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chuluoyi · 11 months ago

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MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre/warnings: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took off his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

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hollyoongs · 12 days ago

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I can't feel my face when I'm with you But I love it, but I love it, oh. (the weeknd - can't feel my face)

ᨓ 。lee heeseung x fem reader ꒰🎂꒱﹕pure smut with little plot ﹕tbc

contains: mean dom!heeseung, sexting (brief moment and a mention of it later, reader is in bold and Heeseung in italic), oral (both), p in v sex (reader is on the pill but wrap it before you tap it), use of sexual toys (anal butt plug, dildo and vibrator), anal, squirting (Hee just loves it), lots ass spanking, multiple orgasms, petnames (cockslut, bitch, cumslut and more), choking, deepthroath, dick slapping, cum eating, voice audio recording, double penetration, daddy kink and let me know if I missed anything. ┈─★

synopsis: Heeseung just wanted to get his face numb between your thights and show you some manners after sending him a picture of what he will get when he arrives to your place.

Today marked a significant milestone for you, six other guys, and millions of fans. Heeseung was turning the so afraid 23 years old, and everyone was planning something for your boyfriend, including you. You'd helped the staff set up his Weverse live, and a small after-party would follow at the building afterward.

But you had your own surprise waiting at home. After six long months apart, not seeing or touching each other had been pure torture. The moment Heeseung landed back in Korea, all you wanted was to run into his arms, but the staff had kept you apart, saving the reunion for later. It was hell—a living one.

Still, that didn't stop you from teasing him.

You took advantage of him not seeing you at all while helping the staff, sneaking around corners and staying hidden as he tried to find you. After everything was ready, you quickly left, thanking the staff and leaving a small gift with a note saying it was from you, but the packaging of it was screaming it was you in a subtle way you and him knew.

You arrived home, letting yourself relax before decorating your bedroom. You had everything planned, and it had to be perfect, from start to finish. Your phone vibrated three times, pulling you from your thoughts. A smile spread across your lips when Heeseung’s name lit up your screen.

"I saw what you did to the office and the lobby, I’m so lucky to be yours."

"I love you, baby, thank you."

"I’m going to start my live, I missed you so much. Hope you can watch it, love."

With a smirk, you turned on your tablet and went straight to the app, catching the live just as it started. There he was, looking as handsome as ever, greeting his fans with that soft voice you’d missed so much. It was the time to start the plan, and you knew you would get in trouble, but everything had a purpose, and it was a small payback of what he used to do when you were at your university having classes. Your playful side was screaming. You had been apart for too long, and now it was time to make things interesting.

Leaning back on your couch, you slowly took off your shirt, leaving yourself in just your black bra. You snapped a picture of yourself lounging, the tablet resting on your chest like you were hugging him.

"Anything for my birthday boy. Looking good, baby."

Without giving yourself time to second-guess it, you hit send, your heart racing. Sure, you have taken suggestive pictures of yourself, but it was your first time sending a nude to your boyfriend. You watched the live as the message appeared on his phone. His eyes widened for a split second, a slight pause in his speech before a smirk curled on his lips.

“Wow, ENGENE are arriving fast to the live. We’ll start in a few minutes,” he said, glancing down at the cake in front of him as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Your phone buzzed again, and you already knew who it was.

"Honey, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Giving you small preview of my birthday surprise."

"Angel, don't do it."

"I will, baby. P.S: Hope you like my gift (say it comes from one of the members.)"

You saw the screen where the live can be watched, and you saw how he moved in his chair.

“Okay, okay, let’s get started,” he said, his voice smooth as he addressed the fans. “We’ve got a lot planned for today, so thank you for tuning in." then the live continued smoothly; you even saw yourself being captivated by how he interacted with fans. You decide to let him breathe for a moment to continue with the decoration. Rose petals were laying on the bed and floor. You positioned some unlit candles around the room, and now you were looking for your Victoria Secret robe, on that Heeseung bought for your birthday with some lingerie.

"Now, I would like to open the gifts from my members," you could hear in the distance, and you left everything to go watch again. He was opening all the boxes until he came to yours, a big box wrapped with golden paper that had a sign that said "careful.". "This is from Jake."

Heeseung’s eyes widened in genuine surprise as he pulled the new gaming equipment from the box, his fingers tracing the edges of the gear he’d been wanting for months. He chuckled softly, looking down at the hidden post-it note that only he could see. His heart swelled with warmth, knowing just how much thought and effort you’d put into this gift. It wasn’t just the equipment itself but the fact that you understood him, knew exactly what he wanted, and worked so hard to get it for him.

“This is amazing, Jake,” he said, laughing as he played along with the cover story. “You really outdid yourself. I’m going to use this every chance I get.” He flashed his signature playful grin toward the camera, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He was thinking about you—the person behind the gift, the person who always knew how to make him feel special.

Your heart is fluttering at his reaction. You knew Heeseung well enough to catch the subtle emotions behind all of his smiles. He was touched, and even though he couldn’t say it out loud during the live, you felt the connection between you two stronger than ever.

"You liked it, baby?"

Heeseung’s phone buzzed again, and though he was still live, he discreetly glanced at it while the camera focused on the other gifts. He quickly grabbed his phone, excusing himself to the viewers, saying it was his brother texting him while being live.

"I love it. But I love you more."

Your heart skipped a beat as you read his message. Heeseung will always find a way to make you feel like you were the only one who mattered. You smirked, fingers moving fast on the keyboard.

"You better. There’s more where that came from, but it’s waiting for you here."

"I can’t wait, angel. What else do you have planned?"

You then decided to be a little more suggestive; you ran to your closet, a hidden box you had for your little toys that you used when Heeseung was gone. You put the dildo in the middle of your breasts, still covered with the bra, and your tongue sticks out in an action to lick the tip of it. You snapped a picture and pressed "Send" after checking it.

"What do you think? Everything for my birthday boy."

You looked back to the screen, and you let out a chuckle. This time, his eyes went wide; he was trying so hard to not send everything to hell and ran to fuck the living hell out of you; you just knew it. He suspended his phone and saw the staff's hand being extended, giving his phone to the staff, but Heeseung looked at the camera, his eyes looking deeply at the camera and keeping up with the live.

The moment the staff took his phone, you grinned to yourself. Heeseung couldn’t respond, but you didn’t need his words to know what was going through his mind. You’d pushed him to the edge, and now all that was left was to wait for him to come to you.

Your heart raced as you watched Heeseung struggle to maintain his composure. He was barely holding it together, and you knew that once he was free from the live and the afterparty, he’d be all yours.

You returned to your preparations, adding the final touches to your room. The soft flicker of candlelight cast a warm glow over the rose petals that trailed from the doorway to the bed. You adjusted the sheer Victoria’s Secret robe on your body that Heeseung had bought you, making sure it hung perfectly over your shoulders, revealing just enough of the navy blue lace lingerie underneath. Your body hummed with excitement, counting every minute that passed by.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t a message—it was a notification that Heeseung had wrapped up his life. You smiled, knowing that meant he’d be heading to the afterparty soon.

"Have fun at the afterparty, baby. Don’t keep me waiting too long."

Heeseung didn’t have his phone, so you didn’t expect a response, but you knew the moment he was able to check his messages, he’d see it. You paced around your room; you wanted everything to be perfect, despite the fact that you two will forget everything after falling into the bed sheets.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your heart pounding louder with each passing moment, and, you had to admit, your mind was creating several scenarios, making your entrance wet. You could feel how your pants were sticking and how your body temperature got higher, like you were having a fever.

Your fingers barely grazed your entrance, but the heat radiating from your core made your knees weak. The moan that slipped from your lips was soft at first, but the sensation was too overwhelming to contain. You bit your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you pressed your fingers harder against the soaked fabric of your pants, trying to relieve some of the pressure building inside you.

You couldn’t help but picture Heeseung’s hands on you instead, his lips trailing over your skin as he took control of your body, just like he always did. The mere thought of it was enough for you to make you smile in delight. Your breathing became shallow as you pushed your pants aside, your fingers slipping easily through your wet folds. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, and another moan escaped you, louder this time.

Your head fell back as you teased yourself, your mind lost in fantasies of what Heeseung would do when he finally got his hands on you. Your hips bucked against your fingers, desperate for more, but no matter how much you tried, it wasn’t enough. Only Heeseung could make you feel the way you needed.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door of your apartment. Your breath caught in your throat, and you straightened up, adjusting your robe and pants one last time as the doorknob turned.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Heeseung standing in the doorway, his sharp features illuminated by the soft candlelight. As you got closer, you could see his eyes with a layer of desire, locking onto you immediately. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a controlled force that made your heart race. His posture was tense, his jaw clenched, and there was something dangerous in his gaze—and you were so ready for it, for him.

"Angel," he muttered, his voice low and dripping with authority as he took a step toward you, removing his coat in the process. His eyes roamed over your figure, taking in every inch of your exposed skin under the lace lingerie and sheer robe. "Fuck, you look like a dream."

