#and i feel paralyzed with shame | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

getitoutofmymindwrites · 27 days

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Promises. | joel miller x f!reader, 2.2k

Summary: A word escapes your mouth, you think you got the upper hand. You don't. Joel eats your ass to put you right back where you belong.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, pwp, rough sex, dom!joel, sub!reader, established relationship, everything that happens has been previously discussed and is consensual, cursing, size kink, dd/lg kink, brief p in v, (1) spanking, (1) pussy slapping, rimming, tongue fucking, brief v!fingering, cum eating because.. OF COURSE, sentimental joel at the end, as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I don't know what happened, your honor, I swear! I just- I can't- I don't know what to say, ok? It is what it is.

P.S.: Come on, tell me how bad I am at summaries. I'm fine, it's fine, TOTALLY FINE. 😒😶

Dividers by @strangergraphics & @inklore

“Pull me out.”

Joel’s lips brush against your jawline, his hands cupping your ass, grinding you against his hard-on.

You reach for his restrained erection, pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants. How do you always end up completely naked while he’s still clothed, is still a mystery to you.

You look down at his cock, already angry and leaking. You purse your lips and spit on it, lubricating it more, as you slowly stroke it up and down.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”, you confess as you work him. He laughs through his nose bashfully and shakes his head slightly at your compliment.

“You’re so warm and big and hard, daddy.” you add, your eyes fixed on his massive length.

The words slip out of your mouth without a second thought. Your body stiffens over him; you never thought about this before. And he never asked you, either. You close your eyes hoping he didn’t get that. In your dreams.

He stops the movement of your hips and tilts his head to look at you. “What did you just say?”

His eyes are dark, wild fires of desire dancing across them. But you can’t see that, hidden behind your shame.

“Uh-” you hesitate, feeling embarrassed, needing to explain yourself. Yeah, he won’t have that. His hand grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to look at him, to repeat your words. You groan at his rough treatment, because this is how you love Joel. Sweet and caring, but also dominant and possessive.

“Say that, again.”

You see the look on his face now, the desperation behind his stern demeanour, and it spurs you on, makes you feel in control.

“I need you inside me, daddy.”

“Again.”

“Please, daddy.” you whine, trying to rub your clit on his erection, but his fists tighten around you even more.

His throbbing cock twitches in your palm, leaking all over your knuckles.

“Did you like that, daddy?”, you grin at the effect you are having on him.

The time has come to remind you who is really in control here.

He grabs your hips hard and slams his cock into you with all his might.

“Did you like that?”

You can’t answer, your eyes closed and your mouth wide open, you’re paralyzed from the intense sensation of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

“ANSWER ME.”

“Yeeeeees.” you whimper, boneless in his lap.

“You are not in charge here, little girl. You never were. You do as I say, when I say.”, he commands. Your head is still spinning from the adrenaline rush.

“Answer me when I speak to you.” He emphasises his demand by slapping your asscheek with all his strengh, with the hand he had buried deep inside your cunt earlier. It stings delightfully.

“Y-yes, daddy.”, you frown, your mind confused by the arousal his humiliation brings, your eyes filled with tears.

But his face is still filled with hard lines, he’s not done here.

He pulls you off his cock and pushes you back onto the bed, turning you onto your stomach, completely flat on the mattress. He presses all of his weight over you, his warm body touching every inch of yours.

“Look what you made me do, little girl.” he growls into your ear as he gently removes your hair.

“Wasted all your delicious juices on your cheek, tryna’ put you in your place. I needed to taste that.” You never know what to say when he talks like that. You pray he won't punish you for your silence. But he doesn't seem to care.

“I guess I’ll have to lick that off you now, won’t I?” Fuck.

His calloused palm continues to press down on your back, making it clear that you are not to move an inch. He snakes down between your ass, grabs a handful of your cheek and shakes it to watch it jingle. He licks a wide stripe of your still aching skin, collecting the smeared arousal from it.

“Hmmm” you hear him moan at the taste.

He continues to lick, nip and suck at your skin, moving closer and closer to where your ass meets your thigh and then further inside, close to where you want him most. You arch your back and raise your hips, bending your knees slightly, your legs still completely closed to give him better access.

“Demanding, aren’t we?” he asks rhetorically.

“You’re lucky I’m so goddamn thirsty.” He licks another wide stripe with the flat of his tongue from your center to your tight ring of muscle, leaving your clit untouched. Oh.

No, that can't be. That was an accident. And then he does it again. He licks into your hole, through your folds, dragging your slick up your asshole. Oh.

He begins to swirl his tongue slowly, making deliberate circles, moistening the folds around your puckered hole. Ok, he’s eating your ass, it is happening. He flattens his wet muscle against your tight ring, pressing it firmly to feel the weight and texture of it and he licks as if you’re a fucking ice cream.

His tongue becomes more persistent, aggressive, he’s making out with it now, his lips closing around the tight skin as his wet muscle pushes against your opening. You’re panting at the sensation, strange and new, scary and taboo. Perfect. You start to clench around him, it’s ok baby, I got you and your muscles relax to the assault of his tongue. He feels you become putty in his hands and that makes him wild. Your devotion, your trust, your openness to everything he wants to give you.

He cups your cheeks in such a crushing grip, literally lifting your hips by them, spreading you even wider for him, your skin stretched and aching. Your head is in a haze from the dichotomy of sensations. The pain is almost too much, your skin is red and stinging, almost pinching your heart, but the intense pleasure your asshole receives from his hungry mouth is unbearable. Your cunt is fluttering in a desperate effort to clench around anything and you’re dripping, dripping, dripping.

“Please..” you mumble into the sheets, not knowing what you’re pleading for exactly.

He doesn’t answer, lost in his own pleasure.

“Please.. Daddy, please..” you whimper breathlessly.

That seems to bring him back to the present. “What is it babygirl? What do you need?” You continue to whimper and wriggle on the sheets.

“What is it? Daddy eating your tight little asshole isn’t enough? You want more?”

“I- I- just- need to come, daddy, please, it’s too much- it hurts.”

“Does it, now? Where does it hurt, little girl?”

“My- my pussy, please-”

He then bites down hard on your cheek, making you yelp.

“Where. Here?” He prods a finger at your drooling opening. “Here?” He pets softly your swollen bud and you let out a deep moan of relief.

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry little girl, but it’s not her turn. What is going to happen is I am gonna fuck your tight asshole with my tongue and if you are good for me I’m gonna fuck that little pussy of yours with my fingers. And you’re gonna come like this; am I making myself clear?”

“Yes.” you whisper on the verge of collapsing.

“Yes, what?” he demands, slapping your pussy.

“Y-yeeees, daddy.”

“That’s my girl, being so good for her daddy.” he mumbles and then continues. “Or maybe… I should fuck this little hole properly-”

“D-ddaddyyy-” your brain short-circuits, anxiety overwhelming your senses.

“What’s the matter, baby girl, daddy’s too big for you?” he chuckles wickedly. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” he coos next to your ear, his stiff length resting between your asscheeks, “I’m not gonna hurt you. The time will come, but not now.”

You relax, even though you already know Joel would never do anything by force.

He begins to grind his hips against your bottom, his leaking cock smearing pre-cum along your folds and ass.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he grunts through his teeth, “it would be so easy, so easy to slam my cock right back into your tight cunt; look at her crying for me, fuuuck.”, he talks incessantly, his hot breath ghosting over your damp skin.

Your eyes roll back at his dirty mouth and you raise your hips more in invitation.

Joel presses his hips down, taming you, easy babygirl. The warmth of his pelvis melts you to the mattress.

“But daddy promised, didn’t he? Hm?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“That’s it, baby. Those are the only words you need to know.” Joel whispers into the back of your head, kissing your hair. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you now.”

He straddles your closed legs again and lifts you up by your hips, your cheeks already showing the results of his rough treatment, red and sore to the touch. He spreads your puffy folds with his thumbs one last time to look at your begging hole, beautiful, you think you hear him mumbling.

The tip of his tongue plunges into your soaked cunt, collecting as much of your slick as he can and dragging it up, up, up to your tight ring. He spreads it all around, tonguing your folds, then flicks his tongue up and down and from side to side, driving you mad. You can feel every vertebrae in your back from your tail to the back of your neck due to his ministrations.

His thumbs now slide higher up your cheeks, opening you up even more. He caresses and prods your opening with his nose giving you a whole new sensation and then he fuckin’ spits on it. It’s warm and sexy and dirty and you clench involuntarily. Relax for me, his lips brush against your sensitive skin and as soon as you do, he pushes all the way in, as deep as he can get his slick tongue to go. He starts bobbing his head up and down using the force of his head to fuck you deeper, the squelching sound of the penetration making your swollen clit twitch. His cock is painfully hard, leaking onto your legs beneath him.

You’ve never felt more aroused in your life, the smell of sex in the sheets, the position he’s got you in, the act he’s performing on your- well, his body-, because everything that's yours belongs to him; you've long since surrendered your resistance to those deep brown eyes and those capable hands. Your whole body trembles with his attention, the way he moans into your skin brings you almost to a climax with precision.

“I- I n-need your cock, daddy, please.” you beg in a trembling voice and he smiles against your aroused flesh.

