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bi-writes · 3 months

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bestfriend!rooommate!simon finds out you've been lying.

more bff!roommate!simon (part 8/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, mean!simon (verbally), size kink (simon can move the reader easily, described as much bigger), praise kink, the mask doesn't come off, oral (m!receiving), fem!receiving touching, cumplay, soft!dom!simon, reader uses simon to get herself off (because there is no universe in which simon doesn't return his girl's favor), pet names (including pet and kitty)

you lied.

if simon had his gloves off, his knuckles would be stark white from how hard he was gripping the mail in his hands.

neither of you had checked your mailbox in a while--simon had only returned a few days ago from the harsh winter of northern russia after weeks away, and you seemingly had been busy with work. so busy, simon noticed very quickly, that you spent morning to late at night in your red and white uniform, coming home in the dead of night just to crash and do it all again the next morning.

now he held all the letters in his hand. stacks of them, with angry red stamps bleeding into the white of the envelopes.

NOTICE

WARNING

PAST DUE

LAST NOTICE

he stopped breathing for a moment. he spread the letters out on the table, flipping through each of them. he didn't open them, of course but these were all your bills. cell phone, last month's half of the rent, credit cards, your name written on the back and ugly red warnings pasted over it.

simon had spoken to you while he was gone. he had called you once, twice at least, and all he remembered was your soft voice telling him you missed him, to be careful, that you screwed up a new cookie recipe that you promised you would perfect before he got home.

you hadn't said a thing. your voice had been even and gentle as always. your voice had been comforting, saying only encouraging words. if simon was honest, your voice put him at ease; you always told him something to calm him, something to uplift him.

"i'm so proud of you, simon."

"i hate that you're gone, but there's no one else that could do what you do."

"um...hah...love you. be careful."

you hadn't said a word. your voice didn't reveal an ounce of the stress and the weight that must've been hanging over your head. there was no falter in your words, no strain as you spoke. just pretty, perfect, beautiful you, easing simon's demons while you battled some of your own.

simon crumpled one of the envelopes in his hands. it was thick with papers, but he still forced it into a ball, tossing it back onto the table angrily. he gripped the edge of the table, white knuckling it until he heard the key in the lock.

it was quiet as you came inside. you shut the door and locked it behind you, setting down your bag and taking off your jacket. it was morning; you had worked the night shift. your eyes were drawn low, tired and a dull. you said nothing as you toed off your shoes, letting your sneakers settle under the table. it was then that you noticed simon just sitting there, still, with his hands folded in front of him.

and all of your bills scattered around him.

you sucked in a shaky breath, looking up into his eyes. they were trained low, on the letters surrounding him, but he glared, boring a whole through them. he didn't know where to focus his anger; you were precious, you could do no wrong, you were soft and warm and his, and it wasn't your fault that everything was so expensive, that you were struggling.

but it was your fault that you hadn't said a thing--that you hadn't asked for help.

"simon, i...i-i can explain."

"no. y'r not gonna talk, luv." you had never heard his voice this way. so low and gravelly, an eerie lilt to it that reeked of disappointment and somehow betrayal. "y'r gonna sit down. now."

simon roughly pulled the chair from beside him out, an unspoken command for you to take a seat. your bottom lip trembled as you slumped into the chair, watery eyes avoiding his.

"how long?"

"simon--"

you jumped as he slammed a hand down on the table. the entirety of it shook, the papers ruffling and the dishes clattering loudly.

"a few months! a-a few months, just--"

"no!" simon snapped. "y'lied to me. y'lied to me! i asked! how many times have i asked?! how many times have i looked you in the fuckin' eye and asked you if everythin' was in order, how many fuckin' times?!"

you couldn't keep it in. the tears were hot, running down your cheeks and putting salt on your lips and a dryness in your throat. you were embarrassed. embarrassed that you needed help, ashamed that you were being scolded like a child, afraid of his loud voice and his terrible anger and the way he looked at you. when you decided to live together, you weren't meant to be his burden. you didn't intend to be his problem.

"i-i'm sorry, simon--i'm sorry..." you met his eyes. "i'm taking extra shifts. i-i'm gonna pay the bills, i-i'm gonna make it right, i-i swear--"

"is that what you think this is?"

he narrowed his eyes at you, two dark slits, and then as if a switch flipped, it was gone. his face softened, his eyes widening, and the tension seemed to dissipate just enough to let you breathe a little easier. you couldn't decipher this change, and you couldn't read what was in his eyes, not this time. all you could was sit there and try not to let your cries make any sound.

"do y'think i'm angry because y'didn't pay? is that what y'think?"

you shook your head, shrugging, not understanding his question.

"what...what other reason is there, s-simon?" you hiccuped. "i screwed..." more tears, they wouldn't stop falling, "i-i screwed up, simon, i-i'm so sorry, i-i--"

you jumped when his chair screeched against the floor. he stood up fast, taking a step to round the table to crouch beside your chair. he looked up at you, making himself smaller, and you looked down.

"simon, i'm sorry--"

"stop! stop fuckin' apologizing, fuck," simon interrupted you. his voice was gentle, trying not to scare you, and you closed your mouth, taking in deep, shaking breaths to try and center yourself. "'m angry because you didn't talk to me, luv--" your face fell when he reached up, two gloved hands cupping your puffy cheeks, "--why didn't you say anything? why didn't you tell me? why didn't you ask me for help?"

you sniffled, reaching up and caressing his wrists gently. you played with the edges of his gloves, your fingers skimming the hem of his sleeves and just barely teasing the bare skin under it.

"simon...how could i?" you asked, as if it was obvious. "after everything that's happened...after everything we've been through...h-how could i ask that of you?" "how could you not?" simon spit back, and when you tried to pull away, he tightened his grip on your cheeks. "no, no--look at me--" he rose up on his knees, pressing your forehead to his, "look at me."

your expression was pained, struggling to do as he asked, but eventually your eyes fluttered, meeting his own, and he grunted as he gripped the back of your neck and held you there.

nowhere to go. nowhere to run. no one else.

"y'r not my problem. not my burden," he muttered. "y'r m'responsibility. mine to take care of."

"i-i don't want you to have to do that--"

"what the fuck do y'think this is?" he breathed. "what we have, what this is, this is forever, has that not gotten through y'r bloody head?" you whimpered when he shook you a little, his hand in your hair as he pulled it tight. "y'r as good as mine. not up for discussion."

you swallowed hard as his hands came down, wiping the tears off your face. he brushed your hair back and away, so he could see you, and you smiled at him sadly, eyes glossy and bright.

"'m gonna take care of the flat from now on, yeah?" simon murmured. "'m gonna take care of everything."

your body visibly relaxed. your shoulders fell, your body sinking a little more into the chair, and there was something sweet in your eyes--something hopeful. simon's tone was definite, and there was no room for arguing. you nodded finally, leaning in slowly, pressing a delicate kiss to where his lips would be under the mask. his thumb swiped over your cheek, falling to trace the line of your jaw, and then you both closed your eyes at the same time.

there was an understanding here. it was as if simon was washing you clean--something refreshing and warm and gentle running down the length of you, rinsing whatever was hurting you right down some sort of sickening void that had gripped you so tightly. and he did it so easily--he did it without even blinking.

and it was easy. simon never hesitated with you. his money rotted in an account anyways--it sat and stared at him, reminding him of the kind of hell he had gone through just to get it. it reminded him of the half of him that was someone, the half of him that he hated, the half of his being that came from a wretched, horrid, terrifying thing that manifested itself somewhere in his blood.

simon was half of something foul, and maybe he couldn't make up for the part of him that he didn't think was human, but he could make up for this, make up for you, make up for whatever half of you had left you here. because that was what you deserved--you deserved to be taken care of, you deserved not to worry, you deserved to sleep in soft sheets and eat until your belly was full and smile so much that your cheeks ached, and if simon had to become someone else just to give it to you, if simon had to die and come back again, then that was exactly what he would do.

simon had died once already. simon had seen it--seen how empty and unfulfilling and quiet it had been. simon had seen another side, and you didn't belong there. you belonged somewhere warm. somewhere a little noisy, a little bright, familiar.

it hadn't always been this way. when simon first met you, it hadn't been a good day--simon wore bruises, and you wore blood, and it was in that instant moment of understanding that made it clear you would be bound forever.

something invisible threaded you together. and simon had pulled himself out of his early grave, and after he had done it, you were the only thing that remained. and he hated himself--he hated himself for thanking some unspoken thing, because his entire family was gone, but you weren't gone, you were still here, there was still sunlight in your eyes and laughter in your voice and you were still warm.

it should've tasted sour to be grateful for it. he wanted to hate himself for this feeling. he deserved to die again and not return, but then he wouldn't get to see you anymore, and the selfish part of him, the other half of him, would never give you up willingly.

this love was visceral. this love was going to kill him. he was going to die with you on his mind, but maybe that would be the only thing worth really dying for.

because there you are. big, pretty eyes gazing up at him--fuck, why does she look at me like that?

why does she look at me like i mean something?

why isn't she afraid?

why can't i push her away?

what the fuck is wrong with me?

his beautiful girl. his pretty little roommate. the woman with flowers for eyes and silk as skin and a mind filled with starlight. the sweetheart pushing him to sit, forcing him backwards, getting on her knees in between his legs. and then her hands were on his thighs, sliding up against the rough denim as she laid one side of her face against it, those petals in her eyes trained on the way that his pants seemed to get tighter with every drag of her delicate fingers up his thighs.

and then she was pushing up his hoodie, exposing the relaxed muscle of his stomach, and then she was kissing it. soft lips warming the solid middle of him, a knowing smile growing on her face as she felt him twitch and jump and grunt. and then those beautiful eyes were looking back up at him, her neck tilted back as she undid his jeans and nestled the hem of them just low enough for her to reach in and fuck--

you knew simon was beautiful everywhere. you knew that there was no part of him that wasn't perfect. you couldn't remember being particularly religious, but kneeling in front of him felt like devotion--and you had much to confess.

he was thick, heavy, a weight in your hand that had you drooling without so much as seeing him. you were looking at the red tip of him with eyes half-lidded, and it took everything in you not to take him all at once. but this was simon, this was your version of perfect, and you needed to show simon how much you felt because words were not enough.

words would never be enough.

you started slow. you dipped your head, your eyes flicking up to watch him as you caressed the base of him with a wet kiss. you squeezed your legs together when you noticed his dark eyes roll back into his head for a second, a pained, pleasured reaction, and then you did it again.

a soft lick, the edge of your tongue sliding over a protruding vein on the underside of his length, and you closed your own eyes for a moment to revel in the deep groan that simon uttered. you sighed deeply, keeping your thighs squeezed together to relieve the sudden ache between them, before flattening your tongue and guiding it up his length. simon cursed under his breath, his hands gripping his thighs tight--but one of his hands flew to the back of your head when your greedy little mouth sucked the tip of him into your mouth.

you moaned softly, tasting the edge of him, something so simon and pleasant. a little precum, warm, flowing onto your tongue. you whimpered when you felt his fingers tangle into your hair, gripping you for stability as you sucked him in.

