about holding each other back, and he knew that the moment he boarded the plane to New York. Still, that didn’t make the ache any easier to bear. Leaving you behind in LA felt like leaving a part of himself behind, and even after all these years in a city that became his second home, he couldn’t shake the emptiness of what he left behind.

He paused in front of a small coffee shop, the kind you would’ve loved. He could almost see you sitting inside, a book in your hand, your eyes lighting up as you talked about your latest idea for a new movie. The pang of hope was sharp, almost cruel. For a moment, he considered walking in, pretending that maybe time stood still, that the years and distance didn’t erase what you were.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because he knew–you weren’t waiting for him anymore. And somehow, that truth was heavier than the weight of all the dreams he's ever chased.

Sunghoon sighed, his breath visible in the air again, and turned away from the shop. Maybe this was just how it was meant to be—two people who loved each other but had to let go to chase their own stars. Maybe, in another life, another version of New York or LA, things would have been different.

But for now, the distance was too great, the city too vast. And he was lost. Lost in New York. Lost without you.

As he walked back towards the subway, the city buzzing around him, Sunghoon couldn’t help but whisper to himself, "La la, I lost you."

A few days later, as Sunghoon sat in the backseat of the car, his mind wandered once again, almost on cue. The streets of New York became second nature to him by now, but today felt distant, like background noise to the memories swirling in his head. He hasn’t thought about LA in a while, or at least, he hasn’t allowed himself to. But today, as the city rushed past, his thoughts drifted back to you, like they did the other day when he passed by the café. The quiet moments you shared, the late-night conversations, the way your eyes would light up when you talked about your dreams–it all felt so vivid, as if time didn’t pass at all.

It was strange how quickly memories crept up on him, slipping through the cracks of his busy life. Especially now, on the brink of something new. He wondered if you still thought about him in quiet moments too. Lost in thought, he barely noticed the car pulling up to the studio. With a sigh, he pushed the memories back down, burying them like always, as he stepped out to face the day ahead.

Sunghoon walked through the studio’s doors, his usual calm demeanour in place. The hustle and energy of the place were familiar–people darting from one end to another, lighting technicians testing their setups, and makeup artists chatting with the stylists as they prepared for the day. He had grown accustomed to the noise, the constant buzz of activity that came with every project, but this one felt different. Bigger.

“Sunghoon!” His manager’s voice broke through the noise as she approached, holding a thick packet of papers in her hand–the script. “This is the one, I’m telling you. It’s a career-defining role, the perfect chance to showcase everything you’ve been working for. The studio’s all-in on this, and they’re backing you hard. You’re going to be the lead of something special.”

He nodded, taking the script from her hands, and flipping through the pages absentmindedly. He already knew the outline–he agreed to this project because the story spoke to him. It was intense, emotionally raw, and complex. But he didn’t have the chance to dive into the full script yet.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the edges of the script as he glanced over the pages. The movie, Unspoken Roads, had an almost magnetic pull–something about it felt deeply personal, even if he couldn’t quite place why.

The script unfolded like a slow-burning memory. Doyun, a man in his late twenties, had lost five years of his life to an accident–five years, including the memories of a woman he once loved, Eunjin. She was written as a beacon in Doyun’s forgotten past, someone he couldn’t recall but felt inexplicably drawn to. A road trip was their journey, but also a metaphor for piecing together shattered fragments of love, memories scattered by time. Each word seemed to pulse with the weight of something Sunghoon himself had long buried

Sunghoon paused. His eyes lingered on a line: “You can’t remember me, but I never forgot you.”

The words blurred as they sank in. Unconsciously, his breath hitched, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. Doyun’s journey, his confusion, his longing for a love he couldn’t recall–it hit too close to home. Sunghoon didn’t lose his memories, but it felt like he had lost something just as precious when he left LA. When he left you.

It hit too close to home, almost painfully so. He hasn’t thought about you in years–rather attempted not to–or maybe he did, constantly, but kept shoving the thoughts away, burying them beneath his rising career and busy schedules. But reading this, watching Doyun retrace a love he couldn’t remember, Sunghoon felt like he was standing in those shoes. He thought of you, the one he left behind in LA, the one who told him to go, to chase his dreams without you.

“We’re better off this way.” That’s what you said, wasn’t it? Or maybe you said nothing at all, just smiling through the sadness. And like Eunjin in the script, you had your own ambitions, your own road to take. He told himself it was the right choice. So why did it still feel wrong?

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. This isn’t about her, he reminded himself. It’s just a script. But as he read through the pages, your face kept flashing in his mind–every line felt like a whisper of the past, tugging at the feelings he so desperately tried to move on from.

Doyun and Eunjin’s story was all too familiar. The lost time, the unsaid words, the lingering question of what if? What if he had stayed? What if you had asked him to? Would things have been different? Could you have worked it out?

He swallowed hard, blinking away the sudden weight behind his eyes. Sunghoon didn’t sign up for this movie expecting it to strike so deeply, to unravel feelings he had locked away. Without realising it, a tear slipped down his cheek, then another, until his vision blurred entirely. The line between the script and his own past dissolved, and for a moment, he wasn’t reading Doyun’s story. He was living his own.

“Sunghoon, makeup’s ready,” a voice interrupted, like a background hum.

His thumb brushed against the tear-stained page as he stared blankly at the final scene. Doyun and Eunjin were standing face-to-face, years of separation between them, the weight of time palpable. His breath stuttered as he read Doyun’s final plea: “I lost you once. Please, I can’t lose you again. I love you too much, Eunjin.”

That line… was it something he would’ve said if he ever had the chance to see you again? Or has he already lost you for good?

“Sunghoon?” His manager’s voice was closer, more urgent.

He still didn’t respond, lost in the words, lost in a past that long slipped through his fingers. Tears continued to fall, silent but steady, until a firm hand rested on his shoulder, grounding him back to reality.

“Sunghoon!” His manager shook him gently.

He blinked, startled, realising his cheeks were wet. “Huh?” he mumbled, wiping his face quickly, disoriented by the emotion that caught him off guard.

His manager’s concerned eyes met his. “You okay? You’re… crying.”

Sunghoon touched his burning cheek, noticing the tears for the first time. He didn’t even realise. He let out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. “Yeah, I… I’m fine. Just–this script, it’s–”

“Yeah, I know. It’s intense. But are you good to go? Makeup’s waiting.”

Sunghoon nodded, though his heart was still heavy. “Yeah. I’m fine- Let’s go.” He closed the script gently, his fingers lingering on the edges. But the lines he read, the emotions they stirred–they clung to him. Even as he stood and walked toward the makeup room, his mind was still back there, stuck between the story of Doyun and Hana, and the echoes of his own.

Maybe this wasn’t just another role. Maybe this movie found him, found him for a reason. Maybe it was time to face the past he left behind.

As Sunghoon stepped into the makeup room, the bustling atmosphere of the studio surrounded him. Makeup artists flitted about, their brushes and palettes busy transforming the actors into their characters. Sunghoon settled into a chair, trying to shake off the lingering emotions from reading the script, but the thoughts of Doyun and Eunjin clung to him like a shadow.

“Just relax, Sunghoon,” one of the makeup artists said, applying foundation to his skin with gentle strokes. He nodded absently, his mind still tangled in the narrative. But then, amidst the hum of conversation and the sounds of the studio, he heard it–a voice drifting through the air, clear and commanding.

“Okay, everyone, let’s go over the scene one more time. I need everyone on the same page!” The voice was familiar, and for a moment, he couldn’t place it. It pulled at his heart, wrapping around him like a memory he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Can we get the lighting adjusted over here, please? And make sure the sound levels are perfect for this scene. I need every detail to be flawless!” The voice was firm yet light, filled with a confidence that stirred something deep within him.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched as he froze. It couldn’t be. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him, right? Maybe the emotional turbulence from reading the script had scrambled his senses. He turned slightly in the chair, straining to hear better, but the voice faded into the cacophony of the studio. He felt a pull, an inexplicable urge to move, to follow the sound that resonated in his chest.

“Sunghoon, could you please face me?” his makeup artist asked, but he couldn’t hear her.

He had to know if it was you—if it was really you. 

“Excuse me, I just need a moment,” he said, surprising even himself as he stood up abruptly, startling the makeup artist. Without waiting for a response, he stepped out of the makeup room, heart pounding in his chest. He could still hear the voice down the corridor, and it felt like a beacon, guiding him.

As he approached the set, he held his breath, his mind racing. He rounded the corner, and there you were—standing with your back to him, surrounded by crew members who listened intently as you went over the details of the upcoming scene. You were as stunning as he remembered, even from behind. Your hair flowed down your back, and your focused stance exuded confidence.

Sunghoon’s heart raced. Was this real? Could it be? He took a cautious step forward, then another, compelled by the desire to see your face. He hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment press heavily on him.

“Y/N?” he called out, his voice shaking with disbelief, uncertainty twisting in his stomach. With shaking hands, he reached out as if to touch your shoulder, but stopped short. He couldn’t bring himself to reach out, not yet. What if he was just imagining this? What if the moment shattered if he dared to touch you?

You turned at the sound at your name, and the world around you fell silent. Your heart raced as your eyes met his. The surprise written across your face mirrored his own—a mixture of shock and disbelief washed over both of you, making the air feel electric.

“Sung- Sunghoon?” you breathed, your voice barely escaping your lips as you took a tentative step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. 

The distance between you both felt both infinite and painfully close. You hadn’t seen him in years, yet here he stood, transformed into a man who chased his dreams and succeeded. The man you once loved, now in front of you as the lead actor in the very film you were directing.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill over. “Is- is this real?”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The memories of the last time you saw each other flooded back—his departure, the hurt in your eyes, the way you fought to smile through the pain. He left to chase his dreams, and now, standing in front of you, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of that decision pressing on him.

Your lips trembled as you fought to maintain composure. “I never forgot you. I thought… I thought maybe I’d lost you for good, Hoon…” A single tear slipped down your cheek, glimmering under the studio lights.

Sunghoon felt his own emotions surge, the dam he had built around his heart breaking down in an instant. “I didn’t know how to come back,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you every day, Y/N…”

The tears fell freely now, and he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, struggling to keep himself together. “I was so scared of what I left behind. And now… now here you are.”

You stepped closer, the distance between you disappearing entirely. “It’s like a dream,” you murmured, your voice cracking as you reached up to touch his face. “I never imagined I’d see you like this:”

Sunghoon felt the warmth of your hand against his cheek, grounding him in the moment. “Neither did I,” he said, his own tears flowing as he looked deeply into your eyes, searching for the love that had always been there, waiting patiently through the years. Instinctively, he reached up to hold your hand—the one resting against his cheek. His fingers intertwined with yours, and a wave of warmth washed over him, melting away the uncertainty that had clouded his heart for so long.

In that simple gesture, everything fell into place. The soft touch of your skin ignited memories of all the moments you shared—every laugh, every whispered secret, and every fleeting glance that had left him breathless. It felt like home, like the missing piece he had longed for during the years spent apart.

You looked at him, eyes softening as he held your hand tightly, as if afraid to let go. “Hoon…” you sighed, filled with a mixture of awe and longing.

“I’ve missed this—missed you,” he confessed, his voice trembling. The tears continued to spill down his face, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away anymore. “It feels like I’ve been searching for you in every role, in every city. I never wanted to forget, but I didn’t know how to find my way back…”

You squeezed his hand, your gaze unwavering. “You didn’t forget. Not really. I felt you with me, even when you were so far away, It’s like we were always connected, despite everything.”

As the weight of your shared history hung in the air, he took a step closer, closing the distance between you. With a gentle but deliberate motion, Sunghoon raised his other hand, resting it on the side of your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. He leaned in, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. The world around you faded into a soft blur, and in that intimate space, it felt like time had stopped. The tears had slowed, but the emotions still ran deep, swirling in the space between your shared breaths.

He let out a shaky exhale, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and resolve. “I lost you once,” he whispered, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the intensity of his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Please… I can’t lose you again.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed through, the emotion clear in every syllable. “I love you too much, Y/N.”

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with the realisation that he was quoting one of your lines—the very words you had written for Doyun in the script. Hearing them from his lips, directed at you, made everything feel surreal and achingly poetic. You stared into his tear filled eyes, your heart racing, knowing that those words carried a deeper weight now than they ever had on the page.

You had written those lines with love in mind, never expecting them to be spoken back to you by the man who had once been your world. And now, as he stood there, saying them with every ounce of sincerity, it felt like fate had brought your story fully circle.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were different. They weren’t born from heartache but from the overwhelming sense of love that you thought you had lost forever. “Sunghoon…” you whispered, voice trembling as your hand gently caressed his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, eyes never leaving yours, the raw vulnerability between you palpable. “I’ve never stopped loving you, and I’ll never make the mistake of letting you go again,” he continued, his voice stronger this time, his hand squeezing yours. “I was lost without you. I’m done running.”

The world felt quiet, like it was holding its breath for the two of you. And as you stood there, hand in hand, you knew this wasn’t just an ending—it was the beginning of something new, something beautiful. Together.

You leaned in, forehead resting against his once more, and whispered, “You’ll never lose me again. I’m not going anywhere.”

© cerisesheaven — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my works. thank you angel!

[reinahwanggg]

I Met You At Sunrise ㅡ Ch. 11

CHAPTER 11 - *gasp* nepotism

previous | masterlist | next

•warning(s): mentions of nepotism, indications of anxiety i suppose lol, another ch*ke joke lol, light mode, mention(s) of a fake group, fake song, fake person and fake accomplishments.

•notes from reina: i used the keyboard method for the first time with my messages haha. forgot that method existed ngl, but i'll probs use that more since it's so convenient. also, idk if D.O.B is a real group, but a friend and i were talking earlier this week and she was like "D.O.B, sounds like a fire kpop group." and that's why there's a random fictional group in this fic lol. here's chapter 11! it's finally summer for them! let's get it! see you guys next week thursday at 8pm est for the next chapter! reina OUT !!

TAGLIST !! : @beomies-world @bangchansbae @vatterie

[wordpress-blaze-169939984]

What is a narcissist?

What characterizes a narcissist? I've encountered this term frequently, not because my friends or colleagues have applied it to me, but rather due to my older sister's frequent use of it. She appears to believe that I fit this description. To diagnose someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), five out of the nine criteria from the DSM-IV-TR are necessary. Some of the traits associated with NPD include a heightened sense of self-importance, preoccupation with fantasies of power, wealth, success, and love, a constant need for admiration, a belief in one's uniqueness, a lack of empathy, arrogance, entitlement, a preference for associating only with important or special individuals, and a tendency to exploit others for personal gain.

It's crucial to distinguish between narcissism and narcissistic personality disorder. Narcissism refers to certain exhibited traits in a person, where they don't meet enough criteria to be categorized as having NPD.

Allow me to elaborate on the fact that most of us possess elements of personality disorders to some degree. For instance, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) is one of the most commonly discussed ones. Each of us experiences varying levels of OCD tendencies. Similarly, anxiety and periods of depression are universal; the key lies in the extent to which these disorders disrupt our daily functioning.

This principle applies to both narcissism and NPD. Celebrating our achievements occasionally and taking pride in reaching goals are healthy behaviors. There's no issue with that. Therefore, if someone labels you as a narcissist or suggests you have OCD, don't be overly concerned. More often than not, they might be projecting their own emotions onto you. Give them space to express themselves, and eventually, the genuine truth will emerge.

Examples and Anecdotes: Imagine a coworker who consistently seeks praise for their achievements and often downplays the accomplishments of others. While this behavior might seem narcissistic, it doesn't necessarily meet the criteria for NPD. On the other hand, someone with NPD might manipulate their colleagues into doing their work for them, exploiting their desire to please for personal gain.

Treatment and Coping Strategies: For those dealing with narcissism or NPD, seeking professional help from therapists or counselors is a crucial step. Cognitive-behavioral therapy and other therapeutic approaches can be effective in addressing the underlying issues and promoting healthier behaviors. Developing empathy, self-awareness, and coping strategies are integral parts of the recovery process. For friends and family, setting boundaries and encouraging open communication can help manage interactions with individuals exhibiting narcissistic traits. Remember that change takes time and dedication, but it's possible with the right support and commitment.

Source: What is a narcissist?

[tinycatharsis]

my, you have done it again.

adding my review in a read more because it's not spoiler free and no one wants to see that much yapping involuntarily.

"Fuck ass food."

Idk why this made me giggle because I also just had terrible lunch before reading hxkahckwjx .. interesting start

""My wife. She's just too... Useless?" The man blurted out, shrugging as if the statement held universal and undeniable truth."

all m*n have is the audacity. because come again?????? I already know I'm gonna hate his guts. do NOT give him a redemption arc 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 pretty pls

"Heeseung kept his skeptical and slightly confused expression weighing his features, eyes darting towards the said "ass" food as he took a bite of his; it looked delicious and the smell was amazing. If the guy kept crying over it, he would definitely suggest changing plates."

subtle foreshadowing 😼 (I hope you know this is exactly the smirk the cat emoji is supposed to represent)

"The man's face contorted as if he was reminiscent about his wife in the past. "Fuck, she was hot. Best pussy I've ever had. Thought I could marry her and screw my stress away, you know?" The man's head shook in mock disappointment. "But now? She barely gives me anything. Always some excuse. Lazy as hell."

ugh ofc m*n. why is he so loser coded not in a sexy, hot, I need to fuck him rn way but in a pathetic ugly deformed creature that negotiated his way to earth

"And then, as if in slow motion, his gaze shifted to the man standing beside you. Your husband. The one he eventually - and unwillingly - learned the name: Brendon."

ofc, it's a fuck ass Brendon.

""What? Divorce? Are you out of your mind, man?!" And then he laughed, a hollow, grating sound. "She's the love of my life.""

buddy, if that is your how you treat the love of your life.. I fear the way you treat other women who doesn't look attractive to you.

""How you were "cringe" for making little love notes and putting them in his lunch box, how you made the bed so he could sleep, but never chose the most comfortable duvet, how you "tried" to cook his favorite meal but never got the seasoning right."

y/n deserves better, she deserves me. not my gay ass making an entrance but whatever.

all men do is whine and whine and complain like your partner is not your maid, jesus.

"Don't judge me, plea-"

"Who with?"

YUNJIN YESSSS ME TOO GIRLFRIEND. asking the right questions.

