#i was like no hes blonde-ish right and they were like you're insane | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charmercharm3r · 8 months

Text

Make Love, Not Porn

Heat Signature

HHJ

Masterlist, Story Masterlist

18+ content — minors, do not interact

wc: 5.9k

Synopsis: You crave a life of normalcy, he craves you. And he'd do anything to keep you, even if you're for the world to see

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, barista!hyunjin x camgirl!reader, masturbation (m, f), teasing, cum eating, (slight) orgasm denial, (also -ish) voyeurism, (not a warning but) open conversations about sex, he’s a little shit but also just a fanboy

Past Broadcasts : Play Time!

Live : Heat Signature

Next Scheduled Broadcast : Puppeteer

☆ﾟ

He waited for you.

He waited and waited and waited, for days until he’d finally given up hope that you were going to show face again.

Hyunjin wasn’t even sure you were from the area. For all he knew, you lived a few hours plane ride away. There was no way for him to know.

He’d thought about you every day since, watched every stream and used most of his tips and paycheck to tip you so that you’d remember who he was. It worked, whenever the dinging noise from other patrons tipping died down, there was a moment where he’d rapid fire click the button and you’d know, it was him.

The day after seeing you in person, Hyunjin barely had the mind to put your image down onto paper to immortalize. His minor hobby in doodling came in handy when there was downtime during his shift at the coffee shop. There was an unlimited supply of blank coffee cup sleeves and markers, enough room for his artistic freedom to run wild with images of you and your pretty hands, heavenly voice that he’s been encapsulated with ever since.

Hyunjin kept his doodles in his apron pocket with him at all times. If anyone were to ever see them he swears he’d burst into flames out of embarrassment. How is he stumbling beneath his own feet over someone he’s met once?

But it doesn’t feel like you’ve only met once, he feels like he’s known you for a lifetime. The way you spoke during your cams, you were speaking to him. You had to be. You had to have seen him.

The voice in his head had Hyunjin summing up your absence to the fact that you were simply too busy for coffee. Yeah, that was what he chose to believe, definitely not the fact that he was acting literally insane and scared you into never setting foot in their store ever again.

The universe was listening to him, today of all days. Another early morning and he hadn’t even noticed you walk in at first, after two weeks he’d given up on hoping you’d come back. Imagine his surprise when he’s put on the register and sees you walk up to the counter.

“Ice– iced chai and three blonde shots, right?”

You were taken aback, you’d hadn’t been here in a while, two weeks to be exact. What was this cute, strange barista doing memorizing your order? And why is he looking at you like he’s picturing you naked?

“Yeah,” you replied slowly, narrowing your gaze at his pretty features.

He really was weird, his hands were shaking as he input your order, as he took your card and handed it back. When he was done ringing you up, he didn’t hand you the receipt but rather stared at you again. “Are you okay…” you glanced at his name tag, “Hyunjin?”

Oh, his cock twitched.

Be fucking normal. She’s just a person, for fucks sake. Stop being a weirdo. God, you’re embarrassing.

“Y— yeah! It’s just…” Hyunjin’s heart sped up. This was his opportunity to ask you out, compliment you… But instead he asks, “can I have a name for the order?”

That wasn’t what you were expecting. For a second your heart stopped thinking that he had recognized you… Again, impossible, you had been too careful to let anything slip.

“You know my order but not my name?” A dry laugh and awkward but relaxed shrug, you tell him your name and the barista lets out a little inaudible stutter, a small smile spreading across your lips at his endearing reaction,

His head raised to meet your gaze again, “it’ll be out in a minute, pretty.”

Ballsy. Fucking ballsy. You have the most massive pair ever. Wait, she smiled… She smiled?? She’s still smiling? Oh, she’s walking away… I think that worked?

Why were you smiling? And why was your tummy fluttering? A cute barista complimenting you? That was nothing in comparison to the millions of adoring words you receive through your social media and live streams. So why was he any different? Stop smiling, you look stupid.

It really only took a minute, true to Hyunjin’s words. You didn’t expect him to be the one holding your drink at the pick up counter, the way your name rolling off his tongue making your adrenaline rush.

What you didn’t see was him forcing his closest coworker to stand on register so he could be the one to make your drink. The finishing touch was the real kicker. Though it was a cold drink, Hyunjin fished out one of the doodled cup sleeves, the best one he’d drawn, and shyly wrote on the side of it before slipping it on and calling your name. He tried to hide his excitement and nervousness by trilling his voice a little more sing-song to get your attention.

You walked a little too fast towards the black haired barista, catching yourself and slowing as you came closer. He had a smirk that made your knees wobble just a tad bit before he held the drink out for you. Both your eyes met as you grazed his fingertips to pass over the cup, a shot of warmth shooting up your arm with a tingle as he lingered.

“Thank you, Hyunjin.”

“My pleasure, Y/N.”

Just the way he said your name made you want to fold in half. Maybe let him fold you in half. Definitely let him fold you in half.

You hadn’t taken a sip of the drink until you got home, too giddy the entire walk to do anything but clutch it in your hands. But when you did sip on it, you verbally let out a, “mmm!” to no one but yourself.

Hours had gone by of you doing your regular chores and such that you do on your off days. Dirty clothes in the laundry, groceries were put away, now would be a good time to prepare dinner. You had just tossed the now empty to go cup in the trash when the smeared ink on the cardboard cup sleeve caught your eye. You had to dig it out of the trash, but it didn’t seem much out of order other than the wet marks from the earlier drink’s condensation.

There was a drawing, smudged but definitely still there. A small drawing of a girl’s side profile with fingers pressed to her lips like she was holding a cigarette, except she wasn’t. She’s simply touching her lips, depicted in a way that made her look so delicate despite the harsh black ink that carved her into the cardboard. She was pretty. It was probably his girlfriend, more than likely he didn’t think about what sleeve he grabbed and rushed to cup your drink with the one he’d drawn her on. Why did that make your stomach sink a little?

Still, it was a nice drawing. As you slipped it off the cup, you saw the words that made your stomach entirely fall out of your ass.

Sweetheart.

Hyunjin waited again for you to return. When you didn’t the next day he was sure he scared you off. There was a reason you remained anonymous, to avoid situations exactly like this one. He just couldn’t help himself. If you freaked out, he’d act clueless and make an excuse to say it was only a cute nickname. He hoped you wouldn’t take it like that, however the fact that it took you another week and a half to come back to the coffee shop told him that was probably what you thought.

You avoided his gaze when you came into the shop for the third time. There was no line for once, but then again, it was way past the morning when you’d come the first few visits.

Hyunjin’s breath hitched when you came straight up to the counter and met his eyes timidly, darting around as if you were scared to truly look at him.

“The usual?” He asked, hoping the sincerity in his voice would ease your clear distress.

“N— no… No drink…” Your words trailed off and Hyunjin felt himself starting to panic.

“I’m not a stalker, I swear. I just really… admire your work? For lack of a better phrase.” The genuineness could be felt in the air between you, and it made you want to trust him. But still, there’s always lingering doubt.

You lowered your voice and held out the doodled cup sleeve, “maybe you should keep the drawings of your girlfriend somewhere you won’t give to someone else you’ve seen naked.”

“What?” Hyunjin stared at you, blinking soullessly.

He had expected you to yell at him, scream, make a scene and call him all kinds of names. This was not on his bingo card.

“Your… your girlfriend?” You raised up the drawing and he laughed. A full belly laugh that made his shoulders shake and luscious black hair fall into his handsome, handsome face. “I’m very confused right now.”

“Oh, you’re so pretty.”

“I don’t know you well enough for you to be making fun of me.”

“I’m off in thirty minutes. Wanna get coffee?” It was your turn to stare blankly at him. He smiled again shyly, “barista joke, forget it. But seriously, can we… maybe talk?”

“You just wanna talk?”

“Yeah.”

“…Alright.”

“I’ll call your name when your drink’s ready.”

“I didn’t order—“

“On the house,” Hyunjin leaned both hands into the counter, tipped his head slightly down, and smirked. Like a fucking player. That stupid smile, you don’t even know the guy and still want to simultaneously kiss him and slap that grin off his face. A frown and a nod, you sit at an empty table in the corner.

Less than five minutes later, Hyunjin is walking over to you with the drink in hand and he takes the open seat across from you.

“Aren’t you still working?”

“You’re the only one here.” You glance around the room, the shop is completely empty.

“A filthy blonde chai, plus one more shot.” The drink is slid over to you by large, polished hands. “I’m not sure what they call a triple espresso chai… Most people usually stop at two. But, I don’t think you’re like most people.”

“Only a barista would use that line.”

“Honestly, I’m shitting bricks just sitting in front of you and I’m so glad I can barely hear myself over the music in this place because I wanted to melt into the floor as soon as I said it.”

The way he spoke was cute, like he couldn’t get himself to stop talking. “Are you fangirling right now?”

Hyunjin’s ears tinted a bright red and felt his cheeks flush with warmth. “Yeah, a little.”

“Over a pornstar?”

“To be fair you’re not a pornstar, you're a camgirl.”

“I don’t think that makes it any better.”

“For me or you?”

“…Both, I guess.”

He bit his plush bottom lip before letting slip from between his teeth, simply looking at you. “If it makes you feel better, you’re the only one I follow.”

It took you a minute to sit with that information, the entire ordeal was strange and you weren’t entirely sure what compelled you to come back to the shop in the first place. Within your silence, nothing actually processed in your head, there were no thoughts. Your career required you to be strategic as one wrong move could bring everything crashing down. As you sat in front of Hyunjin, the awkwardly suave, raven haired barista that makes a mean triple blonde chai, you realized how much you liked not having to think.