"christ, luv--" just the sound of him so pleased was enough to have you dripping, "fuck--'s so good, 's perfect--"

she was so beautiful. she was perfect. of course she would be good at sucking him off, of course she would have the prettiest tongue and the warmest mouth, and of course she would have one hand wrapping around the base of him as the other slipped between her legs--

"fuck--y'r gettin' off on this, yeah?" he grunted, his eyes flashing with something dark. "'f course you are, such a good girl--"

good girl, good girl, i'm a good girl--

just as slow as it began, as quick as you became. one moment you were cool, composed, watching simon's eyes and listening to his voice as you tried to memorize what pleasure sounded like when it came from him, and the next moment you were sliding him further into your mouth, drool dripping down your jaw as precum spread across your teeth. he was so big--so much to take, but the strain in your jaw tomorrow would have to be a welcome side effect to making lieutenant simon riley cum down your throat.

so sloppy, what a mess you were making. simon's hand now cupped the side of your head, your hair in some makeshift updo as he guided you along his length. the sounds were filthy--soft, slobbering noises as you took simon just a little further down your throat, your tongue being careful to tease the slit of him, slipping between the fold of it to illicit the most gorgeous of moans out of him.

"fuckin' hell--the mouth of a fuckin' angel--"

"such a pretty girl...such a pretty sight...makin' such a mess, sweetheart..."

"y'like it, yeah? y'like it...y'r so pretty...s'pretty, luv, nnngh--th's it, just like that--"

and now you were bouncing pathetically onto your hand. you pressed your hand into the floor, trapping your thighs over it as you tried desperately to grind down on something as you sucked warmly on simon's length. just as you let out a frustrated whine, simon's boot knocked your hand out of the way, slipping the steel toe of it right there, right--oh!

you cried out as the tip of his boot pushed right up against your cunt. the perfect spot, right against your aching clit, because simon never missed--simon always hit his target, whether it was between the eyes of some muppet who had his gun aimed at johnny or exactly where to touch his girl to make her drool. and drool she did--with her mouth stuffed full of him, with her slick wetting her thighs, with that look in her eyes that could make any man lose his fucking mind.

and simon was losing it, he was crazy. he soothed the back of your neck, grunting and hissing and wetting the fabric of his mask with the way he spat and cursed for you. but how could he help himself? the most beautiful girl in the world was on her knees, looking at him like she was at the alter. confessing her sins, receiving her absolution, taking every bit of it like the good girl she was, is.

he was so pretty. he tasted so good. you could only see his eyes, but it was more than enough, you didn't need anything more. the way he scrunched them open and shut, the low drawl of his voice as he said your name--he was perfect. his cock filled your mouth so nicely; he was using you, but you didn't feel used.

you wanted this. you wanted him. you wanted him to put you between his legs, wanted him to finally feel something other than that sick, twisted ache in his bones.

you lifted your hand, the one that had been buried between your thighs, and you cupped the underside of him with them. the wet, sticky warmth of your fingers had simon choking on a breath, hissing when you began to work the length of him that you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"jesus fuckin' christ--!"

his chest was heaving, rising up and down as he scratched at your scalp and cupped the underside of your jaw. then he bent low, smoothing a gloved hand down your throat, needing to feel the way it constricted, the way you swallowed, the feel of your skin and the vibrations as you whimpered and moaned around the thick of him.

you were suckling so sweetly, letting pools of drool and precum slip past your lips and drip along your chin, your hands, against his boot. simon was getting close--you could tell by the way he tugged on your hair and the faltering of his breaths. and he was talking--talking so much, blubbering.

"aye, sweetheart--th's it..."

"fuckin' hell...nnnghh...feel like bloody heaven..."

"...see you in m'dreams, luv...aghh! fuck--fuck, fuck, fuck--"

you didn't think there was anything more attractive than watching simon lose control. but you weren't doing much better. as you sucked the salt from his cock, you slid your hips over his boot to relieve the ache between your thighs even just a little. you thought maybe it was a pathetic sight, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. you fit your cunt right up against him, nestling the tip of his toes against your clit so you could rock back and forth, soaking the leather with you.

simon grunted, chuckling a bit to himself as you watched you suck a little harder, a little sloppier, move your hips a little messier. you were like a sweet, doe-eyed puppy--all big eyes and soft mewls and nothing inside your head except suck, suck, suck--

you whined when he came into your mouth. you held out your tongue, massaging the middle of his cock as he dripped along your mouth, your lips, under your tongue, against your chin. and like the messy little girl you were, you kept suckling on the tip until simon gripped you by the back of the head and lifted you up off the ground, grunting as he roughly manhandled you into his lap.

"little kitty can't help herself...what a fuckin' mouth on ya..."

and then his fingers were gathering the cum on your face and slipping it back into your mouth--just as the fingers on his other hand plunged inside of you.

he was deep, thick gloved fingers taking up even more space, stretching your pulsing, gummy cunt as you gripped his shoulders and cried. little tears coming down your face as you chased that blissful high, begging simon to give it, give it, you need it.

it didn't take much. just a few rough touches of your puffy clit, and you were soaking his gloves, whining as you pressed your cheek to his and mumbled how good he felt, how everything hurt so nice.

a pounding, aching thing that was gone in a matter of seconds, throwing you in a pleasure-drunk mood, with your head rest against his shoulder and your breaths coming out heavy and languid.

your eyes fluttered, but your vision was just clear enough that you could see simon lift the front of his mask. you caught the line of deep scar, something a healed and vicious against his pretty face. then it was gone, replaced by the sight of him slipping his gloved fingers into his mouth and sucking on them, pink tongue coming out to taste them as he slurped at the gooey mess you made on them.

you saw the slightest hint of a smirk before the fabric came back down again.

"'s alright, pet--" simon's voice was low, a drawl to it that made his accent a bit more pronounced. and just as your eyes fluttered shut completely--

"'m right here, kitty."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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luveline · 6 months

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Girl pls pls write stripper reader and Spencer where she thinks he would never date her bc she’s a stripper and just a sprinkle of angst with lots of comforting fluff and Spencer reassuring

thank u for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.5k

cw mentioned past domestic/workplace abuse, unhealthy eating habits

Someone broke into my apartment. 9:14AM

Spencer reads the message under the table but forgoes discretion when he registers what it says and who it's from. He excuses himself from the round table, something he isn't even sure he's allowed to do, and hurries out onto the landing.

You answer on the second dial. "Hey, did you see my text?" you ask.

"Are you okay?" He squeezes his phone.

"I'm not sure. I'm fine, but my lock is busted and the door won't stay shut."

"Where are you?"

If you're surprised that he's steamrolling, you don't show it. Spencer leaves work to meet you at the coffee shop you've chosen for refuge, your eyes tired, a small bag of your most important possessions hanging on a slumped shoulder. He hugs you straight away.

"I'm fine," you say into his neck.

He hugs you tighter. "That's good," he says, feeling useless, fingers stroking little paths into your shoulders. He pictured the worst from your text, and seeing you in person is the only true mitigator. You'll talk down bruises and black eyes —you have in the past.

He pulls the story from you as you walk back to his apartment, shoulder to shoulder in the cold street. "It was open when I got home, the door, but I did what you asked me to."

"You didn't go in?" he confirms proudly.

"Not at first."

"You really won't call the police?"

"I texted you."

Spencer takes the strap of your bag from you and throws it over his own. "I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not really a cop at all."

"No, you're a fed, which is worse. The girls at work told me to stay away from you." You wipe under your eyes sluggishly. Sleep clings to you like a shadow trailing behind you, ever-present.

He puts his hand behind your back, worried you'll fall up the steps to his apartment building. "They think I'll what, extort you?"

You shake your head, something sad in the slow side to side. "Girls like me have no business around guys like you."

"You probably get too much business from guys like me."

You laugh, but you both know it's not what you meant. Spencers noticed it more and more lately, nothing so obvious until now, this dead set belief you hold that he's one type of person and you're another. He gets that your work isn't what you wanted for yourself when you were growing up. He knows it isn't easy, even on your 'good' nights. It takes a toll to be seen as you are, nothing left private. But you've always said you liked stripping as much as anyone should like their job. "It's a job," you'd said, having barely known him, tired and hungry, curled up on his couch with nowhere else to go. "Only the luckiest get to really enjoy work. S'why it's called work."

He'd hoped, perhaps in a self-absorbed way, that having more support might make you feel better about yourself; he wanted his friendship to give you some confidence, basically. Before you met Spencer there was no one else you could depend on. It's why you stayed working for a man who broke your wrist until Spencer weaselled his way into your life and made you a bed in his living room for the time it took to get you out. His credentials helped, of course, but you survived it because you're resilient. You're awesome. You've done everything you can with what you have and you don't think it's enough.

You and Spencer take the elevator to his floor, and for the twenty seconds it takes to get there, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. He's just about to drop his head on top of yours when the doors open, and the slice of quiet you'd both savoured slips like sand between his fingers.

"I can go back and get some of your stuff," he offers, guiding you the short walk to his door. He passes you the key rather than struggle with the lock himself.

Your hand shakes as you push down the handle. "There's nothing worth going back for."

"Don't say that, you have all your clothes there, your couch. You have things. I'll take my car."

"You hate driving."

"I'd hate someone robbing you even more."

"Robbing me again," you correct, holding the door for him.

You didn't have anything worth the trouble, it seems. You keep your savings in a locked box hidden in the bathroom that they couldn't find, and though your apartment is clean and bigger than the one you lived in before Spencer met you, it's mostly empty. You don't have a TV, you're not a collector. They took the radio off of the refrigerator, your microwave oven, and a box of cosmetic jewellery worth chapel change.

"But it's your stuff. You deserve to have stuff." Spencer drops your bag gently and his with less care by the door.

"It's only until the locksmith can come tomorrow," you say with a yawn. "Let the junkies lavish in my stuff for the next twenty hours."

"That's not a problem for you?"

"I don't have the luxury of that being a problem for me, Spence. What am I supposed to do? The locksmith can't come–"

"There are a hundred locksmiths."

"Not that I can afford." You shrug out of your jacket. "Spence, listen to me. It's okay. I can't ask you to do that, anyways. You've done more than enough for me already," you say, sitting on the couch. You perch for a moment like you're trying to be polite until fatigue overtakes you, and you sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh.

Spencer crosses the space between you and kneels by your feet to untie your shoelaces.

"Don't do that," you mumble, hand over your mouth as a second yawn in as many minutes catches you.

"Why not?" He slips your shoes off, letting his hand rest on your ankle. "Wanna watch that weird cooking show–"

"Why aren't you at work?"

He climbs onto the couch next to you, unafraid to sit shoulder to shoulder. "You were having an emergency."

You rub your face with both hand. "I knew I shouldn't have called you. You can't just leave work because of me, Spencer, what if you get in trouble?"

"Someone I care about needed my help, and Hotch understands that." Spencer puts on his big boy pants with a wince. "Do you get that?"

"I don't really… I don't…" You falter. "We're never going to work. You'll never…"

"I'll never what?" he asks insistently, voice lilting up with a little incredulity. He can't help it.

You refuse to answer, turning your face from his.

Spencer knows what you're going to say. He's bad with girls but he's good at recognising human emotion; he sees the same insecurity in himself as he does in you. He knows the feeling.

You're not right, is the thing.

Spencer would kiss you if he thought that would change your mind. But tired as you are, angry with yourself, defeated, he knows it's not a good idea. He takes your hand instead, sewing your fingers together with a deliberate slowness. He brings his other hand to them and strokes the back of your index finger with his thumb, careful not to disrupt your press on nails. He knows they have a tendency to come off with too much pressure, and you're always losing your glue.

"If they really need me to go, they'll call me. But I'm staying here." His thumb moves down to your knuckle. You have little calluses and cuts and bruises everywhere from dancing. He's seen the contusions that line your thighs on a semi permanent basis. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Spencer," you murmur.