"I wanna relieve my stress, Heeseung."

this reminds me of like Heeseung saying you can play with him if you need to relieve your stress 😭 HDKQJD was that the reference. very on brand for him 🫦

"He is."

I knew it. (the part where heeseung tells her brendon is cheating.)

FUCKKKKK him. honestly. he needs to get hit by a trucㅡ freudian slip, sorry.

""You made me squirt," you whispered weakly, the lingering touch of Heeseung's lips on yours still feeling like a ghostly caress, though you felt his body trembling as well as his smile when he chuckled."

all in a day's work!

"Heeseung made you feel wanted, cherished, and respected in ways you hadn't known in far too long. It was all so new, though not entirely; it was confusing and messy and chaotic, but so, so good."

I'm so happy for her. She's like my child now and she deserves to feel wanted, cherished and respected.

"He had shown you an escape. Maybe a ruined one, but still an escape."

A WIN IS A WIN 😹

"None of the words Brendon said to you would be forgotten. The contempt, the look of disgust, the bitterness as he harshly verbalized that you were never good enough for him. Yet, you would keep them in a special box, as a poignant reminder that you went through the worst, that you overcame the heaviest moment of your life."

oddly specific but this part reminded me of that one tt with the sunflower and the song I'm a survivor by destiny's child playing IM A SURVIVORR, IM NOT GON' GIVE UPP, IM A SURVIVOR ㅡ this may just be me being chronically online

"A first date."

and the crowd cheered. ABT DAMN TIME.

""And what made you keep with it?"

For a moment, a brief feeling of embarrassment flushed through you, although you didn't let it take over your following response, sounding firm and, somehow, determined.

"You.""

idk abt hee, but if someone said that to me, I'd have to get married to them.

""You piece of shit," was the first thing he spat out, as he saw the situation unfold - his ex-wife, now with what he considered his former friend. Betrayal."

ugh, why is he not dead. #author pls kill him off 🫠 I'll fully support this notion.

"He smirked dryly and then grabbed Brendon by the shoulders to shove him back with force, ... , he knocked Brendon to the ground with another punch, leaving him unable to fight back."

me during this entire scene was like FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!! help, also why is hee always getting into a fight for his love interests (en-drama flashbacks 🫨)

"That triggered a jolt from Brendon to charge at Heeseung, but it was quickly stopped by those holding him back, his ego riled up by the insult."

PAUSE. I am just now being reminded that they're in a restaurant. more on this later.

""Just so you know, she cheated on you long after you did... And, oh, I'm sure you don't know that, but she looks fucking gorgeous when she's squirting.""

hee, bby, ilysm but you're really going all out w both sides cheating and squirting thing in public 😭😭😭 some woman probably just wanted her food in peace. tho, I imagine some would be thrilled. I love messy stuff as long as it's not MY mess.

not gonna copy this but, I love the dual pov of how different both of them are reacting 😭 y/n the entire car ride is like

and I imagine hee's probably

YESSS, bby. This was the perfect ending 🤌🏻 I'm so proud of y/n now for like feeling comfortable enough with her wants and needs to ask for more.

this brings the end to my live comments dhqkdjwn I'm so sorry if you made it this far. here, you deserve a cigg for all that stress I put you thru.

genuinely tho, it makes me sick knowing these types of relationship dynamics with assholes like brendon do exist and so many amazing, wonderful, brilliant women are trapped by this. I could never blame anyone for not leaving because it could be dangerous. because this is all they've ever known. because this is their entire life and it's extremely hard to even imagine stepping out of something that's become so routine. change is scary. change is hard.

I'm really glad hee became kind of like a catalyst that helped y/n realize there exists a love she yearn for outside of her marriage w brendon and there is sm more to life than this stupidly immature man that fumbled a baddie.

that's all from me </3

M.O.R.E. - my only ruined escape (lhs)

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: Trapped in a broken marriage, you felt bound by everything you had invested in it, unable to walk away despite the cracks. But when Heeseung, unexpectedly striking up a friendship with your dick husband, entered the picture, things began to shift in ways you never saw coming.

my's note: i don't condone cheating. and this fic can be triggering for many, so read the warnings with care, please!

warnings: toxic relationship/marriage, fight/arguments, mentions of blood and wounds (due to the fight lol), y/n's husband is an ass but he doesn't attacks her physically, verbal abuse, y/n is constantly degraded by her husband, angst (with happy ending!!), pet names (mostly darling), cheating (yn cheats her husband with hee), SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!!), oral (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, lowkey angry sex. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 26,6k.

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers, @ikeuverse, @tinycatharsis

“Fuck ass food.”

Heeseung was peacefully eating his lunch at the small company’s break room; the other two spare tables were already occupied when he first stepped in, later than his usual schedule as he always managed to choose a less crowded hour to take his break peacefully.

The situation led him to sit with a random guy that apparently just entered the room as well, since he had his lunch box closed for quite a long time, while typing on his phone, laughing.

They both exchanged a few words as in “Can I sit here?” and a comfortable “Yeah” in response; but as soon as the guy spoke again, his curious eyes followed towards his food and then, arched a brow

“What's up, man?”

Heeseung attempted a friendly approach, but the man seemed inclined to complain other than talk. And although Heeseung was the type who preferred silence over small talk during meals, especially with strangers, he felt compelled to interact, given that they were the only two at the table.

The downside of arriving late or during peak hours: having to deal with people sharing – and invading – your space.

The man took a deep, exhausted sigh, his pursed lips indicating he was mad, his clenched jaw only adding to it, and the way he tilted his head quickly to the side before starting to speak got Heeseung regretting his decision of asking about it.

“My wife. She's just too... Useless?” The man blurted out, shrugging as if the statement held universal and undeniable truth.

He gave a brief unreadable gaze to Heeseung, that definitely didn’t spark not even an ounce of interest in him – actually, he quietly prepared himself for the following words, restraining an eye-roll that was teetering to escape. 

“Can't cook, can't keep the house clean, can't do shit,” he continued, his tone dripping with gross disdain. “And the good thing she had on her, she lost through the years.”

Heeseung kept his skeptical and slightly confused expression weighing his features, eyes darting towards the said “ass” food as he took a bite of his; it looked delicious and the smell was amazing. If the guy kept on crying over it, he would definitely suggest changing plates.

“Yeah?” Heeseung replied flatly, his voice carefully measured to express his disinterest.

He didn’t buy a word of the man’s complaints but held back the urge to ask why he had married this supposedly intolerable woman in the first place.

“Yeah,” he agreed and then leaned closer, now chewing a piece of meat with an exaggerated disgust. “You know, she was a hottie back then,” he muttered, a repulsive smirk creeping onto his face. Heeseung swallowed his will to punch that idiot in the face, his jaw clenching involuntarily. He wasn’t enjoying a glimmer of that conversation.

The man’s face contorted as if he was reminiscent about his wife in the past. “Fuck, she was hot. Best pussy I've ever had. Thought I could marry her and screw my stress away, you know?” The man’s head shook in mock disappointment. “But now? She barely gives me anything. Always some excuse. Lazy as hell.”

Heeseung’s stomach churned as the man's nauseating words thickly filled the air. He tried to focus on his own food, avoiding engaging any bit on that topic, but that casual, sickening misogyny was an appetite killer.

“You get me, right?” the man said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Your wife probably takes care of you, huh? Keeps you satisfied?”

The playful shove to Heeseung’s shoulder nearly pushed him over the edge. Holding back a retort – or worse, a punch – he forced his expression into something resembling composure.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Heeseung finally said, his voice tight, sharp and precise, a clear indicator that he didn’t want to be bothered anymore, not by that fuck ass guy.

The man laughed, shaking his head. “Well, lucky you then.”

That was Heeseung's first interaction with your husband. At the time, he couldn't have cared less about your relationship, he was indifferent, barely bothering to acknowledge it. His only genuine hope was that you would eventually escape from the grip of that asshole and find yourself with a real man who actually deserved you.

That was his stance – until the moment he saw you.

It was the company’s party reception or something similar, he didn’t care much to give a proper definition, not when you walked into the room, radiant in a sleek, black dress that hugged your figure perfectly. The way your smile lit up your face as you greeted everyone made the entire place seem to pause for a beat. Your lips, painted in a bold cherry red, glistened in the soft lighting, and your eyes – oh, your eyes – shone like stars in the night sky, captivating anyone who dared to meet your gaze.

You were beautiful in a way that left him breathless. 

And then, as if in slow motion, his gaze shifted to the man standing beside you. Your husband. The one he eventually – and unwillingly – learned the name: Brendon.

The words that escaped his lips were little more than a breathless mutter, “Are you fucking joking?”

His grip on the glass tightened, fingers curling around it with an intensity born from pure frustration and anger. This was the woman? The one your husband had described as plain, unremarkable, not even remotely sensual?

This goddess, standing there like an oasis mirage? Like something unreachable, untouchable, immaculate? 

He couldn’t understand it, no, definitely not. A woman like you dating – no, worse married to – a douchebag that didn’t give you what you needed, what you deserved.

He didn’t believe in fate, but the way things had unfolded, Heeseung was starting to wonder if the universe had conspired to bring him there, to that exact moment. After all, there was no other way he would have ever crossed paths with you.

Witnessing your existence, so alluring, so captivating, had flickered a spark in his mind, like a quiet revelation that simmered until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Heeseung made it his mission to make you his.

It was a dangerous game, even reckless, his friends would try to stop it even before turning the idea into real words.

By then, he had gathered just enough to know the basics – your husband was a waste of space, and you, without a doubt, deserved something far better. 

He didn’t know how you felt about the way you were treated, nor how deeply you were tied to that toxic relationship, but he knew he had to take the chance, to shoot his shot. 

With that resolve, and after draining his glass in a single gulp, his eyes never leaving yours, Heeseung moved towards you both with quiet confidence, every step sure and deliberate.

“Hey, Brendon!”

Heeseung noticed the way your beautiful eyes gently settled on his, briefly wandering over his body before returning to meet his gaze once again. Your cheeks flushed – at least, he noticed a faint blush that didn’t seem to be the result of your flawless makeup.

He smiled warmly, shaking Brendon’s hand, who made sure to release his own from yours to greet Heeseung properly, pulling him into a half hug.

The first thing Heeseung would change in this dynamic: he would never let you go for something as a brief touch, left alone to greet some random acquaintance. And if he did, he would be quick to pull you back into his arms and show you off.

“Heeseung! Good to see you, man.”

The pat on the back felt a little too friendly, a little too close for Heeseung’s liking, but if he had to go through hell just to get closer to you, the goddess, he would endure it.

“This party’s kind of weird. So far, I’ve only seen strange people, but it’s nice to have some familiar faces.”

Heeseung forced a laugh as they pulled away, trying not to let the intensity of his gaze linger on you too much – he couldn’t be too obvious.

“Yeah…” He replied, trying to keep the conversation going, but honestly, he had no interest in Brendon – not that he could admit it out loud, especially since Brendon was probably the biggest obstacle in trying to do anything directly with you.

But when you responded to your husband with a shy smile, linking your arm with his, Heeseung couldn’t hide the wave of relief that washed over him. And your voice... It was beautiful.

“Stop it, babe. They weren’t weird, they were just being nice.”

“Yeah. For you, it’s always just kindness,” he rolled his eyes, not even bothering to reciprocate the affection by properly linking his arm with yours as he took a sip from his drink. “See, Heeseung? Women and their sensitivities. Be careful when you get married, man. Choose wisely, don’t pick the sensitive ones.”

The wave of nausea that hit Heeseung was enough for him to not even try to hide his discomfort. Brendon spilled all that nonsense like it was easy to say such atrocious things, ending it with a sleazy laugh that only added to the ridiculous image he was creating of himself.

Heeseung couldn’t deny that it was impressive how quickly Brendon could spew so much garbage, as if his mind was actively working to spread blind hatred towards anyone who didn’t fit into his corrupted morality.

“And this is...?”

Before any awkward silence began to settle in, and after Heeseung noticed that Brendon hadn’t made even the slightest effort to acknowledge the stunning wife standing by his side, he took the cue and swiftly redirected the conversation towards his primary target: you.

“Ah, Y/N. Apologies for not introducing myself earlier.”

You smiled warmly, extending your hand for a handshake, but the touch was brief, fleeting – only for Brendon to possessively wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer to him.

Heeseung barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes – so this was the type of man who treated his wife like trash, yet couldn’t stand anyone giving her attention?

“You always forget your manners at home, don’t you, honey?” Brendon tried to make a joke, one that only he seemed to find amusing as he laughed solitarily.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Heeseung didn’t bother mentioning that the few times he and Brendon had ever spoken, you had been one of the main topics – yet none of those discussions had been about praising or cherishing you as you deserved. Instead, it was always something demeaning, as if your worth were only worth degrading. 

Heeseung noticed that you seemed like you wanted to say something, almost as if you were about to murmur a “me too,” but all that came out was a forced, distant smile – almost sad, withdrawn. Your once radiant and seemingly communicative aura slowly and painfully faded away. You swallowed the words that dared to leave your mouth, and it left a bitter taste in Heeseung’s mouth to see that, but he swallowed it as well, choosing to remain polite – at least for now.

And you, indeed, were holding yourself back. Brendon didn’t like it when you greeted other people, especially men. He used to tell you that they were all filthy, that they would seduce you and take you to their rooms to fuck you, and you, as the good slut you were, would give in to their charms.

Part of you wished that were true, because if you at least had good sex with your husband, it could serve as a reason to stay firmly and resistant to his attempts – and success – of being an ass, but even that he couldn’t give you.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you murmured, more to avoid a potential fight in the future than to actually inform anyone. You could feel the tears threatening to fall, burning like fire in your eyes.

There were moments when you questioned what was still keeping you there. You had read countless reports and books – hidden, because Brendon didn’t like you becoming too informed – about women in relationships that you later recognized as abusive. They were designed to destroy a woman's self-esteem and take out the light of happiness that once burned so brightly.

You saw yourself in each of those stories in different ways, because Brendon had never dared to physically harm you. His game was personal, psychological, like controlling the finances and part of your daily routines.

He even went as far as threatening to install cameras around your apartment to make sure you weren’t cheating on him or breaking any of his ridiculous rules when he was out of the house.

Thankfully, you managed to hold on to your decision to keep working, something you cherished deeply. The flower shop that took up most of your time was a sanctuary, a place where you could momentarily forget that you had a husband of questionable character.

It was undeniable that the thought of divorce had crossed your mind countless times. Building a routine of minimal care for him, based on his absurd demands, also fed the feeling of permanence. You had to stay because you had to take care of him. Who would make his lunch boxes or wash his underwear?

It was a trivial thing, and maybe you used it to cover up your true desire – to run away, to escape from a relationship that, at one point, in a distant and fantastical past, had been full of promises that sounded genuine, of eternal love and affectionate care.

Everything was perfect during the first six months, until he realized that the sex he had once craved every day had lost its appeal, even though you kept trying to innovate, to please him. Brendon was never satisfied with you, judged every little part of your life as though that became his greatest pleasure.

Sharing a home with you was more of an obligation than a choice, and for a long time, you felt guilty.

He attempted to make it up with you, to buy you gifts and lead you to cute dates. It worked in the first year. And the second as well – the transient hopeless feeling of fixing him, of growing over it, of getting used to it… You tried everything.

To exhaust yourself in order to take every effort in the books to save your marriage from failure was in vain, your husband himself was making sure that your deep, sincere love turned into hate.

Heeseung was torn between feeling relieved that you had walked away and utterly frustrated that you had to.

He didn’t truly know you yet –  not enough to form solid judgments about whether your character was as vile as your husband’s. However, the brief moments he shared with you were more than enough to convince him that you didn’t deserve even a fraction of the treatment Brendon gave you.

But if he wanted his plan to succeed, he needed to win Brendon’s trust first.

“So, man, how’s it going?” Heeseung forced himself to sound as friendly and approachable as possible, his expression carefully crafted to radiate genuine interest in how Brendon’s life had been lately.

“Oh, you know. Tons of work, annoying clients, a couple of coworkers who... I don’t know, just seem like they couldn’t care less about their jobs. The usual.”

The internal battle Heeseung was fighting was so intense he had to physically restrain himself from throwing the punch he had been saving for Brendon since day one. The man hadn’t said anything outrageous – yet –, but the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, was enough to taunt Heeseung the wrong way.

Still, he forced himself to stay in character.

“Ah, that sounds rough. Sorry to hear you’ve been under so much stress.”

With a subtle pat on Brendon’s shoulder and words laced with faux sympathy, Heeseung could tell he had earned another fragment of his trust.

“Thanks for understanding, man. When I try to talk about this stuff with my wife, she just goes insane, you know? Says all I do is complain, and that nothing’s ever good enough…”

Heeseung nodded, carefully calibrating his expression so nothing but fake empathy would slip through. Inwardly, he wholeheartedly agreed with you – so much that he had to work hard to keep composure, leaving to Brendon the mission of filling up the awkward silence. 

“And how am I supposed to not complain when she can’t do anything right?” Brendon huffed, shrugging dramatically and exhaling like a childish tantrum.

Heeseung’s self-control was tested to its limits. He wanted to roll his eyes so badly but instead kept his mouth shut, grabbing a drink from a passing waiter to occupy his hands, not uttering a word.

“No one at work does anything right, but then I think, well, at least I can go home and unwind with my hot wife. And then I get home, and it’s all wrong there, too.”

This time, Heeseung couldn’t stop himself. The words slipped out before he could think better of them, sipping on his drink right after, eyes locked onto Brendon’s angry expression.

“Have you ever thought about getting a divorce?”

Brendon turned to him, wide-eyed, as if Heeseung had just suggested something unthinkable, as if he was a lunatic.

“What? Divorce? Are you out of your mind, man?!” And then he laughed, a hollow, grating sound. “She’s the love of my life.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Heeseung forced a small chuckle, drifting his eyes to his drink as he sipped once more. Yeah, definitely a lot of alcohol to help him go through this job of hell. “You two look like a lovely couple, my bad for suggesting that shit,” Heeseung nearly choked out that horrible sentence, cringing hard before the idea of complimenting anything in that piece of thrash.

“Nah. You’re good.”

Little by little, Heeseung managed to earn Brendon's trust. He started conversations about their few shared interests, sometimes even pretending to know more about topics he wasn’t particularly invested in, all to build a solid foundation for their blossoming “friendship”.