Heeseung's intense gaze never left you as he stepped closer, tossing his coat onto a chair without a second thought. His presence was overwhelming to the point that you could even feel it a mile away. Your heart was pounding in your chest as his eyes devoured you, lingering on your barely concealed skin.

His hand wrapped tightly around your waist as he yanked you close, making you gasp and your tremble a little with your balance, which made you put your hands on his shoulders. His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

"You almost get me in trouble," he whispered, his voice dark and commanding. "Sending me those pictures while I was in front of millions… What was your intention on it?"

His hand moved up to your chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. You could feel the power he held over you in that moment, and that made you smile.

“I hope you’re ready to pay for that,” he murmured, his tone darkening as his grip tightened. “Think you can play games with me? Let's see if you can handle the consequences.”

Before you could even react, Heeseung’s lips collided with yours in a heated, bruising kiss that made your knees weak. His grip on your thighs tightened as he hoisted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the wall. Your head was spinning, and you could feel your body buzzing with his touch.

His tongue dominated yours, the kiss desperate and filled with the frustration of the time you had spent apart. His hands gripped your ass tightly as he carried you effortlessly into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He separated from the kiss and saw all the decoration that was happening in the bedroom.

Heeseung’s eyes flickered as he took in the soft glow of the candles and the delicate trail of rose petals leading to the bed and some other things you put. His grip on your waist tightened, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths as he looked around the room and then back at you.

"You went all out for me, didn’t you?" His voice was low and teasing, sending shivers down your spine. "Thought you could butter me up after teasing me all day?"

His eyes darkened with lust as he leaned down, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. "Too bad it won’t save you from what’s coming, baby."

Before you could respond, he spun you around, pressing you against the wall once again. His body pressed against yours, his lips grazing the back of your neck as he whispered, "You want to know if I like it? I love it. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to take it easy on you."

He pushed you back against the bed, his hand gripping your wrist as he held you down, his other hand sliding the sheer robe off your shoulders, exposing the delicate lingerie underneath. He hovered above you, his gaze burning with intensity.

"So pretty for me," he growled, his fingers tracing along the lace, teasingly close but never touching you where you needed him most. "And so needy, did you really miss me that much?."

His grip tightened on your wrist as his other hand finally slipped beneath the lace, his fingers brushing against your heated skin. But instead of giving you what you wanted, he pulled back, making you whimper in frustration. Heeseung smirked, clearly enjoying how worked up you were already.

"Heeseung, please." You plead, and he just smiled.

"You don’t get to make demands, angel. Not after what you pulled today," he said, his voice dripping with authority. "You’re going to take what I give you. Do you understand?"

You nodded, your body trembling and your entrance getting wetter by the second, but that wasn’t enough for him. His hand tightened around your wrist as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Use your words."

"Yes," you stammered, barely able to breathe under the weight of his dominance.

"Good girl." Heeseung’s smirk widened as he released your wrist, trailing his hand down your body, making you shiver under his touch. "Now, let’s see how well you behave when I’m done with you."

What followed was a blur of sensations—his hands on your body, his lips claiming yours, and the overwhelming intensity of his dominance—that dominance you missed so badly.

His lips and yours collided in a passionate dance, humming at the sensation of finally, after months, being this close was like touching heaven yourself. With his hands, he ripped the clothing you had, more specifically, your pants, making you gasp as his hot breath made contact with your cunt.

Heeseung barely gave you a moment to catch your breath before diving back in, his tongue lapping at your soaked folds as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Your thighs shook uncontrollably because of the sudden movement; your body was already overwhelmed, but he showed no signs of stopping. Heeseung groaned into you, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room as he worked you over with relentless precision.

Heeseung was out of his mind; he missed you so bad that he wouldn't mind not feeling his face afterwards if the reason behind it were your sweet thighs on each side of his face suffocating him and shaking with the beautiful background music of your loud moans asking for mercy, but he loves it.

“Fuck, Heeseung, please,” you gasped, your voice already hoarse from screaming his name. You tugged at his hair, desperate for a break, but he only grinned against your core, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

He sucked hard on your swollen clit, his tongue swirling and flicking with expert skill as he knew your body completely; your whole body convulsed in response. You were shaking, crying out his name over and over as pleasure rippled through you in waves, each one more intense than the last. Your vision blurred, the world spinning as you lost yourself completely to the sensations he was pulling from your body.

“Heeseung, I—fuck!” Your words broke off in a scream as another orgasm tore through you, your body arching off the bed as you gripped the sheets like a lifeline. You were so sorry for the neighbors, but God, he was doing such a good job. Heeseung groaned in satisfaction, his tongue working you through it as you trembled and bucked uncontrollably, the tip of his nose sometimes touching your swollen clit.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Scream for me, baby. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

You were barely coherent, your body reduced to a quivering, overstimulated mess beneath him. Heeseung’s fingers dug into your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted as he devoured you like a man starved. The pressure was too much, the pleasure too intense, but all you could do was moan and beg, your voice cracking with each desperate plea.

“Heeseung, please,” you cried out, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of another release. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”

Heeseung pulled back just enough to flash you a wicked grin while his fingers started to go inside you, his lips glistening with your arousal as he moved his fingers fast, touching your sweet spots that made you roll your eyes. “Oh, you’ll take it, angel. You’ll take everything I give you.”

Before you could protest, he dove back in, his tongue fucking you relentlessly as his thumb pressed against your clit, sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you. You screamed his name louder than ever before, your body convulsing as yet another orgasm ripped through you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

Heeseung finally pulled away, his face drenched, but his smirk was pure satisfaction. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he watched you struggle to catch your breath. He took the back of your head to kiss you again, rough and passionate; you were so into the kiss that you didn't feel his hand going back to your entrance, making you cry.

He began to enter his fingers inside you, a particular motion making you shut your eyes and legs, but Heeseung wasn't about to let you close yourself off from him. With a low chuckle, he used his free hand to pry your thighs back open, his eyes dark and filled with pure, unrelenting desire.

"Don’t hide from me, angel. I want to see every reaction I pull out of you," he whispered against your lips. His voice had authority in it that was very clear, and it was your first time hearing this voice in him. He moved his fingers with a torturous rhythm, curling and pressing exactly where he knew it would drive you over the edge again, for the third time.

Your body responded helplessly, hips bucking as his fingers plunged deeper, reaching that sensitive spot that left you seeing stars. You gasped, clinging to him as the pressure built unbearably, your body tensing with the inevitable release he was forcing from you.

“Hee—Heeseung, please,” you begged, your voice choked with pleasure, your hands grasping at his shoulders, nails digging in as you felt yourself unraveling, but he didn’t let up. He drove his fingers faster, his thumb finding your swollen, sensitive clit again, rubbing with expert precision that had your thighs trembling.

His eyes were locked on you, watching the way your face contorted in pleasure and the way your body arched and quivered beneath him.

You shattered, your body convulsing around his fingers as a wave of intense pleasure overtook you, leaving you completely undone. Your release spilled over as Heeseung coaxed every last tremor from you, his hands still working you through it; half of his still-dressed arm was wet with your squirt. He once again put his mouth on your clit, and that when you lose it.

Heeseung moaned against you, his deep, satisfied groan vibrating through your core as he eagerly lapped up every bit of your release. His mouth never stopped moving, his tongue swirling and flicking over your overly sensitive clit, creating another wave of pleasure out of you even as your body trembled and twitched from the intensity.

Your breaths came out in ragged pants as you lay there, boneless and thoroughly spent, Heeseung’s satisfied grin hovering above you, his fingers going to your mouth.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened as you parted your lips, welcoming his fingers into your mouth. He pressed them gently onto your tongue, a soft, possessive smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched you. "Taste yourself for me, angel," he murmured, each word dripping with satisfaction and a hint of pride.

You closed your lips around his fingers, tasting your own sweetness, the heat in his gaze intensifying as you obediently sucked, swirling your tongue over his fingertips. His free hand caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles, contrasting the intensity of everything that had just happened.

"That’s my girl," he murmured. You lost count of how many orgasms your boyfriend gave you with his mouth only, but you honestly didn't care. He unbuttoned his pants to take his dick out of his underwear. You licked your lips, seeing how his dick stood tall and proud, leaking cum only to the sight of you at his mercy was making you feel everything despite getting "punished.".

Heeseung let out a low chuckle as he noticed the way your eyes trailed his whole length. “Go to the floor, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Return the favor.”

You did as he said, legs shaking, but your will to give him was bigger. His fingers trailed down to your chin once on the floor, lifting your gaze to meet his—that familiar spark of challenge in his eyes. He leaned back, positioning himself as he stroked his length, waiting for you to take him in. You crawled forward, feeling the anticipation build as he held himself steady, guiding you closer. With his dick, he slapped your cheeks and mouth, making you open it again.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around him, savoring the taste of him as you took him deeper, inch by inch, until his tip hit the back of your throat. He let out a sharp groan, his hand weaving into your hair to gently guide your movements, his hips subtly rocking in time with your rhythm.