"Let me take care of you, please," he says, hand curling around your wrist with extreme gentleness. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. Let me worry about everything else for once, I want to."

You still don't look at him, but you sink down an inch at a time until your cheek is on his shoulder again, like it had been in the elevator. Hesitant, you wrap your arm around his stomach.

"I'm so stupid," you say.

He wonders if that's a placeholder for what you really want to say. You think so little of yourself sometimes, but it's like you've told him before. Not everyone has the luxury of enjoying their job.

"You're amazing." Spencer feels like he's on fire everywhere that your skin touches him. Is he saying the right things? "You are. You're the only person who doesn't see that."

"The only person here, maybe."

"You should always be here, then. With me. That way I can remind you."

You sound more like yourself when you answer, though tiredness lines every word, "Thank you, Spencer. I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do."

Spencer rubs your hand until you fall asleep, and then he buys you a new toaster oven on his phone, and an industrial security lock. He doesn't know what it'll take to convince you that you deserve him, you deserve better, but he's gonna try.

He presses his cheek to your temple and focuses on the softness of your skin where it touches his.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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ghouljams · 8 months

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Viking soap! Viking soap! Viking soap!

Grrrrrrrr Yes ok yes because I am feral for this idea and you're partially engaging a special interest of mine.

You spot him at the same moment he does you. A flash of blue eyes reflecting the shallow river, long hair shorn short on the sides, the fur the edges his clothes marks him as easily as the paint on his face. A viking. He stands as quickly as you step back, his eyes fixed on you. If he's here there must be more at your village. You know well enough that these men don't travel as solitary creatures.

You turn and run towards your home. You hear the crash of him through the forest behind you giving chase. Even knowing the land as well as you do the terrain is uneven, the roots are made to catch your feet, and the branches are low to obscure your vision. You don't have the deer's advantage of darting movement to keep you out of reach. Each step you can hear him getting closer, until you feel his hands grab you.

The man, the viking, catches you around your middle. You kick and scream and make every effort to batter him with your fists, to make yourself difficult prey. You've heard enough stories about what these men do to know you want no part of it. He lifts you, hauls you up off the ground as you fight and twist.

"Would you be still, I'm not going to hurt you," The man tells you in gaelic. You freeze at the familiar tongue.

"You're a liar," You push at him, claw at his grip, "why would you chase me if you weren't hunting me?"

"Why would you run?" He asks, grabbing your wrists to pin them against his chest. You glare at him, your chest heaving as you gather your breath back. He's handsome, for a viking. There's something sort of rakish about the stubble on his face and the set of his brow. "Did I do something to scare you, bonnie?" It's not an honest question, he knows full well why you'd run.

You keep quiet, keep your glare level with him. An easy task with him holding you up, his arm hooked around your thighs. His head tips back to look at you with a smile. "Aren't you pretty," He whispers, hardly phased by the run or your anger. When you don't respond he seems to find his head again, his smile dropping to something more serious.

"Fine, courting later, business now." He sets you back down, keeping a tight grip on your wrists now that you've proven yourself a runner. "I'm here to negotiate a trade, I need an escort," He explains, though you would think a man needing an escort would have a shorter handle on the ax at his hip.

"A bad liar," You amend your previous statement, tugging at his hold.

"Fine," He relents, "I want an escort. Escort me." He insists, tugging you against his chest again. You're really getting tired of bumping into him.

"Why? So you can lead a raiding party back as soon as I turn around?" You spit.

“To what end?” The viking asks, tips his head to the side, his eyes hard on you, “What use do we have for dead healers?”

You stop your struggling, stunned. He’s not wrong, but he speaks to an understanding of your village you hadn’t expected. How much did this man and his company know about you? How many scouts had walked your paths, watched your neighbors work? He’s right, dead healers are useless, but so are port healers. Vikings are only as strong as their weakest man, wouldn’t they prefer to keep healers on hand?

“You said-” You swallow, “You said you were here to negotiate a trade. What- A trade for what?” He looks away from you, and you have your answer. You were right to run, he’s here for one of you.

“Let’s go,” He doesn’t pull you, but you follow him anyway. Your mind races, thinking through the people your elders would offer up. Who was the most skilled, the most expendable, weighing what you might get in return. What couldn’t these vikings offer you? Safety, rare goods, money, animals, friendship. Invaluable intangible things that would aid all of you, for whatever price they set. It’s still only the illusion of a choice.

Your wrist is still held tight in his grip as you walk beside him. An escort, what a joke. You’re not going to put in a good word for him or do anything more than act as a pass for him to walk your streets. You’re busy working on your escape plan when you smell it.

Smoke, just as you step clear of the forest.

"Gods," the man breathes, both of you standing on top of the hill at the edge of the forest, watching your home burn. Your eyes grow wide watching the fleeing shadows of raiders, the sacrifices of you kin. What are they doing? Why would they- A mass of fire belches from the center of your village, the man covers your eyes, shields you from the heat of it with his cloak. The tattered tartan catches your attention, makes your heart pound in your chest. You recognize it, Mactavish. He was one of you.

"We have to go," He tells you. You try to pull yourself free, scream for your family down the hill. He catches you around the middle again, hauls you back into the safety of the forest.

"Tell them to stop," you beg. Your sobbing pleas fall on deaf ears.

“Those aren’t my men,” He doesn’t set you down, transfers your squirming to his shoulder with a grunt and keeps his pace. You can still see the lick of flame and smoke through the trees. The only home you’ve ever known, gone in an instant and all you can do is watch. The forest grows thicker around you as you lay against the familiar unfamiliar tartan and let yourself be carried off like a spoil.

#I'm gonna close the ask box if y'all keep giving me aus #Just so you know this would be a slow burn like Knight Ghost #but I have a few scenes in mind #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap modern warfare #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x you #soap x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x you #cod x reader #x reader #this fic brought to you by De Selby parts 1 and 2 #viking!soap #I should rename my medieval to just historic

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way-of-love · 11 months

Text

Just Open Up (Miguel O'Hara x FemReader) (R-RATED) (ONE SHOT) (NO MINORS)

Yes, there's smut. Yes, there's licking of the fangs... just read it

PLEASE HE'S SO ATTRACTIVE BITE ME TOO!

Also, yes he's in his spidey suit, just like with his mask he can make parts of his suit appear and disappear :)

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"C'mon open your mouth, it wont hurt."

Miguel rolled his eyes moving his head every other way forbidding you any access to his mouth.

"No. Will you stop! You always do this Y/N. I'm tired of this already." He exclaimed while holding your wrists with his hands pushing them away.

As of right now you both were in the lab you and Miguel shared. This was the place you conducted research for the sake of the spider society and for him. He wasn't a hundred percent healthy as he always proclaim he is.

Miguel has genetically imprinted spiders DNA into his own, so you could say he's a cross breed of a human and spider. More connected to a spider than just being bit by one. And you were his faithful lab partner who helped him suppress his more...animalistic tendencies. So, you created a drug or rather a suppressant that he injects himself with whenever he felt too stressed, or angry or whenever he felt that he was losing his grip on his humanity. Usually when he allowed his emotions to run rampant so did his instincts.

But to create the suppressant you needed his venom and that venom came solely from his fangs. And unfortunately he was always a fighter when it came down to getting his fangs touched, you never really understood why but today he was extra feisty.

That meant that he needed a much higher dosage of the suppressant and that also meant more mouth time.

"Open your mouth dammit Miguel!" You yelled at him while holding a test tube in one hand and small tongs in the other.

Usually he'd let you be but today was just an off day for some strange reason. He was fighting you and holding your wrists away from his face but you fought back pushing and shoving. It became too much just standing at his side that you had to climb on top of him and straddle him as he laid in the dental chair. The only reason why you had one in the lab was because of him! Did he ever thank you? No, he only shrugged it off and rolled his eyes.

What a prick.

"I said no tongs and you brought out the tongs! They feel weird in my mouth so I'm not doing this!" Miguel yelled back surprised that he didn't just lift you up off his lap. Actually, he was surprised you had the boldness to climb on top of him like this.

The tongs were the only thing you could use that didn't bother the sensitivity of his fangs.

"You know why I have to use them!" You practically hiss at him.

He leaned up quickly getting into your face, surprising you," Then use something else." Miguel continued to hold your wrists even when you stopped struggling against him.

He was...so close. You could feel his hot breath fanning your face. Just for a second you felt the urge to lean in but as soon as that feeling came it went.

Clearing your throat you looked away and sighed.

"Fine. The hand it is," Shaking your wrists he got the memo and released them. Bracing your fist on his broad chest you prepared to slide off him but his hands instantly stopped you. A hand on your waist under your lab coat and another on your hip.

You looked at him with wide surprised eyes, yet again surprised by his actions but he looked rather determined to keep you in your place.

"You get off this chair and I'll leave. Stay and take the venom now. I'm busy."

The surprised look quickly morphed into one of annoyance. Tossing your head back you rolled your eyes, maybe avoiding his gaze would lessen the urge to hit him.

Miguel took that opportunity to look at your slender neck. It's been quite a few days since he last took the sedative and during that time his more monstrous traits kicked in. What's more, his more animalistic needs became unhinged.

And right now the one thing he's been craving for, for such a long time was sitting right on top of him, like a fly caught in his web. You were small compared to him, plump in all the right places and soft everywhere else. The prefect prey.

You always caught his eye even when he was just passing by asking for updates on the newest inventions or discoveries that you and his AI made in the multiverse but not a day went by he never thought about you.

His red eyes eyed and watched as you slowly tossed your head forward tossing the tongs to the side. Red eyes trailed down your neck watching your heartbeat through your jugular, trailing that vein down to the flesh of your chest. Those few undone buttons stopping, hiding plump mounds of flesh just waiting for him to grasp and bite.

While you adjusted yourself on his lap you looked back up at him. He seemed so lost in thought starring at your...blouse? Did you have a stain there? You made sure to eat your takeout very carefully. Without looking you simply brushed your hand over the fabric, breaking his trance he shook his head a bit and resting his head back on the headrest.

"Hurry up Y/N." His voice sounded much more hoarse than before. Was he still mad at you? God. He was so annoying!

Rolling your eyes you secretly flipped him off.

"Yes sir, right away sir. Open up and shut up." You hissed at him.

Miguel grumbled but he parted his lips and opened his mouth wide. Instantly his fangs were on full display. They were long, sharp, white and pretty. They were always so pretty.

You had to practically lay on him when he rested back on the headrest. So you both were chest to chest, your hand touching his cheek and the other still holding the test tube. While examining his gums and all of his other teeth, you could feel just how solid his body was.

Strong and powerful between your straddled plush thighs, his chest rose and fell with even breaths. His hand still holding you captive. Like a fly caught in his web. Your thumb brushed along his bottom lip gently tugging it down to the the bottom row of his teeth.

Taking in a breath you tried you control your thoughts. This was a professional setting...sort of?

"Your...Your teeth look very...good Miguel, I'm surprised." You spoke softly, afraid that if you spoke any louder he'd hear exactly how he was making you feel.

"You yelled at me the last time you saw them," Each word he said had the tip of your thumb in his mouth. His mouth was open once more and you saw how wet the tip of your thumb was with his spit.

Fuck.

"I said to shut up." Breathless you licked your own lips and went back to checking his mouth. This was dangerous. You just needed to extract the venom and that was it so why was this taking so long?

You were confused. You always knew he was attractive and you swore you'd never go after a guy as cocky and as sarcastic like him but here you were attracted to him more than ever.