Heeseung had one clear goal: to keep you out of their conversations. He knew Brendon would likely take the opportunity to list every supposed flaw you had.

The more time Heeseung spent with Brendon, the more he realized he was a spoiled man who expected the world to revolve around his desires. It was almost comical and pathetic to hear him brag about his so-called glory days in college, where he claimed to have broken countless hearts as if it were some sort of accomplishment.

Through these interactions, Heeseung learned more about you – or at least about how you and Brendon had met and fallen in love.

Back then, you were calm, the kind of girl few would approach because they thought you were plain, boring, bland – Brendon's words. Apparently it was forbidden to use flattering ones even while describing how he fell in love with you. He decided to ask you out because, despite everything, you were pretty. And hot.

Of course, Brendon’s interest in you started with your looks and the supposedly mind-blowing sex you offered – almost as if you were some kind of goddess in bed – those were Brendon’s words again.

As Heeseung listened to Brendon recount this “love story,” he had to fight the urge to let his thoughts slip into words that would be anything but kind. He also worked hard to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to reveal his growing disdain.

The “love of Brendon’s life” wasn’t someone he cherished – it was a possession, a fantasy. He married you to maintain his hold on you, to keep other men away, because the thought of someone else touching you drove him insane.

The absurdity of it all nearly made Heeseung sick. Brendon couldn’t speak about you without a complaint to follow, without reducing your beauty to objectification, or without expressing his so-called “love” through a thinly veiled frustration rooted in his own insecurities.

But amidst the storm of Brendon’s toxic words, like a single ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, Heeseung now had reasons to visit your home regularly.

You were rarely home when he came by. On weekends, you worked at the flower shop, with your days off falling on Mondays and Tuesdays instead of Saturdays and Sundays. Brendon didn’t seem to care, often commenting that at least your “annoying voice” wouldn’t disturb his peace.

Yet, Heeseung found himself wishing he could see you more often. After enduring so much time and effort to break through Brendon’s defenses, earning a significant amount of his trust, it was disheartening to not see the person who made it all worthwhile.

“Y/N should be home early from work today. Let’s enjoy the peace while we can,” Brendon said offhandedly.

Heeseung’s ears perked up at the news.

It was the fourth weekend in a row that Heeseung had ditched plans with his friends to hang out with Brendon. Their gaming sessions weren’t the worst – most of the conversation revolved around the games themselves, sparing Heeseung from Brendon’s typical misogyny. But still, spending time with someone so consumed by complaints and negativity was exhausting.

The thought of finally seeing you again, however, was enough to rekindle his energy. Heeseung glanced at the time on his wristwatch, silently hoping your shift at the flower shop would end sooner rather than later; his heart was already racing at the thought of finally seeing you.

He cared little if you looked like a tired, married woman after a long day of work. You would still be beautiful, as always, with your charming smile that would likely grace your lips, your radiant gaze – maybe even surprised to find him there, sprawled on the couch playing video games with your husband. 

Heeseung just hoped you wouldn't misunderstand, that you wouldn't think he was anything like your husband. The fleeting idea of being seen under thar judgment was enough to make him slightly desperate to prove he was different.

When the door swung open, revealing a female figure entering, greeted by the dim light of the living room, Heeseung froze. Like, literally, his fingers froze on the controller, and his eyes locked on you.

You were wearing the most adorable light denim overalls, with embroidered mushrooms on the front. The black shirt contrasted perfectly with the light tone of your overalls and matched your black Converse sneakers perfectly. You looked beautiful.

“Yo, we're gonna lose, man!” Brendon shoved his shoulder into Heeseung’s to snap his focus back to the game.

“Sorry,” Heeseung murmured quietly, turning his gaze back to the light of the TV screen, though occasionally taking a moment to admire you as you slipped off your shoes and hung your purse by the door. “Need help?” He asked you directly, almost standing up from the couch when he finally noticed the two heavy bags of groceries you were carrying.

Brendon rolled his eyes and shoved Heeseung back onto the couch, not even giving you the chance to accept or decline the offer.

“Ignore her, focus here.”

Heeseung shot Brendon a skeptical look, which luckily he didn’t catch as his eyes were glued to the screen again. Heeseung gave you one more glance, a silent apology in which you gently shook your head and smiled warmly, whispering. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Heeseung could see the frustration in your tired eyes, although you attempted to keep as nonchalant as possible, as if you were used to your husband's futility. He watched how you vanished into the back of the house, most probably the kitchen to organize the items you had bought. 

Somehow, Heeseung wasn’t interested in gaming anymore, not when you were just a few steps away and he could properly greet you. He stalled a little, just not to be too obvious with his intentions, before getting up and saying.

“I’m gonna grab something in the kitchen.”

And of course, the spoiled asshole would ask for something as well.

“Yeah, yeah. Grab me a beer.”

“Alright.”

Heeseung didn’t deny it; he had learned a few areas of the house already. After all, on the few occasions when Brendon didn’t say a single word about whether you were home or not, he’d claim he was going to the bathroom, when in reality, he was sneaking around, hoping naively he might catch a glimpse of you somewhere, gracing his eyes with your gorgeous presence.

The kitchen was the most obvious place his feet knew the way to by heart. It was the spot where guests were welcomed, where Brendon would offer drinks like whiskey and cold beer – which, apart from you and the PS5, were the only decent things that house had to offer.

So Heeseung made his way there slowly, feigning casualness, though internally preparing himself for a direct interaction with you. Since the very first day, he hadn’t had a single chance to speak to you alone, so he had to make the most of every second to begin showing you that he was a good man, and that if you wanted, and allowed him to, he could show you just how good he could be – in every sense of the word.

He heard a faint hum and the soft sound of things shifting around, indicating that you were still busy organizing the kitchen as he approached the room. He lowered his voice as much as possible to announce his presence, not wanting to startle you.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Even so, you jumped slightly and turned towards him, flashing wide eyes that expressed your surprise.

You didn’t expect no one to come into the kitchen, let alone your husband or his friend, but you couldn’t deny that you were a bit happy that he did so.

Despite befriending your husband, Heeseung seemed to be a nice guy. You had little to no information about him, since Brendon barely told you about his day or his overall routine during the brief moments you two were together; he would rather choose to mistreat you and complain about your mistakes instead of sharing the perks of his work day.

“Yeah! I’m sure,” you managed to answer back in a breath, ignoring Heeseung’s presence for a bit as you reached for some of the groceries packages scattered all over the counter, to place them perfectly into the cabinets. 

Heeseung’s eyes followed the motion of your skilled body handling everything a bit too well, as if you were used to chores overwork.

Heeseung felt a tingling urge to help, to be useful, to ease your stress. It was something he would do effortlessly, if he was the one married to you. In fact, if it were up to him, you would just sit there being beautiful while he took care of everything, because you deserved to be treated like a queen.

Brendon had complained countless times about all the things you did – for him, obviously, in the form of grumbling.

How you were “cringe” for making little love notes and putting them in his lunch box, how you made the bed so he could sleep, but never chose the most comfortable duvet, how you “tried” to cook his favorite meal but never got the seasoning right.

Heeseung once casually suggested swapping lunches, and when he finally had the chance to try your cooking, the urge to punch Brendon grew immensely, because it was all so good.

Brendon didn’t appreciate the little things you did. He saw them as annoyances, predictably bad, and yet they were the exact actions that made Heeseung realize just how special you were.

He was struck by how deeply you cared for someone who didn’t seem to understand, or even acknowledge, your efforts. It only made Heeseung more determined.

“So… You work at a flower shop, right?” 

Once again, you startled with Heeseung’s gentle voice suddenly echoing in the kitchen, pulling you out of your concentration state. You were crouched while organizing the groceries, and he was standing up, drinking ridiculously slowly a glass of water.

“Yes, I do.” You answered politely, but not quite giving Heeseung any recognizable attention.

“Do you like it?”

His question caught you off guard. First, because you weren’t used to people asking about your interests, especially when it came to your “boring” work. Secondly, because there was a sincerity in his voice, a curiosity that felt different from the usual respectful small talk.

You paused for a moment before straightening your legs, calmly turning on your heels to completely face Heeseung with a slight flabbergasted expression. 

The moment your eyes laid on his tall figure casually leaning on the wall, your breath got caught in your throat – was he watching you this whole time?

His bright and lightly inquisitive eyes were grazed on you, busying his lips with small sips of water and a hint of a tender smile, waiting for your reply. Your heart skipped a beat, a soft, thrilling tremor that vibrated through your body without leaving you to have any control over it as your hands started to tremble. 

“I do, yeah.” You pondered for a while, searching for the words that would match your genuine opinion over your job; unconsciously a sincere smile began to form on the corner of your lips and Heeseung took a close, quiet note to it. “It’s… It’s calm and peaceful. Fulfilling in a way, even when it’s exhausting. I feel I can be myself easily and… Avoid some– other stress. For a bit, at least.”

Heeseung’s chest warmed with the way you spoke, a delicate radiance of soothing heat sweeping as your softly and lovingly voice talked about something you liked. He wished to see more of this persona, more of this part of you; the apparently authentic, happy version that expressed affection through your every pore.

However, he couldn’t help the sting that came along, knowing what “other stress” you were talking about. He also hoped to help you escape out of that. 

“That’s good to know,” he nodded tenderly, keeping his tone layered with honesty and kindness. Your eyelids blinked slowly as you watched Heeseung approach, silently placing the glass on the countertop that separated you both. “I’m glad to see you being passionate about what you do and enjoying your life, Y/N. At least… Part of it.”

He had carefully constructed his sentence before speaking, wanting to ease you into the conversation with the most comforting approach he could offer. At the same time, he dared to let slip a part of his disguise, hoping you would pick up on the subtle hint about him being aware of the difficult reality of your marriage, particularly your situation.

Your eyes showed that you were slightly taken aback by his words. You were shrewd enough to catch the underlying message of what he had said, even though it was somewhat confusing to understand his exact intentions. 

Still, you gave him a shy but pleasant smile, touched by his gentle and thoughtful words.

“Thank you,” you would’ve ended there, but something unknown prompted you to add more, a sudden need to speak your truth. “I do what I can with what I have.”

It sounded too sad, too realistic. Your eyes fell to your hands resting on the cold countertop as you spoke, nonetheless, it was your reality, after all: making do with what you had. You had learned the hardest way to survive on the scraps life gave you, to accept the little, or sometimes, nothing at all. It had become routine, normal – your life for the last three years.

Heeseung caught the opening you had unwittingly – or perhaps purposefully – left for him and gently took the lead on the topic, offering his personal opinion as he noticed your guard had lowered at least a little.

“It shouldn’t be like this, Y/N.”

A part of him feared he had crossed a line, violated your boundaries, or even frightened you. If any of that had happened, he couldn’t think of a way to backpedal and ease into a gentler, slower approach. But he was surprised when you, equally startled by your own reaction, replied.

“But it’s been this way.”

The sigh that followed expressed your exhaustion – an exhaustion you usually tried to ignore, otherwise it would send you down a path you didn’t feel capable of walking alone. “This is how he makes it to be.”

The indirect mention of Brendon shocked Heeseung even further, though it also brought a strange sense of relief. He hadn’t expected you to open up so quickly, still he wouldn’t take it for granted and chose to continue to walk carefully.

It was as if the plan he had set in motion had been laid out by divine hands, providing him with every tool necessary to reach his ultimate goal.

“It doesn’t have to be… You know that, right?”

You were taken aback when Heeseung’s warm, gentle hand covered one of yours, making you flinch slightly but didn’t pull away. The touch was soft, innocent, and comforting. It offered you just enough weightlessness to let your words flow with more ease, your heart feeling lighter within each passing second.

You wished for that moment to last a bit more. 

“Maybe I know, but… it’s so hard.”

Heeseung nodded softly, his gentle eyes tracing the lines of your face contorted with an expression of sadness and frustration, still avoiding his gaze. It was clear that you no longer wanted to live in this marriage, to be stuck with a jerk like Brendon. But something was holding you back. Or perhaps, you just hadn’t found anything – or anyone – that could truly pull you out of it.

Heeseung gently removed his hand from atop yours, sliding it beneath to hold it with care. “How can I help you?”

But before either of you could react, the sound of Brendon entering the kitchen shattered the tender moment that had been unfolding between you. His presence filled the room with that grotesque energy only he could bring.

“Why are you taking so long, man?”

Brendon’s voice cut sharply through the air, breaking the fragile moment. Your immediate jolt of surprise made you stumble backward, accidentally knocking over the sugar packet on the edge of the countertop with your elbow as you pulled your hand away from Heeseung’s, sending the white grains scattering across the floor. Brendon’s exasperated voice filled the air instantly.

“Messing everything up as always. Jesus Christ,” Brendon snapped, tone dripping with disdain. The sharpness of it seemed to pierce through the quiet warmth you had shared, and the shift in the atmosphere was palpable.

Heeseung stiffened where he stood, his jaw clenched, knowing it wasn’t the right time or place to confront Brendon, but a part of him wanted to.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–” You began, your voice tinged with guilt. 

“You never mean to do anything,” he interrupted and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Go grab something to clean this up. And while you’re at it, buy another packet. Use your money this time since you’re the one who made the fucking mess.”

Heeseung stood on the corner, static, feet rooted to the ground, because if he slipped the built self-control out, he would be the one making fucking messes. His eyes darted from Brendon’s to you a brief second, acknowledging that you seemed to be blaming yourself for such a normal accident.

For a fleeting moment, when your eyes met Heeseung’s, what you saw wasn’t pity, it was fury. Not at you, but for you.

His gaze burned holes into Brendon’s side profile, the muscle in his jaw flexing visibly. If Brendon pushed just a little harder, it was clear that Heeseung’s restraint might shatter entirely. His fists curled tighter at his sides, as though physically grounding himself in order to maintain the calmness. 

He wouldn’t admit out loud, not now, but the thought of you being involved in a possible fight was the primary thing holding him back. He didn’t want you to witness how bad and intensely he would make your husband taste his own blood – alongside that, the fantasy of making Brendon clean the floor with his own tongue was tempting and so hard not to give it a listen.

“And why the hell are you taking so long?” Brendon now turned to Heeseung, still holding an arrogant demeanor. “Bet this bitch didn’t leave cold beer for us, and she was probably making up some excuse for it, right?”

The venom in his words made Heeseung’s stomach twist, as well as his hands that clenched harder. His brows knitted together as he tried to process the sheer audacity of Brendon’s determination to make you feel worse. It was as if his entire worldview was built on finding fault in you, as though your very existence was an inconvenience to him.

“Actually, I–” Heeseung started, his tone low and dangerously even.

“Yeah, that’s right.” You quickly interrupted, your shaky voice expressing how affected and fearful you were. You moved to the fridge and grabbed two cans of beer to offer Heeseung. “I’m sorry. Here.”

Heeseung froze, his gaze softening as he took in your unreadable face. He was confused by your reaction and decision, the realization you were trying to defuse the situation, even at your own expense, made his body heat to increase in pure, raw anger towards Brendon.

The kitchen felt suffocatingly small as Heeseung reached out to take the cans from your trembling hands. His fingers brushed against yours ever so slightly, a light, evanescent touch, that still created a visceral jolt that seemed to resonate between you both.

“Thanks,” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible.

Your hands fell back to your sides awkwardly, but the faint lingering warmth of his touch sent a wave of unfamiliar sensation through your body. You shivered slightly; it had been so long since you’d felt this – a connection, something near to a meaningful acknowledgment of your presence as more than just an object of blame.

Brendon’s loud sigh and mutters about something random shattered whatever serenity the moment would unfold deeper. Heeseung’s grip on the beer cans tightened as he fought the growing urge to speak – or worse, act.

For now, he let the silence swallow his frustration, though his eyes remained locked on you, silently promising that this wasn’t the end.

Heeseung felt like he needed to offer you a kind of safe space, an environment where you would feel comfortable enough to begin opening up completely. 

The encounter in the kitchen was successful, until Brendon stepped in and broke the possibilities away. Ever since, he tried to change his plans of meeting Brendon during moments where you could be with him as well.

Heeseung’s whole plan was... Peculiar. He didn’t just aim to get you out of that toxic relationship, offering you the necessary support to help you leave. He primarily wanted to show you just how deserving you were of wonderful things, and that he wanted to be the one to provide some of that happiness.

It was a decision that might have been premature, with a high chance of leading to a dangerous and frustrating path. Even though Heeseung would use all of his tricks, you could still choose to stay. But he couldn’t control the erratic beating of his heart at the mere thought of having you for himself, nor could he ignore the ache in his chest of you opting not to let go, which demonstrated the intertwining of his emotions with this entire situation.

Heeseung was now seated at the dining table with you and your husband, chewing on the carefully prepared meal he had prepared for that “dinner among friends.”

You looked breathtaking, as always. And Brendon? Spewing casual misogyny and ignorance, as always.

The dinner had been Heeseung’s idea, under the pretense of repaying the countless times he had dropped by your house, consuming snacks and drinks without contributing. It was, on the surface, a friendly gesture. But the real reason behind it was far less innocent, and Heeseung knew you were perceptive enough to catch on.

It was so glaringly obvious what Heeseung’s true intentions were that he tried his best not to make them even more apparent with every glance exchanged between you and him. Fortunately, or perhaps out of sheer ignorance, Brendon was far too naive to notice the way you subtly reacted to Heeseung’s laughter ��� some of it genuine, some of it forced – as you leaned ever so slightly forward, drawn to his presence.

Heeseung was acutely aware, though. He noticed everything about you – every glance, every small smile.

Ever since Heeseung had started showing up during times when you were also home, the kitchen had become your unspoken sanctuary for a sweet connection. He didn’t force or coax you to speak your soul, rather he would give you a cozy place where you got to share fragments of your personal life amid discussions about nothing in particular – Heeseung treasured them all.

He etched those details into his memory as if they were sacred scriptures, intending to one day prove to you just how deeply he cared – and would keep caring, if you said yes. 

Now, as Brendon lounged lazily at the dining table, and you, standing at the sink, rinsed your plate and Brendon’s, you tried to ignore the flush on your cheeks when Heeseung moved to casually stand beside you while keeping the talk with your husband about soccer or something you didn’t care about.

Heeseung leaned casually against the sink counter, the glass of whiskey in his hand catching the warm light of his kitchen as he took a slow sip. You could feel the weight of his presence, far, but still close, somehow calming and charged with unspoken intention.