“No, baby, you’re right there,” he replies, always in tune with your body and the way it responds to his touch, “you just need a little.. push” and with that he plunges three thick fingers into your cunt and begins to shake them from side to side, creating a sensation of vibration in your soft walls and at your g-spot.

“D-ddddadddyyyy” you drool incoherently into the crumpled sheets, your face pressed against the mattress as you begin to come, both your holes spasming hard around his tongue and fingers. Joel groans deeply through his chest, a pained moan and pulls away to watch your trembling body riding out its high. Your skin in covered in sweat, your back is arched and your cunt and ass are on display, slicked and shiny, clenching through the last waves of your orgasm.

Still straddling your legs, he fists his throbbing cock, guiding its swollen head against your pulsating ring and he pumps himself with his cum-covered fingers, two, three, four times and he comes; thick, hot ropes of his spend sprouting through his slit and onto your asshole, running down your puffy cunt.

The warmth of his cum on your abused holes creates a new wave of euphoria, the adrenaline making your body shake even more. Joel milks the last drops of his cum, watching as his seed drips from your cunt onto the sheets, as you lie flat and limbless on the bed. He cups your mound, the heel of his palm on your asshole, his fingers on your clit, massaging his creamy release all over your pleasure points. You want to back away and grind on his hand at the same time, a broken sigh escaping you as you bite your lower lip.

Joel enters you with two fingers, fucking some of his cum into you gently and nonchalantly, the thought of his seed being wasted outside your body almost unbearable to him.

“Open.”, he commands and you obey, as you always do. He slips his slick fingers inside your mouth and you immediately suck them clean.

“That’s you and me, darling; that’s what it’s all about. You and me, together.”, he whispers and you bite softly at his fingers as he pulls them away from your warmth, unable to find the right words to say back.

He crushes his body over yours, his semi-hard cock twitching between your asscheeks, his soft belly against the small of your back, his warm and sweaty chest enveloping your upper back, as he cages you between his forearms on either side of your own folded arms. He rests his sweaty forehead between your shoulder blades, regulating his breathing and moaning softly as he exhales against your skin.

“Jesus Christ, baby, that was..”

You don’t answer, you can’t, still panting from the intense orgasm and his crushing weight.

“Shit, I’m crushing you, baby- sorry- let me clea-” he tries to move away, but you cage his forearm between your own hand and your ribs, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Just a little longer,” you slur sleepily, “just stay a little longer..”

Joel hums obediently; now he’s yours to do with as you please, your turn, pressing one side of his face to your skin, inhaling your mixed scent, his favorite in the whole damn world.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

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teaboot · 19 days

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Forgive me if you’ve already answered something similar but how do you deal with crushing guilt when you did fuck up but there’s not really anything you can do to like make amends or you’ve already done anything you could and still feel guilty?

Like I know the guilt isn’t productive at all, if anything it’s just paralyzing me, and mentally beating myself up over it isn’t actually helping anyone. But I don’t know where to go from there. Idk how to actually forgive myself, or at least be able to move on

CW FOR SELF HARM

Okay, so this is something I've had to work through for a very long time myself, and there's a few different strategies that I've used to cope and process with varying levels of success.

What I used to do was handle the "I've ruined everything and hurt people and am never going to be forgiven" feeling by hurting myself in a number of creative and stupid ways, from physical hurt (Everything you'd expect) to mental hurt (wallowing, speaking badly of myself, going over the bad thing over and over again in my head) to passive hurt (neglecting my health, not eating properly, failing to pursue good living conditions, letting others hurt me, deliberately wandering into risky situations) and despite any short-term relief or peace I got, none of it ultimately fixed anything.

At the end of the day, making myself suffer as retribution or apology didn't fix the thing I'd done and didn't make the guilt go away, and all it gave me was an additional sense of shame and isolation because now not only was I a garbage person, I was a garbage person with something to hide from my loved ones. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

The stuff that DID help was harder and is going to sound stupid because *I thought it was stupid* until it worked for me.

First: Learn the difference between GUILT and SHAME.

GUILT is how you feel about your choices.

SHAME is how you feel about yourself.

"I was late to a date again, that was inconsiderate": GUILT. The issue can be resolved by analyzing the reason behind the action and planning steps to avoid repeating it in the future. Guilt is productive because it motivates us to improve our choices. Once you've corrected the behaviour, it's over.

A"I was late to a date again, I'm inconsiderate": SHAME. The issue can be resolved by asking ourselves:

What negative thing to I believe about myself?

What other experiences support this belief? What evidence do I have that the bad thing is true?

Do those previous experiences have anything in common? Where they actually proof of a personal lack, or did someone just tell me they were? Were my choices and actions understandable? Did I have a reason? Was I trying to hurt others, or was it a mistake, accident, or learning experience? Have I grown from that experience?

Can I forgive myself for the past? What do I need to do to forgive myself for those past events? Was I really at fault at all, or was it out of my control?

Accept that.

Your present traumas and shames often have roots in beliefs you had about yourself before the new shameful thing occurred. When you dig into resolving the issues that led to today, you can use those conclusions to work through tomorrow. This is something I learned in cognitive behavioral therapy.

There are a number of ways of unpacking these questions, but as I felt I was deliberately avoiding my thoughts and feelings, I chose to jump into them directly, and found it to be effective.

You can write things down, talk to someone, paint something, draw something, whatever. Whatever at all works for you.

My solutions was to find a comfortable place on the floor, sit down, close my eyes, and do box-breathing (in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4) while deliberately thinking about every upsetting memory attached to a specific bad belief that I could recall until I had nothing left to go over.

Judge and jury. Was I a bad person, or did I make a mistake? Did I have malicious intentions, or did someone accuse me of malicious intentions? Am I bad, or have I been conditioned to believe I'm bad? And at the end of it all, am I capable of better? Do I want to be better? And would a truly bad person care?

It was more emotional than I expected the first few times. Cried a lot, actually. But if I can liken it to a common feeling, it was like getting out of a very thorough shower and realizing you didn't know how dirty you were before.

The process sucks ass, no lie, but it's worth it. Like draining pus from a gnarly wound to get it healed up properly.

I'm not an expert, of course, but life has gotten better since I started. I'm better at forgiving myself, at least.

Also: Some people will never forgive others even for tiny things. Sometimes once you've done your best, you've just gotta say "fuck 'em". C'est la vie, mon amie.

Good luck, yeah?

♡

#Self harm cw #Guilt and shame

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azrielhours · 1 year

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I want you to rest

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Synopsis: Reader has a nightmare while on a mission w the boys. Azriel comes to the rescue, brings her to his room to comfort her. She doesn’t want to sleep so he stays with her through the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rhys! You shouted internally, paralyzed in your nightmare and unable to rouse yourself. Rhys!

A horrible oppressive weight pressed down on your chest, and you were glad for the darkness in the room blocking any potential sights to further scare you as you tried to keep your panic abated. A sinister force seemed to seep from the corners of the room, and you couldn’t even tremble from the paralysis. It advanced further and you wanted to shrink away—

A hand rested on your shoulder, startling you—breaking you free from the immobility. You gasped, head whipping to find the perpetrator as you yanked your body up the bed and away from—

“It’s okay,” a voice spoke calmly. Rhys. Thank God. “It’s just me. You’re safe,” he soothed. You halted your scrambling, eyes wide. Rhys stood by the side of your bed. Azriel was close behind, weapons drawn and his shadows snaking across the room, seeking the invisible threat.

“I—I couldn’t move,” you choked, searching the room for the things you felt, the dread milling in the air. “I’m sorry I called you, I couldn’t wake myself,” you explained, turning back to face Rhys.

“It’s okay,” he repeated. “Don’t be sorry.” His eyes scanned down your startled form, how you fisted the sheets. You turned to look at Azriel in question. Did Rhys wake him too? Your face burned in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” your voice shook, and Azriel stepped closer at the sound, concern furrowing his brows.

The two warriors exchanged a look before Azriel spoke softly to you. “Would you like to come sleep in our room?”

You stared at him for a beat, trying to find the courage to turn down his offer, to gather any semblance of shame and stay put, but your head dipped in a bashful nod.

Rhys squeezed your shoulder, stepping away to walk back to their room. Your group was staying at an inn during a long-haul mission with you situated in the room neighbouring theirs. Azriel waited patiently as you slipped out of your bed, bringing the sheet with you, and he walked behind you as you followed Rhys.

In their room, Cassian sat awake in his bed; his eyes surveyed your form for harm as you entered the room. More embarrassment coursed through you, but before you could apologize again, Azriel placed a gentle hand on your elbow; “it’s just warrior instincts. Don’t be embarrassed.”

You nodded without turning, trying to suppress your shame. Cassian offered a warm smile and a wink before returning to his slumber, though you suspected his haste was a means to soothe your anxiety more than a need to rest.

“I can bring your bed here,” Rhys offered gently. “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

You scanned the room, weighing your options before shaking your head at the High Lord. “I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight. I’ll just—I’ll sit on the couch til the morning. If that’s okay.”

Rhys’s worry was still visible, but he nodded, making his way over to his bed as well.