Was sitting on top of him all it took?

Miguel smirked while looking up at you. Your fingers pushed his upper lip up exposing more of those pretty fangs you grew to like. You always thought how they would feel piercing into your flesh, releasing that dangerous venom into your veins; paralyzing you and leaving you at the mercy of-

"Miguel~"

His arm wrapped around your waist pulling you flushed against him and his hand on your hip fell to your bare thigh slipping up under your tight pencil skirt.

The test tube was forgotten and that free hand came and cupped his warm cheek, the other kept his upper lip up. His eyes glowed red when he saw you finally lean forward with parted lips.

Instantly you placed a quick peck on his bottom lip. Your tongue slowly peeking out and licking his bottom lip, slowly and sensually.

Miguel didn't have to say a single thing because both of your bodies were doing most of the talking. He knew this was bound to happen someday. His instincts always went haywire whenever you were in the same room as him. So it only meant one thing.

You both were compatible with one another.

And with compatibility that meant great sex, and when there's great sex there's offspring.

Something inside of him quite enjoyed the thought of getting you knocked up with his kids.

Your tongue distracted his train of thought, it slipped into his mouth gliding over the bottom row of his teeth, over his gums. He groaned softly trying his hardest not to hold you too tight. But he wanted to, so badly to pull your hips flushed together and show you just how much you affected him.

'Miguel, touch me more," You whispered softly, breathlessly.

Without further instruction Miguel tore your skirt with his talons and tossed the torn fabric to the side. He was careful when he went back to grab hold of your thighs, talons lightly scraping against the skin of your thighs.

And all while your tongue was happily diving into his mouth going over every ridge, every tooth and over each his sharp fang that seemed to secrete that venom you always worked with. You guessed they were just as excited as the person who owned them.

You expected yourself to be paralyzed by it the moment you licked it off his fangs but you were perfectly fine.

Actually, you didn't feel a single thing except for a tingle right between your legs. Did his venom have an aphrodisiac affect too?

What an interesting outcome, you'd have to test this again later just to make sure.

Miguel had enough of you giving his fangs all the attention to he pressed his tongue against yours. Happily you licked and you happily indulged in licking every crevice of his mouth.

You felt him bend his legs behind you, his hand other hand sliding down the small of your back. Those sharp talons reached for the thin string of your thong and pulled it to the side.

He exposed your sex, wet and dripping with need. How could you have forgotten how wet you were?

The great vampire Sider- Man groaned as soon as your sex was exposed. Your pheromones' reaching his nose full force.

You pulled back from licking. Strings of saliva falling and breaking apart as he spoke.

"Got all the venom you needed?"

Why was he asking you that, when you clearly weren't collecting any samples.

"Oh please. This isn't the time-"

You tensed up a bit when you felt it. Prodding. It was thick round and sliding up and down between your wet folds. You could hear it, the soft squishy wet sounds one only makes when they're completely aroused and ready to be taken.

And by the feel of it, he was ready for a long session.

"Because I have some more Id like you to...test out for me."

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Just because I couldn't resist ;///;

#smut #x reader #wayoflove #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #fem reader #miguel ohara xreader #fangs #fang kink lol #oscar isaac

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bratzforchris · 2 months

Text

Comfort, M. Sturniolo

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Summary: Matt's been burning out. It's taken a toll on his body and his mind, but luckily, you're always there when he needs you most<3

Pairing: Matt x feminine reader

Warnings: Burnout, mentions of disordered eating and anxiety, panic attack, pet names (baby, pretty/sweet/handsome boy)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This was a random little idea I had while I've been out of classes and work sick! Soft hurt/comfort Matt makes me so 💗 Expect a lot of writing this week while I'm on spring break and enjoy this lil story<3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Being a content creator was an extremely stressful job, and you knew that. You had to constantly be worried about numbers, engagement, and what looks would or would not get you media attention, good or bad. Although it may not be the same as a regular nine-to-five job, it was still incredibly taxing, and that weight was wearing down on your boyfriend roughly and quickly.

Matt had been teetering on the edge of burnout for a while now, but just chose to ignore it, figuring if he didn’t acknowledge it, it would stay at bay. He knew you could tell; in fact, he knew everyone could tell, but that didn’t stop him from working day and night, constantly editing, pitching ideas to his brothers, and planning new videos. He refused to let you or Nick and Chris help him, not-so-logically thinking he had to ‘pull his weight’. In Matt’s head, Chris was the funny one, Nick was the editor and the smart one, and you had your own job at a local boutique downtown. You all didn’t have time to hear his issues, he thought.

“Matt? You in here, love?” You knocked on the door to his office, worriedly gnawing on your lip.

You hadn’t seen your boyfriend since you arrived home from work two hours ago, but you knew he was here because his car was in the driveway. At first, you had left him to his work, figuring he would come out when he was done with his tasks, but now, it was nearing dinnertime, and even the smell of food cooking on the stove wasn’t luring him out. You waited a few beats, not hearing an answer, until you decided to take matters into your own hands. You would never intrude on Matt’s personal space, but truth be told, you missed your boyfriend loads, and you were also slightly worried.

Matt was hunched over his computer, fingers flying furiously over the keyboard as he typed out an email. He didn’t even look up from the screen until you tapped him on the shoulder, to which you only received a turn of the head and a tired, watery smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Dinner’s ready, baby,” You whispered softly, massaging his shoulders. “I missed you today.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he sighed, rubbing his temples and then turning back to the computer. “I have some stuff to do.”

“Matt, you’ve been in your office since I got home, darling. That was over two hours ago,” You protested gently. “You gotta be hungry, bubba.”

The awful anxiety started to creep into Matt’s mind at your questioning, not because of anything you were doing, but because he knew you were worrying about him, and he didn’t want that. “I ate earlier.” he lied, wincing at how easily the untruth rolled off his tongue.

“There weren’t any dishes in the sink or the dishwasher and there weren’t any takeout containers. You didn’t eat, love.” You said firmly, but not unkindly.

You had been noticing for a few weeks now that Matt was eating less and less, abandoning breakfast and usually after dinner dessert in favor of working in his office. You figured the issue would resolve itself after the influencers got out of their ‘busy season’, but here it was, two weeks later and Matt was getting worse, not better. You knew your boyfriend struggled with anxiety even before YouTube, but that wasn’t going to make you brush the issue off.

“It doesn’t have to be a whole meal, but you need to eat something.” You continued as you massaged his neck and shoulders, him still facing the screen.

Your boyfriend didn’t say anything, and you almost thought he was ignoring you, until he turned to you, blue eyes full of unshed tears. “I can’t,” Matt cried, beginning to choke on held back sobs. “I have so much to do.”

“Bubba, you can take a break. It’s okay,” You kissed his forehead. “No one is going to be mad at you.”

“But what if I’m not doing enough? What if Nick and Chris think I’m just letting them do all the work? What if…” Matt was cut off by his own shallow breathing, hands moving to fist his feathery brown hair.

“Matt,” You interjected firmly. “You are panicking. You need to breathe. Copy me.”

Over your year of being with Matt, you had found that a firmer voice with no pet names usually got his attention better than an overly lovey-dovey voice when he was panicking. Matt finally looked at you, his hyperventilating slowing down as he copied your breathing. In for four, out for four.

“Good boy.” You smiled, gently praising him as he relaxed against his office chair.

Matt didn’t even argue when you closed out his computer. He just sat back against his chair, massaging his temples. You gently took his hand, leading him to the living room and guiding him to the couch. You knew he needed to eat, but right now, getting him calm and relaxed was the first priority. You sat down on the couch, allowing Matt to lay his head in your lap. You two didn’t speak for quite a while, allowing him to fully calm down first. Finally, you spoke, running a hand across his body and through his hair comfortingly.

“Do ya wanna talk about it, handsome boy?” You asked kindly.

“I’m just stressed,” Matt sniffled. “I have a lot to do and Nick is already stressed so I tried to help him with editing, and,” he paused to catch his breath as tears rolled down his face. “And some people have been making mean comments about me lately.” he cried.

“Oh honey,” You said sympathetically, kissing his forehead. “I’m so sorry, pretty boy.”

“They say I’m not as entertaining as Nick and Chris cause I’m quiet.” he sobbed softly.

“Baby, that is the furthest thing from the truth,” You told Matt, kissing his forehead. “You are sweet, kind, and funny. Anyone who says otherwise is a miserable internet troll who takes their problems out on people they don’t even know.”

“Mhm,” Matt sniffled and nodded, curling further into you. All was silent for a while as you cuddled until your boyfriend’s stomach growled. “My belly hurts.” he whimpered.

You pouted, running your hand over his stomach comfortingly. “It’s probably because you’re hungry and stressed, honey. Those two things don’t mix well. Do you feel like eating some dinner?”

“No.” Matt said flatly, avoiding your eyes.

“You have to eat, baby. You don’t even have to get up from the couch and it doesn’t have to be a heavy meal, but you have to eat.”

“Fine.” he mumbled, desperately trying not to cry again.

“I love you, handsome.” You slid out from under him, softly covering him up with a blanket, before kissing his forehead with a little ‘Be right back’.

You padded into the kitchen, grabbing a granola bar and an apple. You also refilled Matt’s water bottle that had been abandoned on the island with fresh water. Before you went back to the couch, though, you snuck into your shared room and grabbed Matt’s stuffed pug, Mr. Wrinkleton, off the bed. Based on your own anxiety experiences, you knew having a comfort object usually helped, and your boy needed all the help you could offer.

By the time you made it back to the couch, Matt’s tears had slowed, but he was still visibly sniffling, blankly staring off into space while pulling the blanket closer to his chin. It broke your heart to see him like this, but for now, you were going to focus on comfort; you two could tackle solutions to the problem later.

“Look who I brought,” You whisper squealed, handing Matt his stuffed animal. “He missed you.”

Your boyfriend smiled softly, clutching the plush animal to his chest. Mr. Wrinkleton had been Matt’s biggest comfort (besides you) for as long as he could remember, and that didn’t change now that he was an adult. He shifted so that you could once again sit down on the couch, before laying his head back in your lap.

“I brought you some food, too.” You placed the snacks in Matt’s hand, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Matt didn’t speak much as he chewed thoughtfully on the granola bar and apple. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you; he was just so exhausted that talking seemed like an extra task. Once he had finished, he placed his trash on the coffee table and then turned over so that his face was smushed against your body. You laid in silence for a while until you softly spoke, running a hand through his hair.

“How are you feeling?” You asked softly.

Matt shrugged, snuggling further into the blanket. “My stomach still hurts a little. I’m just really stressed.” he said sadly.

“I have an idea if you’re up for it.” You smiled.

“And that idea would be?”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” You gently took Matt’s hand, making sure he had his blanket and stuffed animal and then led him to your shared bedroom. “Lay down on your back.” You instructed.

Once Matt had gotten himself into a comfortable position, you straddled yourself across his legs and pulled his shirt off, admiring what you saw for a moment. Your boyfriend was gorgeous and toned with tanned skin and a beautiful sleeve of tattoos that you loved to admire. You stole a pump of lotion from the bottle off your nightstand and began to massage his skin, taking extra care to rub his belly gently and massage the knots in your shoulders.

“God, Matt. Your shoulders are so tense, honey.” You hummed when your hands met a particular knot in his left shoulder.

In response, your boyfriend let out a soft moan, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the soft pillows of your bed. It sounded sexual, especially since you were straddling him, but Matt didn’t give a damn. The only thing he could focus on right now was the soft glide of your hands against his skin, melting all his worries away.