“You’re the only one I watch, actually,” he continues to ramble in the lingering silence. “There really isn’t anything else– or, anyone else that I want to watch. That sounds… really gross now that I’m saying it out loud… I’m sorry, I’m– you make me really nervous. I don’t even know why, I don’t even know you. I mean, I do know you, but I only just met you. A– and I only knew who you were because of your voice. The way you speak– I love the sound of it. I could listen to you talk all day.”

You only stared at him with an unreadable expression, keeping your heart-fluttered cards close to your chest. “That does make me feel a little better,” you admitted softly. “But you’re not a stalker?”

Hyunjin leaned onto his elbows on the table. Even sitting and slouching, he had to look down at you. “Sweetheart, you walked into my shop, remember? I’ve been working here longer than you’ve been streaming. You came to me.”

Not. A. Single. Thought.

How quickly he could go from a stuttering mess to acting like a cocky jackass gave you whiplash, you literally couldn’t predict what would come out of his mouth next. All that made your brain totally empty, words couldn’t form in your mouth to respond back.

Hyunjin reached across the table for where your hands played with the cup sleeve. His touch made warmth flood through your skin, up your arms and into your cheeks. He took the cardboard and held it next to your reddening face. “You really couldn’t tell?”

“I can tell that you should probably inform your girlfriend of the massive crush you have on a camgirl.”

He huffed and leaned back in his chair, tossing the cup sleeve between the two of you. “It’s not my girlfriend. It’s you.”

“What?! I don’t look like that!” You grabbed the drawing to examine closer, still not seeing the comparison.

“You look exactly like that! Maybe the marker I used was too thick, but it’s definitely you.”

“No, I mean this girl is… It’s not me.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Your head shot up to look at him. Was he really agreeing with you right now? “You’re waaay prettier than this. I had only seen you one time when I drew it, didn’t get to really look at your features. Was kinda starstruck, ya know?”

“...The more you talk, I can’t tell what you want from me.”

“Why do I have to want something from you to get to know you?”

What was his deal? Was he dense? Was there a sign on your back that said, “fuck with me?” This was a joke and no one was laughing but him. There was no reason for him to want to even talk with you, there had to be another reason. It didn’t make any sense.

“Everyone wants something. What do you want?”

Hyunjin leaned further forward and stared straight into your eyes, “to know you.”

How badly did you want to look away, but Hyunjin made it so hard. He kept the eye contact so steady, blindly reaching for your hand across the table and simply holding your fingertips with his, hardly even touching and the combination was still so deadly. His thumb rubbed lightly over your knuckles and you couldn’t help but lean in closer to him as well, furrow in his brow from the seriousness turn the conversation has taken only deepening.

He couldn’t read you as much as he tried. There was your poker face you’d mastered after the last person you’d cared about enough to take back to your showroom. Hyunjin didn’t know that, or even needed to know that, but you were weirdly comfortable around him. As uncanny as everything leading up to this was, your mouth moved on its own.

“Why do you deserve to?”

“Someone hurt you… badly, didn’t they? So much that you’re questioning why I want to know you as a person and not just a body.”

“Why do you keep talking like you know my life story? You don’t know me!”

“That’s kinda the whole point. I want to! You keep saying I don’t know you, so let me!” His voice raised slightly as yours did, mimicking your frustration.

And honestly, you couldn’t blame him. You were being annoying about this on purpose, you needed to push his buttons to see if he was going to be true to his word. If he wasn’t he’ll bow out quick after realizing you’re not worth all the effort. If he is… you hope for your heart he isn’t. But you want it so badly at the same time, you crave it. You’ve dreamed and fantasized of someone wanting you and only you, doing everything in their power to keep you, cherish you, make you feel so loved that they’d die if they couldn’t tell you that you meant more than the world to them. The kind of love that most people in your line of work gave up on a long time ago.

That’s the goal, isn’t it? To be loved? That’s what’s supposed to be the end game. If everyone is after it, why isn’t it easier to find?

“I have a livestream in two hours…” your voice quivered. Why were you telling him this?

“You do…” his was steady. Why is he still holding your hand?

“I want to trust you.” You wanted to hide under a rock. Why do you like him holding your hand?

“You’re doing the best you can.” He seems so honest. Why are you still scared?

“You get one chance. If you’re serious, maybe I’ll keep you around.” His smile is so sweet. What is happening?

“That’s all I need.”

Fuck, he’s here. Why is he in your apartment? Why did you bring him back here? Stupid, stupid, stupid. You were already regretting it when you led him through the threshold and removed your shoes. He complimented your place, said it smelled nice. That’s a good sign, but this was out of your comfort zone.

Way, way, waaay out of your comfort zone.

Is this self-destructive? It is, yet you’re doing it anyway. You already broke rule number 4: don’t give everything all at once. You bulldozed through it, actually, dust and cement and rubble in the wake of your metaphorical path to lead him into your home and towards your showroom.

You led him towards the bed that was to the side of your streaming desk so you could see him past the monitors. Hyunjin was hesitant and sat as close to the edge as possible. As you say next to him, you could smell the coffee that seemed to seep from his pores, bitter but still sweet, energizing but would let it lull you to sleep. His gaze didn’t stray around the room, he didn’t even bother looking at your set up, focused on the way your shoulders relaxed and looked to be slightly less timid.

Hyunjin didn’t know where to put his hands, keeping them in his lap as you reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “Why am I here, Y/N?”

“You’re going to help me.” His eyes grew wide in shock, mouth parting slightly. “Not like that, get your mind out of the gutter.” The force of which he closed his mouth made his teeth audibly knock together.

Hyunjin wanted to melt under the sudden intensity of your gaze, still playing with the tips of his hair at the nape of his neck while staring at him like a lion to a gazelle. “You get to look, but not touch… me.”

His eyebrows shot up, “what?”

“You heard me,” you leaned in closer, so close he could feel your warm breath on his cheek. Hyunjin was frozen solid and you haven’t even done anything yet, but he was ready to do anything you asked him to. Into his ear, you whispered, “look, no touching.”

It was just a peck. A simple peck of your lips to his cheek, that was all and it made Hyunjin’s entire body shake out of excitement. He got hard instantly and tried to adjust his pants so you couldn’t see the very obvious tent. Not for his efforts, you saw anyway and giggled. Oh, your laugh was so pretty, so innocent sounding despite the very unholy acts you were about to participate in. The same unholy acts he was about to participate in, too.

“Is this okay?” You asked, lips still close to his cheek. Hyunjin nodded rapidly, wanting to turn so you’d kiss him for real. “I need you to tell me, with your words, baby.”

“Y— yes, more.” There was a shudder in his voice, a very obviously excited one at that.

You placed another gentle kiss to his cheek, “more what?”

Hyunjin leaned in so you were cheek to cheek, “more kisses, please.”

“What’s got you so worked up? Haven’t done anything,” you cooed back, threading your fingers through his hair and his entire body shivered. “You like when I call you baby?”

He nodded again and leaned into your hand, the only downside of that was it pulled his face from yours. Hyunjin debated on cupping your cheek, but you’d said no touching and he wanted to be good for you. Even though his first instinct was to reach out, he stayed put, letting that energy flow into gripping the sheets below him.

You didn’t pull his hair, didn’t do anything but keep your hand tangled in it but the feeling made him shut his eyes. You were really here, holding him like this, talking to him the way he’d always imagined. The fact that you even considered giving him the time of day made him wonder if this was real life anymore.

“I thought you would. You’re my favorite, too.”

Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself, you were saying all the right words. He pulled away for a split second to look at

you in awe, then crash his lips against yours in a fevered kiss, searing hot and so, so needy. He whined into your mouth, completely lost in the sensation while you were taken slightly by surprise. Not in a bad way, you were just happy he’d been able to restrain himself for this long in the first place.

You kissed him back, just for a second before tearing him away by the back of the hair. Caught off guard, he softly whimpered at the harshness, then tried to follow your lips again but was unable. “No touching. If you can’t follow directions—“

“I can, I can! I promise.”

Huffing, you tossed him back to lay his head into the pillows. A devious smile played along his lips as his heart rate slowed again, “you liked it, though. I felt you kiss me back.”

You raised an eyebrow, moving to kneel onto the mattress beside him. “Hm, I can’t recall.”

It stung his heart a little, but he knew it was just an act. It was your way of riling him up.

You didn’t touch him now, there was still a few centimeters of space between your bodies and he could still feel your lips on his. His chest leveling out, erection in his pants painfully throbbing in his jeans, looking up at you with the best puppy dog eyes he could conjure, Hyunjin could die happy if you pat his back like after a sports match and sent him home.

But you didn’t. You didn’t move, you just looked at him. It made him slightly nervous only because he couldn’t be sure what you were thinking.

Hyunjin sat up on his elbows, “what are you gonna do to me?” Not an ounce of fear in his voice, pure curiosity and anticipation.

“I’m not gonna do anything.” His eyes followed you as you stood to walk towards your computers. It wasn’t until now did he see you sit in the chair he’d been watching you in since the start of your career. Seeing it in person made his chest feel warm, like knowing this bit of information was as if he’d truly been with you this entire time from the start.

You didn’t look at him as you typed at your computer for a moment, clicking the mouse a few times, and suddenly Hyunjin’s phone went off. He fished it out of his pocket to find a notification from that godforsaken website, “live soon, hardcandysweetheart: heat signature.”

“Am I gonna be on—“

“No, I wouldn’t throw you to the wolves like that.”

“…What does heat signature mean?”

“Our little secret,” you made your way back to the bed, taking your spot next to Hyunjin once more. This time, though, your hand was placed next to his thigh, a little too close for comfort. Softly did your fingers play with the hem, Hyunjin darted his eyes down then back up to your face, feeling his chest heating up again. “No one knows that I’m not alone. No one knows I have you here with me, watching me, drooling over me. You’re the only one that gets to see everything. Straight into to the warmest parts of me.”