“Look at you, angel,” he breathed out, his voice filled with admiration and heat. “Taking me so well. You have no idea how good you look like this.” He tightened his grip on your hair, encouraging you to go deeper, his breath hitching every time you swallowed around him.

Your view started to get glossy; you weren't holding back the moans each time he thrust into your mouth; your hands went to his teeth to keep your balance, but he separated them out, making you whine.

“Missed your pretty mouth; always do wonders,” he groaned, his head tilting back as you moved in perfect rhythm, pulling every reaction from him that you could.

As you worked him, his hips started to rock a little harder, his groans turning into soft, filthy praises. “That’s it, baby. Take all of me—let me feel that pretty throat,” he rasped, gripping your hair tighter as he lost himself in the sensation. "Hands behind your back."

You did as he told you, hands behind you like you were cuffed, his palm firm at the back of your head, starting a slow pace. You could see how his legs got slightly shaky, but he was holding it; he was trying to prolongue as much as possible to cum right there.

Heeseung’s breathing grew ragged, his gaze darkening as he watched you obediently with your hands behind your back, looking up at him with those pleading eyes. “Just like that,” he murmured, his voice dripping with desire as he thrust deeper, testing your limits. His hands gripped your hair even tighter, keeping you in place as he began to lose his restraint, his control slipping.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his eyes rolling back momentarily. “You’re taking it so well, baby. Can feel you fighting to keep that throat open for me,” he continued, a wicked smile appearing on his lips as he watched you try to keep your composure. “Messy for me… so eager.”

Heeseung’s hips snapped forward harder, filling your throat as he watched you struggle to take him fully. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back slightly before driving himself deeper, testing just how much you could take.

“Come on, choke on me, drool, make a mess of that pretty mouth.” The thrill in his tone sent a shiver down your spine as you felt yourself giving in, the sounds coming from you louder, wetter. Every time he hit the back of your throat, a needy, guttural whimper escaped, pushing him even closer to the edge due to the vibrations your moans were giving to all of his dick.

“God, you look wrecked,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction as he thrust even harder, holding you in place. “Exactly how I like you. You’re taking all of me so perfectly. Such a good fucking whore.”

You had tears running down to your face; he let your mouth free, making you gasp for air. Your sore throat was worth it seeing your boyfriend sitting in bed due to his weak legs, pumping his length so fast with his eyes fully shut in pleasure.

You got near him, your mouth open and eyes shut, knowing what's about to come. You felt cum shots splashing on your face and tongue.

He groaned, the sounds rough and guttural as he emptied himself over your lips, cheeks, and tongue, each pulse driving him deeper into his heart. Your face was a mess, and you didn’t even care—every drop felt like a victory, a sign of how completely you’d unraveled him.

“God, what a view,” he panted, chest heaving as he took in the sight of you covered in him, lips parted, breath coming in shallow gasps.

You slowly wiped a finger across your cheek, gathering some of his release before slipping it between your lips, never breaking eye contact. The heat in his gaze reignited, and he reached for you, pulling you onto his lap, his fingers tangling into your hair as he leaned in close.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice dark and dripping with lust. His mouth claimed yours hungrily, tasting the remnants of himself on your lips, his hands sliding possessively down your back as he guided you into his lap, feeling you warm and ready against him.

“Think you can handle more?” You nodded eagerly. He already made you see the stars with his mouth and fingers, but his dick was the one you were waiting for. You needed him.

He left you laid on the bed covered in a few rose petals as he went to the box he loved to open every once in a while in your closet. He went again to the bed, opening the box and surprising himself with something in it, taking it in his hands with some ideas running through his mind.

"Mind you to tell me what's this?" He held up the object, and you smiled.

"I decided to be lazy for Halloween and be the female version of that character," you answered, and he dropped it to the bed. He started to strip all of his clothes on. Eyes on you as usual, but you can see something in his eyes, mischieve. "Why the question?"

"Because you won't need it anymore," he said, finally revealing all his naked body, his length slowly getting worked up again as you opened your legs, your inner thoughts sticky.

"Why?"

"Because I'm using it to fuck you." Your mouth left a moan as he put on the ghostface mask, his hand gripping his length, pumping it once again. He looked at the box, looking for something specific. He showed it up to you—the pink anal plug.

Your cheeks flushed as he held the plug between his fingers, eyes gleaming darkly from behind the mask. He looked every bit the sinful predator he was tonight, and you felt a rush of excitement course through you at the thought of him taking control so completely.

“On your knees,” he ordered, his voice muffled by the mask, but the command in his tone was unmistakable. You complied, heart racing as you turned and positioned yourself, head down, hips raised, feeling the cool air against your skin. The anticipation was electric, each second stretching longer as you heard him move behind you, the rustle of the rose petals intensifying your awareness.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your neck even through the mask, and you felt his hands glide down your body, his fingers brushing over every curve as he spread your cheeks, admiring the sight. He teased you, letting the blunt end of the plug trace along your sensitive skin, a reminder of what he had planned.

"Such a good girl," he murmured. You felt him spitting into your hole and later adding a decent amount of lube to it.

You shivered at the feel of the cool lube and the heat of his breath as he worked his fingers around the sensitive ring of muscle, loosening you slowly with practiced ease. Each press, each teasing circle, sent a shiver up your spine as he prepared you, letting his fingers slide in just enough to make you gasp and arch back, craving more.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he watched you squirm under his touch. “So tight I'm going crazy."

With his other hand, he rubbed the head of his cock along your slick folds, collecting your wetness. He pressed in just slightly, just enough to make you whimper, before he pulled back, laughing lowly as he saw the desperate look in your eyes. Then, with one hand still gripping the plug, he pushed it in slowly, inch by inch, his other hand splaying across your back to hold you down firmly.

You moaned, feeling the stretch as he settled the plug deep inside you, leaving you open, vulnerable, and aching for him. The fullness was dizzying, and your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction and making you clench around nothing.

“Stay still,” he ordered, voice harsh through the mask as he smacked your ass hard, the sting only adding to your arousal. He took a moment to admire his handiwork before diving again to the box. He smiled behind the mask when he found that pink, lush, remote-controlled vibrator.

He stood up to take both your and his phone. With your phone, he quickly set up the vibrator, and with his, he opened his voice note app, hitting record and putting it right next to you.

He gave more spanks to your ass, which let your moans out and shut your eyes in delight.

"Baby, do you want to remind yourself what have you done?" The mask made his voice sound haunting, sending a thrill through you down your spine.

"I sexted you while you were on a Weverse live today." Heeseung started to align the vibrator, the tip of it pressing firmly against your second entrance.

“You don't even deserve to be like this, but I love how you're so obedient.” His voice was almost a growl as he began to slide it inside, filling you completely. You gasped when you felt his hand going around your neck, putting a slight preassure on it, lifting you to only be on your knees. You could only see his mask, but you didn't have to know the face he had, a pure bliss one.

"Are you going to be good for me?" you nodded.

"Yes…"

"Yes, what?" You smirked a little at the question.

"Yes, daddy." The vibrator inside you started abruptly, and you went back to your initial position, sitting on your pillow with the phone next to you and your ass all up for him to see your wet entrance.

A low chuckle escaped him as he watched your body react to the sudden vibrations, hips grinding involuntarily as the toy buzzed deep inside you. He tightened his grip on your waist, steadying you, enjoying how you squirmed under his touch.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement and lust. “You’re already shaking, and I’ve barely started.”

He leaned down, his gloved hands sliding up your sides as he brought his mouth close to your ear. “You really think you deserve my cock after teasing me like that?” His fingers grazed along your neck, applying just enough pressure to send a shiver through you, his grip both possessive and thrilling.

You gasped, the vibrations intensifying inside you, making you clench and arch back against him, desperate for more of his touch. His free hand moved down to stroke his length slowly, making sure you could hear every sound of him.

He eased the vibrator up to its highest setting, chuckling darkly as your moans filled the room. With his other hand still recording, he whispered, “Keep making those sounds, baby. I want a reminder of how needy you get for me.” His fingers traced along your jaw, forcing you to look forward as he positioned himself right behind you, letting the head of his cock press teasingly at your entrance, brushing back and forth.

“Are you ready to be filled completely?” he asked, his voice a seductive growl, every word dripping with the promise of complete control.

“Yes! Daddy, please,” you whimpered, barely able to hold yourself steady.

Without another word, he took the vibrator and pushed himself into you, the stretch overwhelming as he filled you inch by inch.

With a final thrust, he filled you completely, making you cry out as he began to move, each thrust driving you higher, deeper, until your moans filled the room and he was lost in the feeling of you clenched tight around him.

“That’s it, baby. Take everything. You wanted this,” he groaned, his voice heavy and possessive, each word sending another surge of desire through you as he claimed you completely, the mask hiding his face but not the intensity behind every movement.