Once you had finished your massage, you cuddled up next to him, pulling the covers over both of you. “Did that help a little?” You asked.

Matt nodded appreciatively, burying his nose in your neck while holding his stuffed animal to his chest. “Mhm.” he mumbled happily.

“I’m glad, sweet boy,” You whispered, kissing the spot behind his ear. “You know you can always come talk to me when you’re feeling stressed, right baby? I won’t judge you, nor will I ever be too busy for you.”

“I know,” Matt blushed. “I’m going to work on asking for help instead of trying to handle everything alone…” he whispered softly.

“I’m so proud of you,” You hummed, giving him the soft praise he so heavily deserved. “You’re the best boyfriend I could ever ask for, you know that?”

“I am pretty great.” the giggle and smile you had been waiting to hear all evening finally crept into Matt’s voice.

Even when his anxiety and worries got the best of him, he would never lose his ‘Mattitude’, and that was just one reason on a very, very long list that you loved this boy with your whole heart.

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @oobleoob @idek3000hi @melguilbert

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here<3

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liliacamethyst · 10 months

Note

just curious if there's an extra angsty alternative drabbles because i love ur work ! like in a scenario where sun-spider isn't able to care for herself because the pregnancy is taking a toll on her or she got extremely ill OR EVEN GETTING EXTREMELY injured during a mission and lets say the gang is too caught up with spider society business to check on her, how would miguel react then?

ill leave the actual state of sun-spider in your hands 🤭

A LETTER FROM THE SUN

Thank you so much for your request, I really liked your idea- So here's an extra , extra ANGSTY (trigger warning) alternative universe Drabble. I got a little bit carried away I really hope you still enjoy it 💚:

You can barely see through the spots dancing before your eyes as you stagger back to your apartment on Earth 586. You don't remember the walk home from the doctor's office but somehow, you made it back. The weight of the doctor's words still echo in your ears, "The childbirth... It's too dangerous. You won't survive."

It's not that you're not scared; you are, very much so. But more than that, you're filled with a fierce determination - for your child and for the world you've sworn to protect. And so, you put your mask, pull on your suit, and step into the battle once more, fighting harder than you ever have before.

But behind the brave facade, you're struggling. You're tired, your energy gone by the demands of your pregnancy and your duty as Spider-Sun. You're having to deal with the pains and discomforts that come with carrying a child, exacerbated by the unrelenting strain of your battles.

You retreat to Earth 586, hoping to find some solace and respite in your own universe. But instead, your responsibilities there seem to compound your exhaustion. There are still threats to confront, villains to vanquish, innocents to save. You're fighting two wars at the same time - one for your world, and one for your life.

The spider society is oblivious to your struggles. They are wrapped up in their own missions and agendas, too absorbed in saving the multiverse to notice your quiet battle for survival. The absence of concern from the team feels like a sting, a bitter pill to swallow, yet you say nothing, because you understand. So you hide your pain behind your bright smile and valiant spirit, because that's what you do best.

Still, as the days pass, your condition worsens. Your constant fatigue, the severe sickness and the frequent fainting spells- all signs that are hard to ignore. You're well aware that your body is pushing its limits but the love you have for your child growing inside of you keeps you from giving up. You've always fought against the odds, and you're not about to stop now - not when the stakes are that. Higher than they've ever been before.

You're fighting for two now, and that's all the motivation you need to keep going. You're ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for your child. And you'll face it with all the courage and determination that make you Spider-Sun.

Miguel, Gwen, Peter B, and Jess are on a mission in your Earth - Earth 586. It's been months since they've seen you, and Gwen and Peter are buzzing with excitement. Even Miguel, who maintains his stoic façade as always, has a glint in his eyes that hints at anticipation and excitement of the prospect of seeing his love again.

As they land, Gwen looks around, taking in the familiar surroundings of your world. "I can't believe it's been so long," she remarks, a hint of guilt in her voice. "We got so caught up in everything..."

Peter B chimes in, "Yeah, Sunny is gonna give us an earful for sure. I'm surprised she hasn't come to give us a welcome smack yet." His playful remark hangs in the air and everybody silently agrees.

They're here to deal with an anomaly, a Lizard-like opponent. Yet, as the fight breaks out, Peter can't help but wonder why you aren't here. This is your world, your neighborhood, your people. You're always there, ready to protect and serve. So where are you?

"Miguel!" Peter B shouts over the sounds of the fight. "Why isn't Sunny here? This is her world! Where is she?"

The fight ends sucessfully, with Jess instructed by Miguel to take the captive Lizard back to HQ. There's a tension in Miguel's voice, a sharpness that wasn't there before. He announces that he's going to look for you, his eyes flicking briefly towards the city, towards your home. “You guys go back and secure the ugly lizard. I will look where the hell Sunny is hiding.”

"We're coming with you," Gwen says firmly, Peter B nodding in agreement beside her. There's no room for argument in her voice. Miguel gives them a curt nod and so they swinf through Nea Yorkey searcing for their sun.

Gwen’s search for you leads her to knock on the doors of the neighbors in your building. Most people either shake their heads, claiming they haven't seen you, or slam the door in her face without a word. Gwen's worry deepens with each door she knocks on.

Finally, she finds a woman with a bunch of children screaming in the background. The woman looks frazzled, but she stops and listens to Gwen's questions. "Haven't seen her in days," the woman says, wiping her hands on her apron. "There was an ambulance here the other day, took her away. Ain't seen no light in her place since then."

Gwen feels as if the air has been sucked out of her lungs. She thanks the woman and rushes off to find Miguel and Peter B. Her words spill out in a rush, detailing what she found out. "Miguel," she gasps out. "Peter. Ambulance. Sunny's place."

Miguel's face goes deathly pale, and before Gwen or Peter B can react, he swings into the air, shooting webs and flying through the city with a speed and urgency that leaves them behind.

Gwen and Peter B look at each other and immediately follow, but Miguel is like a man possessed, a force of nature.

He reaches the hospital, and without a second thought, he barges through the doors. His heart is pounding in his chest, his breaths are short and ragged.

The reception desk nurses look up in surprise as Miguel, still in his Spider-Man 2099 suit, demands to know if you are in the hospital. There is a desperation as he speaks your name.

After a tense conversation with the hospital staff and almost being escorted out, Miguel is finally given the room number.

The world seems to stand still around Miguel as he enters the room, only to find it empty. The nurse, busy tidying the space and remaking the bed, looks up in surprise at the sudden intrusion.

He's staring at the closed door when a nurse brushes past him, mumbling an apology. A sudden rush of fear and confusion go through him as he turns to see the empty hospital bed. His heart feels as if it's been ripped out from his chest. The room spins around him. Where are you?

"Excuse me, are you Miguel O'Hara?" A voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see another nurse, her face kind but weary. He can only nod, words failing him at the moment.

"Mr. O'Hara, she's not here anymore. She... she's not with us," the nurse says gently, her eyes filled with sympathy. She hands him an envelope. "She asked me to give this to you if you ever came looking for her."

"I am sorry," she adds quietly, before turning to leave. "I'll be right back with little Gabe."

Miguel doesnt register her words. His entire world feels as though it's come crashing down around him. He sinks onto the nearby chair, clutching the envelope tightly, his eyes staring blankly at it. He's too numb to even attempt to open it or even move.

Gwen and Peter B burst into the room then, worry clearly visible on their faces. "Miguel, what's going on?" Gwen asks urgently, rushing to his side. Peter B follows her but Miguel barely hears them, his blood rushing in his ears.

The world is blurry around him, sounds are muffled and distant. The room is empty, and you are not there. ‘No es real’ and ‘por favor vuelve a mi mi sol’ are the only things he can mumble over and over again tirelessly. The reality of it feels like a crushing weight on his chest and all he can do is sit there, holding onto the last piece of you he has left.

Dear Miguel,

If you're reading this, then I am no longer in this world.

I just wanted to let you know that it’s not your fault and no you couldn’t have saved me. I know how you are, Miguel. You always have been the man who would try to save the world single-handedly, even if it meant sacrificing yourself in the process. But this wasn't on you. This was my choice, my decision and I stand by it. I knew the risks and I am sorry I hurt you.

But here's the thing, I have no regrets. Our child...our Gabriel, he's my most cherished gift to you, Miguel. And I know you, with your awkward, nerdy charm and those terrible dad jokes you think are hilarious, will be an amazing father. You were born to be a dad - it's like your destiny. And guess what? This is your second chance to be the best dad you were always supposed to be.

I know you will protect our baby with every fiber of your being. That's just who you are. My last wish is that you give Gabriel the life he deserves. Raise him, love him, be there for him. That's all I want, Miguel.

And if you ever miss me, just look up to the sky, and I'll be there. Even if you can't see me, know that I'm probably hiding behind a cloud, always watching over and protecting you and our Gabriel.

P.S. Please let Gwen, Peter, Jess, Hobie, Miles, Pav and the rest of the squad know how thankful I am for them. They’ve been family, and I know they will rock as godparents.

Forever shining for you,

Tu sol

The door opens again, and the nurse walks in, cradling a tiny bundle in her arms. A baby. A newborn.

As soon as Miguel held the newborn,his son, securely in his arms, he makes a silent promise to you, wherever you are, that he will honor your last wish. He will be the father Gabriel deserves and he will make sure that your sacrifice and love will never be forgotten.

After all, how could anyone possibly forget about the sun?

#miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara imagine #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar issac x reader #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac #spider man x reader #spider man

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chososdiscordkitten · 4 months

Text

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 7

artist: @/drakyutown on twt

pt 6 here

content: lots of lingering touches, more mentions of kidnapping, brief manipulation, Choso reads ur diary, he STEALLLSSSS, mentions of wine, Choso has various piercings, mention of a tattoo (a.n)...... I had to step away multiple times because I kept blushing taglist: @eristi @sunaumei @ex-ria @just-pure-trash @kha-0s @iluvreinah @iamboredowo @integers @waytootiredforthisss @broccocrab @ziklope @tojicvmslut @mochipip @tojisworm-5 @animechick555 @makingtimemine @keepghostly

Obsessive!Choso who saw you yawn as he spoke. “You tired?” He asked, picking up the two plates from the table.

“Yeah-” your fingers rubbing your temple. “I haven't been able to sleep all that great these past few days.” you smiled, remembering what happened. Making the uneasy feeling form in your stomach again. Seeing him place the dishes into the sink.

You stood up, walking to the living room coffee table. Picking up the yellow envelope and placing it onto the table, seeing Choso back in his chair again.

“I got home the other day to this on the door mat.” You exhaled, sitting back down in your chair. Looking over at you as his hands reached for it. Almost asking if he could pick it up. Nodding your head yes, opening the top flap of the envelope. Pulling out the stack of photos, individually scanning each one.

Raising his eyebrows in fake surprisement. Looking over at you when you recited what he had written. “Be careful who you let into your life.” His eyes snapped to you, “He told me his wife died. And how he was always busy with work. But the time stamps on the pictures-” You defended, feeling goosebumps form on your arms.

“And I've been terrified to leave my house- I feel like I'm constantly being watched.” You smiled, trying to make it sound like no big deal. Choso’s face feigning concern. “I'm scared- that if I leave. Someone will hurt me.” you continued, ‘Someone. But not me. That's why I'm here, to protect you from the potential stalkers you could have.’ he thought, placing the photos down onto the table.