All the blood he had left in his head rushed straight to his cock, making Hyunjin even harder, if that was possible. “Please, touch me,” he found himself begging.

The laugh you let out was menacing, it made him cower back slightly. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But no. I want you to touch yourself for me.”

“What?” Hyunjin asked louder, a little more embarrassed now that you’d furrowed your brows at him and tilted your head. His chest deflated at your clear annoyance.

“It’s a very intimate thing,” you started, softening your eyes as his pride crumbled little by little. “Sometimes, I think it’s more intimate than sex itself, showing your partner how you like to be pleasured. It’s the key to a person’s body and mind. If you know what place to touch, how to touch them, they’re yours. If you make them cum, you own them.”

Well when you explain it like that, Hyunjin can’t help but feel sorry for snapping. It makes sense to him, “knowledge is power.”

“Knowledge is power. Sex is more than physical. It’s emotional, mental— it’s everything before the clothes come off and everything after you both cum. If you feel seen, then your partner is doing something right.”

A few silent seconds, you could tell he understood by the way he was looking at you; ready to comply with any request. Hyunjin loved the way you talk so freely about sex, like it was just another conversation because it is. It’s nothing to be ashamed about and it’s not taboo. Your nonchalant, yet very caring attitude about the topic of sex made him feel more comfortable than any ex partner ever had when he was actually naked in front of them.

“Can I take my pants off now?”

You rolled your eyes, “keep your underwear on.”

Hyunjin thought he was fast before, this was a new record. Clothes were off in the blink of an eye— at least, his were. You eyed him up and down as he stripped and stood at the foot of the bed for your next instruction. “On your back.” He clambered onto the bed, not even caring that you were still fully dressed and he was in nothing but his boxers.

“Close your eyes.” He did. But only after he took a long, adoring stare into yours. “Did kissing me get you this hard, baby?” Hyunjin nodded, clawing at the sheets to keep himself contained.

You chuckled softly, “that makes me happy. This should be easy for you, then.” The bed shifted beside him and suddenly heat was swallowing him whole. Your breath tickled his neck, feeling you sitting closer to his head as you continued to talk to him. “When I first saw you, I didn’t think anything of it.”

What a boner killer. Not his boner, though.

“Then when you smiled at me, I thought it was just to get you some extra tips. Clearly, it worked. This is a pretty big tip. You have such a pretty smile.” Hyunjin’s hips kicked up just slightly. He couldn’t see it, but you were smirking at how easy he was to work up.

“Such a pretty smile, but such a dirty mind. I wanna know,” your lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Tell me, baby. What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“You,” he answered immediately, fighting the urge to palm at his twitching dick.

Gently as not to startle him, you unclenched his hands from the sheets and moved them towards where he needed it most, keeping your hands to yourself as soon as he got the idea.

“Me? That’s sweet,” you were sincere, flattered. “What about me?”

Hyunjin rubbed the heel of his palm hard into his cock through the thin fabric. There was already a darkening wet patch, your mouth watered at how much he was leaking. You couldn’t lie to yourself, he was big. Not so much girth, but just the right width with a little extra length and it made your pussy clench at the prospect of what could be.

“Mmph— your hands. So pretty, want them around my throat.” Just the light graze of your fingernails raking across his neck made Hyunjin buck up into his own hands. “An— and your thighs. Looks so soft, I wanna bite into them.”

“And mark me up? Wanna leave pretty bruises for everyone to see?”

“Fuck, yes!” He pressed harder, resisting from sticking his hand down his pants. Obviously, you couldn’t have that, you were in a time crunch.

“Underwear off.”

“Thank god,” he rushed to shove them down, not even past his knees before he grabbed his cock and began to tightly fist himself.

There was a messy coating of precum over the tip, glistening in the soft warm pink and yellow mood lighting. He really did have a pretty cock, assumptions right in that he was perfectly proportioned with girth and length, looking oh-so-suckable.

“Fuck, keep talking. Please.”

“What is it about me that really gets you off? Hm? You like how amateur and naïve I act? Or is it that you can imagine any girl’s face when I touch myself?”

“No, no,” he whined, tightening his first around the upper half of his dick, short but hard ruts into the fleshy ring.

“No? Then what is it, baby?”

“Your voice— god, fucking hell. The way you speak, the way you talk like you’re only talking to me. Like you only want me, that there’s no one else that you need and I’m the only one who can make you feel so fucking good— fuck!”

He was leaking more and more to puddle onto his abdomen. You reached over to dip the tip of your finger into it, swirling around in the mess before bringing the coated digit back up to his mouth. “Open.” He did, and closed as soon as he felt your finger press onto his tongue. Hyunjin moaned at the taste of himself, not at all put off but rather throbbing even harder.

“What would you do to me if I gave you the chance?” You asked quietly, genuinely curious as he swirled his tongue around your cleanly-licked finger.

The question erupted a louder groan from deep within his chest, hardly muffled by the weight on his tongue. You stole it away so he could talk, secretly putting it into your mouth as his eyes were still closed to get a little glimpse more of what he tastes like.

“Make you be a little pillow princess at first. Wouldn’t let you lift a finger and kiss you everywhere. Hard.” You liked that idea, pressing your legs together. “Wanna taste your pussy so bad. I’d eat you out until you’d be begging for me to stop and fuck you. No, I wouldn’t. I’ll feast on you for as long as I fucking want— only if you use your safe word would I stop.” He murmured that last part a little softer. How sweet.

Hyunjin sped up his movements, gathering the leaking fluids to use as lubricant and letting the wet sounds fill the room.

“Would you make me cum?” It was an innocent question.

“Would I?” But he took offense to it. “I’d make you cum all night long if you wanted. With my mouth— in my mouth. On my cock, make you hump my thigh like you do with those stupid fucking toys. God, I hate them and I love them, they always make you cum so hard. I can do that, too. I can make you cum so hard you’ll never wanna come back down. Fucking shit, want you to ride my thigh so badly. Want you to wanna fuck me all day, everyday, want you to think of me the way I think of you.”

His stomach was tensing, reaching down with the other hand to fondle his balls. You watched every one of his movements, memorized the places he reacted to the most. It seemed the tip was clearly the most sensitive, but he liked just the quick swipes over it, probably too sensitive for his own good. But then his grip would tighten just under it, fucking the ring of his fingers like it was a pocket pussy. He tugged at his balls, rolling them in his palm and arching into the bed. You wondered how long until he was ready to blow.

“I want that.” Your admittance made him peek open his eyes slightly. You didn’t scold him for disobeying, instead keeping the eye contact and moving off the bed.

Hyunjin watched as you stripped your top off facing him, then your bottoms to reveal a cute light purple set. Nothing too fancy, but so suited to you it made his mouth drool over the way the strappy underwear hugged your love handles.

“But I have a job to do. So you’re gonna keep quiet for me, okay?” He sat up, slowing down his motions but not stopping.

Hyunjin was in awe. Mindless, jaw dropping awe in how easily you stripped in front of him. He never thought the act of you taking off a shirt in front of him would have him almost cumming instantly. Of course he’s seen you naked, but this was domestic. This was nothing any of your viewers has ever seen. Was he being a creep? Maybe, but you liked the way he was looking at you. He hasn’t been shy about wanting you, but how he couldn’t take his eyes off you now, it made the twisting in your belly churn tighter and brighter.

Thankfully your computer was already on, you didn’t have to look away from Hyunjin and his pretty cock. Just one click and you’re live.

But you waited. You waited for him to get closer to the edge. He needed a little push.

Taking your hand away from the mouse, you instead brought your knees up and rested your feet onto the chair to expose your core. With two fingers, you ran them over the gusset of your soaked panties, a visibly dark patch clear for Hyunjin to see.

His eyes rolled back and sped up the jerking movements, the loud slick noises echoing in the small room. Just the sound of him made you gush, so close to skipping your livestream just to fuck him into tomorrow.

No. Self control. Just this once.

You rubbed yourself a little harder over the fabric, waiting for the right moment. When his mouth dropped and let out a small whimper, you quickly closed your legs and turned back to the computer.

“Quiet now, baby. Relax and enjoy, but don’t make a sound.”

“Fuck— wait, I’m gonna cum—“

You quickly adjusted the camera and clicked, start live.

“Have I kept you waiting long?”

☆ﾟ

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 7 months

Note

I know you wrote for Kappa/Euro. Hear me out.. could you write for Euro/Dead from lords of chaos? No one writes for jack kilmer and it drives me insane‼️😭

Pure Fucking Armaggedon

Summary: In the midst of a heavy night of partying with the Black Circle, you crave your boyfriend's attention but just like so often lately, he's very much not interested, leading you to meet your needs somewhere else…

Pairing: Dead x fem!Reader x Euronymous

Word Count: ~3.7k

Content Warnings: Trve Kvlt Smvt 18+!, Talk About Depression/Mental Illness, Talk About Self-Harm, Very Angsty, Hurt/Comfort...ish, Alcohol, Smoking, Cheating…But With A Twist, Fingering, Unprotected P In V, Creampie, Pet Names

A/N: Hi, anonnie! Thank you very much for this ask <3 Before everybody jumps into my inbox about Jack Kilmer: Please don’t, okay? He’s not tickling my brain like Rory does and I’d hate to let y’all down by having requests sitting in my inbox collecting dust 🖤 However, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having a lot of fun writing this chaos!

Massive thanks to @spookyorchid for endlessly entertaining my rambles and inspiring me!