His fingers grazed along your neck, tightening it on your neck, pulling you back just enough so he could whisper in your ear, “You wanted to act up, didn’t you, baby? Teasing me like that in front of everyone, knowing I’d have to punish you.”

Your breath hitched, his words sending a thrill through you. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whimpered, though you could barely hold back a smirk, loving the way he was taking control.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, princess,” he growled, his grip firm as he forced your hips down onto him with each deep thrust, his cock filling you completely. “You’re going to remember tonight every time you sit down. Got it?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned, the words slipping from your lips as his hand slid down your body, gripping your waist firmly, holding you in place as he drove into you mercilessly. All of you were on fire, overwhelmed with sensation.

“Such a cockslut,” he continued as he picked up the pace. “Such a needy little thing, so desperate for Daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I need it,” you gasped, unable to contain the need in your voice as he filled you over and over, your body melting under his rough touch. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you exactly where he wanted, and you loved every second of it.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice softer but no less intense as he watched you. “Daddy loves seeing you like this, all spread out and taking me so well.”

You could only moan in response, the words driving you closer to the edge. He pulled back briefly, watching you tremble, and then slapped your ass hard, making you gasp as the sting mixed deliciously with the pleasure.

“I want to hear you beg for it,” he commanded, his voice a dangerous whisper. He took the plug and exchanged it with the vibrator, turning it up even higher, the relentless buzzing driving you wild to the point you were seeing stars. “Beg Daddy to fill you up.”

“Please, Daddy,” you moaned, every nerve alight as you pressed back against him, desperate for more. “Please, I need you to fill me up. I need you to own this pussy.”

A wicked grin spread across his face as he heard your desperate pleas. “That’s my cumslut,” he said, finally slamming into you with full force, his rhythm relentless as he gave you everything you’d been begging for.

And as his thrusts grew rougher, your body trembling under him, his grip on your hips tightened even further, his voice a low, satisfied growl. “This is what you get when you tease Daddy, baby. Don’t ever forget it.”

"Fuck, yes! Harder, Mr. Ghostface."

The sound of your new nickname for him seemed to ignite something even darker in Heeseung. His grip on your hips tightened as he slammed into you with renewed intensity, each thrust harder and deeper, his breaths ragged behind the mask.

“Oh, you like calling me that, huh?” he growled. “Calling for Mr. Ghostface to ruin you.” He punctuated his words with a sharp slap to your ass, making you gasp and arch back against him, your skin tingling from the sting.

He slid his hand down, gripping your throat as he held you still, his other hand pressing the vibrator firmly into you.

“You’re Daddy’s little slut, aren’t you?” He murmured, his voice laced with approval and lust as he kept up his punishing rhythm. “Answer, princess.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m yours,” you whimpered, the words tumbling from your lips as he drove you higher, your body at his mercy. He stopped for a second to look for a particular diddle.

Knowing what's about to happen, you fully lay on the bed. You extend your arm to catch the forgotten lube and put it again all over your entrance and on Heeseung's length. He slowly took out the vibrator from there to enter his dick, a groan leaving your mouth in a cry as he touched your sweet spot again.

He gave you the dildo, "Fuck yourself with it."

You put the dildo where his dick was before, and it slipped so easily, yet you were tight looking at the mask. But even when his whole face was covered, the piercing stare could be felt miles away.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened as he watched you obey through the mask, his breaths heavy and controlled, each one fueling the intensity between you. "Such a good little slut for Daddy," he rasped, his voice muffled but dripping with authority as his gaze raked over you. The way you filled yourself with the dildo had him throbbing, barely holding back as he watched you move it in and out, slick and needy under his command.

He reached down, his hands caressing your thighs before gripping them firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he positioned himself at your entrance again, the dildo still moving inside you. He leaned close, his masked face inches from yours as he spoke, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “Keep going, baby. Show Mr. Ghostface just how desperate you are.”

With each thrust of both, the dildo on your cunt and his dick on your other hole, you whimpered, your body arching into him, lost in the pleasure of following his every instruction.

"Fuck! Daddy!" you screamed, tears slipping again to your cheeks bc of the pleasure, you could feel yourself drooling as you were getting fucked numb.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmured, voice full of pride and possessiveness. “Take it nice and deep. Show Daddy just how much you can handle.”

Your pace quickened, moans spilling from your lips as you met each thrust with the toy, the fullness of it making you feel more needy, the stretch and rhythm heightening every nerve in your body. The feeling of him filling you completely and the toy thrusting within you was overwhelming, and you were losing yourself in the pleasure of it all.

He leaned in close, pressing his lips to your ear, his voice dark and possessive. “Such a good little bitch, taking it so well,” he growled, each word sending shivers down your spine. “You love being Daddy’s toy, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you managed to breathe out, your words laced with need as you moved in perfect rhythm, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. “I love it... I love being yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised, tightening his grip just enough to make your heart race. “Now, keep going. I want you to cum with me inside you, and I want you to feel every single second of it.”

The intensity of his words drove you wild that you felt yourself spiraling over the edge, your entire body trembling as you squirt, his name spilling from your lips in a broken cry. Heeseung followed soon after, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep, his groans blending with your own sounds of pleasure.

When he finally released his hold on you, he leaned back, admiring the sight of you—breathless, trembling, and entirely his as he was entirely yours.

He took the mask off still burried inside you, his hair got messed up, his eyes were so glossy of lust and his face was red, he threw away the mask, starting a new slow pace. He took both of your legs to put them over his shoulders, both of your moans combining at the feeling of overstimulation.

"Open that pretty mouth for me." you did as he said, his spit landing on your tongue as you swallow it, "You're the best gift I've ever had, God."

"Happy birthday, Daddy." your back arched as his pace got faster and it didn't take long to give him another squirt, this time bigger as your throat hurting from how much you let him know how good he made you feel. He left your inside to have his face between your legs once again, taking again all of the squirt mixed with his cum, hugging your legs in the process to not make you move anywhere.

Both decided to end the night when he let his face burry in between your breasts, catching his breathe along with you. One of your hands went straight to his hair to brush some strings of hair that were attached to his forehead due to the sweat and the other stop the voice note.

"Did you like your birthday night?" you said, and Heeseung laughed, knowing how both of you wouldn't be able to even wake up for the next day.

"It was perfect," he replied, his voice still a bit husky from the night’s activities. He left your body to lie next to you, both of you facing each other. "We should clean the bed and sleep on the inflatable bed you have; we’ve definitely… uh, made a bit of a mess."

"We must, but... fuck, we just had sex like bunnies," you panted, and he laughed once again, this time, you joined in.

Heeseung’s laughter was infectious, filling the room with warmth and lightness “At least we’re not the only ones who are tired,” he said, glancing at the crumpled sheets. “This bed is definitely in need of some TLC.”

"Get lost Heeseung." you said, unable to stop your laugh, he quickly gave you a kiss, smilling at how suddenly you got quiet and your cheeks got red.

"I'm so grateful for this 23rd birthday. Thank you for making it so… unforgettable. And I'm so sorry for all the months I left you alone, I'll make it up for you." you kissed him after he finished it.

"Honey, you're a singer, and when we got into the relationship, we knew it was going to be hard," you replied softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “But I wouldn’t change a thing. Moments like this make it all worth it.”

Heeseung smiled, his eyes warm and sincere. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you said, your heart swelling with affection. “I’ve always believed in us, and I know we can get through anything together.”

He nodded, pulling you closer as if to emphasize your bond. “You’re my everything, you know? I don’t want to take you for granted again.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and promise reflected back at you. “And I don’t want you to feel guilty for the past."

"I will never stop loving you, baby."

"Me neither"

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @kwiwin @hees-love @taeghi @glitterjay @caratstick @hvseung @hxxsxxng @jungwonmeover @awqken @021894s @intromortal @heeslomll @rikiluvbot @alvojake @ja3yun @jakeflvrz (adding some of my moots, but lmk if you want to be removed or add to the permanent taglist ♡)

↷ 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚢'𝚜 note: Happy belate birthday to my boy Heeseung and happy late halloween for all of you too, slowly making a comeback! SCREAM fans don't come after me pls, this is different :3 (leaving this quick edit i did of Heeseung Ghostface as a peace offering) 🦋

#𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝑦𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠! ৎ ˚⋅#ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑦'𝑠 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x reader

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sinkovia · 10 months ago

Text

Consequences

-Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Angst, mention of miscarriage, mention of death, blood.

Alternative ending

You sat on your bed, a book in hand, your other hand gently resting on your stomach. The room was filled with a warm and serene atmosphere as you flipped through the pages. You were reading about first-time parents and tips on what to do when you first bring your baby home. It was a moment of quiet joy, and you couldn't help but smile.

You were happier than ever, your face radiant with the anticipation of the life growing inside you. After a string of painful miscarriages, you had made it past the usual time period of uncertainty. You were now six months pregnant, and the relief of reaching this milestone was evident in your expression.