That left you and Azriel. You turned to face him, curious as to why he wasn’t retiring like his brothers. The crease between his brows was still visible. “You take my bed. I can sleep on the couch.”

You shook your head quickly. “No Azriel, please. I feel awful for—I’m sorry I woke you. Please, I want you to rest,” you insisted softly.

The Shadowsinger still looked troubled, and you fought the urge to thumb away the crease.

You stepped closer. “I really don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” you added. “I promise I already feel better being here. I’ll just watch the stars or read until the morning.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he dipped his head, reluctantly making his way to his bed, and you made yours to the couch. You did feel safer being in the room with the boys, but the vulnerability you felt had you tugging the sheet up further to self-soothe. After a few moments of breathing deeply to calm your heart, your eyes began drooping; but when remnants of that oppressive sensation trickled up, dragging you back into a nightmare, you snapped awake again. You clamped a hand over your mouth when a gasp escaped you despite your effort to be quiet.

Shit. It seemed like a long night awaited, and the last thing you wanted was to disturb the boys’ sleep. You covered your face with your hands, frustrated and restless. Should I leave the room? With your eyes closed, you missed the lurking shadows that noted your distress, that curled near the Spymaster’s ear.

Azriel silently rose from his bed and approached you. His shadows gently caressed your hands to warn you of his approach, lest he add to your fear by startling you. Your shoulders sagged in unexpected relief. His fingers gently curled around your wrists, tugging your hands away from your face. You looked up at him wide-eyed for the third time that night, a look that etched itself into his mind as he sat next to you.

You glanced at Rhys and Cassian’s sleeping forms. Azriel spoke softly. “I put up a shield around us. They can’t hear anything.” Your gaze returned to his, which was swimming with concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, but tears warmed your eyes. “I’m fine,” you whispered.

“You’re safe,” he whispered back.

“I know.”

“It’s okay. I get nightmares too.” He continued to speak gently despite the sound barrier up, and it somehow made it harder to keep the tears abated.

You nodded again, and neither of you commented as a few tears fell.

“I’ll stay with you,” he said.

“I want you to rest,” you said, but his offer was like a salve.

He shook his head. “I already made up my mind.” A kind smile graced his face, and if he was beautiful in the daytime, he was utterly devastating in the moonlight.

You didn’t have the heart to fight him on it. “I’m sorry I woke you,” you repeated, but your tears stopped.

His smile faded. “I scented your fear through the wall. I thought something happened to you.”

It was your turn to reassure him. “I’m okay. I’m safe.”

Your heart skipped a beat, finally not in fear as his gaze remained fixed on your face. You tucked away the thought of him being as comforted in seeing you as you’d been by seeing him before it drew up any hope in your heart.

Perhaps your vulnerable headspace inhibited your better judgement, but you reached forward and looped your hands around his elbow, tugging yourself closer to him. “You make me feel safe,” you admitted quietly.

His brows rose wistfully at your admission, fondness replacing any unease as he glanced at your linked arms. The relief softening his features soothed you as much as it tinted your cheeks pink.

“Are they really sleeping?” you asked, cocking your head in the direction of the other two Illyrians in the room.

Azriel grinned. “Not yet, which is why I put up the shield. Busybodies.”

You laughed, looking over their still forms. You knew they were feigning sleep for your comfort, to ease your embarrassment. You turned back to find Azriel surveying your face. “Thank you, Azriel. You’re the sweetest thing in the world.”

His head dipped bashfully, though you caught his small smile. “Most people find me intimidating,” he countered.

You shook your head, letting your adoration show as you smiled. “Well, you take my fears away, so everyone’s got it all mixed up.”

His look of reverence stole your breath. Then he chuckled. “Right. We’ll have to correct everyone, then.”

“Mhm,” you smiled cheekily. “We gotta tell everybody.”

You continued to smile at each other for a beat, the nighttime making it easier to bare the vulnerability at hand. Then you imagined Rhys or Cass turning and spying the sight, making you blush harder. “I still think you should sleep,” you murmured.

His teasing demeanour softened. “I’ll only sleep if you do.”

You playfully rolled your eyes but patted your lap brazenly. His gaze followed your silent proposition, then returned to your face, brows rising in question. “Bats sleep on their bellies, don’t they?”

He cracked another grin, nodding once wordlessly. But when he still hesitated, you continued. “I feel wide awake now, I don’t think I’ll get a wink of sleep. But I really want you to rest.” His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “Please, Az,” you whispered.

The edges of his mouth tugged up in an involuntary smile. You thought your heart might burst from the softer side he reserved for your eyes. “Okay,” he whispered, shifting to rest his head on your lap at the end of the couch. He brought his legs to lay on the remainder of the couch, wings dropping to either side of his body. Immediately, you carded your fingers through his hair, scratching your nails gently across his scalp. His eyes fell shut, and a breath of contentment huffed out of him.

You continued to stroke his hair, watching as he fell asleep. You truly intended to hold up your end of the arrangement, basking in his security while he willingly rested, but the peace his presence brought quieted your mind. You couldn’t tear your eyes from his face, the elegant planes softening as he was slowly lulled to slumber at your hands. His shadows began stroking down your neck and arms. Then Azriel’s hand grasped your ankle, and he traced gentle patterns into it, not letting up even as his movements grew slower when sleep claimed him at last.

The fear and panic from before were a foreign contrast to the intimacy soothing you at Azriel’s hands, the shelter he brought bodily and in spirit. You watched his back rise and fall deeply, watched the space between his wings, freed up by their spread. You didn’t fight the drag of sleep, not when the world tipped on its axis as shadows guided your heavy head down to the guardian angel in your lap.

Cassian woke to sunlight filtering through the room. He sat up, searching for his friends when he noted Azriel’s empty bed. He found the two of you on the couch before the window, and Cassian’s eyes widened.

Azriel lay across the couch with his head resting on your lap; your legs hung off the couch, but your upper half was folded delicately across Azriel’s back with your head resting between the base of his wings. One of your hands lay on Azriel’s head, the other clutched the projecting curve of his wing near your head. Azriel had one hand cradling your ankle while his free arm was snaked beneath your knees near his head, holding your legs to him like a pillow.

He couldn’t tell who was shielding who, with the way both your bodies rested on each other. Gone was any trace of the subdued panic he’d noted on your face the night before, no more wide-eyed fears or trembling hands. Even Azriel—Cassian couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen him appear so young.

When Cassian turned, he found Rhys wide awake, perched on his bed contently watching the sight of his brother letting his guard down, cushioned between your smaller frame over and under him. Rhys simply winked at Cassian, the two sharing a smile at the sight. Rhys held a finger to his lip. Let them rest, Rhys spoke in Cassian’s mind. The lovesick fools might finally realize how they feel when they wake up.

taglist:

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azrielhours #azriel fluff #azriel fanfiction

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exhaslo · 2 months

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Corruption Ch16

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? SMUT, so much goddamn smut like I need help, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Fangs that secrete enough venom to paralyze whomever I bite, could be useful but also disgusting to get close to others. Hm, no change to body from producing said venom. Fascinating."

It had been two days since the incident. Miguel had reassured you that he was fine, but then proceeded to lock himself in his own lab to run tests on himself.

"Talons on both hands and feet, allowing me to climb walls. Not the exact same way as (Y/N), this is far more violent since my talons could be used as weapons."

Miguel slashed against his desk.

"Wood nor metal can stop me. Not to mention, physical body mass has increased. Height increased, muscles strengthen and-"

Miguel stopped as he looked down. Withholding a chuckle, he returned to typing down his findings. Miguel stood in front of a mirror, taking in his now stronger appearance. He could lift over ten tons his weight, much like you.

"Side effect, eyes have become a red color and are sensitive to light. Senses have also increased, allowing me to hear, feel and even sense what others are thinking. Needs to be trained and nourished more to use in field."

"Miguel? Can I come in, please?" You asked, knocking against his door. Miguel threw on his lab coat, hiding his information,

"Yes,"

Planting himself on his seat, Miguel watched as you entered his lab. That bright smile on your face as you saw him. Miguel covered his mouth, smirking towards your blush towards his chest. Hopefully you won't tempt him too much.

"Are you sure you're alright? You've been cooped up in here for two days. I brought you some food," You said, holding up your cute little lunch bag, "I can put it aside if your not-"

"I'll eat it. I skipped breakfast," Miguel motioned you over.

He watched as you skipped over, opening your bag. He hid his smirk as you stared at his broken desk before continuing to get the lunch out. As you did, Miguel tensed as a new and strange scent caught his nose.

"(Y/N), are you wearing a new perfume?" Miguel asked. You tilted your head,

"No? Do I smell?"

"No, no," Miguel furrowed his brows finding the scent sweet, "Why don't you feed me? I'm starved."

Miguel resisted a groan as you took your place on his lap. The scent was getting stronger as you fed him. Miguel couldn't even focus on the food. Staring into your eyes, Miguel felt something almost primal in him act up.

"(Y/N), come to my place tonight."

"Okay," You agreed so easily.

It was difficult, but Miguel held back and behaved himself. He couldn't help but feel around your waist, needing to touch you. This had to be his Spider instincts kicking in. It had to be, what other reason would Miguel have the strong urge to fuck you?