Disclaimer: This is solely based on the characters depicted in Lords Of Chaos!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

Could you stomach it anymore

Could you stand to be a breath away

Can you feel the way your face distorts

Did you think that it could be this way

- Stomach It By Crywolf

Your upper lip twitched a little as your gaze darted right into your boyfriend's chestnut-coloured eyes. In a rather stark contrast to yours, Pelle's expression was indifferent whilst he stared back at you, face smeared with a now gray amalgamation of once black and white corpse paint.

"Sorry…" He muttered, his voice lacking the depth and sympathy to really sell his point.

"No…it's, it's okay, really. It makes no sense to pressure yourself when you're not in the mood, no." You shrugged your shoulders at him, very much meaning what you said whilst you still felt that massive rock of repeated disappointment settling down in your stomach.

"I'm gonna go grab another beer then…can I get you something?" Pelle shook his head lightly.

"No, but thanks. I think I should just go to sleep now." The Swede with the long blonde hair allowed himself to slump deeper down into the old, worn out sofa, crossing his arms in front of his chest and with that not just verbally but also physically blocking you out.

"Nighty then…" You mumbled, turning away from your boyfriend to hide just how hard you fought to keep your composure.

Neither the heavy leather jacket, the edgy metal studs and spikes all over nor your trusty Darkthrone shirt hugging your torso were able to shield you from the emotional hurt raging inside of you. It's been months since Pelle last touched or so much as kissed you on the mouth. You knew just fine that something wasn't alright with him, that he was going through an episode again and the last thing you intended on doing was putting any blame for that on him but fuck was it challenging you this time. It didn't go past you how the I love you's had become more and more scarce, how he turned his back to you at night whilst you stared at the ceiling hoping for the oncoming episode to wash over him in a few, swift weeks but his current black hole of depression was unlike anything before. You hardly recognised your boyfriend anymore and felt like nothing but an accessory to the whole band persona he'd put up to cover up how much he was actually hurting on the inside.

To not come off as a soft, little crybaby to everybody else, you stifled your breath and wiped the emerging gush of tears from your lower lash line as fast as you could before making your way out to the densely crowded yard again. Empty bottles of beer lined the way whilst partially smoked-up cigarettes laid scattered all over, the heavy smell of a raging bonfire filled the crisp night breeze. Whilst almost violently looking to the ground to avoid anybody seeing you being about to burst into tears, you rushed to one of the cooling boxes to grab a beer or preferably something stronger. A sense of recklessness washed through you as you dug a deeply green, still halfway full glass bottle from the cooler. Jägermeister would serve you just fine right now.

Armed with the strong booze, you went right back into the house, hiding yourself away from all the action to simply get drunk in peace and solitude.

"Ugh…" Your whole body quivered as the herbal liquor shot down your throat, drenching your mouth in its bitter taste.

Right after the sensation eased up a little, you chased the first swig with a second, deeper one, the alcohol burning its way through your stomach before you'd even reached the corner of the house that could be described as a guest room to slump down on an array of dusty mattresses. With the intense warmth of heavy liquor washing through your body, you curled yourself up, shoving an old pillow underneath your head and before you really realized it, vagrant, quiet tears trickled from the corners of your eyes, pooling at the tear duct to eventually swap over the bridge of your nose. If you were honest with yourself, you felt sick of it, sick of being ignored and pushed away but at the same time you just couldn't bring yourself to point the finger at Per. He simply didn't choose this way of being and feeling yet it felt like he wasn't even trying anymore…which, again, would just be another symptom. You sighed in defeat before treating yourself to another numbing mouthful of booze.

Allowing the tears to just run down your face at their very own pace, you simply wanted to get drunk as fast as possible but even that wouldn't be granted to you, a gentle knock on the slightly ajar door pulling you from your thoughts.

"Huh?" You muttered, sitting up straight again and wiping the wetness from your cheeks.

"Hey…are you okay?" The familiar voice belonging to Øystein asked.

His head peaked through the open door, a messy bunch of black hair framing his face in wavy strands.

"Saw you rushing through the yard and thought checking up on you wouldn't hurt…" He slid his lean statue through the small opening, stepping towards you before crouching down to meet your gaze.

"See? That's part of the problem…you, you care and Pelle just…he just sits there." The words blubbered out of you in an uncontrolled rush accompanied by a new surge of hot tears.

"Hey now…", Euronymous quickly sat down, tucking the frizzy hair behind his ears, "What's going on, hm?"

"I'm so sick of this shit, Øystein… I can't help him, I can't fix him and he just pushes me away time and time again. I'm so done with this bullshit." It practically gushed out of your mouth in a poorly choked-back wail.

"There's a whole horde of people out there, Euro, yet I feel so terribly fucking lonely all the time. Everybody's cheering for Mayhem and for Dead, going on about how fucking cool and true he is for what he's doing to himself on stage but you know what?", You tried to stifle your shaky breaths, "It's not cool. None of it. It's actually fucking terrifying…and it's me who's got to stitch him back to gether every damn time."

With every one of your words, Øystein's eyes widened a little more, partly in understanding about just how much his friend was dragging you through but also in plain sympathy for you.

"Come'ere, yeah? C'mon…if it helps you can squeeze me as hard as you want to, okay?" Euronymous spread both his arms, inviting you in for a tight hug.

Not wasting a second thought on it, you leaned in, wrapping your shaking hands around his shoulders to squeeze and press as tightly as you could.

"There you go…that's it, right there." Euronymous encouraged you, the palms of his broad hands resting at the back of your head to soothe you with gentle pets and strokes.

"I wish I could help you but none of us really gets through to him anymore…I'm so sorry." Øystein sighed into the curve of your neck, the tip of his nose almost touching the cold, black leather of your jacket.

"I don't even know what's going on with him anymore. Everything is just so terribly wrong and I don't know how much longer I can do this shit, Euro, I really don't." You sniffled, inevitably having the vastly different scent of Euronymous right in front of you sneaking up into your nostrils.

Unlike Pelle, he smelled like stale cigarette smoke, cheap aftershave and beer…maybe not exactly a crowd pleaser but you found comfort in it.

"It's okay. I don't judge you." He whispered to you in a soft tone and it threatened to break you apart from the inside.

"Thank you…", You croaked into his hair, your voice getting weaker with every letter, "I feel so shitty for thinking about it like that but…but I'm so goddamn tired. I-...I just wanna feel loved again."

"To remind you…there's a whole horde of people out there who love you." He tried to cheer you up but ultimately missed the point.

"Not…not like that. Ugh, I sound stupid…" You felt the need to take the words straight back and to just go with Øystein's attempt of calming you.

"No, you don't, seriously.", Euronymous led his fingers to get lost in your hair, fingertips softly stroking across your scalp down to the nape of your neck, "I can't imagine how you came up with enough energy to stay this long in the first place. We both know it's not his fault, neither is it yours or mine but we've all been watching you breaking away because of him. You're not smiling anymore, not screaming your lungs out at the gigs, you're barely even here anymore…he's eating you up."

"I can't just leave, Øystein…" You gradually loosened your death grip around his torso to lean back, your face wet with slowly subsiding tears.

"I know…all I'm saying is that it might be time to think about yourself a little more. It won't help anybody if you get lost in his chaos, too." Before you could raise your own hand to wipe the sleeve of your jacket across your face, Euronymous was already on it, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Whilst taking a deep breath to steady yourself a bit more, the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. You followed how he slightly grinded his teeth together, jaws clenching, withholding something you couldn't quite decipher.

"Øystein?" You furrowed your brows a little, the feeling of something being violently off ebbing through your chest.

"I'm sorry…" That's all he offered to you before cupping your face with the full length of his palm and leaning in to press an anything but timid kiss to your trembling lips.

A part of you, the voice of reason within, practically screamed at you to pull away, to scurry back and to let this go down as nothing but an awkward, boozy, little slip-up, but you didn't move by just an inch as the pungent taste of smoked cigarettes and cheap beer swept into your mouth alongside Euronymous' daring tongue. You simply let it happen, allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth and intoxicate you with the dangerously addictive feeling of being wanted, desired by someone.

"Fuck…" You groaned into the nearly bruising kiss, hands reaching out to claw at his utterly worn out Venom shirt to pull him closer to you.

Catching the notion that he had dared to make the right move at the right time, Øystein's palm left your face, both hands roaming over your back down to your ass to simply scoop you into his lap, your legs wrapping themselves around the cold of his bullet-shell belt as the hem of your washed-out, gray denim skirt rode up generously over your fishnet-stocking covered thighs.

"I got you…just hold on to me." Euronymous muttered, trying to catch his breath a little whilst his fingers dug themselves into the curve of your behind, causing you to whine out as you arched your hips impossibly close towards his crotch.

The aching need to feel just something again practically pulsed through every nerve ending and every muscle, pulling you into his tight grasp and for your hands to slip under the soft fabric of his shirt, skin against skin leaving you to crave more. Whilst one of his hands left it's place cupping your ass to hurry down between your bodies, awkwardly fumbling with the buckle of his belt before almost violently pulling down the zipper, a short but heavy pang of guilt jolted through your ribcage, nearly causing you to flinch on the spot. Nothing about this situation at hand was right or somehow, in some crooked way, justifiable to you and yet you made not a single move to stop any of it from happening. You didn’t grasp for Øystein's hand as it hushed from his unzipped pants amidst your legs, the sound of your tights tearing and ripping thundering in your ears, right before curious fingertips brushed over thin lace panties, no. The only reaction it pulled from your body was a needy moan.

"Right there, yeah?" You heard the smirk in his tone without even needing to see it.

Nodding softly, you placed your mouth back onto his, teeth teasingly grazing over his bottom lip.