You and Ghost had been trying for a baby for the past two years. Each time you got pregnant, you miscarried around the three-month mark. His deployments often left you feeling lonely in the house, and it was time for you to expand your family. The idea of having children had always been a shared dream, and you were now well on your way to realizing it.

Ghost had just returned home, his hands full of grocery bags, which he placed on the table with a heavy thud. He was in the midst of a heated phone call, and you could hear his loud, strained voice from the adjacent room. Closing the book, you set it down on the nightstand and slowly made your way to the kitchen, your footsteps filled with a sense of anticipation.

His voice grew louder as you approached, you strained to listen as you heard his words spill from his mouth, the tension and frustration evident in his tone. He cursed in exasperation, abruptly ending the call and slamming the phone down on the kitchen counter, the resounding noise echoing in the room.

"Is everything okay?" you asked him, walking up slowly, your voice filled with concern. He took a deep breath, his gaze heavy and tired, and then turned to face you.

"Price is deploying me," his words landed like a heavy blow. Your heart sank, and your eyes began to well up with tears.

"What do you mean Price is deploying you? You told me that you talked to him about not sending you on missions while I was pregnant," your voice shaking with emotion. You took a step closer, desperation creeping into your tone.

"You did talk to him, right?" searching for any sign of reassurance. But he wouldn't meet your gaze, his eyes fixed on the counter. Your heartache deepened, and a single tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek.

"Simon!" you cried, flinching as he slammed his fists down onto the counter. He raised his voice, his frustration turning into anger.

"For fuck's sake, Y/n! No, I didn't talk to him!" he shouted, and you were stunned into silence. The words he spoke were a painful betrayal. You remembered vividly that he had assured you he'd spoken to Price about this.

"I never got around to it, okay? I didn't think you would make it this far. I assumed you would miscarry again, so I didn't bother telling him. I'm sorry, okay?" he admitted, his voice laced with guilt. The room felt heavy with the weight of his confession, and disbelief washed over you as you struggled to comprehend what he had just revealed. Your heart felt as if it had been torn in two. The man you loved and trusted had let you down in a way you never thought possible.

"Are you serious, Simon?" The disbelief and pain in your voice was thick as you confronted him. "This whole time, you were just pretending to be happy, but in reality, you were just waiting for me to miscarry again?" The weight of your words hung heavily in the air, and you fixed your gaze on him, waiting for his response.

He couldn't even bring himself to look you in the eye as you spoke to him, and his voice was heavy with guilt as he admitted, "Yes." Your tears were now falling freely, and your chest ached with the pain of betrayal. He moved past you, grabbing his keys from the counter, his actions leaving you bewildered.

"Where are you going?" you asked, your voice a mixture of confusion and hurt. You moved closer, positioning yourself between him and the door, your determination to address the situation clear in your eyes.

"I'm going out; I need a drink," he responded, his words sounding callous and uncaring. You scoffed in disbelief, feeling the need to get to the bottom of this situation.

"No, you're not. We need to talk about this—" You reached for his hand, but he forcefully ripped it away, turning to glare down at you, his anger laid bare.

"There's nothing to fucking talk about, y/n. I'm deploying in two weeks, and nothing will change that!" He raised his voice, his frustration evident.

Your heart ached as you took a step back, struggling to understand his behavior. "Why are you acting like this? Why are you yelling at me?" you asked, your voice trembling as tears continued to fall.

"Because I'm fucking stressed, y/n. I didn't think you would make it this far into your pregnancy. Now, I'm getting deployed, and I don't know when I'll be back," he snapped, his own frustrations and anxieties taking over.

"Why are you taking it out on me?" You couldn't hold back the pain in your voice. "It's not my fault you didn't tell Price. You should have told him. I'm six months pregnant, Simon! How long were you going to wait until you told him?"

"Did I say it was your fault?!" he shot back, his anger flaring. "I know what I should have done, but I didn't, and now we are here. Now, get the fuck out of my way."

The harshness in his words cut deep, and you looked up at him in disbelief. He had never spoken to you like this before. While you knew his temper could be volatile, he had never taken it out on you in such a way.

"No, I don't want you to leave," you pleaded, trying to keep him from walking out the door. "We need to work this out, Simon. You know how I feel about things like this." You were insistent on resolving conflicts, always wanting to talk things through.

"I don't care how you feel; I don't want to talk about this right now," he retorted, his voice filled with frustration. "I need a fucking drink, so get out of my way." The desperation in his words hung in the air, and you couldn't believe the person he was becoming in this moment.

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, I won't let you leave." Your resolve was strong, and you were determined to keep him here until you could address the issues at hand. His frustration had pushed him to a point where he was leaving the house in anger, but you couldn't let that happen. You would never let him leave the house when you guys were upset with one another. It was always something you were insistent on.

His hands went to your shoulders, and he harshly moved you out of the way. You stumbled, almost losing your balance, but you steadied yourself. He walked out the door, slamming it behind him, leaving you alone with a heavy heart and a whirlwind of emotions. You couldn't hold back the overwhelming flood of emotions that consumed you, and you collapsed onto the floor, your body wracked with deep, wrenching sobs.

In all the time you had been together, he had never laid his hands on you in anger like that. His temper was known to flare, but this was an entirely new level of intensity, especially considering he was the one at fault for the situation. You remained on the floor for what felt like an eternity, weeping into your hands, your heart heavy with a mixture of pain, betrayal, and despair. It was an hour of solitude in your sorrow before you mustered the strength to get up.

Getting up to your feet, you made your way to your room, your phone in hand, desperate to reach him. You attempted to call him, your fingers trembling. But just as you were about to press the call button, a sharp and agonizing pain coursed through your stomach, stopping you in your tracks. You were begging, repeating the words, "Please, not again," as you made your way to the bathroom, tears filling your eyes. You were in agony and feared for the well-being of your baby.

You collapsed on the bathroom floor as the pain became nearly unbearable, unlike anything you had experienced before. It felt as though your insides were being torn apart, and you couldn't bear it. With trembling hands and tears streaming down your face, you pressed the dial button and called Simon, your voice choked with pain and desperation.

You cried out as the agony radiated through your body, each moment feeling like an eternity. The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer from him. It eventually went to voicemail, leaving you with a sinking feeling of abandonment and despair. As the pain intensified and your vision blurred, you set the phone down on the bathroom floor, your sobs echoing through the empty room.

Your trembling hands moved between your legs, coming away soaked in blood. Panic and fear gripped your heart as you propped yourself up against the toilet, leaning over it for support. Desperation consumed you as you reached for your phone once more, this time dialing 911 in a desperate attempt to get help.

But the blood on your fingers made it difficult, and the phone slipped from your grasp, landing with a sickening splash in the toilet. Your heart sank as you watched the screen turn black, your lifeline to assistance lost in the crimson-stained water.

Tears streamed down your face as you sat on the bathroom floor, gripping your stomach. You watched as the blood began to pool beneath you, and you cried out in anguish. You mustered all the strength you could, attempting to get up from the cold, hard bathroom floor. You needed to get help. Panic and agony coursed through you as you struggled to rise.

The pain was unbearable, and you knew something was terribly wrong. This was beyond the point of a typical miscarriage, given how far along you were in your pregnancy.

As you moved, a searing, relentless pain tore through your body, causing you to scream out in sheer agony. You lay on the bathroom floor, helpless and writhing in pain, your body refusing to cooperate.

An hour had passed, and in your hands, you held your stillborn baby. You sat against the bathroom wall, surrounded by a growing pool of your own blood. Emotions swirled within you, leaving you feeling numb and empty. You asked yourself what you had done to deserve this.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the world around you as you sat there, grappling with the reality of the fifth baby you lost. Your body was supposed to be nurturing new life, but instead, it had betrayed you once again. It felt like a cruel and never-ending nightmare.

With great pain and effort, you retrieved a small box from under the sink. You had experienced miscarriages so often that you'd prepared for such moments, stashing the small boxes under the sink. Gently, you placed your baby inside and closed the lid, tears still silently falling.

You lay on the cold, tiled bathroom floor in a growing pool of blood, your body trembling with exhaustion and pain.

In your arms, you cradled the small, delicate box, the weight of grief pressing heavily on your chest. Every passing moment seemed to drain you further, and the relentless flow of blood showed no signs of stopping.

Each breath became more laborious, your vision blurred, and you could feel your strength waning with each passing second. Your sobs and cries were replaced by an eerie silence as you struggled to hold on, the world fading around you as you clung to the precious, heartbreaking reminder of the life that would never be.

Ghost, sitting at the bar with Soap, had been sharing the situation he was in. It was late into the night, and the bar's dim lighting seemed to reflect the weight on Ghost's shoulders.

He ended up calling Price again, explaining that you were pregnant, and the conversation had been a long and tense one, going back and forth as they argued about the deployment. Finally, Price made the decision not to deploy Ghost on the mission.