“I mean- this has to be someone close to me or to him. Close enough that they know my address and what school I go to.” you rambled, seeing his face go unchanged from the concern he plastered onto it.

“And I know it's someone nearby. This-” you picked up the yellow envelope. “It has no postage, or return address. Someone came to my house to deliver this in person.” You finished, sighing as you opened your mouth to speak again.

“I sound like a paranoid crazy person-” you laughed, seeing him crack a smile. “All I'm missing is the foil hat and I'm set.” You joked, shrinking into your seat, seeing his eyebrows furrow in thought.

‘Intelligent, aren't you? I didn’t think you'd catch onto such small details.’ he thought, opening his mouth to speak, “No- No, you have a point.” He started, spreading the photos onto the table.

“The fact that someone-” mentally he was smiling. “Someone watched you with him.” he started, looking over at you as your face churned with anxiety.

”Watched you close enough to see your relationship with him-” his mouth let out words that made you shiver at the thought. “Someone who knows where you live, when you're not home.” confirming the thoughts you had tried so hard to push to the back of your head.

Obsessive!Choso who hoped you remembered when he told you he worried about you getting kidnapped. You laughed, “This is like one of my worst fears.” rubbing your forehead.

“I have no idea how I'm gonna leave my house-” You smiled. Choso struggled to keep his face stern. A small grin threatened to form onto his lips when he saw you cover your head in your hands. Pulling them from your face and pressing prayer hands against your lips. Looking over at him, a smile forming on your lips in disbelief, scoffing before speaking.

“You were right.” raising your eyebrow and dropping your hands flat onto the table. “I'm going to get kidnapped and sold-” you started, half joking but trying to hide how scared you really were. “You won’t get kidnapped.” He promised, smiling and taking one of your hands into his. Looking down and seeing how large it was compared to yours, eyes catching on his chipped nail polish.

Choso’s eyes widened, pulling away from yours and apologizing. “M’sorry- I shouldn't have-” he mumbled, feeling you reach your hand back to his. “No-” you smiled, “It's fine.” feeling his hand rest beneath yours.

“I was just looking at how your nail polish is always chipping.” His eyes looked down at his hand, squinting when he saw the polish. Feeling your fingertips drag down the top of his, gulping when you picked his hand up and examined his fingers closer. Making Choso’s cheeks flush, brushing your thumb against the nail of his pointer finger.

“It’s c-cheap-” he stuttered, feeling you brush against each finger. “It was a dollar i think-” he kept going, hearing you hum. The ridges of the chipped polish against the pads of your thumb and index finger. Grin on your face when you heard him. “I can tell.” You laughed, letting his hand go and looking at him. Now he was the one looking away from your gaze so you wouldn't see the warmth on his face. “I could redo them if you want?” you asked, seeing him pull his hands below the table.

“I just don't wanna be alone right now.” all smiles as you saw his ears turn pink.

“You're not tired?” he asked, looking to meet your gaze, seeing you nod no with a closed mouth smile. “If you want-” he murmured, seeing you exhale through your nose. Sliding the chair back and going upstairs quickly.

Obsessive!Choso who saw a gold halo around you when you came downstairs, cotton balls, small bottle of acetone and black polish in hand. Smiling when you set everything onto the table, rolling your shoulders back when you looked at him.

Raising your eyebrows, waiting for him to present his hands. Damp cotton ball in your fingers, the other holding the palm of his hand as you rubbed the acetone in gently. Choso’s eyes going from seeing your hand hold his, to your face. Noticing how cute you looked when focusing, accidently letting his thoughts fall from his lips, quiet enough to not understand what he said, but evident enough to hear he said something.

Looking at him through your eyelashes, ‘Hm?’ you asked, stopping your motions. “Nothing.” He replied quickly, making you smile and look back down to his hand. Wincing when you reached his thumb, seeing a deep hangnail on the side.

“What happened here?” You asked, hissing as you examined it. “I get nervous sometimes-” he started, seeing you look into his eyes, “It's practically instinct now.” He smiled.

“It's gonna hurt.” You warned, holding the blackened cotton ball in your hand. “It’s okay- I’ll live.” he joked, seeing your hand hesitate to press the cotton to his thumb, eyes looking up to see if it did hurt. His face went unchanged, feeling you swipe away the cheap polish from his nail. Blowing gently onto it in hopes it wouldn't sting too much.

For the first time in a long time, Choso didn’t think about what he'd say to you. Not conversing with you mentally, his eyes looking at you with pupils in the shape of saucers. Seeing you open the small bottle of black polish, painting it on one stroke at a time. Making sure not to get any on his skin.

Letting go of his pinkie and looking up at him, seeing he was staring. “Choso?” You murmured, eyes on his ring finger as you delicately held his hand. Hearing him hum in response. You didn't know if it was exhaustion making you speak or you just wanted to tease, “You're staring.” you hummed, not looking up from his hands but feeling him tense up.

“Sorry.” he mumbled, seeing you look up at him. His eyes unmoved from your comment. Letting go of his ring finger and dipping the brush into the bottle again.

Moving to his middle finger, a small smile on your lips as you hid the warmth that rose to your cheeks. Painting his index finger slowly as he felt your knuckles brush against the center of his palm, brushing off the excess polish into the bottle before moving onto his raw thumb.

Painting gently, making sure not to cause him any unnecessary pain. Choso let out a sharp wince, making you flinch and look up at him. “You okay?” you worried, face full of fear making him let out a stifled laugh. Your face fell when you realized he was messing with you. Mumbling a quiet, ‘jerk’ before finishing his thumb and blowing gently onto the tips of his fingers making him grin.

Moving to his other hand, picking up his pinkie before speaking, “When you told me you've seen me walking home-” you started, making Choso look at your face, to see if your expression changed.

If you were interrogating him or just trying to make conversation. Finishing his pinkie and dipping the brush once again, “It really made me think.” You hummed, coating his ring finger and moving to his middle.

“About?” he asked, gulping his nerves as he felt your breath against his hand. Smiling as you swiped down his nail, “Made me rethink walking home alone.” You grinned, playing coy to what you were insinuating. “Oh?” he hummed, seeing you flash a toothy grin, ‘Mhm’ You smiled, looking at him and pursing your lips as you waited for him to say something.

Obsessive!Choso who felt like he'd stutter if he asked you what you wanted to hear. “How dangerous it is-” you smiled, painting his pointer finger.

“You-” he started, feeling his heart thump in his chest, “You want me to walk you home?” He asked, making you look at his face. He let out his internal monologue for the first time.

Letting out a stifled sigh, looking back down to avoid the eyes he was looking at you with. “Only if you want to.” Making sure to keep a playful tone, painting his thumb before looking back up to see him. Blowing at them gently while he struggled to find the words to use, dark circles under your eyes as you fought off the need to go to sleep.

Knowing that when you woke up you could blame your insistent flirting on how tired you were. Placing his hand flat on the table, mouthing a quiet, ‘All done.’ keeping your eyes on him while you waited for him to reply.

“If it makes you feel safer-” he started, “And if you'll let me. I will.” Seeing his bottom lip tremble the tiniest bit, cheeks flushed and his hands turning clammy against the table. Thankful you weren’t holding them anymore.

Batting your eyelashes at him, smiling before telling him ‘thank you’. The fatigue eating away at you, feeling your brain pound in your skull. Not knowing if it was from how hard you were blushing or if it was from how nervous you were asking that of him.

“Why are you so nice to me?” You asked your voice daring to slur the words, resting your head in your hand and seeing him blink rapidly.

“Cause you're nice to me.” He smiled, feeling like he could die at any moment from how hard his heart was beating.

“No- I mean.” You started, scanning his face. “Anyone else wouldn't have come here. And I don't know anyone who would cook me something to make me feel better.” you smiled, seeing him scoff playfully, trying to look away from you.

You laughed, realizing what you were saying aloud, “I don't know- What I'm trying to say is- you're different.” You smiled, seeing him nod his head and grin as he heard you slur your words. “In a- in a good way-” you sighed, noticing your eyelids suddenly felt very heavy.

“I don’t even know what I’m sayin'- please say something.” You smiled, feeling like you had just confessed your feelings to him even if you didn't know what feelings you were confessing.

“I think- you're exhausted. And you need to sleep.” He smiled, making you sigh at his words. Nodding your head slowly, knowing if you had to sleep it would mean being home alone again.

“I don't wanna be alone.” you hummed, sounding like you were already half asleep.

“I could stay. If you want.” Choso started, hearing you exhale in relief. “I'll clean up.” He continued, seeing you nod your head.

“You don't have to-” You started, feeling embarrassed.

“I want to.” He retorted, reaching for your hand. Making you sigh as you felt more at ease, mouthing a quiet, ‘Thank you.’ before standing.

“Wake me when you wanna leave- okay?” You asked, walking towards the stairs, hearing him mumble a small ‘Mhm’, seeing you left the nail polish at the table. Smiling before standing up and walking to the kitchen sink.

Choso wasn't going to make you wake up simply because he wanted to leave. He would stay here for as long as you'd let him. ‘I will be here when you wake,’ he smiled to himself, washing the dirty dishes. Picturing a future where this was your life. He was your life.

Obsessive!Choso who finished washing the dishes, walked around your house to see if there was anything he could find.

Pocketing the black nail polish on the table, finding himself standing at the end of the staircase that led up to you. Debating on whether or not he should go up there. Thinking up excuses if you caught him snooping.

Before he knew it, he was taking quiet steps up the stairs. Noticing most of the doors were closed, walking to the one that was slightly cracked open.

Pushing the door handle slightly. Seeing you in your bed, sleeping.

‘You feel so safe around me that you leave your door open. So comfortable that you let yourself be vulnerable.’

Quietly taking a step inside. Eyes scanning the walls of your room, finally being able to see the bedroom he's pictured you in for so long. His eyes noticed you left your curtain open- again.

Closing it quickly, mentally scolding you for that bad habit. His eyes trailing down at your desk. All your small trinkets.

Taking his freshly painted fingers and moving the curtain slightly to look outside, seeing the usual spot he'd stand at when he would come see you. Smiling at how if you ever did look outside, you wouldn't see him from this view.

Looking to the wall where your bed was. A large painting hangs above it. Noticing it was crooked, taking a step closer and seeing it was slightly pushed off of the wall.

Looking down to see you sleeping soundly, taking a minute to look at your sleeping form. The urge to brush the hair from your face was strong, but the regret he'd feel if he invaded your personal space, and you woke from it; was too great. S

canning your wrist that was adorned by the bracelet he had given you earlier, almost clutching his heart at the sight. Eyes looking back to the painting, scanning the side of it and seeing the spine of a notebook. ‘A diary? I didn't take you for a person who had a diary.’ he thought, gently lifting the side of it and taking the notebook. Opening the first page and seeing the date, two years ago.

First day of college. Reading how excited you were- the first few entries were like that. Full of excitement and passion for going to school. Standing above you as he flipped the pages, finding one 5 months after starting school. ‘

I left home to start over.- but I could stand in a room filled with these so-called ‘friends’ and feel more alone than I've ever felt in my entire life-’

He read, looking down at your face, ‘I understand. I know how hard living the life you live must be’ Spending the next 20 minutes silently skimming through the pages.

Eyes snapping to you anytime you sighed in your sleep. His fingers grazed on the small wrinkled circles of smeared ink. Showing him you were crying whilst writing.

Seeing the date of the day when he first saw you, scanning your messy writing trying to find himself in your words. ‘

There was only one person who looked interesting.’ He read, with a smile on his face when he read that you were describing what he wore that day.