"Bet that feels even better, babe." At first you didn't know what struck you harder, the endearing pet name or Euronymous' fingers snaking past your slip, dipping right into your soaked folds to draw achingly slow circles around your entrance.

"Please…" You hummed into the kiss, your forehead leaning against his.

"Please, what?", He inquired, fingertips prodding and nudging against your cunt, "Want me to fill you up, no? Such a greedy little thing."

You choked back a whine as Øystein withdrew his hand from your slip to shove the fabric to the side, fingers freeing his rock-hard cock from the confines of his shorts right before thrusting into you with a precise rock of his hips against yours.

"Oh, fuck…" Your moan got lost in his mouth, the delicious feeling of being stretched out so harshly rippling through you.

"How long has it been, huh?" He pushed, drilling himself into you until it threatened to hurt.

"I dunno…four months, maybe five." You couldn't stop your eyes from fluttering shut, the burning heat of arousal and shame creeping into your face in equal parts.

"Yeesh, couldn't leave a girl like you untouched for that long." Euronymous huffed, his other hand steadying your posture with his palm flat against your back as he started rolling his hips, practically bouncing you on his cock.

With your entire body flush with the sensation of Øystein spearheading into you in a firm pace, the last bit of your coherent brain busy muffling and holding back desperate mewls and whimpers, you rendered completely oblivious to what was happening around you…unlike the black-haired guitarist. From the very corner of his eyes, Øystein's attention got pulled towards the semi-open door, the old, wooden floor in front of it creaking treacherously. Just by the way a well familiar pair of thoroughly worn out combat boots barely peaked across the lines of the door frame, he knew that the both of you had been caught right in the act but he didn't so much as even bother to stop from guiding you up and down his throbbing hard on.

"You at least got yourself off here and there, no?" You shook your head.

"Didn't feel right. I- I just hoped things would get back to normal…" You groaned, the sensation of Euronymous' cock stroking over that extra sensitive spot inside of you sending cold, little shivers down your spine.

"Oh, love, then I better make sure to give it to you better than Per ever could…lazy fucker." Øystein scoffed more to his friend and singer hiding next to the door frame than to you but you didn't take any notice of that, your senses way too busy with just keeping it together.

For a moment, Øystein felt actual and very real rage gushing through him. Anger towards his friend for being such an oblivious prick regarding the suffering and all-round neglect he was dragging you through. It was a terribly self-righteous emotion, that he knew for sure, however, he couldn't help himself but to let it fuel the way he rutted into you, burying himself as deep as possible inside of your wet pussy.

The rather morbid thing both of you failed to take notice of was what Dead was doing hidden away in the shadows of the hallway, the crushing humiliation not only going straight to his heart but to his awfully throbbing cock as well, the bitter-sweet masochistic rush leading him to palm himself through his trousers whilst biting down on his fist to not let just one singular sound escape from his twitching lips. The Swede was shamelessly jerking himself off to you getting railed by his closest friend.

"Gonna take good care of you, babe." Øystein groaned in a lust-riddled tone, both of his hands now closing down around your hips to hammer your form onto his cock with every jut and snap of his hips.

It had you bashfully nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, the cigarette smoke soaked leather of his jacked cold against your cheek, whilst you still clawed at his sides underneath his shirt.

Your fingers dug into his skin as you felt your walls starting to flutter and contract around Øystein's hard on, the first crushing jolts of your pent-up orgasm rippling through your body, senses being sent into blissful overdrive.

"Good girl…fuck, pulling me in so hard now, huh?" Euronymous' voice cracked and eventually faltered just like the rolls of his lap against yours.

"Issok…", He talked you through your release, shoving himself balls deep into your spasming cunt before flooding your insides with white-hot ropes of his seed, a guttural groan ripping itself free from the depths of his lungs, "Just let yourself go. I gotchu."

The earth-shattering sensation of all the pent-up sexual desperation mixed in with shame and crushing guilt washing through your system had you biting down on his leather-clad shoulder, a fresh surge of tears threatening to swap over your lower lash line at any second.

"Aw, shit." A sore croak from outside the room led both of you to turn your heads so suddenly that it nearly gave you whiplash.

"The fuck?!" You shrieked out, practically jumping from Øystein's lap whilst he was equally busy with tucking himself back in and getting off the mattress.

"I got this!" Euronymous tried to calm you, awkwardly stumbling away from you before tearing the door open and vanishing into the dark hallway.

For a split second your overworked synapses tried to get a vague grasp on what was going down. Feet were hammering down stairs, noisy commotion erupted from inside the house before the sound of shattering glass and incomprehensible screaming and shouting filled the yard.

"Oh fuck no…" You huffed under your breath, wobbly legs nearly giving out as you tried to pull yourself from the mattress.

As soon as you stood upright again, you felt Øystein's load oozing out of you, soaking the flimsy fabric of your slip with every step you took. You dreaded the scenario that was unfolding outside because the yelling didn't seem to die down but much rather escalate further.

"You fucking traitor!" Pelle's raspy voice cut through the night air, hitting you as soon as you slid out the front door.

"Fucking traitor?!", Øystein spat right back whilst your eyes scanned the scenery anxiously, "You're the spineless loser, Per!"

"You fucked my girlfriend, Øystein!" Dead yelled and with his words you noticed Metallion and Jan Axel staring right at you, nothing but drunk confusion washing over their faces.

"And you pathetic fuck got off to it!" Euronymous had to duck down to dodge an empty beer bottle being sent his way.

"You what?!" You directed the question right at your boyfriend before you noticed a tell-tale damp and soaked-through spot right around his zipper.

"Yes, please tell her how you stood outside the room jerking off to your girl breaking down in front of me, Per!" Your bewildered stare rushed towards Øystein now.

"Huh? You…you saw him or what now?!?" The guitarist shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Jan Axel tried to intervene but both Per and Øystein shushed him almost simultaneously.

"You shut the fuck up!" Pelle sneered, looking like he was about ready to throw one of the plenty empty bottles of beer after his drummer too.

"No.", You huffed, wrapping your leather jacket around your torso to shield you from the creeping cold, "He actually got a point, because…what the hell?!"

"Pumpkin, I can explain, I promise." Per raised his hands in a soothing manner but you didn't feel like having any of it.

"Don't you dare sweet-talk me now, Pelle! You've been pushing me away for months but…you get off to, well, this?" You indirectly confirmed all that had been happening between Øystein and you.

"No. Just no. You know what? Fuck you. Fuck this shit. I'm not even remotely drunk enough to deal with this shitshow right now." To undoubtedly cement your point, you took a few swift steps toward Øystein who was looking at you with wide eyes as you fished for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, drawing one for yourself before deliberately putting it to your lips.

"Yes, I fucked Øystein.", You threw your hands into the air after lighting the cigarette, "Maybe I should've done that much sooner, who knows?"

The last sentence was solely aimed to hurt Per as much as he had hurt you.

"Fucking hell, I'm so sick of all this dysfunctional shit…", You just shook your head before heading back inside, "Better none of you disrupt the date I have with a piss-warm bottle of Jägermeister now or you fucking bet I'll cut your dick off!"

#tam rambles #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #rory culkin #rory culkin lords of chaos #lords of chaos #jack kilmer #euronymous x reader #euronymous smut #euronymous #dead lords of chaos #euronymous x fem!reader #dead x fem!reader #jack kilmer smut #jack kilmer x fem!reader #mayhem fic #mayhem

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altarrot · 1 year

Text

BOUND TO RABIDITY.

ao3 issue.

synopsis: loved raw and confined in hostage, you're stuck in a situation beyond nightmares - but it's more dreamlike than anything. author's note: thank you guys for so much love on the first part??? i just had to give y'all another part

[ ♡ ] pairing: killer!simon "ghost" riley + fem!reader

[ ♡ ] genre: smut, dark content

[ ♡ ] warnings: (very tamed) stockholm syndrome-ish, slight emotional manipulation, mentions of pregnancy, hostage situation, touch-starved reader, age difference, mild comfort, unprotected sex, praise kink, pet-names, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex.

PART 2/2 | PART 1

You were on the brink of hysteria. A confined hysteria with complications of dream-like and strayed. It was complex; the whole situation easy to be taken advantage off and revolved in the right ways. Though, you were unsure on why you had let that man in the balaclava dispossess your virginity, and afterwards let him lift you in his arms, only for your eyes to give out on themselves and descend into a slumber of exhaustion — only to be restored to a whole, new surrounding that built-up around you.

Settled on bared mattress with a sting at your collar — and the larger, warmth of a body resting before your eyes, a frailness is received in your limbs once again. You were afraid of him, obviously, but couldn't help but sought solace in the man. Even in slumber, he still refuses to strip himself of the mask, the only discernible difference was the two closed slits of his eyes — blonde lashes based onto his pale skin of faint black. The only thing you were able to do is stare at his drowsing condition, remarking his features still caked of brown, dried blood while the stench of vague cigarette smoke and some iron flooded at your nose.

Tucking your arm under your laid head on the teared pillowcase, you shift yourself, now fully facing him with dozens of inquiries consuming at your head. Why would he make the conscious decision of taking you away, laying you like on his supposed bed like a lover rather than locking you in some rusting basement? (That's what you had always assumed what happened when a person was taken hostage.) But it was nothing of those imaginations, those violent and inhuman imaginations were more decent — lenient and civilized.

Examining him, there was some beauty found between his brutal nature. Blonde lashes, athletic physique, and a sight of tattoos that peered under his tactical jacket that were slightly bunched up to the forearm. It seemed almost insane to envision a serial killer like this, as if he were some sort of saint, some heroic figure to you, but it was almost impractical not to.