“Hey, man,” Brendon broke the rhythm of the conversation suddenly, standing up. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat, suppressing a grin because he had planned that all along – to give enough non-alcoholic drinks to Brendon in order to make him leave for a few in the bathroom, getting at least some minutes alone with you.

With an easy, unaffected demeanor, he answered. “End of the hallway,” and raised his glass slightly to point. “First door on the left.”

Brendon nodded, his movements sluggish, and then casted a half-hearted glance your way.

“Don’t break anything while I’m gone,” he muttered, his tone an awkward attempt at humor.

You felt the corner of your mouth twitch into an usual forced smirk, the one you struggled to maintain as a way to faux express your contentment with his terrible jokes.

Brendon disappeared down the hallway, oblivious to Heeseung’s piercing gaze following as he did so. 

The silence left behind was thick, buzzing with the tension of your now uninterrupted proximity with Heeseung, causing a sensation that got your body wincing without anything happening yet. 

“So,” Heeseung began, his voice low and unhurried. He set his glass down on the counter, the faint clink of it meeting the surface echoing in the quiet room. His eyes found yours quickly, holding a weight that made your breath hitch slightly; he took a sweet notice of your blushing cheeks. 

“So,” you echoed softly, your heart raced in anticipation of whatever was about to unfold, dodging the pull of Heeseung’s intense, yet soft, stare to concentrate back on doing the dishes. 

“How was the dinner?”

Your shy smile grew before the tender question as you finished cleaning, silently asking for a hand drying cloth. Heeseung extended you one immediately, dreamy glistening eyes trailing carefully your every move with quiet devotion. He had his attention precisely torn in between the sound of Brendon coming back and you, the prettiest, kindest and most wonderful woman he ever saw.

“It was amazing,” you complimented with sincerity, resting the back of your hips on the edge of the counter top, glancing up through your eyelashes to meet Heeseung’s affectionate, smoldering gaze. “You did amazing.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound low and subtle, like a sweet melody meant only for your ears. He shifted his weight forward, his movements deliberate as he positioned himself directly in front of you. His hands rested casually on either side of your body, palms flat against the countertop, effectively caging you in a way that was both daring and exhilarating.

“Can’t compare to yours, but yeah, I tried my best.”

His voice was velvety, laced with a casual teasing warmth that sent a shiver down your spine, as if you were close friends.

Your breath hitched, shallow and uneven, betraying the steady facade you tried to maintain. The rapid rhythm of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, a dissonant tum-tum that matched the electricity crackling in the small space between you.

The proximity between you two felt suffocating in the most thrilling way; his attractive face was so close that you could see the flecks of lust in his deep, big brown eyes. He gazed at you with a tenderness that made your heart stutter, his head tilting slightly as if studying your every micro-expression.

Without realizing it, your hands moved of their own accord, awkwardly, yet hesitantly, until they found a place on Heeseung’s broad shoulders. The texture of his shirt beneath your fingertips grounded you, though the hesitant touch exposed your inner turmoil. Still, the simple gesture was enough to make Heeseung’s composure falter.

He hadn’t expected you to respond so involuntarily open.

“He’ll be back soon...” You whispered, the words barely audible as your lashes fluttered shut for a moment. The nearness of Heeseung, the intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with his natural warmth, made it impossible to focus on anything else. When, exactly, had Heeseung become your greatest temptation?

You weren’t blind to how he treated you. The way his gaze lingered, a mix of genuine affection and burning desire that ignited something dormant within you. It was undeniable the way he affected you, the way your thoughts would drift to him during the quiet, lonely hours of your life.

You fought against those thoughts with every fiber of your being, reminding yourself of the vows you once made. Yet, Heeseung’s constant presence made that fight infinitely harder, as if he hoped for you to drop everything you once promised, as though he taunted your self-control to its limits in order to make you discover fresh and tempting possibilities alongside him.

He was willing to make you wander a path you never quite give a thought to venture yourself into. 

Heeseung leaned in, his voice dropping an octave, soft and husky, almost a caress against your fuzzed soul.

“I know how much he stresses you out, darling...” The endearment slipped from his lips effortlessly, and you clutched his shirt as though it were the only thing keeping you sane. “Let me take that stress away.”

His hooded eyes wandered over your face, not hurriedly but with a reverence that felt almost sacred, as if he were memorizing every line, every curve. The intensity of his gaze sent your heart racing again, his careful inspection leaving no part of you unseen.

Heeseung deeply saw you, and you started to treasure that. 

The dryness in your throat was swallowed with difficulties, as if the saliva production had purposefully decreased only to make you wet your lips, an action that served to draw Heeseung’s attention to that area.

His gaze, dropping to something darker, held longer than he hoped for, but damn, you were so attractive, with your perfectly kissable lips inches from his, with your pretty eyes deliberately expressing your surrender to his charms.

He had to dig self-control in order not to kiss you right there, his own body wavering knowing he wouldn’t stop on just a brief make out moment; he yearned the urge of taking you as a whole, pleasuring you, worshipping you, giving you what you deserved. 

“He’s a good husband,” you forced out, the words tasting weird, unconvincing as they left your mouth; it was a failed coping mechanism not to break in light of the awareness of how disastrous your marriage had become, one you got used to repeating to yourself over the years.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, his expression softening as he absorbed your words. Your lazy eyes caught the small smirk dancing on his lips, a dry chuckle following just before he murmured with devastating precision.

“Does he fuck you good?”

Heeseung’s previous advances had slowly chipped away at your defenses, now the question landed like a wrecking ball in a crumbling wall – strong, direct, and final, the checkmate that shattered everything your morals once held. 

Your body responded before your mind could, a pulsing ache coiling in your core, leaving you clenching around nothing in a crescent despair that burned your skin. The audacity of his words stunned you, but the way they ignited something deep within left you reeling, dizzy.

Your husband had never aroused you with such ease, and with one simple question, Heeseung had rendered you breathless, nearly falling on your knees.

You met his gaze, your lips parted, however not a single word had strength enough to follow the deep breath you let out. The room seemed to shrink as you took in the intensity of Heeseung’s eyes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

His boldness hung in the thick air, while your principles dangerously split between clinging to the lie you told yourself every day and surrendering to the temptation Heeseung presented so beautifully.

“He provides the house–”

“But does he make you feel good, Y/N?”

He ignored your second attempt of forcing a narrative that both of you knew was just a facade, his inquisitive inspection and daring eyes never leaving yours, pushing you through the edge to fall onto his trap. 

The more he pressed you, the more you felt tempted to give in, almost like an addiction to something you had never experienced before, a painful yearning for the thrilling rush that coursed through your veins in delicious anguish with the thought of... trying.  

You feared that you might enjoy it too much if you gave in to whatever Heeseung was willing to offer.  

“He does, he makes me feel happy…”

“No, he doesn’t, Y/N. We both know that.” He cut you off again, though his voice remained calm and low.  

Heeseung was completely guided by the unconscious voice of his instincts that took control of his actions. He still remembered to respect you, to maintain a safe space, not to cross your boundaries, and, most importantly, not to push you beyond what you could handle. But it was so hard not to give in entirely to your complicit charms.  

You didn’t seem to notice, but your hands were pulling his body closer, your eyes triangulating between his brown irises and his cherry-colored lips, almost like a silent invitation to kiss him. You also had tilted your head slightly to the side, relieving your bare neck in a subtle request for Heeseung to explore that sensitive area.

You presented yourself in such a surrendered way, so open, so... reckless for someone who was working so hard to maintain unnecessary morality. 

Cheating wasn’t beautiful; neither of you believed in that. But why was cheating on your husband with Heeseung so ridiculously tempting?

“He doesn’t deserve you, darling…” Heeseung replied, unaware that this was your biggest inner doubt, daring to approach the prickled flesh of your neck.

The tip of his nose brushed slowly, painfully close, without giving you what you secretly craved, while his hot breath caressed your tingling skin like a deliberate, gentle whisper of a quiet promise. You fluttered your eyes close, the grip on Heeseung’s shirt tightening as he continued. 

“I can help you with that... Just give me the word.”

“Heeseung–”

Your desperate, breathy moan was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. No, you didn’t hear them, but Heeseung was more than aware of Brendon’s return, taking on the job of carefully paying attention to it from the very beginning. 

“Think about it, darling. I can relieve your stress.”

It was the last thing he whispered in your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling away to instantly resume his casual, friendly demeanor.  

“Did I take too long?”

Brendon’s voice wasn’t enough to break your trance. You felt your body weak and incredibly light, your flustered face showing a slight confusion and disbelief, with a subtle mix of wanting. 

Heeseung glanced at you with a mild smile for a brief moment before wrapping an arm around Brendon’s shoulders to guide him into the living room, murmuring a hollow response, followed by some lame excuse about showing him something, in order to give you time to recompose yourself. 

After a few minutes in a daze, you found yourself heading to the bathroom, because the interaction with Heeseung hadn’t just left a mark on your chest. No. Your panties were ruined, and you prayed you could hide it from Brendon for the rest of the night.

You had to hide your chaotic emotions for the rest of the following weeks, not just that night.

Brendon was completely unaware of the vast storm of thoughts racing through your mind as you did your household chores, which made it easier to ignore his misogynistic taunts and repulsive complaints throughout the day.

The memory of Heeseung’s soft lips brushing against your neck left an undeniable mark, and from time to time, you found yourself absentmindedly tracing the spot with your fingertips, almost as if you could still feel the warmth of his touch melting into your skin.

It was confusing to be in the position you were in, married on the paper to a jerk with the possibility of going after someone who apparently cared about you.

Sharing the same space with Heeseung had become increasingly difficult. You even started shifting your work schedule, taking days off when you knew he wouldn’t be able to come to your house, even though his visits had become less frequent.

You couldn’t quite figure out what had happened, but it seemed that Brendon and Heeseung had an argument after clashing over something trivial. It was as if Heeseung was finally showing his true colors, shedding the persona he had carefully crafted to get closer to your husband and eventually you, now that he had made his move in the invisible game of chess the two of you had been playing.

Besides your work, Brendon couldn’t control your friendships as well and luckily you had a supportful network that held you with warmth when the stress became overwhelming.

Countless times, your friends tried to show you that Brendon didn’t deserve even a fraction of the incredible woman you were, but as always, you had a well-rehearsed response that failed to mask the disrespect you had to endure with him.

Over time, your friends stopped trying to force you to see what you already knew was true, and in response, you made sure not to bring home issues into your work.

But that time, however, it was impossible to stay silent. Your face clearly showed discomfort and anxiety, but there was also a special sparkle in your eyes that piqued Yunjin’s curiosity.

“What’s got you so deep in thought on such a beautiful day, my lovely Y/N?”

You snuggled into the back hug she gave you, chuckling softly at the way she addressed you, a clear sign that she wouldn’t let up until you answered.

Yunjin was your closest friend, the one who always made sure to check on you and your relationship, occasionally threatening to drag you out of your house by force – but you always shot back, claiming it would probably make things worse.

She also knew about your recent sudden desire to escape, to distance yourself from everything that reminded you of Brendon – something completely new in your shared world, based on past experiences. You always found some lame excuse to cover up such thoughts, rarely letting them slip, and suddenly things had changed; in recent days, you had left numerous hints that something completely different and new was unfolding.

A sigh escaped your lips, followed by your quiet reply. “If I tell you, you might not believe it.”

Yunjin adorably rested her chin on your shoulder, trying to look you in the eyes.

“Humor me, then.”

You bit your lower lip, moving your head to the opposite side so you could hide how your cheeks flushed before you muttered.

“I want to cheat on my husband.”

The small stockroom fell into a deafening silence as the words left your lips, words that had been corroding your mind for days, perhaps even weeks. Saying it out loud felt like giving your desire a tangible form, pulling it from the realm of unreachable fantasy into the tempting, possible reality.

It was a simple statement, yet it unleashed a storm of emotions in your chest and stomach, as if all the anxiety you had been harboring, trying to gather the courage to reach this conclusion, came crashing back in a wave that hit you like a brick wall.

Yunjin’s lack of immediate reaction only made the air feel heavier, stealing the very breath from your lungs. You could sense the tension in her body behind you, but your mind, too clouded by the fear of judgment, twisted it into something entirely different from what she truly felt.

“Don’t judge me, plea–” “Who with?”

Your head snapped to the side, stunned, as you searched your friend’s face. What you found wasn’t judgment or disgust but a spark of curiosity and, oddly enough, pride glimmering in her eyes, as though she had been waiting her whole life for you to say something this bold.

“What?”

Yunjin loosened her back hug only to turn you around to face her, taking both of your hands in hers, which had been awkwardly dangling at your sides.

“Alright, so you’re going to cheat on your husband.” She gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze. “With who?”

Her enthusiasm was impossible to miss, and it stirred something strangely exhilarating in you, like a mischievous excitement, as if you were about to hatch a secret plan doomed to fail, yet thrilling precisely because of the forbidden nature of it all.

At the same time, you couldn’t fully process her reaction. Tilting your head slightly, you frowned, skepticism evident on your face.

“What do you mean you're not calling me crazy or immoral? Shouldn’t you be scolding me, telling me I should divorce him instead of choosing to cheat?”

Yunjin let out a soft sigh, a subtle and kind exhale, as a small smile danced on her lightly pink-tinted lips.

“Y/N, my princess... After everything you’ve been through, seeing you reach a point where you’re ready to break free from that awful man, even if it’s not in the ‘right’ way, makes me happy and proud. So, I don’t care if you start this journey with an affair or a murder–”

“I'm not murdering anyone!” You quickly cut her off, widened eyes shooting a warning glance. 

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes playfully, the corner of her lips twitching within a smirk. “Either way, I’ll support and help you, because I know that getting rid of that piece of trash will bring you as much peace and joy as it will bring me.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong, but there was one critical detail she didn’t know yet, one that sent a thrill through you just imagining saying it aloud. For the first time, you realized you could actually put yourself first.

“I’m not cheating on Brendon to get revenge,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’m cheating on Brendon because Heeseung is hot, and I deserve better.”

Your trembling fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, each pounding beat of your heart showing how nervous you were as you stood in front of that door.

It had been a few days since your talk with Yunjin – days made even more painful and exhausting by your husband’s behavior. He had been nothing but a spoiled, petulant child as usual, a true pain in the ass with his petty, insufferable attitude. It felt as though he was deliberately testing your limits, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, waiting for the moment you would snap.

It was always the same game. He would provoke you until you reached your breaking point, only to paint himself as the victim once you finally exploded. He had done it before, twisting the narrative to label you as the irrational, overly sensitive one, incapable of handling even the smallest criticism. Of course, his idea of “small criticism” was laughably detached from the reality of his hurtful words and actions.

The truth was undeniable: your relationship had long since turned cold, deprived of warmth in every sense of the word. The affection that once tied you together had dissolved after the first year of marriage, slipping away like water into a vast, unyielding ocean of discontent and sorrow.

Over time, you grew used to the scraps, and eventually, to nothing at all. You convinced yourself to accept whatever he offered, clinging to the hollow promise you had made – to love each other no matter the circumstances. But deep down, you knew that love had died a long time ago. You just hadn’t found the courage to bury it.

“Fuck you, Brendon. Go to hell!”

Those were your penultimate words before storming out of the house you once shared, grabbing only the essentials – your keys, your phone, and your bag. The last thing you said when he demanded to know where you were going was a truth laced with a hidden lie, where, in fact, you answered him correctly, only omitting the true intention behind your trip.

“Somewhere far away from you.”

That’s how you ended up here, standing in front of a plain white door that now served as the only barrier between you and the reckless choice you were about to make.

Summoning a fleeting jolt of courage, you raised your hand and pressed the doorbell. The moment the sound echoed, your stomach dropped and the weight of what you were doing crashed down on you like a wave. There was no turning back now.

The sound of a key turning in the lock made your breath hitch. Each passing millisecond felt like an eternity, your uneven breathing exposing the anxiety surging through your body.

You had rehearsed a dozen speeches on your way here – carefully thought-out words that would explain everything, rationalize your decision, maybe even give it some dignity. But the second the door opened and his familiar face came into view, every carefully crafted sentence vanished.

All that remained were the raw, desperate words that spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“I wanna relieve my stress, Heeseung.”

Without noticing, your eyes fluttered closed when you blurted out, as if you couldn’t bear to see Heeseung’s reaction to it, extremely embarrassed of how you voiced your inner desire. However, his silence was more than enough to make you hesitantly reopen then, expecting anything but the scenery that blessed your sight, making your throat close and the simple action of breathing extremely hard. 

Heeseung stood there, freshly out of the shower after arriving from a very exhausting day at work. Clearly not expecting company, he had thrown on only a comfortable pair of sweatpants that hung low on his waist, the waistband of his underwear peeking out teasingly. 

His exposed torso was graced with droplets of water that danced slowly through its extension, his mild tanned and flustered skin serving as a beautiful background canvas, giving you a private show you hadn’t requested, yet you were beyond thrilled to witness.

At first, Heeseung was very confused with furrowed brows and lost soft doe eyes scanning you as if trying to resolve a riddle. But then, realization hit in an instant when he pieced the puzzle: you, stress relief, clearly nervous at his door…

“Oh?”

The single word failed to snap you out of your shameless admiration. 

Heeseung had an attractive physique, you already knew it. Tall figure, broad shoulders, waist slightly thinner than his hips, effortlessly strong arms; covered in his usual casual suit he was normally the culprit behind your small, careless mistakes, like burning your finger or miscutting a vegetable because your mind wandered a bit too far.

Now it felt like having access to forbidden footage, something you weren’t supposed to see, although you wanted to. Your gaze had been trailing every inch of his exposed form as if you were reading your favorite book, lingering longer on the defined V-line near to where he was covered, almost like daring you to look lower. 

You almost didn’t notice how he shifted on his feet, body language switching instantly to match your dark eyes devouring his flesh deliberately.

Heeseung took a step closer and leaned on the door frame, his head dropping forward just to try to search for your hungry eyes, the fragrance of his shampoo permeating your senses like a flood.

“So you want my help?”

The question came quiet, yet sultry as ever, and acted as a stronger trigger to pull you out of your daze bubble completely, only now noticing how close he was.