With a deep exhale, Ghost felt a mixture of relief and guilt. He knew he had to make things right with you for the hurtful words he had spoken. For the way he treated you when you only wanted to talk it out. For breaking the promise you made to each other to never leave the house when one was upset with the other. Soap patted him on the back, offering his support and reminding Ghost that he really needed to make it up to you.

They ordered a few more drinks, and as the night wore on, they both realized they were in no condition to drive. It was then that they decided to walk to Soap's house, which was conveniently located only five minutes from the bar.

Their plan was to return in the morning, and whoever was in better shape would drive to the store to pick up the things Ghost needed for you.

Morning came, and they walked back to the bar to retrieve Ghost's car. Ghost ended up driving to the store where they selected a variety of items, ultimately deciding to make a basket filled with things you liked.

In the passenger seat Soap arranged the items in the basket while Ghost took a quick detour to the florist, picking out the largest and most beautiful bouquet of flowers he could find before going home.

Soap followed close behind Ghost as they entered the house, he placed the gift basket in the kitchen, and Ghost slowly made his way to the bedroom. He slowly opened the door, and noticed that you weren't in bed so he started to walk over to the bathroom.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the blood that had seeped from under the bathroom door. Panic surged through him as he rushed to open the door.

His heart dropped, and his breath caught as he found you lifeless, lying in a pool of blood. Your gaze was far away, and you held a small box beside you. He recognized it immediately – the same small boxes you used for the miscarriages.

With a rush of emotions, he took a hesitant step forward, but his balance wavered as he almost slipped on the blood-soaked floor. Rushing to your side, he carefully set the small box aside, his trembling hands unsteady. Ghost cradled your cold face in his hands, tears streaming from his eyes as he sat on the floor, your blood seeping into his clothes.

"Y/n baby look at me, please look at me, love. You're okay, it's okay, it's going to be okay."

He called out for soap, who was in the kitchen. Soap attempted to approach you, but Ghost, his voice strained with grief and guilt yelled at him.

"Johnny just call 911!" he hurried to the kitchen to make the call, leaving Ghost alone, cradling your lifeless form, lost in a world of anguish and guilt.

He called out to you, his voice a desperate plea, but there was no response. Ghost's cries of anguish filled the small bathroom, echoing the unbearable pain in his heart. Tears streamed down his face, and he continued to rock back and forth, cradling you against him.

His voice quivered as he muttered, "I'm so sorry, y/n... It's all my fault... I should have told Price… I should have told him…" he breathlessly whispered against your cold cheek. The weight of his regret was crushing, and the burden of knowing that his actions had led to this moment was almost too much to bear.

Simon held your lifeless body in his arms, the weight of your cold form pressing on him physically and emotionally. The room felt suffocating, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and grief. As he cradled you, all he could think about was the what-ifs and the guilt that gnawed at his conscience.

His mind tried to replay the scene of your final moments over and over. The thought that you were in pain, alone, and scared haunted him. He pictured you suffering, reaching out for help, and he wasn't there for you. The echoes of laughter and clinking glasses from the bar where he was drinking seemed deafening in his mind. While he was having drinks with Johnny you were here, alone and dying.

His eyes wandered to the toilet, where he saw your phone lying there. A chilling realization struck him — that missed call he ignored. Did the phone slip from your weakening grasp after calling him for help? Did you wait for a lifeline that never came? Guilt, heavy and consuming, pressed down on him, making every breath a struggle.

In that heartbreaking moment, Simon felt the weight of the consequences of his actions. The regret and sorrow mingled with the deafening silence of your absence, creating a painful symphony of remorse that would echo in his heart forever.

The memory of his last words to you, spoken in anger, haunted him. Those words, "I don't care how you feel," echoed in his mind like a relentless mantra. He wished he could turn back time, go back to that moment, and change everything.

He longed to take back the hurtful words he'd spoken and to be there for you in your time of need. He wished he had never stressed you to the point of pushing you into another miscarriage. But it was too late, and the reality of the consequences of his actions had come crashing down on him.

Grief enveloped him as he clung to your lifeless body, your silence an agonizing reminder of the happiness he had let slip through his fingers. The guilt and regret were insurmountable, and Ghost's world had shattered into a never-ending nightmare of his own making.

Alternative ending

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ceesimz · 1 month ago

Text

feels like we only go backwards

is this all you'll ever be? (angst -> comfort/fluff)

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I am done with this.”

All of your adult life, you thought that the six month mark argument stage was a myth. Maybe that’s because you hadn’t ever made it to that milestone before, dating wasn’t your thing.

“And everytime you say that, I don’t understand what you mean!”

Apparently it was true.

“No, you do not get to pull that card. You know exactly what I mean. I come home after working all day, exhausted, just to hear you whine and complain about chores and other bullshit. You work from home, I travel all over Spain and Europe, so I'm sorry if I forget my chores once in a while!”

You think it's unfair that the person you are truly, genuinely, wholeheartedly in love with is the one you can't stop arguing against. Relationships aren't meant to be like that, even you can recognise and acknowledge that after years and years of failed attempts at them.

“What, just because you're famous you think you're more important than me? That your job is more exhausting? I rarely work from home, the only time I do is when you're actually in the city so that I can try and see you! How fucking selfish are you? My job is important, in fact I make an actual difference to people's lives whereas you kick a ball around the pitch and expect everyone to worship you for it!”

The first one began when you were running late picking Alexia up after she had a meeting, her car was in the garage and the weather was especially awful that day. Maybe the torrential downpour should have been a sign of things to come, things only got worse from then onwards.

“My job IS important! It is my life, if you can't understand that part of me then I don't know why you're still here!”

Alexia feels like the walls are closing in on her where she lays on her couch, thinks her life might end after a particularly bad argument, the worst of them all so far. For weeks, the tension had been simmering slowly, but now it had boiled over completely. She wasn’t sure she would get you back.

“Wow. Okay. You know, if you never loved me, liked me, even. I wish you would have told me to leave sooner.”

Both of you were to blame in all this, you two knew that. For some reason, you were just too stubborn to acknowledge that fact and do anything about it. So you both sat in different apartments in the same city, lost and fatalistically melancholic about a situation that could be solved with some simple communication. One conversation could save you from this, but were either of you brave enough to take that first step?

“Dios mío, now you are being even more ridiculous. How can you say that after all I have done for you?”

You don’t think you’ve ever hated yourself more than you did, lying in bed and feeling sorry for yourself. Your neighbours were probably on the other side of the wall, laughing at the pity party happening in the next apartment over. From this moment on, you could never take the elevator again, you think the small talk that would occur might be your last straw.

“All you have done? Enlighten me on what you think love is, Alexia, because you’re making it out to be something transactional, and if that’s the case then this relationship might be the worst fucking ‘investment’ of my life. Don’t even act like you’re some kind of saint either, I have spent the last month feeling more alone than loved.”

That final statement from you was when the penny dropped for Alexia. It was a sentence that would haunt her forever. There wasn’t even a thing she could do about it either; you slipped your shoes on, and walked out after it.

You didn’t mean to leave at that precise moment, you knew that was the worst thing to do in an argument. In all honesty, it wasn’t even to make a point to Alexia. What you admitted in that moment felt way too vulnerable, you inwardly cringed when the words fell out. Your only choice then, it felt like, to save the last ounce of your dignity was to flee so that you didn’t give your heart the chance to feel bad for saying that to the woman you loved.

Being annoyed and angry didn’t come naturally to you, being sympathetic did. You knew you would have instantly felt a hundred times more guilty if you had stayed to see her reaction. And thankfully, for some time, you didn’t feel regret or remorse, you were hot with rage. Alexia didn’t try to stop you leaving, nor did she follow you.

But then, in the quiet safe haven of your apartment, those feelings began to set in. Not even the dark of your bedroom or the comfort of your duvet could fend them off, sleep decided to go against you that night and opt out of helping you. That left you with no choice but to dwell on the evening’s events, the week’s dramas, and the month’s emotional turmoil.

It had been one of the hardest months of your life, you just wanted it to be over. Instead, the only thing that seemed to have ended was your relationship.

And on the other side of the city, a two-time Ballon d’Or winner had reduced herself to tears after the realisation that all she had come to be in football had meant she had totally disregarded who she was at home and, more importantly, who she came home to.

In football, when you make a mistake, there are twenty-plus people that will put you in your place and tell you exactly where you went wrong. In life, there is no such thing. There is no system, only consequence. Age was irrelevant when it came to learning things. Here, she was humbled in a way she had never been before, no nutmeg or own goal could match this. She knew, the moment it sunk in, that she needed it.

She also needed you; she needed your love, your joy, your touch, if she ever hoped to feel whole again. The pain of the night’s occurrence was almost as horrible as the longing she felt when she thought back on the first months of knowing you. All was right in the world then – she was playing great football, and she had an incredible partner to come home to. Out of all the things she missed, all the obvious things, one thing that once seemed incredibly minor soon stepped out of the shadows and stabbed her right in the chest.