In the midst of observing him, his eyelids flicker open, ditches of dark-brown impaling into your stare. There's some guilt situated in those ditches, but a mass of it was just some tedious; monotone and somber. You both were only able to bring yourselves to stare at each other, liable and imprecise to how either brought themselves to this situation. (Even though a majority of it was at his fault.)

You rid of your parched throat. "Ghost, you know... I really do like you," you said, "...I think you're the sweetest guy in the whole world."

He stiffens. "But why me?"

"You've given me the affection a guy has never given me before."

"I'm a lowlife murderer, honey." he mutters, "Nothing special about me."

"I know that, but — I can't help but bring myself to love you."

With all honesty, your confession seems non-genuine; too much of a mock since you've only become acquainted with him since the hours of last night. But it comes out as pure, raw truth — that you really do love that man, you love a man with murderous intent on the run. He's drained in your presence, at a loss of words and unable to dispense you with a convenient response. Even in the former times in serving in the military as a lieutenant before he evolved into a loathsome cutthroat, remnant sensations of love were futile to him.

Nausea overburdens you out of the blue. Possibly from the aftereffects of your plain confession, leaving you to feel flustered at the fervent words.

He lifts a stiff arm up from his side and props it on your cheek, fingers fondling your face in tenderness. A low rasp of a sigh heaves from his clad face. Your eyes close, indulging in his comforting touch, familiar with his circular motions he presses your skin in with. You're disoriented off reality; closed-off and limited to only him, like he was your savior, only hope in a lifetime at this point.

It was thought to be a one-time thing. Latent emotions that preceded into intercourse, but never into a full-time-sort-of relationship resulting in finding sanctuary in a run-down home — his run-down home, or perhaps some kind of affordable one-night motel. Nonetheless, it wasn't as bad as expected, just perplexing and coming to you in overwhelming waves.

"You're just putting yourself in danger, love," he remarks, "You know that I love you too, but, it's a hazard to be involved with me."

Your doe eyes gaze down at him. "So be it, I don't care." you said, sitting up and leaning up the headboard, "I like being involved with you."

Ghost makes the decision to just give into you; your stubbornness and refusal to his objections not dissolving anytime soon. Even so, you were so obedient to him, so willing to comply with his bloodthirsty motives — so what would be so bad about having you as an advocate at his side, like a partner or a wife that acts in company with her psychotic husband.

"Fuck, okay, that's my girl," he said with a small doubt, "You going to stay by my side forever?"

"Anything for you, I'm yours forever."

He slopes upwards to give you a kiss. "I know you will, so good, huh?"

You nod, a smile tainting your lips.

"That's right," he fully sits up alongside you, but steps off the mattress onto two stable feet, "I'll be in the bathroom, just doll yourself up whenever, okay?"

And that's when he abandons you. Abandons you on the now-known singular motel bed, curtains crowding the panels of the window, bulbs of lamps at each side the only source of light given in the room. The sound of the bathroom's lock clicks, following the running water of the shower slamming against the floor. You sit in the atmosphere for a few minutes, aimlessly watching the box of a television run through some talk-show, arms linked around your legs that were bent and met with your chest.

The skin of your cheek presses to your knee, eyes lingering at the ceiling which was lined with bumps. You didn't entirely hate your new lifestyle with Ghost, even though you deserted your parents as a whole, leaving them worried to your whereabouts; you just needed a break off everything. Your parents, your regular life, the continual reminders of the serial killer situation. (Even though you were practically in love with the man behind it all, running away with him essentially.)

Unless you were naive and only stuck to him like a case of Stockholm Syndrome, then that would make more sense; but it really didn't feel like that was the case, there was a genuine, conscious love that you deepened in your heart for him. You thought of yourself as nothing to him, just some stress-reliever he comes across and fucks in the middle of the woods, predicting for him to brutally murder you afterwards and leave your rotting corpse right at the very stump he took you on.

But marking his own words of you being special, all those illusions and predictions were slipped from your mind. Knowing that you were special, his special girl, you couldn't help but tolerate yourself to fall for him. With the affection he gave you that night, whether a fraud or not, it's the most another person has ever given you; a deep consolation was discovered in him after that.

The lock of the bathroom sounds a noise to be opened, door swaying open as Ghost came out with only a towel at his waist — mask naked to your two eyes that readjusted to him. His hair was no different than the shade of his lashes, dirty blonde, and short while his two eyes were given structure; a moderately sharpened jaw with a few scars littering his skin, a light stubble coating at the edges of his face. His chest was sturdy with a prominent lines of bulging abs and a v-line lined with a trail of hair, biceps hefty with the left one nearly covered with ink.

Your pupils dilate at the sight, wandering over his displaying form, finding him as equally handsome with the balaclava on. He comes over to you and settles on the foot of the bed, sinewy back muscles facing you. You take the chance to crawl across the mattress; positioning yourself at his side as you rest your head at his shoulder with your arms clung around his torso. He smells of a masculine scent; some cologne and shampoo used to freshen up from the reek of cigarette smoke and metallic crimson.

He eases up at your touch, his own head tilting to rest against yours. For the first time, you feel in love. You worship him like a lover, supply him off the affection he once gave you, touch him with intentions of a good heart.

"How long do we stay here?" you ask, against his head, "Unless you only paid for a one night stay."

"I can pay off for a couple more days, rest here, we don't really have anywhere to go."

"Sounds good."

One of your arms unhinges itself from around him to trace at the muscles of his back, a spread palm smoothing over and a finger often prodding at the flesh.

You bite your lip. "Is there a first-aid kid in here?"

"Saw one near the sink, why? You hurt?"

"Well," you point a finger to the fresh wound at your collarbone, not that fresh, but still to the limit of being a red tint, "From last night, and I feel a little nauseous."

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry," he said, turning in place and lifting you in his arms, treading back to the bathroom where he sat you on the lid of the toilet, "Stay still."

Ghost searches through a cabinet, gathering the small box of white and a red cross, unlatching it. He searches for a bandage patch and antiseptic, placing the two items of the counter. Leaning down, still half-naked and draped in only a towel around his waist, he dabs at the wound he caused with a cotton ball — antiseptic stinging with the exposed tissue. Your jaw clenches and teeth gnash against each other until the cotton is drawn away from you."

"Sorry, honey, I know it hurts," he reassures, "I just need to wrap it."

"Okay." you said.

His slender, thick fingers are like touches of tranquility — calming yourself from the persistent sting established in the wound caused of his own blade. You peer at him while he assists you, a strain of focus on his face, handsome even with the faint scars painting his face; his teeth bites at his lower lip in a focus, eyes widened yet squinting from time-to-time.

The bandage patch sews up your wound and he draws himself away by a few inches. He cocks his head for a second before it straightens back up on the base of his neck.

"There, all better?"

"Much better. Thank you."

He chuckles, shaping his lips into yours for a brief kiss.

"Ghost." you mumble his name.

"What?"

"Can we do it again?"

At first, he's completely oblivious to what you're referring to, but figures it out within a few reruns of what you could mean.

"You want to have sex again?"

Your fingers clutch at the edges of the toilet lid with a tiny pressure. "Yes, I was just wondering... since you made my first time feel like heaven." you said, "But it's okay if you don't want to."

"Oh, angel," he shifts himself back in his leaning, standing in front of you, "How could I say no to such a pretty girl like you?"

Without another word, he has your lips shaping into his for much longer, with tongue and sloppy flows. You capture his face in both of your palms, pulling him closer into you, whines escaping and devouring into his mouth. His face feels so much better to hold without cloth separating you from it, fingertips swiping over most of the scars. Large hands rest at your waist and squeeze, brain already numb and foggy at only his mouth and hands.

You slide from the seat of the lid to the floor, upper-half resting at the wall of the bathtub as he's given more easy access to move up your body. His body sculpted like a marble statue situates between your thighs that automatically spread for him on command, the cold of the bathroom floor tiles making you shiver as it nudges at the backs of your bare legs.

Your hands cling to his chest and feel up his abs, his lips still devouring you.

"Ghost, wait."

He parts from you. "What's wrong?"

"Can we try something different?" you ask, "I want to give you pleasure this time."

"You want to suck me off?"

"Yes."

His eyes scrutinize you before he obliges, switching positions with you; him sat up at the wall of the bathtub while you sat on your heels between his muscular legs.

"Are you sure about this, sweetheart? You really don't have to." he said, hesitant.

You offer him only silence as you tear the towel at his waist off of him, inclining yourself down with an arched back, lips pursing around the blunt head of his cock. He grunts and drops his head back, teeth bared with a flat palm at the top of your head. You struggle to take his entire size and girth down your throat within the first few supports of your mouth, competent to only the first few inches, but you eventually reach the base of his cock — swallowing and taking in him whole.

For the first time of sucking someone off, you're pretty proficient at it, being able to satisfy him with his full cock down your throat — tip bulging a little at the back. His noises each time you slide your mouth down him are a type of nirvana; raspy groans right into your ear or a deep grunt originating from the depths of his chest. Tears edge at your waterlines in a suffocation.

"You're doing so good, sweetie," he breathes, "Taking me like the good slut you are."

A muffled moan around his size is earned from his praising words.

"You going to let me cum down your pretty, little throat?"

"Please, yes." you said, gagged around him.

With your tongue running up each protruding vein that collects at his cock and your movements growing increasingly faster, a knot in his stomach begins to form, a sensitivity at his cock heightening.

Your hands find purchase at his thighs, body arching impossibly farther upwards as you press your thighs together with a pulse starting up at your cunt. The cotton of your newly-put-on panties were moist, already stained much like last night when he had a knife threatened to your throat. Noises of gagging and more often grunts were deluging the bathroom, dragging down the thin walls and right back to you.