"Miguel, you sure you're okay? I worry,"

"I'm fine. Just come to my place tonight and wear something that will excite me."

Leaving you with a peck, Miguel returned to his studies of himself. Now that he was a superior human like you, he could begin his plans for domination. To begin his plans to expand his rule of superior humans.

"Now, to test my stamina."

----------

You were on cloud nine. Was tonight finally going to be the night? Miguel just told you to wear something that would excite him! The amount of sexy new panties you had were going to finally be put to use!

Nearly squealing in joy, you hurried to your office to finalize some work before heading home. As you made your way to your office, you stopped in front of Aaron's shrine that some of the workers put together.

It was a shame. Aaron seemed like such a nice guy. To think that he was the one who caused the explosion and almost hurt Miguel. Miguel had told you everything about the incident so that you wouldn't worry.

At least Miguel was safe and sound.

Shaking the thought away, you hurried to finish you work. All that mattered was that Miguel was okay. Although, you were worried since he locked himself inside his lab. You wondered what he found that had him cooped up in there.

Recalling his strange behavior recently, you tried to think if anything in the explosion could have affected him. It sucked since you weren't as smart as half of the people in this building.

"I wonder...if I should wear perfume?"

---------

Miguel sat on his couch, waiting for you to arrive. He had done all the testing he needed in order to know that it was time. Miguel was going to make sure you didn't leave his apartment until you were pregnant. He didn't care how many hours it would take.

You belonged to him.

Catching that familiar scent in the air, Miguel stood and hurriedly opened his door. There you were, standing there with a shy look on your face; your scent oh so sweet. The dress you had on was tight, exposing your breasts ever so slightly.

"I'm not taking you to dinner," Miguel told you as he pulled you inside, "But good job on listening to me."

"O-Of course," You nearly stuttered as you fell against his chest, "Um, Miguel...have you been working out?"

Ah, so you finally noticed. Miguel just smiled as he grabbed your hand, gently biting your fingers. You scent getting stronger, causing Miguel to act more rashly. Thoughts of breeding you began to cloud his judgement.

"(Y/N), you'll do anything for me...right?"

"Yes,"

"Good girl,"

---------

You weren't sure what was coming over Miguel. He was acting a little strange, but it wasn't like you were going to question him. Miguel's hands were all over you as he brought you to his couch. You couldn't help but grow excited as you thought of what was to come.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled as Miguel kissed you. His hands were firmly on your waist. Each kiss grew more and more aggressive and hungry. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, exploring everywhere as he pinned you to the couch.

"Irresistibly sweet." Miguel groaned, his hands stroking up your thighs, "Unable...to think straight."

"Mhm, Miguel?" You muttered between kisses.

You gasped as Miguel picked you up and carried you to his room. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, feeling your panties get damp. This was escalating to an exciting point. Once in the room, you yelped as Miguel threw you on the bed.

"I don't care if you cry, I'm not stopping."

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. If your pussy could talk, it would be swoon right now. You took off your dress as Miguel removed his shirt. Sitting before Miguel in your underwear and bra, you were waiting for his orders.

"I've had you wait long enough. Lay down and spread."

You bit your lower lip and did what Miguel said. You were a little embarrassed since you knew your panties were soaked. You gasped as Miguel hovered over you, kissing you again as he took off your remaining clothes.

You arched your back, moaning into the kiss as Miguel started to rub your clit. His pace grew faster the wetter you got. Your body was getting hot and needy. Miguel's mouth was all over your neck, sucking and biting, leaving as many marks as he could.

"Hah~ Ah, M-Miguel~" You cried out, trembling in pleasure.

"Who do you belong too?"

"Ah~ Ah~ Y-You, You, Miguel!" You whimpered.

Miguel's fingers had dipped into your cunt, pumping inside of you at a fast pace. Tears had started to form, feeling the knot in your stomach about to burst. Right when you felt yourself about to cum, Miguel removed his fingers.

"M-Miggy! P-Please!" You begged.

You whimpered as you watched Miguel lick his fingers for the first time. His pupils were dilated and filled with lust. This was a first and new look. Miguel grunted as he took his pants off, revealing his dick, which seemed bigger than before.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood."

Miguel grabbed your legs, throwing them over his shoulder as he positioned himself. His breathing was irregular along with yours. Miguel's dick poking right at your entrance, begging to be let in. Begging to fuck you.

"Fuck, say it again." Miguel demanded, pinching your clit. You arched your back, squirming slightly,

"Miggy~"

With a sharp cry, Miguel slapped his hips into yours. Your body shivered as you cam from insertion. His dick slamming right inside you, stretching your gummy walls out. His tip smashed against your cervix.

Miguel grunted as he gave you no time to rest from your climax. His hips were rough as he slapped himself into you. His dick bullying your cunt with no remorse. You flung your head back, crying out in pleasure as Miguel's dick rammed into you.

"Miggy~ M-Miggy~"

---------

Miguel felt sweat roll down his forehead as he held your hips. Why did he have to wait so long for this? You were made for him. Your pussy was sucking his dick so well. The sloshing sounds it made as you cried his name. Everything was perfect.

Groaning lowly as you cam again, Miguel felt you squeeze around him so much. Webbing your hands to the bed post, Miguel kept focus on what he was doing to you. The rim of his dick around forming a white ring from your orgasms.

"Made just for me. My perfect match." Miguel grunted, fastening his pace as he felt his high coming, "Sucking my dick so well. You just want my child, don't you?"

"Yesh~ Y-Yes~" You cried.

Miguel felt his eye twitch as he slammed his hips into you, finally releasing his first load. After months of waiting, Miguel was finally breeding you. Slowly removing his dick just to admire his first work, Miguel cussed lowly.

"Perfect, but so wasteful. Do you want to disappoint me?" Miguel hissed, watching his cum drip out of you.

"N-No,"

"Then drink every last drop."

--------

You cried and whimpered as Miguel pinned you into mating position, fucking you relentlessly. His dick hitting your cervix, causing you to gasp and twitch with every thrust. Your cunt unable to stop wanting Miguel as he made his dick at home inside of you.

Your vision was starting to blur as your mind grew fuzzy. This was only something you could only dream of. Miguel's dick bullying your cunt. It felt so good. So right.

"Drink up."

"Mhm~"

Shivering, you moaned as you felt Miguel cum inside you once more. It was so hot. Taking a moment to catch your breathe, you slowly regained your vision as you looked up at Miguel. He had a wicked smirk as he looked down at you.

"M...Miggy~" You whispered tiredly. Miguel just chuckled,

"Awe, tired already? We've only just begun."

--------

Your face was pressed into the bedsheet as Miguel fucked you from behind. You could barely feel your body anymore since it was so sensitive. Each thrust made your body shiver and your pussy clench. You were so fucked out that you couldn't even think.

"My stamina outranks yours by a mile. It's only been an hour and you're tapping out already? Hm, I suppose I did go overboard for your first time," Miguel muttered.

"Mhpm~ Ah~" You moaned, cumming hard as Miguel slapped his dick into you a bit harsher.

"My mating instincts have finally passed as well. Just don't expect any rest any time soon. You will be caring my child. The future of humanity."

You just babbled nothing but nonsense as Miguel gave you one last load. Unable to keep yourself awake, you felt yourself knock out.

---------

Miguel sighed as you fell asleep. He turned you around, watching the mess of a work he did. He definatly went overboard, but you had to get pregnant. Fixing you on the bed, Miguel lifted your hips and legs up against the bed frame, wanting to make sure his cum stayed inside of you.

"Lyla, keep track on (Y/N)'s health. I want any updates of bodily changes."

"Yes sir, also your suit is ready."

"Hm, I suppose tonight is a great night to start my reign of terror. While I'm out, I want you to start transferring all of (Y/N)'s information and paperwork to this address."

"You haven't told her that she will be living here,"

"(Y/N) will agree...and if she doesn't, I'll just fuck the idea into her."

"Understood."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @safixiovi @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper @jadeloverxd @daddyfroglegs @shoukanjo @cicithemess @babyprofessorsharkpalace

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara

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crypticminx · 5 months

Note

K bro-just read your AMAZING breed kink felix fic, AND I NEED MORE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

I mean…Felix did say at the end that he wouldn’t stop until he got her pregnant soooo

Please? 🙏🏼

Just like, this time more rough and him holding her down onto the bed as he “breeds” her 🤗

More Felix and his underlying breeding kink ~

──★ ˙ ̟🐇 ! ★ ˙ ̟🐇 ! ★ ˙ ̟🐇 ! ★ ˙ ̟🐇 !

It’s Felix who can’t stop daydreaming of having a cute little family with you really. Of course, it’s a simple way out too. He knocks you up and you get to live the rest of your simple life being taken cared of by him.

But…who’s really to say you can’t have fun while doing it.

Taking the chance by solely skipping your birth control, not notifying Felix, you pull him to the bedroom any chance that falls upon the two of your busy schedules. Sending a “come over now” text to the boy who’s in a lecture he clearly isn’t paying attention to or sparing no seconds to waste during any alone time the two of you have, it’s very clear Felix knows you’re starved for him, but he hasn’t got a clue as to why you’re so adamant about getting his cock stuffed inside your hole every five seconds.