‘This is fate. I know it is. Love at first sight.’ he thought, turning the page and seeing you continue to mention him more often. The last entry you wrote was a week after they had paired you together.

The words he read almost made him jump in excitement. ‘I've never met anyone like him, he's different. I think we met for a reason.’ Choso wanted to desperately take your notebook, scan each and every page before returning it to you.

He wondered why you hadn't written in so long- thinking that his friendship was so important to you, you didn't need to write anymore. That you already knew you could talk to him about anything. No judgements or need for embarrassment.

Obsessive!Choso who got caught up in his own string of delusions that he began to mumble to himself, letting out the questions he thinks of when you'd talk.

Almost carrying out a conversation with you. Seeing you start to shift under a throw blanket, freezing still when you turned to face away from him. Closing the notebook and sliding it back behind the large canvas, making sure to straighten the painting before he left.

He was one step away from the door when he heard you stir awake, mumbling his name when you cracked your eyes open to see a Choso shaped blob at your door.

Freezing when you asked him what he was doing, “I came to see if you were sleeping; I know you told me to wake you.” He smiled, seeing you rest back into the pillows with a small sigh.

“You leavin?” you asked, voice groggy as you tried not to fall asleep again.

“Nope. It's okay. Go back to sleep.” he whispered, hearing you hum in response. He was mentally scolding himself for almost being caught. Stepping out of your bedroom and silently closing the door. Feeling like his search wasn't enough, he walked down the hall to the door at the end. Wanting to see who you lived with.

Opening the door knowing there wouldn't be anyone behind it. Scanning the bedroom, seeing their photos of their families. ‘Boring.’ he thought, his eyes catching a frame of you, and what he assumed was the rest of your roommates.

Smiling at how you stood out in the photo. How everyone looked so fucking boring next to you. His fingers grazed against your face as he admired the photo behind the glass.

Placing the frame face down onto their desk. Closing the door to the bedroom before making his way to the other rooms, not finding anything of interest.

But in the last bedroom he checked, Choso found they had a huge frame on their wall filled with polaroids. Scanning each row trying to find you.

His eyes catching a photo of you, smile on your face as someone kissed your cheek. Written at the bottom was ‘New Years 2021’ in red ink.

He felt a certain pain in his heart when he saw how happy your face was. Remembering back to every time he's made you laugh- not once making you smile as hard as you were in that photo.

Not being able to see this person's face clearly, the flash from the camera hid their identity well. ‘You haven't brought this person up. And they're not on your social media.’ He thought, scanning the other photos to see if they had any more of you.

But not seeing any, turning around and looking at their tv stand, a small stack of multicolored polaroids wrapped in rope sat at the corner. Thinking how this was fate, picking up the hefty stack and untying the bow that held them together. Noticing the tops of them were dusty, showing him that they didn't go through them recently.

Obsessive!Choso who slowly went through them; mostly photos that were taken with the wrong exposure or blurry ones.

But he saw how there were 5 of you. On your birthday, of you in your pajamas in the morning, of you petting a stray cat. He smiled looking at them, thinking of how destiny put these photos in his hands.

Taking out all 5 photos of you and wrapping up the stack again, placing it in the same corner he found them in.

Taking out his wallet and sliding in the polaroids into one of the card holders. Smiling knowing he'd have actual polaroids of you to show off to his brothers the next time he saw them again.

Walking back downstairs and seeing that the sun had fully set. Opening your fridge to see what you had, nothing but an old rotisserie chicken and ketchup.

Opening the freezer and seeing the pizza you had told him about previously. All he found were just frozen meals, scolding your roommates for not leaving you decent ingredients to cook for yourself.

Sitting down on the sofa, not wanting to turn the tv on incase he woke you. So he sat in silence, thinking about all the times you had interacted with him, replaying them in his mind.

Watching every smile, every word you mispronounced, everytime you muted yourself on FaceTime- like a movie.

You know in those movies where the spouse dies and they remember them laughing the whole time, in white bedsheets or at the beach? Yeah, that's how he was thinking of you. If anyone peeked inside the window they'd just see him sitting on the couch in dim lighting, hands on his knees as he waited for you to wake up.

Trying to remember what he'd do in his spare time before he met you. Furrowing his eyebrows when he realized he genuinely couldn't remember, ‘Study? No that's not it.’ he thought.

Hearing light footsteps above him, signaling you were awake. Smile on his face when he heard you close the door to your bedroom. Straightening his back when he saw you come down the stairs, grinning when he saw you.

Lips puffy and eyes squinty when you laid eyes on him. “Hiii” you croaked, walking to the opposite end of the couch he was sitting on. “What were you doin?” you asked, seeing him look over to you and think of his answer.

“Nothing…?” he asked, his face grimacing as he looked at you. Causing you to let out a stifled laugh.

“Totally not suspicious at all.” you joked, folding your legs onto the couch to face him.

Obsessive!Choso who felt the need to actually tell you about what he was thinking. “I was trying to remember what I used to do with my spare time.” he murmured, so quiet you could hear crickets outside.

“What do you mean?” You asked, brain still muddy from your sleepy state.

“Before I-” he started, knowing he was saying too much. “Never mind.” he murmured, leaning back into the couch.

“No, tell me.” You smiled, scooching over the tiniest bit to convince him. Seeing him nod his head no, “Before you…?” The tone you took made Choso crack a smile.

“Before we were friends.” he mumbled, looking away from you in hopes you didn't see the blushy look on his face. Making you laugh,

Choso knew what he did before he was friends with you. He'd watch you, and scroll through your social media. Find old middle school pictures of you. Scroll through the abandoned twitter account from sophmore year of highschool.

What he was referring to was what he did before he saw you, what he did before he fell in love with you.

“I didn't think I took so much of your time-” you joked, seeing him turn back to you with a smile.

“No- that's not what I meant.” he laughed, seeing you smile at him. “I mean I don't think I have any hobbies or anything like that.” seeing your smile fall.

“Any? At all?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Not even like regular guy stuff?” you laughed, seeing him exhale with a smile.

“What is ‘regular guy stuff’?” he turned his head seeing you laugh through your nose.

“I don’t know-” you looked away from him, looking up trying to think about it. “Video games, sports, parties, pot…” You started, looking back at him. “A partner.” seeing his face go unchanged.

“Well let's see-” he started holding five fingers in front of him, “I don't like games-” putting down his thumb, “i'm not a jock- parties are stupid- “ putting down two fingers looking over at you smiling.

“-and pot makes me anxious.” He smiled, seeing you look down to see he still had his pinkie out.

“And… ?” You smiled, seeing his eyes flicker back down to his hand.

“Nope. Not that either.” he let out, almost making you fall back against the couch in relief.

“I'd be a little concerned if you did have a partner and you were here with me-” you grinned, “It being so late and all.” seeing his eyebrows wriggle at your words.

Looking away from you to face the black tv in front of the couch, silence filling the air as his hands fiddled with each other, seeing his pointer finger pick at the already raw gash on his thumb, “You wanna watch a movie..? Or something?” you asked, trying to make him less nervous. Not knowing this would only make his heart beat faster. Seeing him nod his head yes and let out a small ‘Mhm’

Now standing in the kitchen waiting for popcorn to finish popping, leaning against the counter as he stared at you.

“Wine?” he asked, seeing you walk to a specific cupboard above the stove, “You read my mind.” You mumbled, standing on your tiptoes and opening the cabinet door.

Seeing the tips of your fingers barely reach the dark green bottle. Hearing him take a step to help you but mumbling a quick, “I got it-” with a sigh when your hand wrapped around the bottom of it. Holding it in both your hands in triumph with a smile on your face. Placing two glasses onto the counter and telling him to say when. Seeing him open the bag of popcorn and dump them into a light blue bowl, taking a sip from your glass.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, tossing popcorn into your mouth.

“I don't know- action?” he asked, seeing you nod your head no.

“Horror?” you asked, seeing him nod his head no quickly.

Obsessive!Choso knew that if you put a horror movie on; you'd see just how much he hated them. He knew the whole ‘watch a horror movie to comfort you when you're scared’ wouldn't work. In the end he'd be the one asking you to tell him when the scary part is over.

“Comedy?” he asked, seeing you grimace.

“So called ‘comedy’ films are never funny.” You smiled, looking up to think.

“You into superhero movies?” you asked, seeing him look down with a smirk.

“God no-” he laughed.

“Oh I know-” You smiled, making him look back up at you. “Ratatouille!” You smiled, making him laugh.

“Phenomenal movie-” he started, making you grin. “One of my-” he said, placing his hand on his chest. “Personal favorite movies.” His tone was full of sarcasm as you picked up your glass, muttering ‘Shut up-’ with a smile with the bowl in hand.

Walking back to the couch. Sitting at the end, turning the tv on and scrolling to find the streaming service. Seeing Choso eye the couch before sitting. Looking at the opposite end and over to you, looking up at his face.

“What?” you asked, seeing indecision smeared on his face.

“Nothin.” he smiled, sitting at the opposite end and feeling how tense his shoulders were. Hearing you let out a laugh before taking a sip from your glass. Placing the popcorn bowl between you, knowing you’d have to reach over quite far if you wanted to get a handful. Pressing play onto the movie and feeling his eyes flicker to you.

It didn't take long for you to pause the movie to tell him about a memory you remembered from your childhood.

Wine in hand seeing him take in every word you spoke with a smile. Soon the film became annoying background noise as you heard him speak about how the red haired guy reminded him of his brother, his glass becoming more and more empty with every time he spoke.

Telling you stories of how he would have to pry them from each other growing up, and much they'd fight with each other. Soon the tv dimmed, eventually turning off from how long it had been paused. Showing you a scar one of his brothers made on his forearm.

“Growing up- Kechizu was a biter.” He smiled, seeing you move the bowl onto the coffee table and scooch closer to him. Noticing the light veins on his arm as you scanned the scar.

“And this one?” you asked, seeing a light scratch between his knuckles, “I was trying to break up a fight- and they dragged me into it. I don't even know who scratched me. But from then on I made sure that they all had short nails.” he smiled, noticing every time you asked him about another one you'd scooch closer to him.

Now sitting a few inches away from him, smiling while you reached your fingers out, grazing the light scars that littered his upper forearm, Choso’s cheeks now light pink as he watched you.

Both wine glasses now empty as your eyes flickered up to look at him. His short sleeve rose, making you notice the bottom of a tattoo on his bicep. Sliding the tips of your fingers up slightly, pushing the hem of the sleeve up. Making a chill run down his spine.

“Did it hurt?” you asked, looking at the tattoo on his pale skin. Looking up to his face, eyes half lidded as he nodded no.

Pushing his hair behind his ears with his other hand, your eyes now scanning his heavily pierced ears.

“And your ears?” you whispered, “Those hurt a little more.” He whispered back, seeing your hand hesitate to rise to his ear before pulling it back down.

Eyes locked onto each other as Choso felt his brain empty. Moving your eyes to look at his eyebrow.

“Did the ones on your face hurt?” you whispered. Scanning his face piercings.

“Some of them.” he whispered back.

Taking his free hand and grazing the barbell on his eyebrow. “This one hurt a lot-” he mumbled, his lips curling into a small smile. Dragging the tips of his fingers down to the hoop on his nostril, “And this one felt like a pinch-” he whispered, seeing your eyes follow his unchipped nails.