The hand in your hair is tight, his head fully thrown back with eyelids screwed shut, and his mouth is expanded out. His chest hauls with every heavy breath he takes, sweat sheeting over his skin; a gloss glistens off his skin, reflecting with the lights of the bathroom overhead.

Ghost curses aloud while his hips stutter, pausing to stay in the profound stance where his seed floods into your mouth and down your throat. His supporting hand serves as a way to keep you right where he wants you to be; cock wholly down your throat and forcing you to swallow the spurts of white — which you gratefully swallowed. You retreat back and rest your head on his one of his thighs, attempting to catch your breath, as his right hand rests at your head and pats your hair down.

"You did so good, doll," he pants out, head bowed down where you rested on his thigh, "And for your first time too."

A dazed smile is given to him across your lips, soiled with a few marks of his cum.

"Are you sure you still want to continue?" he asks, concerned about your exhaustion.

You nod slowly. "I want to feel you again, you make me feel so loved."

A short break is given from sucking him off, enabling more stamina to build up. He no longer scents of masculine cologne; but also sweat, sticky sweat that combined with your own, even through the dress you were still clothed in from the previous night. With enough rest taken, Ghost shifts positions back with you; you're back against the bathtub while he spreads your thighs for you, perching between them.

His fingers flow up your thighs; the callous skin tickling your softer flesh as he flips the skirt of your dress up, lifting it over your head. He then rips the fabric of your bra and panties off from your sticking skin, leaving you as bare as he was. A whine draws from you at the sudden frigid temperatures.

Immense hands rest around your legs, placing them at his shoulders. You're laid on the bathroom floor instead of against the bathtub, giving more flexibility and access to him. The head of his cock finds itself resting at your sopping entrance, a low whimper falling from your lips. A heat in your face rises; heartbeat through your chest and going to impossible speeds.

"You want this again, lambie?" he asks through his teeth, "You want to be fucked by a murderer? Have your needy pussy filled?"

"Please!" you said of desperation, "I need you so bad, love you inside of me."

Self-restraint was impractical, which is why he was unable to hold back, sheathing himself up inside of you. Your limbs bring themselves to twitch at the first thrust, an audible whimper brought from your throat. His hips initially snap slowly against yours; ultimately hastening once he accommodated to your usual tightness. The heat of his body warms your own, cold and naked in contact with the tiles of the floor.

Your extended legs at his shoulders lose balance, collapsing to his waist, instead enclosing on his waist. Fingers grope at any available portion of your delicate anatomy, skin fondled in and caressed. Through languorous visions, the man's head appears to tilt half-way, the bottom of his jaw visible in a clamped built, his sweat-radiance chest stuttering with non-consistent breaths. You writhe underneath him — your cunt progressing to a fragile condition, producing perceptible noises in addition to his cock ramming up your inner-walls.

Specifically like Ghost, your head is left to be thrown back; not against the ventilation air of the room, but at a hardened ceramic that bumps the back of your head each time. You're fucked-out, lightheaded within the very couple of aggressive thrusts he gives your cunt. The blunt head of his cock pounds at your cervix with some compounded vigor; torn moans and whimpers bleeding without shame from your mouth, benefitting him. Forging him as more carnal, rabid.

"Ghost," you sob, "Fuck me harder."

He dips his head to you. "You want me harder, baby?"

"Anything, please — harder, faster, anything..."

He uses his already-dipped head to kiss at your scalp, posture adjusting, spine rigid. His stance of composure results in more hostile rams into your cunt, pounding you with your back arched off the tiles of the ground. At this pace, you almost forget whose fucking you; causing you to go brain-dead, to give into so much bliss. You almost forget you're desiring for a serial killer to fuck you, painting him the picture of a perfect man — a man of innocence and instead uses his skill of vigilance picked up from his position in the military.

You're impossibly tight at his cock, compact and compressing that earns a low grunt from his breath. He's giving you a few more last thrusts of aggression, harmonies of whimpers and grunts, the atmosphere of sex fogging up the mirror above the sink, the porcelain of the tub and metals of the faucets. Nails dig into both his forearms, tugging at his tattoos and unadorned muscle.

The sense of thick liquid splatters at your walls, a sweltering heat generating a feeling to squirm in the arrangement which he held you in, brawny hips motionless at yours. Ghost slumps above you and remains in you, plugging him inside of you to sustain his seed. You bend upwards to where his face hung; lips pressing kisses of fondness to his nose, to his scarred cheeks, and to his lips. His breaths are felt at the flesh of your own face — hot, and scented of cigarette smoke and a minty taste.

You swallow. "I'll love you forever, Ghost," you said, arms looped at him in an embrace, "I mean it. I really do. My heart is yours."

"And I'll make sure you're mine forever," he whispers against your scalp, "Nothing will separate us."

Forwarding to the sedate dusk, mid-dusk where the sky brushed with shades of nights and sunlight, you were still bound to that familiar motel room. Ghost was on the foot of the mattress, caked with blood once again, combat boots rested at the carpet of the room. He was hunched over, silent, staring at the running late-afternoon television. You sat in a nightgown obtained from the motel's laundry room, stolen, and similar to the dress you wore with your first encounter with him — lace, white, and dangling to the limits of your thighs. Observing Ghost, he was no longer gentle.

His appearance of blood, black, and masked was returned what he really was; a murderer, a monster. It made you feel nauseous again. A hand trails over your clothed stomach of lace, lowering onto the aching region. You wanted to tell him, but didn't want to cause a riot, so you only manage to impose yourself to shove off the bed, steadying on two legs with your hand still over your stomach. He takes notice of the bed sinking, then un-sinking when you're seen to be standing near the bedside table.

"What's wrong with you?"

His voice is gruff, raspy — but attempting a soft and tender approach when gazing over at you.

"I feel sick," you said, "Headache and my stomach hurts."

"You need help?"

"Maybe," you bite your tongue,"Yes."

He throws the bloodied switchblade he toyed with between his hands on the mattress, standing up, and treading to over where you were; using his customary procedure of hoisting you into his arms and supporting you in a bridal pose. It's more comfortable this way anyways, with the pain in your stomach becoming moderate, using him as a prop to rest on.

You're sat on the edge of the tub, him on the toilet seat lid.

You breathe, preparing to respond with the one thing you wish is fabricated, false — but there is no denying that it could be the one thing that's making you feel this way.

"Do you think I'm pregnant?"

Ghost stares. "Pregnant?"

"Yeah, I mean, we had unprotected sex two times," you stutter on your breaths, "No condoms, no birth control."

"Fuck."

"It could be worse. Could've been some sexual-related disease. Herpes."

Whirling himself around in place, he rummages through the nearest cabinet, tossing a few hand-towels and sanitary items aside, sometime finding a rectangular box in design of a pregnancy test. He faces back to you, holding the box in a fist, eyes sincere and perturbing.

"You take one of these, I'll be right outside."

The box is fixed in your own fist as he stands, exiting the bathroom with the door shut behind him. It's apparent that he's only right outside the door; heavy breaths and frequent thumps of his body against the wall. You swipe your tongue across your lips before biting at your lower one. As a majority of everything was going along great with him, one of your worst fears was at a near-possibility of coming to a factual reality.

Taking a couple of minutes to understand the instructions, taking it out off the box, utilizing it as you struggle with the ache at the pit of your stomach. For the duration of wait-time, you sit with your lip bit, rocking back and forth on the edge as your eyes fixed on the plastic object.

Waiting time took minutes, almost felt like months, years; a nerve struck in you.

And when it concluded, you swear you felt your heart drop to your stomach, veins running of blood — a cold sweat escaping at your forehead.

A whine inside of your mouth imploded. A hand over your mouth, head spiraling in circles. Your hand free of the test is at your forehead, a palm splayed over. Tears stop dead at your lower lids, eyes only glossy and glistening under the light, droplets reflecting of the worst possibility that was held in your hand. You can only manage a distinct whimper of his name, turning your head towards the door, watching as it slowly opens; Ghost bursts himself inside and rushes on his two legs when he perceives the physical emotion of distress on your face.

His arms come to wrap at your head, swaddling you, dragging you to the floor with him. Breaths of hyperventilation are decorated into his chest while he holds you close to him — one hand into your hair, the other holding up at your back. His head is held to yours, feeling his masked chin rest at your forehead, hand in your hair stroking in comforting motions. You're laying at his chest.

"I don't... I don't know what to do." you said, voice trembled.

"Honey, look at me," he said, both his hands clinging to your face, forcing to look up at him, "Right here."

You stare him in his mask holes of eyes.

"What are we — I —going to do?"

"Well, there's two of us, right?"

"...Yeah."

"So, we can both work together for the child," he suggests, "Like how we work together right now. Partners in crime, you know?"

"But, I don't know if I want it..."

"Think of it as a reminder. A reminder to how much you love me, you want to stay with me forever, just like you said."

"I guess you're right." you muttered, comforted and easily swayed by his words.

"Of course I am," he said into your scalp, "I did say nothing would separate us, after all."

#ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x female reader #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #female reader

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gourdkeeper · 9 months

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I just had to message you once I saw how good your writing is!^^ (the Jamie brainrot is REAL and you're saving my sanity rn!)

Following on from your most recent fic about Jamie getting the wrong idea about reader and Luke hanging out together, MAYBE there could a scenario where Jamie is being hella sus about his phone (Spending longer than usual on it, hiding it, always leaving it facedown, never leaving it un attended or letting you see it etc) and reader eventually cracks and checks his phone whilst he is sleeping, and sees messages from another girl. They aren't down right incriminating but they are definitely a little flirty. Instead of confronting him about it, reader gives him the benefit of the doubt, until she catches him at a Restaurant with said girl.

More stuff happens, and there was some misunderstanding too, and some nsfw stuff happens ;D

Sorry its so long!