“Y’know I stopped taking it,” you purred into his ears during one of your passionate love making sessions.

“Mmm, stopped what, darling?” He’s confused but still too distracted in getting you off before it switches a light in his brain.

“The pill,” you want to laugh at his reaction when his dark eyes widen with almost twisted ideas stirring in his sex crazed mind.

Oh.

Now he just knows he has got to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

He pins you to the bed till you’re practically paralyzed from the heat of the moment, not moving an inch as his strong hand steadily wraps itself around your neck. You huff quietly, still smiling under the pressure that’s Felix choking you and once he’s forced himself into your aching, wet cunt; it’s game over.

He groans in delight, his throbbing cock moving hastily inside of you each time it glides between your wet lips.

“Such a bad bad girl, you are,” he coos followed by a devilish laugh, tongue trailing down your chest as he softly licks your hard nipples. His grip tightening around your neck as you try to stop yourself from giving out. “Want me to knock you up, huh?”

He’s almost teasing you with his words, knowing how it gets you off—but also how crazy it makes him to see you physically beg him with your red, sweaty face that squirms in thrilling motions from his dominance.

It’s risky what the two of you are getting your young selves into. Both of you still in school, eagerly trying to figure out the path you want to take in life—yet the idea of him getting you pregnant was all too alluring. He just couldn’t pass up the idea of making you his as he’d get to watch with pleasure as your body would change all because he came in you.

It would be a permanent result of such a risky deed.

He wants to hear your sweet voice ache for him as he releases his tight restraint on you. “Fel, please get me pregnant.”

It’s delightful music to his ears and your wish is his command.

He put his full body weight on your limp body, not an inch separating the lustful aroma of heat that lingers from the both of you. The bed moves in such a powerful way, it’s honestly a shame how it’s still not broken from the all the rough intercourse it has endured.

“Say it again, angel,” he demands you, feeling close.

“Please get me pregnant with your baby.”

You feel warmth flow inside of you, the pulsing of his puncturing cock slows with movement. It’s a rhythmic clenching sensation and you can only loudly moan as a response. feeling as if he had already knocked you up.

It’s a heavenly pleasure to be substantially full of his seed and you hope it’s that way when you get to carry his child.

#ughhhhhghhh I’m a sucker for breeding kink w Felix #saltburn #felix catton #felix catton x you #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #jacob elordi #saltburn 2023 #felix catton smut #felix catton fanfic

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andhumanslovedstories · 1 year

Text

A while ago at work, I had a patient whose condition rapidly deteriorated during my shift, which I believed at the time was due to me not monitoring certain therapies closely enough. Essentially patient had parameters that their oxygen saturations should be between 88-92%. The patient was on supplemental oxygen via a nasal cannula, and was having oxygen saturations of 95% or more. The patient later became lethargic, confused, and hard to rouse. The patient was in hypercapnic respiratory failure, where they essentially were not exhaling enough CO2, the waste product of respirations. Patients who have oxygen parameters of 88-92% tend to be COPD patients, and I'd been taught where giving them too much oxygen can result in CO2 retention.

We ended up having to call a rapid response on that patient who needed to go on the bipap (non-invasive ventilator) to help them breathe effectively, and I went home from that shift feeling certain that I killed this person. That I had triggered a terminal decline that the patient would never recover from.

(Perhaps some context here: my grandfather went into hypercapnic respiratory failure and then died within a few days. Maybe he would have passed either way, I think probably he would have, but the respiratory failure was the moment his decline started accelerating. After he went hypercapnic, he was non-responsive from that point on.)

I called in sick to my next shift because I couldn't face going in. I spent the day thinking about what I'd done, what my moral obligations were, how do you atone for something when you cannot reverse the effects of the original error, and how paralyzed by shame I felt. What did I owe the patient? What did I owe the family? What did I owe myself? How many times had this happened before and I just didn't know because the decline happened after my shift ended?

It was a productive if unpleasant day of trying to sincerely examine myself and the things I'd done wrong without flagellating myself. It'd be almost easily to complete condemn myself and to stop nursing because I'm a Bad Nurse than it would have been to acknowledge the many steps that led to this patient outcome, only some of which I had a hand in. But this was my patient. They were my responsibility. What was the right reaction to have? What should I be feeling? In the course of doing my job, I caused harm to someone I swore to take care of. I still think that I am a thoughtful, hardworking, and compassionate nurse. I don't think the hospital would be better off if I quit. But I hurt someone.

I thought a lot about how this outcome happened, came up with steps to prevent it in the future, and found a new commitment within myself for continued learning. (If you've got a timeline of my particular fixations, this is about when my determination to go to grad school began.) I also thought about how much shame was making me sick. When my patient started declining and I realized the effects of my actions and inactions, one of my first thoughts was genuinely, "Everyone's going to know what I did." It was thought with absolute horror. I'd hurt someone and everyone was going to know it. They were going to know I was bad at my job and bad as a person.

And I was struck by what an unhelpful emotion that was. How much it made me, if only for a moment, tell NO ONE what was going on and what I believed to be the root cause. That it'd be better to let the decline continue rather than intervene because if I intervened that'd be admitting that I'd done something wrong. I didn't listen to that voice that told me to hide what I'd done, but I instantly understood the power of it.

There's this thing called the Compass of Shame which is about the different ways people handle their own feelings of shame--they avoid the shame, they withdraw from themselves and others, they attack others, they attack themselves. I know my own reactions to shame and try therefore not to go with my gut instincts, which are always to say I'm an irredeemably bad person and no one can know about this and if anyone does not about what I've done wrong, I deserve literally whatever punishment they could give me. I've had to learn I can both have failed to complete my responsibilities and still not deserve to lose my job or my flunk this class or give up on college or lose all my friends. But there is something appealing about masochistic shame. Like you can prevent others from judging and punishing you if you sufficiently judge and punish yourself. You'll still be a wretched monster, but no one else needs to know that.

That's actively dangerous for patients, who are the victims of healthcare errors, and it doesn't help prevent future mistakes if we are too ashamed to talk about what happened and why. We'll just keep fucking up in the exact same ways because no one else told us how they'd fucked up that way in the past and here's how we've changed the process because of that. I therefore have an ethical obligation to not internalize shame when I make mistakes at my job. I have tried to remember that while also trying my best to not make the same mistakes twice.

And then a week later, I was sent back to the same floor with the patient who'd declined on my watch. Because I'm a float RN and therefore don't have an assigned unit, I go to different floors every night (occasionally multiple floors on the same night). I see patients for 12 hours and then almost never see them again. Since I was back on the floor, I girded myself and went to go visit the patient, who to my surprise was alert and upright and about the same as I'd seen her at the beginning of my shift before they'd gotten bad. I said hi and asked how the patient was doing, and the answer was that patient was doing about the same as they'd been doing for the last month.

This was not good news for the patient, who was still medically complex, still dealing with an extremely difficult to address condition, but they were also not in the ICU, dying, or dead which is what I'd feared. And with the new knowledge that the patient was, if not okay, than at least stable as ever despite my actions, I could look back on that shift and see it differently, namely that this patient kept continuing to go into hypercapnic respiratory failure with or without oxygen. And then I looked into what I thought I'd been negligent about before and found that the scholarship on it was more complicated and divided than I'd thought. That the mechanism of action that I thought was driving the hypercapnic respiratory failure was in fact waaaaaaaaaaay more complicated than just over oxygenation, particularly in this patient who had a number of muscular abnormalities that made much more of an impact on ventilation than the oxygen would have. And while I still had to improve my practice, upon more reflection I could no longer say there was a direct one to one of my actions and the patient's decline.

I felt simultaneously forgiven, absolved, and humbled. I cannot describe to you the almost sheepish relief that rushed over me. Nothing that bad had happened. What did happen was only ambiguously my fault.

There's a power fantasy to shame sometimes, that you are uniquely bad and that your actions have monumental consequences. My actions on the job can have monumental consequences, but usually they are little things, little cares, little turns, little med doses, little therapies, little steps, little tasks, little jobs, little kindnesses or little cruelties that help a patient move forward or which hold a patient back. I'm there for 12 hours and never again. I can do a lot in that time, but I'm not gonna cure them and I'm probably not going to kill them. It's a relief, and it's a strange disappointment. We want to be important, even in bad ways.

While I can certainly fuck things up for patients, while I can certainly kill patients or traumatize them or withhold care or misuse my position, while I can do all those things, I don't actually have that much power over life and death. Everything that goes wrong isn't my fault. And sometimes something is your fault and nothing really happens except a few people have a bad night and you try not to do it again. I think that last bit is the most important part. I still should have titrated her oxygen down. I'm more careful about that now. I'm trying not to fuck up in the exact same way. I'll find exciting new ways to fuck up, and then I'll learn from those too.

#nursing tag #this is like waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more detailed that i typically like to get with a post about my job #but i've been really thinking about it #this is the long post i said i'd reward myself with btw

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seeingivy · 4 months

Text

speak now

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

songs mentioned: the greatest by lana del ray and speak now by taylor swift! (minor mentions: daylight and forever winter by taylor swift)

an: LIGHTS CAMERA ACTION BITCHES!!!

previous part linked here

There’s something strange about showing Eren around an elementary school. Or strange about being around Eren at all.