Your cheeks exposed your mortification at being caught, though you didn’t actually want to hide your need and desire – it was more like a moral shame, knowing that as soon as you allowed Heeseung to cross a specific line, there was no turning back.

With your fingers clutching your purse's handle firmly, you bravely nodded, tracking your eyes up and seeing the movement of Heeseung cocking his head to the side, as well as the curve of his lips turning into a smirk.

“Yes, I–I want your help.”

Hearing your consent replaced Heeseung’s mild doubt by an urge to take action, as if your words ignited something darker, deeper, that reflected each nuance of it on his drooping eyes. Something you hadn't seen in years, because the only gaze your husband managed to flash you was the usual disgusted, angry, disappointed one; something tempting, and unafraid, you took the bait.

“Come in, darling.”

Your trembling legs somehow managed to follow Heeseung's lead. He had made the subtle decision to brush his hand lightly against your waist as he guided you to his bedroom, your gaze unfocused barely paying attention to the decor of his apartment.

The only things your mind could fully grasp were the warmth of his fleeting touch on your lower back, the soft, dim light that bathed the cozy interior of his space, and that the outcome that interaction would lead to was implicitly obvious.

It felt oddly familiar, like when you lost your virginity – the weight of the forbidden, the eagerness to start and explore mingled with the fear of disappointment and regret, the realization that there was no turning back and things would change afterward.

It was a confusing, insecure mixture of emotions that left you dizzy, especially since you had always followed the vows of your marriage, promising to cherish, respect, and remain loyal to your partner.

But it was hard to hold onto that promise when you were the only one making an effort. It felt like an empty promise, broken, shattered, where only your side remained intact.

“What happened?”

Your thoughts were so intense and overwhelming that you didn't even realize Heeseung had ushered you to sit at the edge of his soft bed, while he pulled the chair from the pair in the corner of the room and brought it closer to you, sitting directly in front of you.

You raised your sad, lost gaze to Heeseung, finding in his eyes an offer of care and attention. There was an underlying lust simmering beneath the surface, threatening to take over, but he was determined to stay composed, ensuring your consent came first.

Heeseung communicated with you without words, a connection so deep it made your heart race, as if the two of you could read each other effortlessly. A small, shaky sigh escaped your parted lips as your fingers fidgeted with your bag, seeking grounding in something tangible, something solid amidst the chaos in your mind.

You were about to cheat. Not just your husband but the promise you had made, once sacred. It felt like madness.

“You know I’m here, right?” Heeseung’s reassuring voice pulled you out of the whirlwind of your thoughts, anchoring you to the present. And with that, you nodded and began.

“He's been... strange.”

Your eyes avoided Heeseung’s curious gaze as he leaned forward at first, close enough to rest his elbows on his knees while enveloping your hands in his warm, comforting grasp. He gave you a gentle squeeze, encouraging you to continue. You shivered and gathered strength to keep going.

“We’ve been fighting a lot lately, and it feels like… If I was already not enough before, now I’m even worse.”

"You were never ‘not enough,’ Y/N,” Heeseung interjected gently but firmly. You darted your eyes briefly towards him and he was frowning a bit. 

“I know, it’s just…” You swallowed the lump in your throat, holding back tears you didn’t want your husband to deserve. “He’s always put me in this place, and I think I started going there on my own. Like, I’m the incapable one, the one who screws everything up, the one who lost her sex appeal and can’t please him anymore...”

Heeseung listened intently, his thumb softly brushing over the back of your hand like a silent reassurance that he was there for you. It was a comfort unlike anything you had felt in a long time.

“And lately... I think he’s–” You hesitated, your gaze unfocused as it landed on a random spot on the chair behind Heeseung. “He’s been coming home late from work, and honestly, I’m relieved to some extent...” A humorless laugh escaped you. “But with the things he’s been saying, like how he could find something better elsewhere, how I’m dispensable… It’s hard not to think he’s...” You took a trembling breath, the tears you had been holding back falling slowly. “...That he’s cheating on me.”

You weren’t crying in full sobs or breaking down entirely. They were quiet tears of realization, a painful acceptance that everything you had worked to keep standing had already crumbled long ago, now waiting to be buried by you; tears of relief, knowing, somehow, you tried your very best. 

Heeseung waited a few moments before raising your hands, still enveloped by his, to place a soft kiss on them. The following words sounded harsh and weighted contrastingly heavy with how tender his lips brushed your skin as he did so.

“He is.”

You froze, feeling your heart skip a beat and your stomach dropping. Your slightly widened eyes snapped to Heeseung’s, searching for any sign of dishonesty or teasing, but all you found was an expression of empathy, compassion that seemed to hurt him almost as much as it hurt you.

“W-What do you mean?”

Even though your voice came reluctantly and your eyes kept drifting to every inch of Heeseung’s expression, as if you expected for it to be a massive lie he was telling you, that new piece of information had your entire being reacting weirdly, awakening – or intensifying – a stronger desire to maintain your previous plan, morality being thrown out the window. 

Heeseung’s jaw tightened at your expectant, griefing eyes, and for a moment he looked away as though struggling to find the right words, the ones not to hurt you even more. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but steady, and made you wince with a bittersweet feeling.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with someone in finance these past few weeks,” a sudden pang in your heart made your breath hitch. “And… from what I’ve seen, it’s not just friendly. His hand is always on her waist, and the smiles they exchange...” He trailed off, not wanting to add to your pain, especially by how your lips pursed together into a small sad pout. “I caught them kissing the other day. I didn’t confront them– I didn’t even know how to tell you. I didn’t know where you worked, and the only chance I had to see you was at your house.” He gave a small, almost remorseful smile, avoiding your gaze. “And honestly, I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I saw him.”

His tone was apologetic and sincere, giving you enough to ignite a growing anger in your chest. 

If you had doubts before, this was more than a confirmation. Not only about your marriage obviously going down in shambles, but mostly to know you weren’t wrong for searching for Heeseung in the first place.

Your mind was caught in a tug-of-war, split into two opposing forces. One side replayed the vows you had once written for your husband, while the other mercilessly pointed out the everyday moments that made it clear he no longer deserved a single word of those promises.

That latter part desperately sought justification, crafting reasons to convince yourself this wasn’t wrong. He did it first, it whispered. He cheated on you. You have every right to even the score.

But this wasn’t just about revenge. It was something deeper – a mix of fractured morality and raw, unfiltered longing for the man standing before you. A man who had just confessed that he feared losing control if he ever faced your husband.

His words stirred something primal within you, replacing the sting of betrayal with a flicker of desire you couldn’t ignore.

Heeseung, in far less time than your husband had, had proven you were worth it. He showed you that you were someone worth fighting for, someone who deserved more.

The intensity in Heeseung's gaze was palpable, his eyes burning with a heat that made your breath hitch. When your own heavy, searching eyes met his, the air between you thickened, electric and tense. The room felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to make the next move.

Yet, as undeniable as the chemistry was, you were still hurt. The anger bubbling within you was impossible to suppress. Every fiber of your body screamed frustration, the weight of betrayal pounding against your chest like a drumbeat.

There was a fire inside you – a burning rage that demanded release. You wanted to scream, to lash out, to make someone – your husband – feel the same devastation that was ripping through you. It felt like an overwhelming need to break something, to pour all your fury into a physical outlet.

And it was then that you realized you needed to take it out on something. 

Before you could act on the reckless thought of leaning forward to claim Heeseung's kissable lips, he rose from his seat with a quiet confidence, still holding your hands. Gently, he tugged you to stand, leaving you momentarily dazed. Your bag slipped from your shoulder onto the chair he was sitting as he guided your body to turn away from him, positioning your back to his chest.

You shivered when his warm breath fanned over your ear, your composure threatening to crumble entirely. Your legs gave a slight, involuntary tremble, as if warning you that, depending on his next actions, you might find yourself falling face-first on the bed in front of you.

“Can I touch you?”

His voice was soft, almost reverent, and the question sparked a mix of confusion and curiosity spiraling through you. You nodded silently, unable to form a coherent response, and his hands moved to your shoulders, his warm touch both soothing and electrifying.

“I know this is all fucked up," he murmured. "But I can’t let you carry all this tension.”

You let out a small chuckle, your shoulders wiggling slightly as you did, allowing your head to tilt to the side. The gesture opened a new, vulnerable space for him to explore, and the silent invitation didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m tired…” you whispered, your voice fragile. “Frustrated also. But so, so tired of being with him. And now that I know he cheated on me,” your voice wavered, thick with suppressed anger and sorrow, “I–I think– I know I deserve better, but… I don’t even know what better looks like.”

Heeseung’s thumbs pressed into the tense muscles of your upper back right after you spoke. You swore you could feel the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he leaned closer, his breath grazing your ear sweetly, yet sultrily.

“I can show you what better looks like, darling,” he said lowering an octave, his tone both tempting and genuine, but mostly, filthy.

A low, involuntary hum escaped you, uncertain whether it was from the pleasure of his skilled touch kneading away your tension or the raw temptation dripping from his words, words that lingered in the air like a seductive promise, enticing you towards a darker path, leading to a gate of ruins – the kind born of broken vows and desires forbidden.

“Can you?” you shot back, your voice soft but tinged with challenge and curiosity, enough to elicit a low chuckle from Heeseung.

“Yeah. If you let me…” His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck and a shiver coursed through you, your body instinctively relaxing under his touch. “I can show you. Just say the word, sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, and the now painful, agonizing memories of your dead relationship clouded the course of your next decisions. Not that if you were thinking entirely rationally you would avoid the temptation offered by Heeseung, nor would you shy away from the clear want to have him in a more intimate, more physical way.

Nonetheless, the rising anger towards Brendon, that had dismissed slightly but it hadn’t vanished, was slowly, yet completely taking over your being, controlling your senses and boosting the craving for making a move – a wrong move.

There was an excruciating necessity for feeling the revenge melting deliciously on your tongue, to payback, to be in charge of the trajectory of your life back again.

The morality was long gone.

“Please, Hee.”

You tilted your head back, resting against Heeseung’s shoulder. The chant in your brain yelled for you to stop, to resolve things correctly, how they should be, however your hands had already covered Heeseung’s and deliberately pulled them up, his palms now groping your covered breasts with you inciting it.

“Show me.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, your thoughts failing to keep you away from succumbing to your raw desires – Fuck Brendon, you said to yourself. He is the one to blame.

“Show me what I deserve.”

You were blinded by a mix of desire, lust and anger when Heeseung pulled you closer and began to massage your breasts vigorously, his soft lips kissing the length of your neck, jaw and then, the corner of your mouth, while his fingers varied between pinching your nipples and playing with them.

Your desire to have him was overwhelming and indescribable, your body melted under his slow and gentle touch. But that wasn't what you wanted, no. You wanted more; more intense, more fervent, hotter.

You needed to vent your growing rage, you needed to feel your frustration and pain fading away before you exploded.

“I'm angry, Hee,” you murmured through gritted teeth, your eyes narrowing only so you could turn towards Heeseung and grab him by the neck, the hands that once explored your chest now on your waist. “Don't treat me with care. Not now. Not today.”

And in a frantic movement, you attached your lips to his as if it were the last thing you were doing in your life, not even paying attention to how Heeseung's eyes were darkened and clouded by pure lust.

Heeseung felt struck by lightning when he finally kissed the lips he had dreamed of feeling for so long, but he didn't have time to appreciate a single second of their softness because you soon sought to deepen the touch, exploring his mouth with your tongue, searching for his so you could embark on a messy and needy kiss.

Your hands tugged at his hair lightly, occasionally trailing down to his bare, warm shoulder, shivering under your touch. Your heads moved in an unsynchronized rhythm – there was no time to cherish, to appreciate the intimate connection. You just wanted to feel him closer, to feel him deep in you.

When Heeseung's large hands grabbed your ass, you murmured something that sounded like “more”, quickly indicating with your own hand for him to squeeze harder.

The request was swiftly met, your bodies pressing together hungrily to the point where you noticed the erection that was growing under the few cloths that covered Heeseung. You moaned when you felt him hard against you, your breathing hitching.

When you least expected it your back was laid out on Heeseung's bed, with him on top of you, still kissing your lips, your breaths heavy and interrupted, however not enough to break the connection.

But you still wanted more.

“More, Hee. More.” You exhaled at one point, when for a brief moment, your lips parted.

Heeseung had already thrown his sanity out the window. He had intended to treat you with care, affection, and show you how worthy you were, but his plans seemed to differ from yours; you seemed to need an intense and passionate sex, one that he knew he could offer you.

Without much hesitation, he dared to detach his lips from yours just so he could move them down your still covered torso, grazing the fabric of your shirt and stopping at the edge of the waistband of your slacks.

Heeseung guided his gaze upwards, only to find you slightly disheveled, panting, and with swollen lips. The skin around your mouth was reddened from the intensity of the kiss you shared, and he was sure he wasn’t much different himself.

“Please, don’t stop…” You whined and squirmed a little when you realized he was taking too much time to appreciate your expression of desperation instead of using it to make you feel good.

You felt your panties uncomfortably soaked with your arousal and your whole body boiled with lust and need for more.

More, more, more, it was what the chant in your head was screaming now, completely lost in the lustful haze that overwhelmed you agonizingly, mixed with the anger of having been betrayed, been cheated on.

Your hand fit perfectly on top of Heeseung's head when he finally removed your bottoms along with your panties in one go; his beautiful eyes, previously full of attention and affection, now showed pure need for having you naked and exposed.

“Shit, darling…” Heeseung groaned, seeing your wet folds and pulsing hole. “You’re so fucking perfect, so fucking wet,” he kissed your inner thigh and you winced, throwing your head back on the pillow and trying to relax your breathing. “Release your fucking anger on my hair while I make you fucking cum with my mouth, yeah?”

Although you didn’t see, he flashed you a last mischievous glance and a smirk before darting back to stare at your inviting pussy, his own respiration hitching as his mouth watered. 

Wasting no time, Heeseung dipped his flattened tongue all along your extension, sucking at the very end straight on your clit, just to get a preliminary taste but stirring quite a loud moan from you. Your hips waved forward to search for more immediate contact when he briefly leaned away to close his eyes, a phantom of a smile lingering on his lips as he appreciated your flavor melting in his palate.

Your hands pushed his head back down, forcing his face to dive deep into you and he couldn't be happier, even letting out a small giggle with your unashamed eagerness.

It felt amazing to receive an oral that skilled, that warm mouth working perfectly to suck your arousal enthusiastically, big nose nudging in an expert dance against your sensitive bud of nerves and, damn, that tongue assaulting your pulsing hole by entering in and eventually stroking through the other parts, passionately exploring your cunt.

Heeseung was giving you full attention.

Somehow it triggered an urge to cry in between your moans, because you were associating practically everything with your husband – the heated kisses you never really got to receive, the deprivation of sexual interactions where you felt desired, the words that lifted your self esteem.

Brendon had never treated you this way, the right way. He barely even gave you a fraction of the care and attention that Heeseung was now showering upon you, his desire to bring you pleasure evidently being treated as if it was his own, as though having you shaking and pleading for more with your drenching cunt on his mouth riled him up.

Your eyes stung and tears dared to roll down your temples onto the pillow beneath your head, the lump on your throat and a strange feeling filling your chest that only fueled your pain and anger.

Instinctively, your fingers tightened their grip on Heeseung's soft hair, strong enough to make him groan in pain, but not enough to make him complain or ask you to stop. You also forced him down once again, using his face, mouth, tongue, nose, everything to get yourself off and drift the sorrow away.

“F–Fuck–” A whimper escaped your lips when Heeseung entertained your idea instead of backing off, intensifying how he was eating you out deliciously, his own breath growing stronger, ragged within each passing minute he deepened his head between your legs, nearly suffocating himself.

You could feel the foreign knot on your stomach tightening along with the pang in your chest and Heeseung’s grip on your thighs; his hands moved to under them to position on his broad shoulders, skin on skin making you notice how hot both of your bodies were, and, at the same time, serving as a not-so-gentle lucidity reminder of the intimacy you were sharing.

Although the temptation of achieving your release just with Heeseung’s mouth tickled your core, you couldn’t help the sane part of your brain prompting that, perhaps, the ongoing scenario wouldn’t happen even again and you had to live it up the best.

Everything was so confusing. You just had a reckless, frustrated and anger driven decision that led you to have Heeseung buried deep in your pussy, nonetheless you were still married – at least on paper. 

You had a husband. 

The hand that held Heeseung in place was curiously your left one, as if the whole world wanted to remember you were being a cheater; your pretty ring sparkled amidst his dark locks in a beautiful, nearly artistic mess.

A roll of eyes brought you back to the overwhelming sensation of Heeseung’s warmth involving your sensitiveness, snapped you back into the haze of unawareness of your sad reality. He cherished your climax as much as you, and was willingly determined to make you cum just by his mouth. You, on the other hand, had different plans.

“Hee…” You called in a moan and tried to pull him away, your closed eyes making the unleashed tears flow easily. He shook his head and pushed himself down again, oblivious to the turmoil blending with your pleasure. 

He only halted his movements when you added. “Mhm, stop, please–”

A soft kiss within a plop sound was planted on your clit when he stopped, stirring a small shake in your body and a quiet whine. Heeseung lifted his gaze and caught your furrowed brows and bitten-swollen lips, and also noticed your tears.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

His voice carried a hint of concern, unsure if your tears were from pleasure or sadness, especially since you had just asked him to stop, leaving him dealing with mixed signals.

“Nothing's wrong,” you shook your head and smiled, because the man in front of you not only respected your request immediately but also prioritized your well-being over the sex. A rarity in your life.

Even so, Heeseung maneuvered your legs to place them back on the soft mattress and moved to hover comfortably over you, his eyes searching for your still closed ones. You felt a gentle stroke on your cheek, followed by his warm breath fanning your nose and lips, signaling he was closer to you than you had realized.

Your free hand blindly traced the path of his arms to his neck, while the other, still tangled in his hair, pulled him into a kiss with one singular, simple purpose: to drown out all the overthinking that had started to flood your mind.

The tears intensified as your lips moved in sync, and when Heeseung tried to pull back, likely to ask what was wrong, you tugged him down again and silenced the possibility by deepening the kiss.

A terrible feeling began to rise, fighting against the one that had filled the room minutes ago – lust.

You wanted Heeseung as a man. You wanted him to keep touching you as he did moments ago, to give you the pleasure you deserved and wanted, not only because he offered that chance but mainly because you desired it and allowed it.