Knowing that, after the day she’d had no matter if it was good or bad, she would still get to come home to you was an unexplainable feeling. It was a phenomenon she wasn’t sure she could ever put into words. Something about being exhausted or full of energy, grumpy and miserable or content and calm, and still having someone that loved her was… priceless. If she lost that, you, forever, she was sure her heart would beat a little slower, have less will to live and function. A life without love like yours simply wasn’t worth it.

As you both lay down in separate flats, only a car ride between you, the anxieties and the doubts were the same. Your soul was nearly a reflection of hers; the same morals, the same worries, the same guilt. Only the reasons for the last two were different. You were both determined characters, at work and in life in general. Alexia decided to put hers to good use.

Alexia: I’m coming over.

Initially, that text you received only made you feel a thousand times worse. The moment your phone vibrated with the notification, you scrambled to pick it up, hoping it was anything but that text. Maybe if you were in a better state of mind, you wouldn’t have spiralled at the sight of it. Maybe if you didn’t think your relationship was already dead and done with, it wouldn’t have been the final nail in the coffin.

Staying in bed and feeling sorry for yourself was no longer cutting it, you had to get up and move. So, move you did. You never stopped pacing for a second. You waited for her in the lounge, a room that may as well have been a shrine to the woman about to serve you the worst news of your life. Framed photos littered the walls and any surface in sight – you were always an old soul, something Alexia adored about you. The way you demanded to have photos of every single person you loved on display reminded her of her mother, it was a sentiment that never failed to make her smile.

But it wasn’t just the photos, it was the signs of life. The most agonising reminders of what simplicities you would lose; one of her jackets hung on the wall by the door, the dishes piled up in the sink from when you had shared breakfast just that morning, the book of yours she had been borrowing to read when she came over. They all served as a horrifying mockery of what you were about to let slip from your grasp.

You had her, and soon you wouldn’t.

The pacing stopped then, the sudden, strange grief strong enough to break through the autopilot movement of your legs and allow the world to come falling down on you. Whoever said that heartbreak didn’t cause a physical reaction clearly hadn’t lost a person like Alexia. She was one-in-eight-billion. No amount of searching would lead you to anyone that came remotely close to the beauty of her heart, her mind, and her soul.

“Cariño, let me in, please!” The pounding at your door brought you out of whatever pit of dread you had fallen into, only for you to fall right back into it the moment you came to. “Please. I need to talk to you, amor.”

“-if you can't understand that part of me then I don't know why you're still here!”

Then why is she here?

The sound of the lock sliding and the door opening sent a surge of relief through Alexia, though it left the second she saw your face. Eyes full of tears and cheeks reddened by past drops that had fallen, even hours after the earlier altercation. The sun had set long ago, and it had taken any remaining hints of hope with it.

“Why are you here?” You said, knowing that the confidence you tried to put on crumbled with the crack of emotion in your voice.

“Let me in. Please, amor, I can’t… I can’t.” Sounded like she didn’t have much faith in her facade either, judging by the desperation in the way she spoke. There was also a drop of disdain too that you knew was aimed entirely at herself, you’d heard it before, and even after the way the day had gone, or rather the month, it still hurt to hear your favourite person in the world to talk like that.

If she was surprised at how you stood to the side to let her in, she didn’t show it.

“Alexia…” You started, but trailed off fairly quick. You didn’t know what to say.

“No, don’t call me that. Please, not you.” She shook her head with the same amount of desperation as what was in her tone.

You closed the door and slowly padded your way over to where she stood in the centre of the lounge. As you came to stand in front of her, you noticed the gloss of her eyes that glistened in the moonlight streaming through the window. The way you reached out and delicately put a hand on her arm was all instinct.

“What's wrong?” You asked quietly, but that only seemed to cause more unrest.

“Qué? What's wrong?! The fact that we love each other and we cannot stop arguing! Why are we against each other when we are supposed to be on the same team? I-it’s absurd, amor, I-”

“Ale, Ale, calm down.” Your other hand came up to grab her arm, holding tightly in an effort to grasp her attention.

She didn't deserve your time. She had neglected you for the past month, yet here you were, taking her heart and caring for it with a tenderness that would make the world stop.

“I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t treat you like this anymore.”

Here it comes.

Your hands fell away when she said that, and the roles reversed. You slipped into a state of panic, though you tried to hide it, whilst Alexia’s composure came back to her.

“From now on, no more arguing. No more arguing, no more shouting, no more of it. It is not good for us, you don’t deserve it.” She had to get that out first, then take a deep breath, before she could move on to what really mattered to her. “I love you. These arguments hurt the both of us, but I cannot stand making you cry or making you feel alone. Dios, I will never make you feel like that again even if it kills me.”

Her words weren’t registering in your mind, you were nearly in a state of shock. Only minutes before she had showed up, you were in a near catatonic state at the anticipation of the death of your relationship. That wasn’t the case here.

“What?” You murmured, crossing your arms over your chest in a way that broke Alexia’s heart once more, because it was like you did it to defend yourself.

She tried her best to soften her demeanour, from her body language to her eyes, and she cautiously stepped over. Her hands landed gently on your cheeks, brushing away the tears there, and she gazed at you with a softness you weren’t expecting to ever see again.

“I am sorry for how I have behaved towards you and I will say sorry for the rest of my life. I can’t lose you, amor, I would rather lose everything else in my life if it meant I could have you. I didn’t recognise that in the past and I am so sorry it took me this long to realise it. You don’t deserve my behaviour and I don’t deserve you.”

She let out a shaky breath, leaning down to rest her forehead against yours as she swallowed the lump in her throat and willed herself to get through her next words.

“What I said earlier, I do not mean it and I never could. I have never loved someone like I love you, and even though that scares me a tiny bit, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want you around, and I want you to want me around too. There are no excuses for the way I have neglected you and treated you, and I will be better. I will be better, I promise.”

“I…” You choked back your emotions and prepared yourself for her reaction to your next words. “I thought you were coming here to break up with me.”

Even though she was the one touching you, you sensed her whole body stiffen at that. You opened your eyes, not having even realised they were closed in the first place, and saw her eyes tightly shut and the familiar frown to her face. Though, there was a tremble to her chin that told you she was fighting back her sobs.

“No.” Was all she muttered as she shook her head gently against yours. She quickly moved away then, and the loss of her was terrifying for a moment, before you realised she had just turned around to hide her tears for a moment when she wiped her face on the inside of her shirt, turning back afterward. Her hands cradled your face in the same way she did a moment ago. “No. I’m not breaking up with you and I don’t want to break up with you, ever. For as long as you let me, I will love you. I even-”

Her eyes went comically wide then, and if the moment wasn’t so serious, you probably would have laughed.

“What?” You wondered, watching in amusement as she groaned and threw her head back.

“I bought two bouquets of flowers for you and I left them both in my car.”

Even though you felt a little bad, you laughed at her admission. You laughed, genuinely and freely, and it felt different to any of the laughs you’d let out in the past few weeks. When Alexia moved past her frustration, she couldn’t help but join in with you. And before you knew it, your shared laughter bounced off of the walls despite the tears still present on either of your faces. The moment was funny, in fact the whole situation of both the flowers and the arguments that had been had were ridiculous.

Most of the time, you couldn’t even pick out why the argument started. Not to mention most fights were just rehashing the same points and excuses over and over. So yeah, it was ridiculous.

Alexia, however, wasn’t expecting you to wrap your arms around her in a hug she had missed for… she didn’t even know. Every act of intimacy of the last month had felt forced, with an ounce of apprehension in them. This hug, it was different. It was sincere and filled with the love that had been lacking recently. To be honest, it took her breath away.

“You’re not breaking up with me.” You mumbled into her neck where you had buried your face, a bashful smile on your face.

“I’m not breaking up with you. If you’ll forgive me, if you’ll have me still, I’m not breaking up with you.”

That sentence especially caught your attention. You leaned back in her arms, keeping your own tight around her, and looked up at her in confusion.

“Ale, if you forgive me. I said some horrible things too, it wasn’t only you. I was just as bad.” The blonde smiled sadly down at you and shook her head softly before moving forward to place a gentle, reassuring kiss to your temple.

“We both said some mean things. I want to forget it for now.” She whispered. You were more than happy to entertain her in that.

“Me too. I love you, Ale. So much.”

No relationship was perfect, that you knew now. But even through the arguments, the disagreements, the particularly bad fights, every moment outside of those occurrences were worth it, and more.

—

wrote this on a whim, and its... actually short? 😧 overall im not too sure about it, it's been a while since i posted something like this but hope you liked it 🙃🧡

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas one shot #woso #woso community #woso fic

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alchemistc · 2 months ago

Text

Tommy slumps further into the couch cushions, and the looks Eddie gives him is - dire, really. Tommy sort of wants to get shit faced and cry a little while cradling this throw pillow - the same one Evan had smacked him with a week ago while they crowded Eddie's too-small couch and Tommy had made fun of Evan for not knowing a single player on the Dodgers.

("You're actively rooting against them, why do you care if I know who they are?"