Sorry I took so long to get to this one anon! I didn't get to proofread so I'm so sorry if there's a type here and there 🙏 anyway, jealous fem!reader fic coming up.

Nsfw-ish at the end but nothing graphic happens

It was out of ordinary. Sure. Jamie never really was one to show his phone around or freely let others peek into it, he was reserved when it came to his privacy and there's nothing wrong with that. You respect it, the same way you hope he'll always respect yours.

However... It's been nagging you. You know it shouldn't, it's none of your business and you trust your boyfriend but... he's been acting strange. One time you've asked him to use his phone because yours ran out of battery and he rushed to close a bunch of notifications and apps before handing it over, while still keeping his sight on you. Looked almost antsy until you've given it back.

"Jamie, is everything ok?"

"Huh, yeah of course? What's the matter?" His face wasn't relieved, his brow was still furrowed with signs of worry.

"Nothing..."

You didn't snoop around, but you almost wish you did. There's gotta be something up.

The behaviour continues for the majority of the week. Phone always in his possession, not checking it in front of you. Screen down when it's on the table. It's driving you insane. What if. What if he's cheating on you?

He wouldn't. Would he?

Your head is spiraling. You can't stand the thought that he'd do something like that to you, it would break you. I mean. What would he even do that for? Surely he's had his fair share of people hitting on him before you were a couple so he wouldn't just settle down with a random chick. And he wouldn't just cheat with some flinging crush. But what if.

He's passed out on the couch. He drank too much during a brawl tonight and he's pretty much knocked out cold.

Surely it can't harm to clear your doubts...

You hate poking your nose into his business. It feels bad. Wrong. Betraying even.

But it doesn't stop your hands from moving on their own and opening his messaging app.

"Huh... That's a lot of messages." You're a bit incredulous. "Barbara" is her name and the texts feel so. Intimate. Not really intimate as in sexual but you can tell they're close. Almost flirty even but never crossing too far. She sent pictures of her outfit before and he replied with excitement, hyping her up. She was pretty. Tall. Blonde. Nice curves. Plump lips and sweet brown eyes. Probably the dream woman of a lot of people. She seemed funny too.

You could feel the jealousy set in. "Maybe they're just friends." You kept telling yourself in the back of your head. You decide not to jump to conclusions, there's nothing downright incriminatory here even if it definitely tugs at your heart strings.

You set the phone down, careful to leave it in the same position it was previously so he wouldn't realize you snooped.

---

A week later and the story repeats. Same odd behavior when it comes to his phone.

He gets a text while you're both on the couch.

"Who's that?" You ask, hoping that maybe he'll shed some light on it.

"Hm? Oh! Uh a friend, I haven't seem them in ages, I'm gonna meet with them tonight to catch up." His eyes seem to avoid you while talking.

"Oh like? From school?" You pry.

"Sort of. A childhood friend from when I first moved here."

Why is he so short with his answers and so damn vague. It's aggravating. You breath in and out.

"Hm... Alright." You let it go.

---

You've been seething and brewing in jealousy since he left. It's been an hour. You can't take it anymore and you get dresses to go out for a walk and cool your head down.

There's too many thoughts in your head and that might help.

When you step out of the appartment it's kinda chilly outside and you put on a thin jacket before closing and locking the door.

The streets are kind of empty. It looks like it's gonna rain. Whatever, you won't be out for long anyway.

Or so you thought.

As you passed the window of a busy bar your corner of your eye caught something and your legs instinctively stop you in your track.

That's Jamie. That's Jamie and his so called "friend", Barbara. They're together. A bit *too* together. Laughing. Drinking. Their eyes locked on each other.

---

"I can't believe YOU out of all people want to get married? When will I meet the unlucky girl?" Barbara says as Jamie punches her arm lightly.

"Stop it, you're making me look lame-" he rolls his eyes and takes another swig, "You'll meet her soon, I haven't really had her meet any friends or family yet. I don't know how to bring it up." His shoulder sulk. Truth is he never considered this before this relationship. The great Jamie Siu, settling down with a wife and a home? Pfft never. Except here he is, planning the life ahead of him.

"You just do it? It's not rocket science." She orders another drink as she kicks back the one she had in hand. "Have you even picked the ring already?"

Jamie pulls a small box out of his pocket. "It's right here." He gives it a small shake as he talks.

"Oh my god. Can I see it?"

---

Why is he being so secretive about this girl? What is he doing with her that you can't know about? Because right now it doesn't look good at all.

You storm in angrily through the front door and they both turn to see you. He looked mortified as he fumbled to shove something back into his pocket.

"B-babe! Hi- w-what are you doing here?" He jumps out of his seat to meet you halfway, keeping you away from his friend, afraid you might just punch her with how tense you look.

"I need to. No. I demand to know what the fuck is going on!" Everyone in the bar is staring. Jamie gulps down dry as he looks around as if looking for an answer that will save the situation.

"It's not what it looks like. I promise!"

That was probably the most cliche and worst thing he could have said on the spot. Your nose and upper lip twitch and you turn on your heel and leave throught the same door you came in.

Tears welling at your eyes. His answer told you just about everything that you needed to know. How could he? How could he do this to you?!

"Babe no wait-!" Jamie turns to his friend and motions that he'll be right back and rushes after you.

Once he gets to you he hold you by your arm and pulls.

"Let go of me."

Your voice sounds strained. Clearly holding back tears from rolling down your cheeks.

"Babe no please... Let me explain-"

You turn around to face him, "Explain what? Was I not good enough for the great Jamie Siu? Am I not hot enough? Not enough of a trophywife or something?"

He looks shocked. Hurt even. Regretting his mistakes about not being honest about his friend from the get go and letting you ferment in doubt.

It starts raining.

"That's not it. That will never be the case." He holds your hands. "Please come back in with me, you'll get sick out here."

"Jamie I don't care."

"But I do. I'm supposed to protect these streets, I'm not about to let the love of my life get sick out here." He has a gentle smile on his face, as if he's trying to break the tension.

"Who is she?" You ask bluntly.

"I told you. She's a childhood friend. One of the first people I've met outside of Hong Kong and China." His eyes look honest. Gazing at you. His hands reaching up to hold your face and caress your cheeks. "Please believe me... You're mine. And I am yours. Forever and always..."

The rain is now starting to pour. Soaking through your clothes and screwing up your hair.

"Why did you hide her from me then?" There's still a tinge of doubt in your voice.

"I was afraid you'd be jealous. I was stupid because clearly all I did was make it worse. I'm sorry."

Your head hangs. You feel stupid for thinking he'd betray you. Your anger feels more directed at yourself than him this time. The tears can no longer be held back. You feel embarrassed and so fucking stupid. Tears mixing with the rain droplets, your face puffing up and voice cracking.

"Jamie I'm so sorry- I- I-"

He holds you close to him, laying your head in his chest.

"It's okay, I'm the one who needs to apologize..."

"No, I- I looked through your phone when you were asleep and... And I thought you two were flirting or something and-"

He doesn't reply and just kisses the top of your head.

Shortly after you hear a voice.

"Hey maybe we can just hang out another day? All three of us. You should both go home."

It was her. She had a deep but kind voice.

"But-" Jamie's head whips back.

"Just go, I'll be in town the whole week anyway."

You look up at her with your hands slightly covering your face out of embarrassment. Damn she is really tall and pretty.

She gives you a sweet smile, "Don't worry I'm not interested in this douchebag, love." She finishes with a laugh, "The bill is paid. Take care yeah?"

She walks off under an umbrella without another word. You look back at Jamie, speechless. He looks back at you and you both giggle at the stupidity of it all. You feel plain dumb.

You walk back to your appartment. You can't help but think about how she told you she was not interested and bring it up.

Jamie blinks blankly for a second.

"She's lesbian."

"Oh-"

Way to feel even *more* stupid.

He unlocks the door and you both walk in looking like a pair of stray wet dogs.

"Babe..."

You turn back to him as he closes the door.

"Yeah?"

You watch as he gets down on one knee. What.

What does he think he's doi-

He pulls out a small red box with gold accents from his pocket.

No fucking way.

It clicks open.

"Will you marry me?" His head hanging low, waiting for the answer.

"What the fuck!"

"Is that a yes or a no?!" He has no time to look up as your arms wrap around his neck and push him back onto the ground, kissing him.

"Yes!" You exclaim loud and clear as you continue kissing him, pulling back only to look down at him in adoration. His face is flushed and he has a nervous shaky smile on his lips, half incredulous. He could burst with happiness but he doesn't even know how to react besides kissing you in return.

"I love you so much I feel so stupid for thinking-"

"Shh it's okay, it's okay-!"

You shut him up with more kisses.

Minutes later and you're both a flustered mess and manage to finally sit up.

"So..." He grabs the box from the ground and picks up the ring from it. His other hand holding onto your hand, he slides the ring on your finger. "Miss Siu?" He smiles, his cheeks flushed red and bats his lashes before looking content at you.

"That would be me~!" You reply happily as you take your hands to hold his face and plant another kiss on his pretty lips.

"I love you so much... You'll always be mine..." Forever possessive huh? "You were so jealous... It's kinda cute..."

"Stoooop it was not cute-"

He nuzzles his face closer with a smirk. "Oh but it was very cute. You just can't stand the idea of sharing me? Don't worry... I'm all yours..." He teases whispering.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" You cock an eyebrow at him.

"It means... The great Jamie Siu, belongs to his trophywife and he'll do anything she wants to make it up to her." He has a mischiveous and hopeful smile on his lips.

Good thing you're already on top of him.

#jamie siu #jamie street fighter #jamie siu x reader #street fighter 6 #requests #gourdkeeper #fem reader

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