Yet, it was so messy and confusing. The weight of guilt pressed heavily on your chest, the self-awareness and the realization of cheating beginning to restrict your actions.

And then came the anger.

He betrayed you first. He didn’t treat you right. He didn’t respect you. Maybe, he didn’t even love you.

That marriage had been dead for so long. The façade you had desperately tried to keep intact by scattering beautiful flowers along the path was already thrown in the trash. You deserved better – you deserved a confident, strong, incredible and undeniably attractive gentleman like Heeseung.

Heeseung.

Heeseung, who was right in front of you, so close, kissing you with a slow, addictive heat. Heeseung, who had respected you from the very beginning. Heeseung, who risked parts of his morality, his life, and his values just to get closer to you. Heeseung, who occupied every corner of your mind.

Why was it so hard to accept that you might actually deserve him?

A shaky sigh broke the intoxicating kiss as Heeseung propped himself up on one arm to look into your glossy, reddened eyes. Before any questioning words could escape his swollen lips, you allowed your raw desire to be spoken aloud.

“Fuck me with your fingers,” you demanded, your voice soft, yet firm and serious as your eyes roamed Heeseung’s features. 

His forehead was starting to damp some hairs in sweat, his nostrils moved along his intense breathing and his lips, parted, showed your work of art on them, glistening with your saliva and earlier arousal.

Your hand covered the one that still lingered tenderly on your cheek, grabbing it to drive slowly down to your pussy.

“I want to feel you in every way possible, Hee.”

Heeseung couldn’t deny the confusion of your actions, the sudden cry, the smallest hesitation he caught in between the kiss, and now this. He was in no place to deny such a filthy request though, a request that got his neglected, aching dick throbbing in his boxers, nearly screaming for some relief or space to breathe.

Still, an incomprehensive sensation lingered on the back of his head as he tracked your every face motion.

“Are you sure?” The question itself was just a confirmation you were alright, you were still thinking somehow straight and taking decisions you really wanted to live up with.

Cheating wasn’t Heeseung’s game either. He hated the idea of being or having an affair as much as you; infidelity never sounded right to his ears. Nonetheless the situation was so uniquely specific. His true concern was when you would dump that jackass you called a husband, the one who wouldn’t lift a finger to make you happy, the one who, quite the opposite, would be more than thrilled to make you feel worse every passing day.

Selfish as it may be, it was genuine to his intentions. Heeseung had been fully aware of his plan from the start, knowing it wasn’t entirely right to do so, but sounded like the most possible option – to show what you deserve, and how he would willingly give it to you.

Now, he wished he could have stayed loyal to the original intent of this entire thing, where he promised himself to help you out of a toxic relationship without getting personally attached.

But it was you. You, with your charming smile. You, with your pretty expressive eyes. You, with your loving personality. You, with your sincere care for those you loved.

You, taking over his thoughts within every shade of mundanity and profanity, from the most casual to the most profound and intimate area.

Tasting your lips was the first stumble. Venturing in your intimacy was where he fell. 

“Yes, Hee,” you nodded, softened eyes showing your need along with a press of his fingertips into your hole, teasing an intrusion. He moaned with you. “I’m sure.” 

“Fuck,” a curse slipped from his mouth like a grunt, and his lips pressed against yours to kiss you again, because in no world he would miss the opportunity of having you this close, to drink from your whimpers as he circled his finger on your clenching pussy.

Heeseung was skilled in many nuances, you came to realize. But kissing was definitely his most noticeable talent. He knew where and when to move to match your energy, how to use his tongue to grace yours in a deliberate dance that twisted your feelings, leaving you lightheaded and dizzy, craving for more.

You might have taken his supposition of you deserving more a bit too far, because you also noticed Heeseung was apparently tailor-made to provoke your instincts of wanting, of more – it never felt enough.

So when he finally inserted his middle finger, you jolted and gasped mid kiss, without being able to prevent your hips reflexively wiggling to get additional contact, nor your hands tightening around his silky strands, trembling just enough to make your desire noticeable.

“More,” you whispered in a shaky breath, lips brushing against each other before Heeseung’s ones trailed lazily along your cheek, lowering to your neck. You moaned. “Add more, Heeseung–” 

Your spongy interior hugged his following finger in a warm, tempting hug and he didn’t hold back his shameless humping against your leg that matched the pump into you, his cock twitching in despair for release, for freedom. It felt tight; both your pussy and the fabric around his length.

Heeseung panted in between the sloppy kisses he delivered along the extension of your goosebumped skin, loving how needy you sounded and acted by clutching his hair stronger and waving your body forward. 

His fingers worked wonders inside you, palm brushing lightly against your clit and providing a teasing amount of friction, but didn't give enough fulfillment to leave you satisfied. Both of you grew impatient before the silent shared-thought of Heeseung’s cock filling your pussy, replacing his two fingers, so he could feel all of you and hit your every spot.

A displeased whine followed by a quiet surprised gasp jumped out of your mouth when Heeseung removed his hand from you, lewdly licking his fingers clean with an arousing smirk before quickly sneaking it under your penult clothing piece to unclasp your bra.

You helped by arching your back just to give some space, and didn’t hide your shock by how easily he did it with just one hand; the tight tension that held boobs in place soothed as he removed your shirt altogether, making you sigh and wince a little as the room air fanned your, now, completely naked skin.

“Need to fuck you, darling,” he muttered, voice low, velvety and desperate. “Need it so bad.”

Your eyes followed closely how dilated Heeseung’s pupils were, blown with unfiltered, bare hunger dedicated to you. He unashamedly showed his craving by licking his swollen lips at the sight of your perked nipples aching for some attention, and for brief seconds he cupped your breasts with each of his hands and kneaded softly, just to feel the smoothness of them.

Your lazy smirk and hooded eyes demonstrated your enjoyment with the devotion Heeseung was giving you willingly, without asking anything in return as you were used to; your husband always sharply requested something back if you said you wanted him to play with your body and give you something instead of using it for his own pleasure. 

“You’re so fucking hot, darling,” Heeseung complimented with a quiet grin, worshipping your gorgeous body exposed for his eyes, eyes that showered you with want, with genuine interest on what they were seeing.

Such a foreign experience for you.

He grazed his fingertips downwards the fat of your waist and hips as he, himself, lowered all the way on the bed before standing up on his feet. 

“You think so?” You asked shyly, barely audible as you propped yourself in one arm to watch the small show Heeseung was giving you by removing his sweatpants; you couldn’t help your salivation or the pulses in your cunt seeing the shape of his cock, drawn along the fabric, and the big dampened portion indicating his leaking tip that teased the subsequent vision.

When Heeseung finally exposed his length completely, you couldn’t hold back the sigh, the wide-eyed stare, or the dry swallow that slid down your throat.

He was big. Long and flushed, angrily aching, begging for relief. And he was about to be inside you.

“Fuck…” 

Heeseung’s grin stretched with your adorable, yet sultry reaction – the whisper of your curse traveling straight into his ear, flattering his ego; your legs closing and your thighs clenching involuntarily in order to find some satisfaction stirring a throb on his hardened cock. 

“I’m totally sure of it, doll,” the endearment got your needy hole clenching more, and Heeseung seductively hovering on top of you with his piercing eyes locked onto yours didn’t help much. Your breath hitched, eyes gleaming with expectation, but your cheeks warmed after he added. “You’re like a goddess.”

Maybe it wasn’t exactly his words, but how he sustained eye contact while he voiced them. Heeseung had an attitude that got your core bubbling in a rush of excitement, both sexual and… affectionate. 

Effortlessly and shamelessly, he had expressed just how deeply you affected him, simply by being in your presence. The way his body responded to yours with such ease, by nothing more than fleeting touches and exchanged words, with your consent, felt surreal. It was so far from the reality you were used to, so unexpected.

“You make me go insane…” He continued, kissing your neck while positioning himself in between your legs.

Your hands grabbed the sheets beneath you as he pressed the tip on your pussy, his free hand caressing your cheek as the other held his support beside your face.

“Dreamed about you from the very first day…”

The confession sounded raw, voice slowly pronouncing each word with care, but hoarse enough to show the sincerity of it, as if he had let down his guard completely and was letting his deepest thoughts escape without filters. It caused an unfamiliar wave within you, something that both eased your nerves and sparked your curiosity, something that got you clutching the sheets harder and your eyes fluttering close.

“When I found out you were married to that pathetic excuse of a man,” Heeseung maintained his tone low and deliberate, matching the rhythm he started to enter you, face still buried in your neck. “I was so, so pissed.”

Your breath hitched, overwhelmed by the feeling of the weight of his length and how deliciously he was stretching your hole.

On top of that, Heeseung’s unfiltered words didn’t leave an open space for you to add anything else, too flustered, aroused, lost in your pleasure and bafflement under the bare feeling of intimacy, leaving the job of talking entirely for him.

So he kept going, taking your silence and how your brows furrowed into a contorted expression of pleasure as a positive reaction. 

“I saw him talking shit about you every day,” he murmured, already more than halfway inside you, taking his time, savoring the way you clenched around him. Soft and breathy grunts escaped amidst the speech he chose to vent to you. “And I couldn’t do anything, not back then. I had to get closer to him to get closer to you.”

That piece of information was new, though you could easily deduce it by sorting out the fragments you already had. You wished you could fully comprehend it, respond as you wanted, maybe even thank him or whatever, but the way Heeseung deepened his movements, his body pressing against yours, his pelvis in contact with your skin, was clouding your mind.

“I wanted to destroy your marriage, love. I’m not even ashamed to admit it,” he whispered against your ear like telling you a secret, then raised his head to search your gaze. “So, so, so beautiful…” 

You fluttered your lashes, weakly trying to meet his eyes. Your hands, once gripping the sheets, trembled as they found their way to Heeseung's shoulders. He noticed how your eyelids struggled to stay open, feeling the weight of his body on top of yours, knowing that every sensation was pulling you deeper into a space where he believed you truly belonged – completely immersed in raw pleasure.

Your cheeks flushed, and although Heeseung believed it was from the lustful warmth, it was mostly because of his genuine words, the way he told his side of the story, which left you disoriented yet absorbing every sentence.

“You’re gorgeous, darling,” he said once again, as though expecting you to absorb the compliments. Knowing how unwanted your relationship made you feel, he had a mission to make you understand you were wonderful and he was deeply affected by you. “The prettiest woman I ever laid my eyes on.”

You whimpered quietly when he dared to move an inch away, pulling out his cock a little just to pump into you again. With your body already limp, you gave up on keeping watching his handsome face up-close, the glimpse of a tender smile being your last view before closing your eyes.

Heeseung took your decision as a silent invite for a kiss, hand sneaking in between your hair towards you nape, attaching his mouth on yours in a slow and sensual touch that got you melting even more. He muffled his own grunts as he drank in your beautiful moans.

You couldn’t come up with a proper description about the fluttering in your chest and stomach with such a gentle contact, nor the way his hips moved deliberately, allowing you to not only adjust, but feel his deep thrusts everywhere. 

Somehow, you really felt Heeseung everywhere. 

His tongue twisting softly with yours, sucking your lips with a slow passion that took your breath away. The words, lingering on the back of your head and mixing with the amount of pleasure he was giving you, had your heart beating louder and stronger against your ribcage. 

“You deserve more,” he carried on with his mission of making you feel worthy, stopping the kiss to press his lips on the corner of your mouth. “So much more, darling.”

And although you wanted to enjoy the slow sex he was providing you, the words of devotion he was offering with so much ease and genuineness, your messy thoughts and feelings suppressed it.

It felt like Heeseung’s adoration triggered even harder those reminiscences of your broken marriage. You remembered the times you sacrificed yourself, damaging your mental health for someone that threw everything away to cheat you, to have an affair. 

Regret was an euphemism to begin with what was going through your head. You felt so ridiculous for letting things get to that point. It was an unpleasant blend of blaming your husband and blaming yourself because, even if you tried to see it from the perspective that he never deserved even a fraction of your care and love, there was still the part where you chose to stay.

And why?

You had always brushed aside the possibility of divorce. At times, questioning why you stayed meant entering a limbo without an exit – or one you didn’t want to find. So, you avoided thinking too much about it. You accepted what he gave you.

But why? 

Why did you accept so little?

Your friends had asked you that a few times, but your anger grew at the mere thought of considering the question. Eventually, they stopped asking too.

It was a silent answer you didn’t want to give – acknowledging that the man who had promised you eternal love didn’t love you anymore hurt your ego, hurt your sense of integrity. Instead of leaving, you chose to stay and try to fix it, to make yourself wanted and loved again. But how could you change something immutable?

Anger.

It flared again, thundering in your chest and making you tight your hands into fists. The fingers tangled in Heeseung’s hair gripped a tuft tightly, pulling unconsciously as a way to release your rising rage. He hissed right after, furrowing his brows trying to understand what was happening with you.

Heeseung felt like perceiving your actions and moods with surprising ease after spending quite some time along with you, observing your demeanor and how you changed expressions due to something in particular, either for good or bad. 

However, right at that moment, when he was fucking you nice and slow, kissing you with care and giving you the amount of fondness he felt you deserved, he sensed confusing signals about what you really wanted. Or maybe he was interpreting your needs through his own perspective, assuming you sought love and affection when, in fact, you craved for something tougher.

Heeseung pressed your lips together once more, but now with less delicacy than before as testing the waters. You gave an immediate reaction, gradually loosening your grip on his locks to something teetering the bearable and actually pulling him closer, deepening whatever you could deep while kissing him.

The frustration in your chest dissipated as your tongues clashed aggressively against one another, suppressing your growing moans as he started to thrust faster. Within seconds, Heeseung started to hit a certain spot that got you shivering and letting out a particular loud moan under his strong hold on your body.

He quickly noticed the change in your body language and adapted himself to it. One last tug on your lower lip between his teeth, strong enough to almost leave bloody marks and elicit a groan from your throat, was what told you he was about to change positions.

Heeseung slightly raised his upper body to position himself on his knees and looked at you with a certain fierceness, with hunger, and you, now with your eyes mildly open, saw the bareness of his lust stirring the most profound heated desire carved in your soul, bringing back to life something you didn’t notice you had lost.

“So this is what you wanted, huh?” Heeseung flashed you a devilish grin, his voice low and notably teasing, finding support on your open thighs. 

His pelvis, once slow, began to move with more urgency, gradually increasing the pace together with the smirk that graced the corner of his reddened lips. You winced, feeling dizzy with the sound of his low moans and the slapping skin-on-skin.

Rolling your eyes with a content smile and a quiet nod was your failed attempt to give a proper response, because you felt too lost embracing the sudden switch that got your core throbbing in excitement, at the same time that released your tensed nerves.

“S’good,” you whimpered and arched your back slightly, head being thrown back as you did so. 

Heeseung cooed at the view of your boobs bouncing with each of his deep pounds into you, together with how your hands desperately struggled to find a grounding physical piece as you grabbed everything around you – the sheets, his arms, the pillow.

He had picked up a rhythm that kept you swaying on the edge of your growing release, so extremely close to snapping you into a bliss of pleasure, yet far enough to drive you insane.

He was playing with you like a toy – his favorite. Denying you the climax of your desire – so freaking amazing. 

“Y’could have told me earlier, darling,” he clicked his tongue with faux disappointment, breathing heavy in between his sharp words. “Would be fucking you like this from the very begining.”

You even tried to murmur a soft apology, but it got lost amidst your messy whimpers, your hazed mind, foggy with need making it hard to think of anything other than Heeseung’s cock, Heeseung’s voice, Heeseung’s name. Heeseung.

And you wanted more. Always. Fucking. More.

So with your lips falling open, you were able to only plead.

“More… Please, Hee, more…”

Heeseung was going crazy as much as you. He felt his body becoming exhausted with each passing thrust, however, he had no intention of stopping too soon, not without feeling the amazing clench of your pussy hugging his dick so fucking good as you cummed all over his shaft, not without letting his release fullfill you in a way that you would never forget who fucked you dumb so good like that. 

It felt like a magic spell, drifting him back and forth into reality and insanity, because of how good your cunt were making him feel, allowing his length to go fast, deep and strong into your pulsing hole; spongy interior pressing his hardened cock that ached for an orgasm. 

“Fucking pussy– Fucking tight pussy, makes me insane– Shit–” He panted in between breathy moans, voice coming out low, yet strained as his body faltered forward.

You lost count on how many times your eyes had rolled, not that you were actually trying to number it; the ecstasy Heeseung was providing you was wild, lunatic even. You only noticed his closeness again when his lips brushed your neck, not kissing or anything. He was just… there, as lost in his pleasure as you, muttering a row of curses and your name within gorgeous moans. 

You wanted to cum so, so bad, and somehow you couldn’t let go of it fully, the pressing knot on your lower stomach refusing to unfold into your orgasm. 

“Hee– Mhm–”

Heeseung was in love with how distant and broken you sounded, babbling nonsense as he pounded deeper. In love with how hot and sweaty your skin was in contact with his equal one, showing how intimate you two were. In love with your beautiful noises, that made his balls tight with his near climax. 

“Fuck– You like cheating on your jerk husband with me, don't you?” The breathy question murmured against your earlobe had no purpose of getting an answer, yet you gave one, echoing ‘yes’ like a prayer, hand in fist hitting lightly Heeseung’s broad shoulder as a way to find an anchor. You were so close. “It's okay, darling. It’s okay, yeah?” 

Heeseung kissed your neck, then your lips. 

“You deserve better.”

Heeseung led his fingers to rub your clit, eyes locked on your contorted face. So close.

“I can give you better.”

Heeseung’s body trembled nearly at the same time as yours started to shake uncontrollably. The wave of pleasure that coursed through your body was too much to handle, so you simply let go, relaxing your entire being and allowing it to take control of your movements without thinking deep into it.

You saw the world turning into white for a few seconds, your ears ringing with an annoying, far noise that clouded your mind and numbed your limbs. Heeseung's name escaped your lips, the ones stained due to the long, passionate kisses and delicious bites, like a sob that was both painful and sweet.

You barely heard anything Heeseung cursed through his heavy breath and addictive moans, nor your name being called as he filled you with thick ropes of his warm cum, let alone the kiss he placed on your chin right after or the chuckle he let out when noticing your drool.

The burning sensation in your stomach traveled its path until it reached your cunt, releasing in a squirt as you cried and squirmed. 