There’s an overarching hunch, a quiet fear that parrots in your mind whenever you’re with him, stuck in those quiet pockets of time that you feel like he can see right through you, that every secret thought ricocheting in your mind is one that he’s entirely cognizant of - and that he hates it for it.

It almost fills you with disgust. How badly you want to be around him all the time, to be able to read him the way you’re positive that he can read you, just so that you can know what he’s thinking.

Is he upset with the way you reacted? Does he know how grateful you are towards him? Is he consoled by the fact that he’s fully forgiven? Does he care?

Does he think about you as much as you think about him?

The elementary school makes it worse. Almost emotional. Because it’s the fact that even though it’s not your school, it’s exactly how you remember it - so nostalgic that it’s nauseating. Though the colors are less vibrant, almost too dull this time around. The desks are comically small, when they used to be so expansive that you could barely reach the front corners.

“Did you ever collect Box-Tops?” you ask Eren.

He looks at you, face wrinkled in confusion as he shrugs. And the second his eyes lock with yours, you quickly swallow down your gulp of shame - at the lost, almost pinched look in his eyes - as he quickly averts his eyes.

Does he hate you for bringing it up? Does he want to berate you for rubbing in the fact that he had no semblance of a normal childhood?

You take the little jar, the little cardboard slips secured in the glass, as you hold it up to him.

“These are Box-Tops. They’re usually on the top of cereal boxes and granola bars and stuff. You can collect them and bring them to class and whoever gets the most in your grade usually gets a pizza party. It’s a charity-type thing where they get more funds for things like arts programs at your school by turning them into the foundation.” you murmur, placing the little jar in his hands.

“You can’t just…fund the schools properly?” Eren asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Are you crazy, Eren? Why would they ever do that?” you respond, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eren smiles.

“Figures. D’you ever win?”

“Win what?”

“The pizza party.”

“Oh, maybe once or twice. They usually only buy two pizzas so you get a comically small slice so that it’s enough to go around for everyone. And I had Falco and Colt to share with - we had to split all the Box Tops we collected evenly between the three of us so I always felt lame turning like three or four in.” you state.

Does he think your complaint is stupid? That you should be grateful that you even got to experience it in the first place?

“What if there was an even number?”

“Rock paper scissors. Then Falco started crying when he lost, so we ended up giving it to him anyway.” you state.

“Very on brand.”

Eren smiles - brightly this time - as he sets the jar back onto the top of the filing cabinets and the two of you continue to awkwardly pace around the room. Eren’s overwhelmed with the memory - of Falco sobbing at his first Canadian Christmas when he was asked what he was thankful for - and the consistency makes him warm.

There’s something unsettling about the room - about how foreign it is to him. There’s a weird echo panging in Eren’s chest, somewhat caused by how longingly you seem to be looking at every little detail of the room. Running your hand over the hardwood desks, picking up the box of crayons, almost frowning at the pictures.

The thoughts that run through Eren’s mind are almost paralyzing, that he can barely keep his beating heart collected in his chest, and more awkwardly, that you know and are choosing to ignore it for civility sake.

Are you going to leave him when the show ends? Would you have left him if you lived a different life too?

Are you never going to end up together?

“Did you ever see Falco and Colt? When you were at school? S’that like a thing that happened?” Eren asks, poking around each of the little flyers on the bulletin board.

“Ah. Not really. Though sometimes when I was going to art class and Falco was going to computers or something, we’d kind of pass each other. We’d always be really excited to see each other. When we saw Colt, he always pretended like he didn’t even know who we were.” you state.

Eren can't stop the thoughts.

Do you hate him for bringing up a life that was robbed from you? The security of a school, of a quiet life because he selfishly picked you to be at his side?

Eren hums in response, as you head over to the last wall - the one left untouched by your inspecting eyes - as you fight the urge to smile. There’s little pictures of each of the students, Teddy right towards the top with a big toothy smile on his face. You point it out to Eren as you catch it before him, memorizing the soft look that spreads over his face when he finally catches light of it.

“You ever see Zeke?” you ask.

“Well, we technically watched a movie with him in it? So, that counts?” Eren shrugs.

“That’s right. Having your own parents and your brother as your source material must be so crazy.”

The thought that follows your comment nauseates Eren.

Are you trying to point out how different you are, so much so that you’ll never be able to be together?

“I can imagine exactly how you would be in elementary school.” Eren states, slinging his arm around your shoulder and bringing his face nearly flush with yours.

“Oh yeah?” you ask.

“You’d be like…this girl.”

You inspect the picture, rolling your eyes at the cop-out answer. Each of the little pictures is labeled with their hobbies or their interests, and naturally, Eren’s picked the girl who says she wants to be a songwriter.

“You’re funny.” you respond, sarcastically.

“S’nothing funny about it.” Eren responds.

“You’d be like…this one. He seems like the type of kid who would pull on a girl's pigtails, which according to Mikasa, is something that you actually did.”

Eren’s going to kill Jean.

“That’s just how you get a girl's attention.” Eren responds.

“Is that right? Had something you wanted to tell Mikasa really badly?” you smile.

Eren’s almost embarrassed that you know. That he feels the need to defend himself, to prove his devotion to you even though there would be no reason for him to do that.

“Ugh. Who told you?” Eren asks.

You can’t help but laugh.

“I can’t remember. Maybe Jean?”

“It was two days!” Eren whines.

You’re not sure how the topic came up, but Jean humbled you very fast when you claimed that you were the first person that Eren ever liked. Apparently you weren’t because Eren had sported a two day crush on Mikasa when they were younger, before he ever met you, which left you embarrassed - but also ready to tease him to oblivion.

“Eremika…” you state.

Eren clamps his hand over your mouth, as you quickly shove him off.

“Shut up.” Eren states.

“It’s funny! Mikasa’s getting married and you’re stuck at a five-year old’s piano concert. With seats all the way in the back, mind you.”

Eren rolls his eyes, as he leans back and sits on top of one of the desks. You follow suit, ignoring the little creak, as your legs swing over the top of the desk.

“What was your signature move in elementary school for the boys?”

“Was I supposed to have game as a seven year old?”

Eren scoffs.

“Well, we can’t all be talented.” Eren teases.

“I hardly qualify hair pulling as a game. That’s an annoying way to get attention.”

Eren smiles, leaning forward and curling his hands around a lock of your hair, before he lightly tugs. His face is so close to yours that you can make out the tiniest wrinkles in his skin, marked around his eyes.

“Annoyed?” Eren teases, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head, ever so slightly. A jarring movement feels too loud, like he’ll move away at the smallest of breaths, like a deer in the woods.

“Down to my very core.” you respond.

Eren smiles, the wrinkles even more pronounced, as you almost lean your forehead against his, skin ghosting each others. The thoughts are racing at this point, so fast that Eren can barely feel his breaths.

Is he ever going to be in love with someone who isn’t you?

“I feel the need to clarify. It was two days.” Eren states.

“Two days of hopeless pining.”

“Nothing compared to the three years of it that I did with you.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks burning.

He knows. It's written all over your face.

“Nothing compares to a puppy-love childhood crush.” you state.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I get the whole innocence of the puppy-love thing, but nothing pales comparison to the intensity of a teenage dream.” Eren states.

Eren watches your eyes waver and feels his throat constrict.

You know. It's written all over his face.

Thankfully for him, and less so for you, Sukuna ruins the movement. His shouting from the doorway breaks that quiet bubble, quickly pulling you both farther away from each other.

“What the hell are you guys doing? It’s starting in five minutes.”

You and Eren settle into your seats at the back, right by the door, as the lights dim in the little auditorium. They’re a warm golden, the smell of fresh paint tickling your nostrils.

Sitting all the way in the back has you and Eren weaving your heads around all the people crowded in front of you, the tiny cell phone lights illuminating each row.

You catch sight of Lana and Sukuna are aggressively gesturing at Teddy on the stage from their cushy seats in the front row at your left - Sukuna trying to get him to smile for a picture while Lana tries to signal to him to fix his untied shoelaces. The coddling makes your heart burn.

Eren digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a little camcorder that he hands to you.

“For?” you ask.

“Can you record it for me? I just…want to watch him in real time.”

You smile.

“Of course, I can.” you murmur, taking the little camera from him and flipping it open in your hands.

“Don’t record the other kids. I don’t give a fuck.” Eren states.

“Who knew you felt so passionately about kindergarten piano concert etiquette?” you jeer.

“You would be shocked. Lana’s basically out of storage by the time she gets to Teddy.” Eren groans.

You roll your eyes.

“I think it’s sweet.”

Eren wonders if there’s anything you can’t find the good in. His wavering suspicion is that it’s him - that you’re the worst thing he’s ever seen. So tainted that there’s barely any semblance of light left in him.

Eren’s hanging onto the end of your words, wanting to hear the spiral of thoughts running through your mind. Your affinity to look towards the positive, to soak up all the good, to point out all the love in the room - it was something he found himself chasing even though he knew he was barely half deserving of it.