"Know thy enemy, Buckley," was Eddie's immediate response, and Evan had swung the pillow when he caught Tommy and Eddie fist bumping out of the corner of his eye.)

"Pretty sure it's actually cheating to come to me," Eddie intones, but he's already up and moving towards the cabinet where he keeps the good whiskey.

He settles into the recliner and gestures with the bottle, a very clear 'go on' in his expression.

Tommy thinks about maybe just - drowning himself in spirits and hiding under a rock for the rest of his life.

"I asked Evan to move in with me."

Eddie's brow kicks up. He purses his lip. Nods. His eyes do something that tells Tommy he is actively biting down on whatever it is he's thinking.

"And...you...fought. You fought about Buck ... moving in."

(Six months is such a short time, really. They've just leapt every other milestone like it's their damn job, and - Christ, they'd had keys to each other's places in weeks.)

Tommy narrows his eyes. "You know something."

"Yeah, and that's why this," he gestures vaguely in the direction of Tommy, fully pouting on his couch and commandeering too large a surface area for Eddie to actually join him there, "is cheating."

Tommy would love to point out that he just doesn't have a shit ton of friends willing to listen to him bitch about an argument he's trying to figure out without fucking imploding the whole goddamn thing. He'd love to point out that he and Eddie have already set these boundaries and Tommy is aware he's pushing it.

Tommy tilts his head against the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. "Well if we can't talk about it, at least get me drunk."

Eddie hands him a shot glass and stands to go grab them both beers.

---

"So the thing is," Tommy says, slumped against Eddie's side and gesturing in front of himself. His hands are - they're a little blurry. Thank God he isn't on call. "The thing is."

He's got a hangnail that's been driving him nuts for weeks. He's already got a layout in his head for how to make Evan's wardrobe fit in his closet. Half of Evan's kitchen lives in Tommy's already, and he'd - he'd been sure they were in the same page.

"The thing?" Eddie asks, and - Christ, it's not like Eddie's having an easy time with any of the - anything. He's definitely overindulged right along with Tommy. Thank fuck they're not maudlin drunks, just what they need is two PTSD riddled idiots filled up with liquor and bemoaning their lives.

"What thing?"

"The thing, Tommy."

Right. The thing. "I love him," Tommy says, and Eddie's eyes go wide like he doesn't already know this. But Tommy - Tommy's said it in range of Eddie's hearing, right? He's - he's said it.

(The lone braincell shared between them whispers that Tommy has said it, once, to the curls atop Evan's sweaty head while Evan was still passed out on his chest. Fuck braincells.)

"Uhuh."

"What uhuh?"

You don't ask someone to move in with you when you still haven't worked up the courage to say I love you to someone's face, is the thing. And Evan's said it - happy and carefree and open even when Tommy just kissed him to distract him from Tommy not saying it back. He has to know, right? Tommy's said it in every other way he knows how.

"Listen, bro code broken, man, Buck's fucking terrified to mess this up with you and the whole 'you haven't said the words' has been, like, messing with his head for weeks, dude. And now outta the blue, hey move in with me? He's trying desperately not to assume you did something terrible and are using this to cover it up."

"He told you that?"

Eddie scoffs. He actually says 'pshhh', and rolls his head towards Tommy. "No." He enunciates too much. The 'o' is way too long in that word. It's a two letter word, how did he make it sound like seven syllables?

Tommy wants another shot, but Eddie had clearly not meant for that whiskey to be shared and it'd already been more than half gone when he pulled it out. There's...maybe half an ounce left. Fuck.

"Then how...?"

"I already broke bro code for you, dumbass. Can't you read between the lines?"

"Is this like the couch thing?"

The mindfuck of trying to decipher Eddie and Evan's little shared looks while Evan announced that Tommy's couch was his favorite couch had been -

He's getting off track.

He hasn't said the fucking words. He's in love with the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, filthiest fucking man he's ever known and he hasn't said the words.

"Hamster wheel," Eddie says sagely, like that means a damn fucking thing, but Tommy's already fumbling for his phone. Texting that is out of the question, and he doesn't want to call while he's... more drunk than he'd care to admit.

Tommy shoves Eddie off his shoulder, and only gets a little spinny when he stands. He's a forty year old man, he can absolutely ask his boyfriend to pick him up from... his boyfriends best friends house and help him sober up so he can have a conversation.

"Water," Tommy says, and Eddie snorts.

"Toooo late."

Tommy feels about five years old when he shoves at Eddie's face before retreating to the kitchen.

---

"Tommy," Evan says, bent low over the couch, and Tommy blinks himself awake, regretting every drop of whiskey he'd drunk last night. He'd - there'd been water. An attempt at typing out a message. A slap fight in Eddie's kitchen when he decided to chow down on the last of the casserole Evan had left behind three days ago. More water.

This couch is way too fucking small for him. He's - he's still got one shoe on, and a blanket crumpled haphazardly over one leg. His head is pounding.

Evan looks - concerned. Maybe still a little annoyed. Fond.

"Ev," he manages, moving to sit up and regretting it when five million bees make a home right there against his frontal lobe. Smoke clears that out, right? He remembers Evan being super fucking proud that that had worked.

Evan holds up a glass of water that Tommy takes gratefully. He doesn't drink it nearly as slowly as he should.

When he's done, Evan stands, and - God his legs are long. Tommy loves those fucking legs - loves the hair that catches against his calluses on his way up towards the promised land, loves the strength behind them when he snaps his hips forward, loves the way they feel all wrapped around him when they're -

"We are not anywhere close to the sort of resolution necessary for that look," Evan says, and Tommy sighs. Because they haven't talked about it. Because they'd yelled and smacked their hands against counters and the explosion had sent them careening off in different directions and Tommy hasn't told him.

"Angry sex can be fun," Tommy wheedles, a little unnecessarily because he doesn't actually want - and on Eddie's couch to boot, which is absolutely not what he's angling for.

"I'm not mad at you," Evan says, and Tommy gives him an unimpressed look. "Okay, I'm mostly just - confused."

Fair enough. Tommy's been confusing. Tommy's been -

Tommy curls a hand around the meat of Evan's calf and tips his head against Evan's thigh. "Can we not do this in Eddie's living room?"

---

He doesn't want to admit that it took Eddie breaking all sorts of friendship rules for Tommy to even grasp the point of Evan freezing the fuck up when Tommy had mentioned his lease. He doesn't want to admit that he's fucking terrified, all the time, about the feelings in his chest that never quite settle, that bubble up at the strangest times because every-fucking-thing reminds him of Evan. He doesn't want to admit that he'd just leapt that hurdle in his mind even though Evan has been very clearly marking every other step with metaphorical (and sometimes literal) sticky notes.

Evan hands him his tea and immediately starts picking at the paper sleeve on his cup of coffee.

"I'm not afraid of losing you," Tommy starts, which is - the opposite of the point he's trying to make, and Evan's grimace tells him it's a bad place to start. "I mean that's not why I asked."

Evan is still grimacing. And that's - Christ, he hadn't even planned it, it was just - he'd been there, digging through Tommy's sock drawer, his shit tumbling out of his overnight bag at the end of the bed and his book on the history of perfume in the bedside table and his crock pot stewing something that smelled heavenly, thirty feet away, and he wanted that always, wanted that forever, wanted more than anything to enjoy all the little moments that came before he spent the money in savings hed been setting aside since successful date number five when he'd wondered if Evan had ever thought about getting married.

"You think I asked out of convenience, right? Your stuff's already there, might as well?"

"I'm not leaving things there on purpose."

"I want you to leave things there on purpose. I want all your things there, on purpose. Even when you move my milk to the fridge door and my sugar stash to the wrong pantry shelf and even when you replace my toothpaste because it doesn't have the right enamel protection."

His lip quirks. That had been a near argument too. Tommy was particular. Tommy didn't do great with change. Evan's changed damn near fucking everything, for Tommy, and he's never been more grateful for a single thing in his fucking life.

Tommy curls a finger around Evan's wrist, and his gaze darts up through his lashes. They're long, and distracting, and Tommy wouldn't mind shoving this disagreement to the side so he can brush his lips across the paper thin lids of his eyes, but -

"I missed some steps, getting there," Tommy admits, and Evan bites his lip like he's trying to hide a smile.

"My fault, a bit. I - I could see why you might have just assumed we were scaling 'em two at a time."

"Evan," he says, and breathes a sigh of relief when his free hand darts out to smooth the veins on the back of Tommy's hand.

"Next week is six months," he says, like Tommy doesn't fucking know that, and his thumb sweeps over Tommy's knuckles. "So, i -if you have anything you wanna say before then, you got a week before you can ask me again."

(Six months is the blink of an eye, actually, but Tommy hates every blink that doesn't include Evan in it.)

"You got plans?" Tommy asks, and Evan's face pinkens.

"If you're lucky I'll even tell you them."

"It's a date."

#bucktommy #eddie&tommy #bucktommy fic

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