You cried, tears dancing on your face as you, slowly yet impactful, went through every possible sensation, but not really feeling all of them. It was weirdly good, an unprecedented experience you didn’t know you needed to have until right at that moment.

You wanted to make it last forever.

After what you decided to define as minutes passed, remotely distant, like a muffed blur, fighting with the dense fog inside your head, you started to hear Heeseung’s voice trying to bring you back to him.

“Hey, darling,” he kissed your cheek softly, brushing his thumb on your lower lip, a contact that contrasted absurdly with the fact that he was still buried deep within you. “I’ve got you, mhm?” 

And he followed to shower you with affectionate sweet words, asking if you were alright, for you to open your eyes, to say some words just to know you were fine. At some random moment you lazily blinked, hardly actually seeing Heeseung due to your tear-drenched eyes. 

“You made me squirt,” you whispered weakly, the lingering touch of Heeseung’s lips on yours still feeling like a ghostly caress, though you felt his body trembling as well as his smile when he chuckled.

“Hell yeah, I did.”

Heeseung slowly searched for air to his exhausted lungs, his body relaxing but making sure not to press your exhausted one. He was worried about your integrity after such a long and hard orgasm. 

“You good, baby?” 

The pet name felt natural, as if for Heeseung, calling you with endearing nicknames was as common as drinking water on a daily basis.

The warmth of his touch – he had let his hand, which had once gently caressed your face and brushed away sweat-drenched strands of hair, travel to your waist – was loving, making you yearn for more while feeling valued.

His gaze, full of care, radiated an aura of calm, like a magical magnet pulling you closer; there was no other explanation for your desperate desire to kiss him, as a way to reciprocate what he offered you freely.

Heeseung made you feel wanted, cherished, and respected in ways you hadn't known in far too long. It was all so new, though not entirely; it was confusing and messy and chaotic, but so, so good.

You gave a small nod in response and pulled him into another kiss, this time slow and gentle. You felt him pull his softened length from you, a small hiss and a frown coming from your side due to your sensitiveness. 

“Sorry,” Heeseung whispered in a genuine apologetic tone before diving back again to keep his tongue brushing deliberately on yours.

He was kissing you with so much feeling, yet in a sensual motion that got your breath caught in your throat, the beats of your heart matching the pace of the subtle pressure of his swollen lips against yours.

You could feel a phantom of a smile coming from Heeseung in between the kiss, as if he was thrilled about what just happened with you two – and to be honest, so were you. He had given you not only an unreal, breathtaking sexual experience that led your body to feel limp and extremely relaxed, but he mostly showed you the possibility beyond your current life.

Heeseung unveiled, somehow, your freedom to quit the confines you were trapped in, a way out of the prison that held you in place, restricting your needs, your wants and, mainly, your love and affection.

He had shown you an escape. Maybe a ruined one, but still an escape. 

Nonetheless, as quickly the sweet moment started, it stopped, when a sudden wave of realization hit Heeseung. The once hazy mind that drove you both into an intense path, leading towards a more serene one, was now reactive and alert.

“Oh, fuck…” Heeseung’s voice was dripping with exasperated concern when he broke the kiss by leaning back from you with widened eyes. 

The moment you saw his expression, you couldn’t help but frown, a confused pout forming on your lips. He started scanning the bed frantically, his gaze darting around as if searching for something if it was used, would be on his… “Shit.” He glanced down to see the obvious. No condom.

His mouth opened and closed, as if the words were stuck somewhere between his brain and his tongue. He exhaled deeply, searching for comfort in your gaze, but, obviously, you wouldn’t be offering a quarter of it to him. Actually, your curious-dumbfounded eyes increased his nervousness.

“We didn’t use protection,” he finally blurted, his voice heavy with anxiety.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the whole soothing atmosphere suddenly fading in a snap as the room seemed to shift, the air growing thick. You felt a shiver running down your spine and instinctively you lifted your body, propping yourself up on your elbows, your eyes widening with a surge of fear. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You glanced back at him, your eyes wide with alarm, completely unaware of how Heeseung’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed dryly. 

His usual calm demeanor faltered before your reaction, and the fear was clear in his current state, with his body tense, pupils blown and dilated, as well as his short bursts of breath that grazed your face, blending with your equally rapid one.

The following question got your chest tightening even stronger, the weight on the room now teetering unbearable. 

“B–But you take your pills… Right..?” His voice wavered, his eyes desperately searched for reassurance in yours, his hand once gently holding you, now gripping quite fiercely on your hips.

Your immediate silence was more than enough of an answer, still you shook your head, denying. A cold spread through your chest when you realized you had made a huge mistake, your body falling back on the bed as you said, voice barely above a whisper as you did so, filled with terror. 

“I stopped taking it when my sex life stopped existing.”

Reading the situation, more specifically when he noticed your eyes brimming with fresh tears before you closed them, Heeseung quickly rushed to change his behavior, and instead of causing you even more pain and suffering, he sought to calm you.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, alright?” He positioned himself on his knees, gently taking your hands to pull you to sit as well. “We always have the option of the plan B pill, right?”

Fluttering your lids open, you sobbed, the view of Heeseung’s disheveled hair blurring due to your watered eyes. 

“But if he finds out–”

“He won’t,” Heeseung immediately interrupted, cupping your face tenderly.

He opted to ignore the pain in his chest because your instant line of thought somehow fueled a wave of realization that, despite his attempt to pull you away from that broken relationship, you might still go back to your husband as if nothing happened.

“I’ll buy it before you leave, okay?”

You let your gaze travel over Heeseung’s caring form as he gently caressed your face and placed random kisses on your lips. Your heart warmed, relief and genuine happiness flowing through every part of your body as you relaxed back, regulating your breathing. He nodded along with you, flashing a small smile that got your heartbeats thumping faster. 

“But just know that if– No. Forget it.” Heeseung started, but then cut himself off with a quiet, mysterious laugh and a shake of head.

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him inquisitively with your head cocking to the side.

“Now you have to tell me.”

A sigh escaped his lips when he realized you were unwavering in your demand and decided to speak, avoiding your stare.

“I was going to say that...” He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up. “That I wouldn’t mind you carrying a child of ours.”

If it weren’t for the quietness of his room, you probably wouldn’t be able to hear a word of what he had said. Unfortunately – or not –, you heard each single part of it and your reaction was to freeze.

Heeseung immediately noticed how you tensed, the grip on his hand tightening since he hadn’t let go of one of your hands. He blushed in a deep shade of crimson, feeling mortified for saying something so outrageous, but… He freaked out. He wanted to make you feel comfortable and secure, offering you a safe place with options for any possible outcome due to both of your irresponsibility. However, he made it worse.

“Sorry. I– We don’t know each other well enough for me to say that, but... You’re special, amazing, beautiful, smart... A child of yours would be a blessing, that’s what I meant.”

He tried to explain himself and he couldn’t pinpoint if it made the situation worse. The words caught in your throat because you hadn’t prepared for such a raw declaration after such intense and wonderful sex.

Heeseung was proving to you, once again, that you deserved more and better, even in between stumbled sentences of a rambled speech.

“In any case...” He continued, gulping. “I wouldn’t want a child of ours– Yours. Mine?” He giggled, embarrassed. “To be conceived in… Y’know…”

Your stomach dropped with the realization of what you just did. Yeah. A cheating sex. You cheated on your husband. Yes, you had a husband to start with.

How had you forgotten?

Once again, you found yourself torn in between your chaotic feelings, unable to make proper decisions due to your sensitive mind. You just had an amazing moment with Heeseung and would be willing to extend for some more encounters. On the other hand, there was still so much you needed to work through – both internally and externally – and it involved another person as well. 

The one who was supposed to be the love of your life, just as the promises of youth had once told you.

But those promises now felt like distant echoes, fading against the weight of reality. The life you imagined with Brendon had been clouded by too many unanswered questions, too many unsaid things throughout plenty of years. It crashed down now, like a tide that dragged you towards the deep, profound ocean of uncertainty. 

The connection that was supposed to bring comfort now seemed like a distant and extremely painful memory, because, afterall, he betrayed you first.

Lost in your reminiscences and confusing mind, you didn’t notice when Heeseung laid you back down on the mattress, cleaning you gently while leaving you to your thoughts. He was aware of the necessity of you having to think. He couldn’t even imagine what was going on in your mind and, honestly, he didn’t know if you wanted to share with him.

Especially with him.

Heeseung was not only an acquaintance of your husband anymore. He was the man that helped you to cheat. He was your affair, the wrong side of your life, the lack of morality, of honesty, of loyalty. He would be associated with that for the rest of your days, and strangely enough, he had no regrets.

Heeseung was aware that despite all the wrong decisions made that night, in the end, you got what you deserved: affection and the feeling of being cared for.

That was what you deserved, forever; to be desired, to be adored, to be placed on a pedestal as the incredibly wonderful goddess that you were.

Brendon didn’t deserve the heart-shaped sandwiches or the love notes you worked so hard to make every day, nor the meticulous care you put into the home he lived in, even though you worked as much as he did.

He didn’t deserve the way you looked at him with fondness, although most of the time it was a pretense, hiding the real layer of what you had felt for so long and refused to accept.

He didn’t deserve to hear your beautiful voice excitedly talking about a new flower arrangement you made or the new recipe you learned and nailed on the first try. He didn’t deserve to hear your laughter while watching comedy films or when something went wrong and you giggled, embarrassed.

Heeseung didn’t know if he, himself, deserved any of that, but he wanted to make you realize that you were so much more than just a facade of a wife.

You were so much more… To him.

“How do I go back to my house now?” You asked quietly after a while, your voice breaking the silence of the room like an anvil falling into a glass-floor. 

The question, however, wasn’t exactly directed to anyone in particular, you didn’t even notice you said aloud.

Heeseung’s response caught you off guard. 

“Do you want me to take you?”

You sighed, looking at him. As said before, you had laid back on the bed and he was right by your side, caressing you while you spent your last minutes thinking about your life and your future decisions. 

Heeseung driving you back to your house would make things worse, though you wanted to see how Brendon would react to that.

Brendon. Why does his reaction still mattered to you? He literally chose the same path you did tonight, but way before you and keeping his cool, as if he wasn’t throwing his whole marriage into the thrash for some random chick at his work.

“No.” You answered after a brief, yet close inspection. “I need some time alone.”

And Heeseung’s chest tightened in pain. You could still choose to stay with your husband after everything, it has always been one of the options when everything first started.

He swallowed the urge to try to convince you of his… Love? He couldn’t even name it yet, but something was definitely blooming into his heart and you, with your beautiful presence, was the big picture in that scenario. 

“Okay,” he whispered, agreeing with you.

And although you, yourself, weren’t sure of much, Heeseung was of one thing. 

It was more than worth it. 

When you got back home, the silence and the darkness of your house greeted you, embracing your confused and broken self with something bittersweet – your home was supposed to be your comfort spot, however it felt wrong. 

Everything felt misplaced, even though nothing had moved out of position. 

You scanned every corner of the living room, and yet, despite its familiarity, it felt foreign, like you didn’t belong there anymore. Perhaps you never did.

The walls were adorned with photos of you and Brendon, frozen moments from a life that now felt distant. The blanket draped over the couch was in your favorite color, a choice you had made once. On the coffee table sat an empty beer bottle, a quiet marker of your husband’s absence.

There were traces of you both scattered throughout the room, but more of you – too much of you, as if you had been trying to compensate for something. It felt forced, a desperate attempt to fit into a space that no longer welcomed you, if it ever had.

The realization clawed at your chest, leaving a dull ache behind. How had you gone so long without seeing it? Was it Heeseung – his touch, his words – that finally broke through the carefully constructed denial? Had he been the catalyst for you noticing just how distant you had become, not only from your marriage but from yourself?

You felt like an afterthought, an appendage to someone else’s story, shaped and reshaped to fit a mold that was never meant for you. When had you started losing yourself? How had it come to this?

Those questions lingered as you retreated to the guest bedroom that night, claiming it as your sanctuary. For the first time in years, you felt the stirrings of autonomy, fragile but liberating. The divorce was inevitable now, and though the thought of it was daunting, it also carried a bittersweet promise of freedom.

Years of effort and devotion would be discarded, left behind like relics of a life you no longer wanted. But there was still so much ahead of you – a chance to rediscover who you were, to seek experiences that might lead you closer to the version of yourself you once dreamed of becoming.

Heeseung had shown you that in such a short time.

And there he was again, invading your mind without warning, his presence haunting you in ways you couldn’t shake. You still feared that you might not be able to untangle your motives, whether they were born from the rage of betrayal and the years wasted on Brendon or from the fleeting warmth Heeseung had offered you with such tenderness and sincerity.

It felt good to be wanted, cherished even, but a painful truth gnawed at the edges of your resolve: you couldn’t just leap from one branch to another. It was your life, not Brendon’s, not Heeseung’s. Yours.

In the bittersweet goodbye that had left a knot in your throat and tears threatening to spill, Heeseung had told you he would wait, that there was something he felt for you that went beyond how your relationship had begun, tangled in raw desire and masked in the shadow of infidelity.

But no matter how grateful you were for him, you knew there was a path you had to walk alone first.

It was with that conviction, and Yunjin’s steady hand gripping yours, that you signed the divorce papers the following week after an argument tinged with sorrow, regret and truths being yelled out.

None of the words Brendon said to you would be forgotten. The contempt, the look of disgust, the bitterness as he harshly verbalized that you were never good enough for him. Yet, you would keep them in a special box, as a poignant reminder that you went through the worst, that you overcame the heaviest moment of your life.

You wouldn’t forget the hatred he made you feel for yourself, because it was through it that you allowed yourself to start loving you again.

Your chest tightened, anxiety and anticipation intertwining as you faced the blank slate of what came next. You had no idea where this journey would take you – but for the first time in years, it was entirely yours.

A first date.

You vaguely remembered the last time your body felt this nervous at the thought of meeting someone. It definitely hadn’t been with your now ex-husband, but it had been long enough to leave you sweating under your arms.

After a few encouraging words with Yunjin through your phone and a “good luck” text from your mom – who had been thrilled to hear about your divorce and provided immense physical and emotional support during those first few weeks – you stepped outside your apartment.

You had saved enough money to maintain yourself, still working at the flower shop on weekends as a hobby, after landing a job at a photography studio specializing in model shoots.

It was a passion that had been crushed when your ex made you believe your work was inferior and lame, forcing you to shrink yourself to fit into his impossible standards by leaving your best sides outside.

Now, freedom was your closest companion. You went out for coffee by yourself, enjoyed lunches at pleasant restaurants in your own company, and never felt sad or shaken by being alone – because you were alone, but you didn’t feel lonely.

The autonomy surrounding you was intoxicating, filling you with radiance to push forward with your days, even in the face of difficulties.

A quick greeting with the doorman snapped you back to reality as you headed to the restaurant that would be graced by your presence tonight. The difference this time was that you wouldn’t be dining alone.

The soft door noise indicated your entrance at the place, and instinctively your fierce eyes swerved through the small crowd looking out for someone. The way your heart raced made it feel like it might burst out of your chest the moment you saw his broad, unforgettable shoulders.

“Hee?”

He was standing, his tall figure casually leaning on the countertop chatting with someone at the little open bar in the corner of the restaurant. When he heard your angelic voice calling him, it took him seconds to turn and face you.

“Y/N.”

Your name left his kissable lips like a relieved sigh. And truly, he was relieved. Not that he thought you would stand him up, but after receiving an anonymous message – followed by the revelation that it was from you, a year after everything that had happened between you two –, asking for a meeting, it was hard for him to think positively about anything.

The walk as you approached felt as if the world had blurred into nothingness. The background music softened until it became a distant echo, your eyes fixed on Heeseung like he was the main subject through the lens of your camera, with everything else fading into obscurity.

Even in your daze, you caught the hesitant twitch of his hand, as though he wanted to reach for you but feared you might vanish the moment he did. The thought of him yearning for you as much as you desired him made your heart pound harder, stronger, and the flutter in your stomach increased.

In the past year, your mind often wandered back to how he made you feel in every nuance, from both physically and emotionally. It was undeniable that the heated night you shared replayed in your head like an irresistible, delicious film, tempting your urge to give up completely on your healing plan and run towards him.

But you couldn’t let yourself act in such a way, not when you promised you would be sure of your decisions from now on, and Heeseung was still a fragile subject back then. 

His height difference was striking enough to make you tilt your head up to meet his gaze, a movement that made you feel shyly adorable, and before Heeseung could help himself, a compliment slipped from his lips.

“You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks burned with fluster, unprepared for such an open and genuine remark. But it was Heeseung – effortlessly charming, naturally disarming. “Thank you,” you muttered, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “You look amazing, as always.”

Your compliment wasn’t just polite – he truly did look gorgeous. He looked delectable, dressed in casual all-black attire. His button-up shirt was left slightly undone, teasing you with a glimpse of his sun-kissed chest adorned with a golden chain that only added to his allure.

And then there was his brand new haircut. Heeseung had gone for an undercut, a style that veered away from his usual office persona but perfectly captured his seductive, magnetic charm. At least to you, it worked far too well.

On the other hand, Heeseung had to actively remind himself of how to keep air in and out of his lungs, otherwise he would pass out before your alluring, enticing, beautiful, provocative, goddess-like, unreal figure.

You had changed a lot, for better; not that you were anything other than stunning and attractive before, but you now carried your presence with confidence, you had a special glow that shone brighter than any chandelier in that fancy dinner place, enough to make Heeseung struggle to keep his cool, relaxed demeanor.

He could feel his self-control faltering, slipping through his fingers like sand, utterly unable to think straight as you quietly, yet intensely analyzed his features with your pretty eyes. 

“I reserved a table for us,” he managed to voice out, although it sounded slightly hushed. 

You giggled with his unexpected nervous behavior, clutching your bag strap as you nodded. “Bet you did.”

And with that, Heeseung guided you towards the mentioned table, placed far enough from the general crowd to grant you both a bit of privacy, with his hand touching your lower back. The area heated enough to leave you tense, yet thrilled with the fact that the atmosphere was slowly loosening. 

The conversation that followed felt awkward at first – unsurprisingly, considering your last encounter had been chaotic, brimmed with lust, guilt, and anger over circumstances neither of you could fully control. And, of course, it had all unfolded under the veil of cheating.