“I just mean…when I was younger, my mom would tell me that my friend’s mom recorded me singing too and then sent it to her. And I was always really touched that they saw me and didn’t think god, it’s another kid I have to sit through. Like no, that’s Y/N! That’s my daughter’s friend.”

Eren deflates. He figures that it comes so naturally for you - seeing the good - because he thinks the law of attraction is real; that like attracts like, that people find what’s similar to them. And that he always seems to be the antithesis to it.

He’s always the exception to your rule.

“And some parents are late. They’re running here from work, or…or they were late because they had another kid to take care of first and…and it still makes the kid feel special, even if they don’t know it.” you whisper.

You twist the camera around in your hands as Eren gives you a lopsided smile, an underlying sentiment you can’t really place mirrored in his features. You’d memorize his expression just to agonize about it later, in the safe confines of your room, but your train of thought is cut off by a tapping on your shoulder.

It’s a little girl - with dark skin and braided hair - barely the age of seven. Her little legs can’t even reach the tan colored floor, her sparkly purple shoes glittering in the dim light.

“Hi.” she states.

Eren leans over, a cautious arm on the small of your back, as you lean your head closer to hers and whisper.

“Hi. Is something wrong?” you whisper.

“Our dresses are matching colors.” she states.

You look down - the white flowers printed on your dress matching her frilly pleats. It’s an painfully relieving breath, as you give her a smile.

“My name’s Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Y/N? Like the pop artist?”

You freeze, freezing cold ice shooting down your spine.

“I wish my mom named me after someone cool. My name’s Grace. It was my grandma’s name.”

You can barely muster out a response, Eren’s fingertips at your side squeezing shaking the shock out of your mind.

“I’m sure your grandma was pretty cool.” you respond, barely registering the words as they leave your lips.

“I mean, yeah. She was old. But no one’s as cool as Y/N L/N.” she responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You can see Eren smiling out of your peripheral vision, giving a polite nod to the parents seated at her side, who’ve now caught onto the fact that their daughter is talking to a complete stranger. Eren’s quick to diffuse the situation, holding out a hand to them.

“I’m Eren. This is Y/N. We’re here for Teddy. Curly blonde hair, big brown eyes?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry…did you say your name was Y/N?”

You give them a sheepish smile, bringing your hands to the coarse skin above your elbows and pinching.

“That’s right.”

“Our daughter’s a really big fan.” they state.

You smile, looking back down at her dark eyes, this time wide in shock.

“Is that right?” you ask, trying to give her the warmest smile you can.

Her parents lean down closer to her ears, the overwhelming sense of a flowery perfume taking over your senses, as you watch them talk to her, softly.

“Okay. Ask her nicely, okay?” they ask.

Grace gives them an obedient nod, before turning to you and puffing her chest out to you.

“Can I have a hug?”

“Oh. You…you want a hug?”

“Please? It’ll be quick.” she asks, her little voice shrill with a hopeful tone.

There’s a soft sense of elation that spreads through you, your cheeks warm at such an innocent request, as you can barely stop your arms from shaking. You open up your arms to her, as she nearly jumps into your embrace, and you squeeze her little frame as tightly as you can. The smell of strawberries wafts off her hair, accompanied by a soft giggling sound in your ear that nearly brings tears to your eyes.

You look up to find her parents, an awkward pinched smile in their eyes, as you give them a polite smile.

“I promise, I’ll take a picture with her after the show, okay? And if I forget, please come find me and remind me.”

The relief is apparent in their faces - their sickeningly grateful smiles over something as simple as a picture - as you let go and she settles back into the seat next to you.

You have to settle for recording Teddy with one hand, a deathlike grip in the camera, only because Grace refuses to let go of your other hand for the rest of the show.

Eren’s surprisingly really good with kids. Or really, not surprisingly at all, because you were finding it hard to identify something that Eren was really bad at. Because even the mistakes he did make were so painfully endearing, so warmly thoughtful that you could barely accost him for it.

He's making jokes with all the kids - participating in their rock paper scissors contests, playing pranks on their parents, and stealing cookies for them when people aren't looking.

You guys are the last ones to leave the school. But it’s only because Eren’s so enthralled with talking to all the passing people - taking pictures, signing napkins, and making phone calls to all their loved ones - that it makes your chest swell.

The narrowed eyes still make you nervous, an underlying feeling of inadequacy - of embarrassment for hiding out for so long - is all but nauseating, something Sukuna picks up on right after Eren.

He lets Lana take the lead on the pictures and mingling with all the parents, apparently something that was Sukuna’s forté, as he keeps his arm linked with yours, backs cold against the cement wall.

“You know, you can go make your rounds with Lana. I don’t want to ruin your son’s piano concert for you.” you state.

“This shit is overrated.”

You smile.

“You’re lying.” you state.

Sukuna looks over at you, brown eyes fixed on yours, as you watch a smile curl on his face. It’s almost boyish - and it’s the first time that you’re acutely aware of the fact that Sukuna’s probably the youngest one here - living a life so vastly different from yours.

“I am lying.” Sukuna states.

“Do you like it here, Sukuna?” you whisper.

“I’m better at this than I was at the whole - award show, celebrity world thing. People here are really easily impressed.”

“Is that right?”

“I handed a woman a lemonade earlier and she said God bless you. Over a fucking lemonade.”

“That’s just basic human decency, sweetheart. Were you raised by wolves?” you ask.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Basically.” he responds.

You hum in response, watching Lana crouch on the ground and press her cheek to Teddy’s as Eren quickly snaps the picture for them.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sukuna asks.

“Is me saying no going to stop you?” you ask.

“Probably not.”

“Proceed.” you respond.

“So, what did you really do for two years? And don’t give me the same shitty bullshit as last time. I want to know what it was that you did.” he responds, tone unrelenting.

You pause, mulling over the question. You knew it would come soon enough, the utter bleakness of it all, but you suppose it's like ripping off a bandaid. That it'll become softer to talk about after you do it so many times.

“It’s not pretty.” you respond.

“I’ve always thought you were really ugly. It’s hardly a difference for me.”

“Lovely. In a world of boys, you really are a gentleman, Sukuna.”

He grins, nursing the glass of lemonade in his hand.

“To be a woman is to perform. Now, tell.” Sukuna responds.

The truth of the matter is that there’s nothing to tell. Because you didn’t do anything.

“I got home from doing the interview and spent the entire week with Falco and Colt. I-I basically didn’t let them leave my side. Falco slept with me at night, Colt basically watched over me like a hawk.”

It’s a crashing plate, worried eyes, and an embarrassingly debilitating loss.

“And then Falco came into my room one day and told me that The Lucky One sold more vinyls than all of my other albums combined, in one week.” you state.

“Non-fluff shit prevails. I’ve been telling you.”

“I didn’t approve of that album being distributed as vinyl. For physical sales - at all. It wasn’t about the money or the records or- or any of that. And when Falco told me, I-”

Sukuna looks over, at the lump in your throat. He knows the feeling too well - the sweaty skin, the heavy tongue, and slips his hand into yours at his side.

“I broke his phone.” you state.

“What?”

“I took it from his hands and I smashed it. Then my own too. That’s partially why I never called you guys. I didn’t exactly memorize your numbers and I wasn’t in a position where I was going to just ask for them back.” you state.

“Not like you would have called anyways.” Sukuna states.

“I only knew Mikasa was having an engagement party because she sent me a physical invitation. Only knew Marco died because of the news. I-I barely knew what any of them were doing when I was gone, still.”

You bite your tongue, the tiniest metallic taste enveloping your mouth, as you pull the now warm, puffed up flesh away from your teeth.

“I knew that if I came back, it would mean I would be sucked back into it. What’s your response going to be, hint at it with this song, come back like this and…I’d rather lock myself in my house then do that again. I love songwriting, but not enough to sacrifice my dignity. I enjoyed my career but it drained the life out of me.”

Sukuna’s lip twitches. You choose to ignore it for the time being.

“I took up different hobbies. Got a sewing machine, made sourdough from scratch, I even learned flower arranging. But, I could tell that I must have seemed like I was off my rocker or something. My parents and my brothers never really left my side, I could tell that they were always worrying about me, and-and I hated that because-”

Sukuna stops you before you get too choked up, now standing in front of you, his back blocking the sight of you from any of the people milling around the courtyard.

“I know that’s a shitty answer. That I should have been doing something worthwhile. But, but- I was fucking tired. I was done doing all this and I can’t exactly…be a functioning member of society or something. I can barely stand here without people giving me a second look or trying to get a discreet picture.” you whisper.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not giving you shit for it.” he whispers.

You frown.

“You aren’t. But maybe you should.”

You look over his shoulder, at Eren squishing Teddy’s cheeks with his fingers as Lana takes a picture of them - far too close to barely even get the two of them in it together.

“He fought for me when I wasn’t even here anymore. I was moping in my house, breaking plates whenever I got frustrated, and he was still moving forward.” you murmur.

Sukuna pauses.

“Y/N. Don’t do that. I need you to be so careful with what the fuck you do after you leave here.”

The sense of urgency in his voice catches you off guard.

“What?”

“Y/N. It won’t happen if you’re careless. You cannot wallow in your own pity about this, I need you to tread lightly, okay?”

“What won’t happen?”