Dragging his middle and ring finger down to his snake bites, “And these only hurt after.” he smiled, seeing you look at his bottom lip. Humming in response, eyes blinking back up to look into his.

“I never noticed you had a scar there.” you whispered.

Looking at two small bumps on either side of his nose bridge. “That one-” he started, “Felt like I combined every piercing and every tattoo ive ever gotten, into one.” he smiled, seeing how dilated your pupils were.

“Why’d you take it out?” you whispered, your thumb rubbing circles on his forearm made his brain fuzzy and found it difficult to think of what he was saying.

Obsessive!Choso who thought you were leaning in closer to him, thinking he was going crazy. “I didn't like it as much as I thought I would.” he breathed. Feeling his cheeks tingle at how close you were. Dragging your hand down to the top of his.

“Scary huh?” he asked, making you exhale and lean back. Nodding your head no and smile.

“Nope. Not at all.” you grinned, fingers grazing the bumps of his knuckles. Inhaling sharply when he felt your fingers brush against his palm.

“Wh-” he started, seeing you look to him with a tilted head, “Where do we meet on monday?” He asked, referring to walking you home.

Hearing you hum, “Coffee shop?” you asked, pulling your hand away from him, making his heart break.

“Okay.” he whispered sternly, trying his hardest to not sound pathetic.

Seeing you rest your hand on your knee, “Okay.” you mimicked his tone with a smile.

pt 8 here

this was like 5.5k words Jesus Christ. lmk if u wanna be tagged continuously!!!!

#jjk #choso kamo #choso my beloved #jjk choso #choso x reader #jjk x reader #choso x you #jujutsu kaisen #college au #emo choso #Non curse au #sfw jjk

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skzstannie · 5 months

Text

“We’d never want you to struggle alone”

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member! reader

genre: angst wc: ~2100 cw: mentions of depression and death of family members, hatred for the holidays

Hi guys! Here’s my attempt at some Christmas/holiday angst. The fluffy Part 2 is posted and linked at the bottom of this post!

Feedback and likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated! I haven't got the chance to interact with too many people on here yet, so reach out if you'd like!

Happy scrolling!

"Hey guys, I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna head to bed. Chan Oppa, I'm gonna go lay down in your room until everyone's ready to go back to our dorm," you wave off their comments asking you to stay with them and make your way to the leader's bedroom.

It's December 20th, and the guys are all gathered around the television in the 3Racha/Hyunjin dorm, binge watching Christmas movies. During a normal year, you'd all be at your own homes with your families, cozying up to the fireplaces and drinking hot chocolate with your siblings. However, this was no normal year, and your comeback ran too close to the holidays, not allowing you nor the boys to go home for Christmas. Not that you particularly minded; you hated the holidays.

You imagine what you'd be doing at home right now, no doubt curled up in your bed with an exciting romance novel, listening to some dark academia playlist you'd found on YouTube.

But you're not home, you're stuck here with a bunch of Christmas-crazed dorks who have spent the last few weeks decorating your dorms full of all things Santa Claus. You've been managing to sneak away whenever any holiday-esque activities are taking place. You've not told them of your hatred towards the holidays, and you're not really planning to, either, not wanting to be the reason their fun-filled nights are ruined; they're already sad enough about not being able to head home for the holidays, the last thing you want to do is be a scrooge. So, you’ve resorted to humbly excusing yourself, busying yourself with your own activities when the occasion arises.

As you walk into Chan's room, you take notice of all the little trees he has decorating his room. Cute. You pick up the picture of his family he has resting on his nightstand beside his bed. You stare at his mom, dad, siblings, and grandparents smiling faces, feeling the familiarly unavoidable pit in your stomach form.

Your parents and one set of your grandparents passed away in a car wreck about five years ago, before you debuted with the guys. Your other grandparents, your mother's parents, passed away before you were born, never getting the opportunity to meet them. So, that left just you and your brother. Your brother, being a few years older than you, started his own family the summer after your parents passed. He has a beautiful wife and two children now, one boy and one girl. They got right to baby-making after they got married, so excited to start a family of their own. Unfortunately, that family never included you. You only know of their children because you’re mutuals with your sister-in-law on social media.

Your brother essentially ghosted you after his first child was born. You two were never the closest sibling duo, but you never expected him to completely drop you and ignore your existence. But he did, and that's just something you have learned to live with.

You were not in a healthy place after all this happened. You had no one to go to when your heart was breaking, grieving the loss of both your dead and alive family members. You put all your focus into the trainee program, all your sadness and anger towards the world into your dance and song. Chan eventually found you on that one fateful day that you deemed saved your life. You were at the lowest of your low, and you thought you had finally reached your breaking point, but then walked in Christopher Bang Chan, all smiles and laughter. He recruited you to be in his group as one of the first, right after Han. From then on, you had another reason to keep going, to keep fighting.

You've never told the guys this. You have always been a more reserved member, keeping all of your personal life out of the spotlight. While the boys never heard you talk much about your family, really only knowing you have a brother, they always thought that, when you went home for the holidays, you went home to a nice big house filled with love. They thought when you walked in the doors to your childhood home, you were welcomed in by your parents with opened arms, beckoning you in. They thought you spent your Christmas mornings opening nicely wrapped presents, followed by a home-cooked breakfast that'd be shared amongst your family.

They didn't know of the single bedroom apartment you called yours. They didn't know of the bareness that captured your living room, baren of all things Christmas and the lack of Christmas cookies and presents on Christmas Day. They didn't know you've always spent your holidays alone.

Honestly, you were completely fine with their assumptions. You didn't need nor want their pity. Your family was still an incredibly sensitive topic to you. Before their passing, you were so very close. You'd spent every holiday together, enjoying your time as a family, doing all the cliche things. You'd even gone caroling a few times, walking around your childhood neighborhood singing the classic Christmas songs off-key to your friendly neighbors.

Afraid you'd spiral, leading you right back to how you'd been before Chan found you, you never brought it up, and the boys never pushed you to talk about your family. They figured you were normal with a mom, dad, and a loving brother-so what's to talk about?

The holidays have never felt the same; you knew they wouldn't. So why try? Why go through the effort of making yourself a nice Christmas dinner, attending church on Christmas eve and waking up early Christmas morning, when you knew your parents wouldn't be there to greet you. When you knew your grandmother wouldn't be there to give you the biggest hug she could muster in her old age. When your grandfather wouldn't be there to give you a hearty pat on the back, his only true form of physical affection you'd ever experienced in all your years with him.

A quiet knock pulls you out of your thoughts, and in walks Felix with a glass of milk in hand. You quickly set down the picture frame you didn't realize you were still holding and give him a warm smile.

"Hey, what's up?" you ask him, taking the glass from him and sipping on the cold beverage.

"I just wanted to make sure you were feeling alright. You've been pretty distant for a couple weeks now. Is everything ok?"

You're a little caught off guard, this being the first time anyone's noticed your pulling back since the beginning of December. You honesty didn't even realize anyone was paying attention to you, all of them too caught up in the festive activities and excitement of the season.

"Yea, I mean, I'm fine. Just a bit of seasonal depression," you write off his concerns.

"I didn't know you had that," Felix ponders his thoughts for a minute, giving you a loving look. "Is there anything I can do to help? Have you always had seasonal depression?"

While looking into Felix's warm, brown eyes, you decide that keeping all these things from them all these years has been unfair. They're never afraid of sharing their personal struggles with you. You think back to all the times Han's came to you with anxiety, and how you've wanted nothing more than to take away all his worry and pain. How Seungmin's came to you with his insecurities, and you always hyping him up, calling him the most beautiful boy. If any of them had kept their struggling to themselves, it'd crush you. How dare they feel like they couldn't come to you? Why would they want to struggle alone?

You realize that these feelings are most definitely reciprocated by the guys. Now, feeling vulnerable after being left alone with your thoughts for so long, you have the dire urge to come clean about your family.

"Actually Felix, I've been struggling with this for quite some time now. Can you, maybe just, listen? I've never talked to anyone about this, but I want to now. I want you guys to know," you fiddle with your hands, sliding one of your rings on and off your finger.

"Of course! You can always talk to me. Go ahead, I'm listening." He grabs your hand, halting your fidgeting. You look up at him, take a deep breath, and let it all out. Everything you've been holding onto these last few years. It probably sounds like word vomit, all your feelings and hardships falling out of your mouth at lightning speed. You finish your rambling, and you finally have the courage to look up at his face again.

He's crying. Equipped with all the theatrics, the wobbly lip and rosy cheeks. You made Felix cry with all your problems. You reach up to his cheek, wiping a few of his falling tears.

"Ok, I think I'm done," you freeze as Felix also brings his index finger up to your cheek. You flinch when he pulls away, seeing the dampness of it.

You're crying, too. You didn't even realize. I mean, it makes sense. You just trauma dumped all of your troubles onto Felix, the world's most renowned empath, of course you'd be crying.

You guys sit in silence for a minute, before Felix's whimpers become audible. He's so visibly distraught, and your heart breaks even more just at the mere sight of him.

He launches himself at you, clinging to you so tightly you think your ribs may crack. He tackles you back onto the bed, resting on top of you.

"Why did you never tell us this?" his sobs wreck through his body, his arms trembling around you, "We could've helped you."

"I was scared," you wriggle one of your arms free of his embrace, using it to affectionately run your hand through his hair. Your sobs join together as one, both of you a mess. "I was scared you guys would pity me, or look at me less. I was scared that I'd spiral again if I talked about it."

"Well, we're here now, Jagiya." He sits up after a few minutes. His cries have quieted, and so have yours. "We aren't going to let you continue going through this alone, ya know. We are one, and if one of us is hurting, we're all hurting. Please don't keep things like this from us anymore." He begs, standing from the bed. He grabs your hand and pulls you up, making his way towards the door.

"Where are we going?" your voice shakes and you pull away from Felix, standing in the middle of Chan's room. You wrap your arms around your middle, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.

"You know we have to tell the rest of them. They deserve to know, too."

"Felix, I don't think I can tell the story again. Once was enough for a lifetime."

"OK, do you feel comfortable with me telling them? I'll tell them exactly what you told me, no more, no less, ok?"

You frantically nod your head, grateful for Felix's suggestion.

He blows you a playful kiss, no doubt trying to make you feel better, and he leaves to go to the living room. You take your seat back down on the side of the bed and wait patiently for Felix to finish.

You don't hear much for the next few minutes, but you're startled by the swinging open of the door, the handle cracking against Chan's poor wall. Han stands there, a dazed look on his face. His glassy eyes meet yours, and you shriek when he takes off, leaping onto the bed onto your small frame. He wraps you up in a big hug, squeezing the life out of you.

"We love you, and we'd never want you to struggle alone. We're in this life together."

One by one, the rest of the guys make their way into the room onto the bed. We're haphazardly thrown into a cuddle pile of sorts. A cuddle pile filled with the love and adoration you've been missing during the holidays.

You all lay in each other's arms, and you feel incredibly comfortable and safe. Chan's the first to break the silence, "We have five days left until Christmas. What do you say we make some new Christmas traditions? We don't want to replace what you used to have, and you’re entitled to spend your Christmas season as you'd like. But, if you'll let us, we’ll give you something to look forward to about the holidays again. Please?" The guys are all looking at you now, each of them displaying a face that could rival a sad puppy.

You realize now that there's nothing to be scared of. These are your best friends you're talking about, who want nothing but to shower you in love and happiness.

"I'd love that."

Part 2

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz 9th member #stray kids ninth member #stray kids 9th member #skz ninth member #part 1/2

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