But as the initial tension began to dissipate, you found the exchange becoming more fluid. Heeseung’s responses gradually eased your nerves, just as your candidness gave him obvious clues about your intentions.

He admitted he wasn’t seeing anyone. In fact, since your last encounter, he had gone on a handful of dates, none of which, he confessed with a shy chuckle, had left him remotely satisfied. This revelation only came after he relaxed enough to let it slip, his words hesitant yet genuine.

If you had to describe him in one word, it would be anxious. And he was, in fact, very anxious about the outcome of the night, about the new details of your life, about what might unfold beyond this dinner.

There was a distinct tension lingering in the air between you, a silent but undeniable pull. It was as if the thought of your lips attaching together was a shared, unspoken desire – loud enough to keep ringing in your minds, connected by the lustful want of being each other’s.

It made its way subtly through the playful banter, through your soft laughter over his silly jokes, and mostly, through the fleeting touches on your shoulders and thighs.

“Y’know, after the whole thing we did, I was afraid I might back out with the divorce,” you blurted suddenly, after relaxing on the small couch they used as seats for that table.

Heeseung was sitting on your side, after you asked him to do so, instead of taking the seat in front of you. The minimal seconds with him were enough to make you crave more – Heeseung’s natural effect on you –, and you were glad he embarked on your request, even placing his arm on the back of your headset. 

This was the first time you mentioned the occurrence, though.

Heeseung wasn’t sure about it, but throughout the night he eventually figured out there was no way you would be acting this happy and sincere, beaming with your achievements and living an apparent good life, if you were still with that jerk.

Either way, hearing you speak brought the weight of reality – the weight that you were finally away from that shitty man, and even if it sparked a small flame of hope that maybe you might let him care for you the way he had wanted, his relief was already established by knowing you were no longer trapped in a burden relationship that aimed to destroy your beautiful soul.

He sipped on his drink before muttering, eyes never once glancing away from yours. You felt seen. 

“And what made you keep with it?” 

For a moment, a brief feeling of embarrassment flushed through you, although you didn’t let it take over your following response, sounding firm and, somehow, determined. 

“You.”

After you answered with such a soft tone, you tracked the movement of Heeseung’s Adam’s apple moving as he gulped, but he didn’t show any signal of hesitation when he smirked and leaned slightly forward as his brightened gaze wandered through your face, deliberately taking in your beautiful, serene expression.

He was offering you such a breathtaking visage, his demeanor finally at ease, yet magnetically pulling you to react to an unspokenly demand.

His lips were covered with a layer of his drink from the last sip, gleaming under the dim light that hovered you both, taunting your need of having them pressed on yours. His iris slightly dilated as they followed the movements of your eyelashes fluttering open and close in a slow dance, just to drift back to your lipstick colored lips, as if silently asking you for a kiss.

As if automatically, your faces began to slowly lean closer, breaths blending together with a mix of alcohol from your side and a strawberry flavor from Heesegun’s. 

But just as quickly as the atmosphere shifted into something more charged, it disappeared, as a waiter suddenly appeared to serve the dessert you had ordered. Embarrassed, you both pulled back briefly, sharing a subtle laugh and looked up to acknowledge the waiter, but Heeseung immediately cut in.

“Thank–”

“That can’t be real.”

A sharp pang in your stomach, your heart racing, and your throat immediately drying out. These were the initial reactions, before your hands began to tremble and a rush of heat spread through your body, making you feel utterly reactive.

“Brendon?” You whispered, disbelief making your voice shake as you processed that, after a year, you were seeing him during a sweet evening with Heeseung.

You had done everything to avoid him, taking every precaution to keep him out of your life,  even deleting your social media, afraid of what he might do. There had never been a physical threat, but after the breakup, you feared he might become volatile, wanting to take his anger out on you.

Thankfully, none of your friends had ever known about him, and you had never bothered to find out about him either.

But now, here he was, standing right in front of you two, his expression in complete disdain, his eyes seething with fury.

“You piece of shit,” was the first thing he spat out, as he saw the situation unfold – his ex-wife, now with what he considered his former friend. Betrayal.

You didn’t even notice how tightly he gripped the metal tray at his side. You also didn’t realize that Heeseung, who had been sitting at the edge of the couch, had already risen to his feet, his hands clenched into fists, his jaw clenched, and his eyes burning with rage.

He was ready to strike.

“So, it was for him that you left me, you whore?”

He barely managed to finish the slur because Heeseung moved too quickly. The collective gasp from the surrounding people was what made you realize exactly what had just happened.

You saw Heeseung throw a powerful punch, landing accurately on Brendon's face. Brendon staggered back, dropping the metal tray before quickly retaliating with a weak jab to Heeseung’s cheek.

Heeseung’s expression hardened after a stunned moment in place, processing the impact that got the area tingling, but the subsequent pain was far from being his main concern.

He smirked dryly and then grabbed Brendon by the shoulders to shove him back with force, sending him crashing into a nearby chair. Brendon struggled to regain his footing, but Heeseung advanced, his eyes burning with rage, and with a swift move, he knocked Brendon to the ground with another punch, leaving him unable to fight back.

The men around you quickly rushed in, trying to break up the fight. But you didn’t care about them, you shoved anyone who tried to intervene, the ones attempting to cling to Heeseung, trying to drag him back, or at least seeking comfort in the chaos that was unraveling within you.

“Hee–”

Your weak, tearful voice was cut off. Heeseung instinctively wrapped his arms around you in a protective embrace, not even realizing what he was doing as he pointed a finger at Brendon, who had managed to get back on his feet with help from the others.

“Shut the fuck up before you say a word about Y/N, you piece of shit,” he growled, his vision distorted by the boiling rage in his chest. He had been waiting for this moment from the very beginning, the moment to unleash all his frustration, all the hatred he had toward that man. “You’re useless. A worthless bastard who couldn’t recognize the fucking queen you had in your life.”

Heeseung’s large hands tightened around your waist, almost unconsciously, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your face as it pressed into him. Tears slowly started to coat your cheeks, your trembling body finding support in Heeseung’s tensed one.

“I hope you fucking burn in hell and get torn apart in the worst way. You don’t deserve a single ounce of the love Y/N gave you, and you had the fucking audacity to cheat on her.”

Brendon spat out blood, his lip split from Heeseung’s earlier punch. He smirked sarcastically, looking around the crowd that watched the scene.

“She cheated on me too,” he muttered, his voice weak but laced with venom.

Heeseung scoffed, almost rolling his eyes and nearly advancing on Brendon again; you felt the sudden attempt that immediately stopped when you whispered a quiet, hurtful “No…” 

You looked up, your eyes glossy with tears, finding Heeseung’s now worried ones. He softened before your pouty, scared expression.

He caressed your face tenderly, holding you closer as a way to keep you under his protection, although he knew Brendon wouldn’t have the guts to try anything else. After, he drove his attention back to the asshole standing weakly in front of him. 

“You didn’t even have the decency to give her the bare minimum, you worthless cunt,” he spat, words full of rage. “Let alone decent fucking sex. Of course she would cheat on you.”

That triggered a jolt from Brendon to charge at Heeseung, but it was quickly stopped by those holding him back, his ego riled up by the insult.

Heeseung let out a humorless laugh. “She searched out for someone who could give her what she truly deserves,” he said, his gaze shifting to you. His expression softened into a gentle smile, one that was genuine but sharp in contrast to the situation. “And if she'll allow me, I’ll keep being that man for her.”

Your eyes widened at his abrupt and sincere confession. Heeseung didn’t expect a response, honestly, so he turned his attention back to Brendon, his warning clear in every word.

“Get near her again, and I’ll make sure there’s no one around to stop you from getting your ass kicked, you little shit.”

He began pulling you towards the exit of the restaurant, but as he passed Brendon, he leaned in close to murmur just loud enough for him to hear.

“Just so you know, she cheated on you long after you did… And, oh, I’m sure you don’t know that, but she looks fucking gorgeous when she's squirting.”

Until you settled into the passenger seat of Heeseung’s car, everything felt like a blur, robbing you of the awareness to even notice he had paid for dinner before driving off. His voice had broken through just once, a soft “Are you okay?” before he retreated into an oppressive silence.

At first, you welcomed the break from words, needing time to process the storm of emotions swirling inside you. There was anger, because Brendon had crashed your date. Sadness, for having to relive that chapter of your life all over again. Gratitude, since Heeseung had defended you without hesitation. And then... there was desire, because he had looked absurdly damn good while doing it.

God dammit, you cursed silently in your head, shrinking into your seat and glancing away from Heeseung. You felt like a teenager stealing glances at a crush and pretending you weren’t staring when caught.

Worse, you felt like a dog in heat, your thoughts obsessing over how ridiculously attractive he was. His clenched jaw, hands tightening and relaxing on the steering wheel in an effort to calm himself, the slight cut on his lip, and the faint bruise forming on his cheek – likely from a ring Brendon had been wearing – all combined to give him an effortlessly rugged, devastating appeal.

The wound wasn’t deep, nothing to be overly concerned about, but it added an edge to his already striking features. You knew you would take care of it the moment you got to his apartment, but until then, you had to deal with the mixture of lust and a bunch of other things bubbling in your core.

Heeseung, however, was a bit different from you.

Seeing you so broken and tearful had hit him like a bullet to the chest. He never wanted the night to end like this, but there was no regret in the brutal way he had taken out his frustration on Brendon.

Heeseung’s mind raced, tangled with worry and anticipation over how you would react once the adrenaline wore off and you were in a comfortable space to properly talk things through.

He couldn’t get a read on you – not only because his eyes were mostly fixed on the road, but because you kept stealing glances at him and quickly looking away whenever he dared to glance back. Your behavior gave him no clear hint of what was truly going through your mind.

A flicker of anxiety sparked within him. Maybe you were nervous – possibly even considering ditching him altogether and ending whatever it was between you before it could truly begin. The mere thought gnawed at him, amplifying his own anxiety.

The fact that you had suggested going to his apartment instead of your own had caught him off guard. It was enough to confuse him even more, given the contrast with your otherwise unreadable demeanor.

Still, he opted to keep the quietness over the air, since he needed a time to think deeply about his actions. 

He acted out of impulse, for sure, but he wanted to make sure you understood he had absolutely no regrets and he would do it again, and again, and again.

To protect your integrity, he would settle a war if necessary. 

The moment you two reached the place you had visited once before, a sense of an odd nostalgia crept up your spine. Without even realizing it, you were both walking towards the elevator directed to Heeseung’s apartment’s floor. 

Your eyes were glued on your feet as a way to hide your fluster, struggling to fight the urge of jumping into that handsome man standing on your side. Your head was spinning with the most lascivious, filthy thoughts about how you would kneel right at that moment and give Heeseung the head of his life in order to pay back his earlier demeanor.

So. Fucking. Hot.

And contrastingly enough, there was Heeseung, frustrated with himself for making you witness such violent acts. 

He leaned his back and head against the cold metal walls of the elevator, eyes closing as a shaky breath escaped his lips. After a long moment, he finally spoke, carrying off a guilt you didn’t understand at first.

“I'm sorry you had to go through that,” he said, his voice gentle, yet filled with regret. You turned to face him, catching the movement of his beautiful neck exposed for you. You gulped. “I’m sorry you had to witness all of that. And I’m sorry for being a bit of a dick at the end... I got carried away.” He then opened his eyes to look at you, his expression almost vulnerable, his cheeks with a faint blush exposing his embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to objectify y–”

Before he could finish, you cut him off, practically throwing yourself into his body to attach your mouths together. Your lips collided with his bruised ones in a kiss that tasted of longing, and something metallic, like blood, and your fingers crawled their way towards his nape. 

Heeseung let out a pained groan, but didn’t stop you at all. Actually, he held you by the waist to press your chest on his torso. 

However, you immediately pulled back, your eyes wide with worry as your hands held his face delicately. 

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Hee…” you gasped, looking at him in alarm.

He chuckled, the sound deep, sensual, and made your heart flutter despite your current state of concern.

“You're good,” he said, shaking his head slightly with a teasing grin adorning his features. He didn’t care about any pain if that meant having your tongue swirling with his in that addictive motion he once got to try. 

With a tilt of head, he murmured. “Come here, mhm?”

“But your lip–” you tried to counter his words, but Heeseung’s hands seemed unwilling to let you go so easily.

“Shh,” he shushed softly, pressing a tender kiss against your lips. “I heard kisses heal wounds.”

A giggle escaped you, light and fleeting, before it melted into the moment, swept away by the kiss that happened subsequently. It began slowly, unhurried, as if both of you were savoring every second together.

His lips moved against yours with a sensual, deliberate rhythm, one that carried not just desire but something deeper – affection, yearning, a tenderness that spoke volumes.

It was as if Heeseung feared breaking you with his touch, or perhaps losing you altogether. You could feel it in the way his hands cradled your face, in the way his thumbs brushed softly against your skin. And you, in return, clung to him like he was your lifeline, your own quiet fear mirrored in the way your fingers twisted in his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

The metallic tang of blood on his lips barely registered; it was overshadowed by the warmth and electricity of the moment. His tongue traced the shape of your lips, a gentle request you didn’t hesitate to grant, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

His tongue caressed yours with a languid, intoxicating ease, exploring, coaxing, as if he wanted to memorize the taste of you.

Your breath hitched, heart racing in a chaotic rhythm that matched the way his hand slid down your side, fingers possessively holding your waist, as the air grew heavier within each passing second. You wondered for a moment when would the elevator stop, barely noticing the opened door. 

Heeseung broke the kiss briefly and realized the open door, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and shallow as it mingled with your own.

“Inside,” he rasped simply, tone dropping an octave, thick with desire that dripped from his beautiful swollen lips. 

You nodded, unaware of what exactly he meant, leaving the mission of being guided completely at his hands as you pulled him back into another kiss, this time urgent and rushed. 

Heeseung frowned and moaned against your mouth, the collision of his bruised area stirring his thristness, awakening his most profound hunger for you; elicited an immediate reaction that got him stumbling with his own legs as you pushed him into his apartment.

A fleeting moment of clarity pierced through the haze in your mind as Heeseung groaned in pain once again, this time caused by your teeth accidentally grazing his injured lip in the heat of the moment.

“Hee–” you murmured, trying to pull back from the kiss, but he didn’t let you go easily. Only when you gently pushed against his chest did he finally retract, his dark eyes clouded with lust as they bore into yours.

“Let me take care of this first, please?” You whispered, your voice tinged with a teasing whine, paired with the kind of faux-innocent eyes that made him melt on the spot.

His firm resolve faltered instantly, and his temptation only seemed to deepen because of that very expression.

With a faint smirk, Heeseung pressed one last lingering kiss to your lips before stepping away. He disappeared into the bathroom to grab a first-aid kit, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the living room with your heart still hammering.

He wasn’t gone for long, but by the time he returned, you had already settled yourself on the sofa. Without a word, he joined you, sitting close by as you carefully tended to his wound.

A sharp hiss escaped his lips as the antiseptic made contact, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly, murmuring a soft apology.

His gaze never wavered from you, watching with an almost disarming tenderness, his large hand resting casually on your thigh as if to ground himself.

And when you finished, you lingered, your eyes tracing his features. Damn it, how did this man manage to look impossibly hotter even when roughed up?

“Stop looking at me with those eyes,” Heeseung broke the silence, his voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl.

Your gaze, which had shamelessly held contact on his lips – not because of the injury, but because you craved them – snapped up to meet him properly.

“What eyes?” you challenged softly, your voice laced with subtle mischief that matched nothing with your small pout and frown. 

Heeseung’s hand shifted from your thigh to your jaw, his touch firm and gentle as he tilted your face closer to his.

“Like you want me to fuck you,” he murmured, his words hitting like a jolt of euphoria. 

A sly smile crept onto your lips, your eyelids growing heavier as the air between you thickened with tension. “You know that I do,” you replied, biting your bottom lip as your fingers traced a slow, invisible pattern over his chest.

A thought crossed your mind, bold and unbidden, and you let it spill.

“Y’know, last time I came to your apartment…”

“Yeah?” Heeseung prompted, his voice soft but loaded, his hands effortlessly guiding you to settle in his lap. You obliged with a grace that didn’t break the magnetic pull of your eyes locked on his, though they flickered occasionally to his kiss-bruised lips.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Hee.”

His lips curved into a soft smile, relief flickering across his features as your words unintentionally reassured him in ways you couldn’t have known he needed. His hands traced a comforting path along your hips, keeping you steady in his lap.

“I’m glad to hear that, darling.”

The term of endearment may have been simple to anyone else, but to you, it meant so much more. It sent your heart stumbling over its rhythm, your body instinctively leaning closer to his warmth. It made your breath hitch, especially when he leaned in as well, his words brushing against your lips like a gentle breeze.

“Let me remind you what you deserve,” his tone was intoxicatingly soft yet laced with a darker edge that tempted you to fall head-first into it. “How does that sound?”

Your lips quirked into a smirk as you cupped his face with deliberate tenderness, careful to avoid hurting him further.

“I know what I deserve, Hee,” you shot back, your voice daring as you teased his lips with a featherlight graze of your own. “And I also know what I want.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched as he teetered on the edge of self-control, your provocations pushing him closer to the brink. But he played along, matching your game, because he loved your game.

“And what do you want, darling?” He asked back, a question that was dripping with anticipation.

Your eyes softened briefly with a mix of affection and unrelenting desire before you let the fire in your gaze take over.

“More.”

[j1998v]

shuffling my songs and choosing my fav lyrics from the chosen song , beatles version !! ㅡ via

entire verse 2 lmao 😭

his sister pam works in the shop she never stops she's a go getter takes him out to look at the queen only place that he's ever been always shouts out smthn obscene! such a dirty old man

as i write this letter send my love to you remember that i'll always be in love with you

ps. i love you ♡

LOVE the entire song but if i have to choose

we're sgt pepper's lonely hearts club band we hope you will enjoy the show

youre such a lovely audience we'd like to take u home with us we'd love to take u home

so let me introduce to you the one & only billy shears of sgt pepper's lonely hearts club band

heck yeh my 2nd fav beatles song of all time ! first is IHJTDWY :]<3

lying with his eyes while his hands are busy working overtime a soap impression of his wife which he ate and donated to the national trust

when i hold you in my arms and i feel my finger on your trigger i know nobody can do me no harm because happiness is a warm gun (bang bang shoot shoot)