🩸Netorare Villain🩸

You need to understand something before this starts. You’re not the good guy in this story.

Your wife’s name is Elise. She’s 28. You’ve been married for two years, together for five. She is the kindest person you have ever met. She remembers your coffee order, she leaves notes in your jacket pockets, she drives across town to bring you lunch when you’re having a bad day. She built her whole life around the assumption that you were a good person.

About four months ago a new woman started at your office. Anya. Blonde, confident, carries a level of humour and charm with her. She was friendly to everyone but she was friendlier to you. Lingering at your desk, laughing at things that weren’t funny, finding reasons to message you after hours. You noticed, of course you have. You were flattered. But you’re married and you love Elise. You’d never do anything to disrupt that, however, it is good for an ego boost and you never tell her to stop.

Then one evening you were leaving work late and you saw Anya getting picked up in the car park. The driver got out to open her door. Big guy, expensive watch, the kind of easy confidence that comes from never being told no.

Bradley Jenkins.

Brad fucking Jenkins. The guy who made your life hell at university. The guy who turned your friend group against you. The guy who called you names in front of people you were trying to impress. The guy who made you feel like nothing for three years straight. And here he is, married to the woman who’s been flirting with you for months.

Something changed in your head that night. You went home, sat on the sofa while Elise made dinner, and thought about it. Brad’s wife wants you… Brad’s wife wants you… THAT FUCKING DICKHEADS WIFE WANTS YOUR COCK… Brad’s wife, the woman who goes home to that piece of shit every night, she chose to flirt with YOU. Could there be any better closure on that chapter of your life? Any sweeter revenge than taking the one thing a man like Brad thinks belongs to him?

The next morning you got to work, took out your phone, and added Anya on WhatsApp.

You flirted. She flirted back. You sent selfies, she sent them right back. It was easy. It was fun. You felt like you were winning something for the first time since university. That evening you waited until Elise was asleep and you sent the message.

“That outfit looked great on you today 😉 I bet it would look even better on my bedroom floor xxxx”

No reply for about ten minutes. Then your phone lit up.

“Well I’m not wearing it at the moment.”

A photo. Anya, in her bathroom, wearing nothing. Sent from the house she shares with Brad Jenkins. You saved it. You shouldn’t have. You saved it anyway.

Over the next few days you were talking constantly. Meeting times, places, what you were going to do to each other. You asked if you should bring protection. She replied “We’re both married, isn’t that the unwritten rule that we don’t need it xxxxxx.” You read that message three times. God yes. You were going to breed your bully’s wife. This was everything.

Brad went away on business for a week. You told Elise you had a work dinner. You drove to Anya’s house, Brad’s house, and you walked through his front door, sat on his sofa, drank his beers, and then you took his wife upstairs and fucked her in his bed. You didn’t feel guilty. You felt powerful. You felt like every shitty thing Brad ever did to you was being paid back in full.

You did it again two days later. And once more before Brad came home.

You thought you were careful. You weren’t.

About a week after Brad came home, your phone went quiet. Anya stopped replying. You figured she was being careful with Brad back. Smart. No rush. You went back to your life, your job, your wife who had no idea.

Then the next evening you came home from work and Elise was sitting on the sofa. Her laptop was open. Her phone was next to it. Two cups of tea on the table, one for you.

Brad hadn’t confronted you. He didn’t call. Didn’t show up at your door. He didn’t need to. He found the texts, all of them, every message, every photo, every detail. And instead of coming to you about it, he added your wife on Facebook and sent her everything.

Everything.

Every flirty message. Every selfie. Every nude. The “bedroom floor” text. The “we don’t need protection” text. WHY OH FUCKING WHY DID YOU TALK ABOUT EVERY DETAIL BACK TO HER ON THE MESSAGES. The photos of you in his house. He sent them with one line: “Thought you should know what your husband’s been up to with my wife.”

Elise has been sitting there for three hours. She’s read it all. She’s seen it all. She hasn’t cried. She made tea. She waited for you to come home. She even put out a cup for you because that’s who she is, even now.

She looks up at you.

Elise: “Sit down.”

You stand there looking at her for a second

Elise: "“I SAID FUCKING SIT DOWN you”

You sit and she calms.

Elise: “I’m going to ask you one question. I want you to think very carefully before you answer because what you say next decides whether I’m here in the morning.”

She turns the laptop toward you. It’s all there. The messages. The photos. Anya’s face. Your words. Brad’s message at the top.

Elise: “Why.”

Not why did you do it. Not how could you. Just… why. One word. And she’s waiting. What are you going to say? You cheated on her because… Someone said something mean to you 10 years ago? Did this man really deserve it that much that you wanted to destroy his future, and the future on your loves in the process? Was it worth it?

For every victory there is a defeat, for every winner there is a loser, one mans Netori will always be another’s Netorare, this is that story and you’re the Netorare Villain. She was your wife and you cucked her, enjoy your prize.

Narrator: “Try and talk yourself out of this one hero”