Sukuna glares at you.

“You and him. You could spend years pointing fingers at each other, who didn’t do what. You won’t get him back if you stay there when he’s moved forward.”

“I don’t want him.” you whisper.

You barely believe it when it comes out of your mouth.

“You disgust me, Y/N.” he states.

“You’ve always had such a way with words.”

“And you’ve always had a lack of critical thinking. Why wouldn’t you want him?”

“Why would he want me?”

“He just does. The same way you just do.”

You swallow hard.

“Fine. Be a fucking idiot for all I care. If you do ever knock some sense into that thick fucking skull of yours, just be careful. Eren knows that he has to prove he cares about you for you to come back to him. You need to know that he barely thinks he’s deserving of anything from you, so much so, that he won’t ever make the move.”

Sukuna doesn’t mince his words. You wish he could have you through every important decision of your life just so you wouldn’t stumble and fall as much as you did.

“Eren’s called the shots since you were fifteen. You’re going to have to call all the next ones. And for the love of god, really. I’m so tired of that fucking freeloader showing up whenever he pleases. And you look really ugly when you look sad, so just do it right please.”

You smile.

“Are you insinuating I’m pretty when I don’t look sad?”

“I hope you fall off a bridge and never recover.” Sukuna responds.

The sniffling cues Eren onto the fact that you’re crying. The air pressure of the plane is overwhelming in his ears, almost so loud that he misses it, but he counts himself lucky that you’ve always been an obscenely loud crier. He peeks his head over the division over your seats and reaches forward to poke your head.

“Hey. You okay?” he asks.

You give him a meek nod. You know for a fact that he doesn’t believe it for one second.

“Can I come over there for a second? I don’t want to talk from so far away.” Eren asks.

“Isn’t that like…illegal? Two people in one seat.” you murmur.

“This is first class, the seat is basically a bed. And there’s no laws in the air.”

You frown.

“Eren. Laws still exist in the air. They’re just local.”

Eren smiles.

“Well, aren’t you a little genius? Scooch over.”

You shift on the seat, pulling your blanket closer to you as Eren very precariously makes his way over to your seat, the two of you almost cramped in the small space. It’s almost funny how there’s barely any room, your foreheads pressed together from the lack of space.

“Hey.” he whispers.

“Hi.”

“What’s wrong, Margaret?”

You shake your head. His hands are warm on your sides.

“Come on. Tell me. I’m really good at fixing problems.”

“I know.”

Eren can’t place what the tone is in your voice - but it comes out all strained and raspy - that it rubs him the wrong way.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” you clarify.

“Which way do you mean it?” Eren asks.

You sigh.

“I mean. You handled everything considerably well, even if it wasn’t easier for you. You…you waited until I was ready to hear it, until I asked to be told your side of the story. And you put it all together, wrapped in a perfect bow with that documentary, and then took me to see Lana and Sukuna too because you knew I’d want to.” you mumble.

“Wrapped in a ribbon. Who the fuck calls it a bow?”

You roll your eyes, earning you a laugh from Eren that’s so loud it makes you laugh too. You reach forward to clamp your fingers over his mouth, muffling the loud sound, as you shush him loudly.

Eren pauses.

“I’m glad it worked. And I had a lot of time to think. You don’t have as much, but…we’ll help you. With whatever you want to do.” Eren states.

You give him a nod, unsatisfied with the answer.

“What were you thinking?” Eren asks.

You fish out the little slip of your pocket, nearly smushing your face into his in the process, and place the little paper in his hand.

“This is…Satoru Gojo’s phone number?” Eren asks.

“Yeah. I got it from Sukuna.”

“For what purpose?”

You pause.

“I’m going to bury Scott Clarkson into the ground.”

Eren’s caught off by the answer.

“You’re what?”

“What answer were you expecting?”

“I’m not mad at it. I was just thinking more…I want to write music again. I’m not a quitter.”

You frown.

“I thought about that. But it hasn’t exactly worked for me like that. I even tried when I was at the beach but I came up with nothing. But that’s not relevant, I don’t need to write music to end him.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. But it’s better that way. Using exactly what they tried to take away from you to get back at them.” Eren responds.

You smile.

“You’ll help me?”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear that I’d do anything for you. Even this. Especially this.”

You smile. You reach forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing hard.

“Thank you. And I get what you’re saying about the music, but it just isn’t happening, so we’ll have to think of something else.”

“I have an idea. When we get back to set, okay? I think it’ll help.” Eren states.

You nod.

“Okay. I trust you.” you respond.

The sentiment sends a shiver down Eren’s spine.

“I don’t know how it’ll go. I can’t promise that it’ll work out the way we want it.” Eren clarifies.

You smile.

“I was trusting you to help me get back into songwriting, not into bringing him down. I’m talking about help into being…myself again.”

Eren’s eyes flicker, down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. You almost swear that you imagined it.

“Do you think I’m different?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

You pale.

“Do you hate me for it?” you ask.

Eren shakes his head.

“I like you better like this.” he whispers.

Eren reaches forward, tucking the loose hairs back behind your ear, before his warm fingers are secured around the nape of your neck. He does it a second time, looks at your lips, and this time you swear the corners of his mouth are twitching too.

“You weren’t very confident when I met you, almost like you didn’t think you were cut out to do this. Unsure of why you even had a place in the room. Then you went so far away from me, worked yourself so hard, that I barely remember you even smiling at any of us anymore. You were angry, then you were heartbroken, and apparently you broke a lot of plates when you weren’t with any of us?”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m going to kill Falco.”

“Colt.” Eren corrects.

You scoff.

“No way. Eren, he kind of hates you.”

“Kind of? Colt was ready to punch me in the face when he first got to set. Rightfully so.” Eren responds.

“It’s actually not rightfully so. He didn’t even know what you did.” you state.

Eren pauses.

“I know. He got here and asked me first thing what it was I did to you. Then he wanted to punch me in the face when I told him.”

You shrug. You can tell that Eren’s waiting for an explanation - green eyes looking at you expectantly as you give him a nod.

“It felt wrong to talk to him about it. Falco knew you a little bit better, but even for him…they would just start bad mouthing you just to make me feel good. But that would just make me feel worse because…I don’t get it. Hating someone just because things went wrong.”

You crack your knuckles.

“It’s like Ricky. I can badmouth him. He was horrible. He’s a bad person and he literally left me out there to rot just to embarrass me. He did it to Lana, to Teddy. You…I just thought you didn’t like me. I couldn’t really fault you for how you felt. And I loved you. I don't get off on talking shit about you when you were my entire world.”

Eren smiles.

“You had every right to badmouth me.”

“But that’s the thing. I just didn’t want to. Even if things ended badly, you still made me really happy. We still did this entire thing together and-”

“We’ll finish it together.”

You smile, giving him a nod.

“You know when you’re in a relationship and you feel like you get to see a different side of that person? Because you’re so close?” Eren asks.

“Yeah.”

“That’s how you came back to us. Feeling close again. A fresh slate, back to what drew us all to you in the first place. So many things in this industry, in this job are so fake. I mean our job is to literally pretend. You are an overwhelmingly genuine person. Even more so now. You are different. We’re all going to love you for it.” Eren states.

For someone who’s so convinced he’s horrible with words, Eren always seems to have the perfect ones for you.

“Will you leave if things go south?” you ask.

“No.”

“Then we can do this. I’m positive.” you state.

“What makes you so sure?”

You squeeze Eren's hand three times.

“I don’t have anything to lose, Eren.”

When you get back to set the following morning, you don’t miss Connie very loudly whispering with Eren behind you. You’re positive Jean and Mikasa are eavesdropping just as much as you are, their eyes fixed a little too hard waiting for Eren’s response.

Did you guys kiss?

No, Connie, am I crazy?

It makes your heart sink a little bit, but you ignore it as Eren comes up at your side, giving you a bright smile. He reaches for the little glass jar to your left and gives you a wink before he calls for everyone’s attention.

“First things first, Falco. Good job on press. That was one of the funniest fucking interviews I’ve seen in my life.”

Falco laughs, as you turn your head to the side, pretending to do a little bow as everyone pats him on the back, and you look at Mikasa.

“What did I miss?”

Mikasa smiles, pulling up the video at your side.

“Levi’s direction was to not answer any questions about you. Naturally, that was all they asked about so we all decided to coordinate our answers and basically say that we didn’t know you.” Mikasa states.

“What?”

“It sounds stupid, but it was so funny. Some of them started actually believing it. And Falco took it so far, he started pretending like he wasn’t even related to you.”

Mikasa hands you the phone as you play the video, barely containing your laughter at how stupid the video is. Falco’s so confident in his words, so self-assured that it’s making Gabi burst out into laughter, and obviously messes with the interviewer so bad that they can’t even continue.

It makes you happier than it should - their first experience being so overwhelmingly positive.

“And we all wore ribbons in our hair, which didn’t help matters anyway.” Mikasa states.

“Levi’s a menace. He’s milking this so much.” you state.

“That was actually my idea.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean-”

“I know. I just want you coming back to be a big deal. It’s not an easy thing for you to do. You’re going to get every bit of hype for it.”

You smile, reaching forward to link arms with her, as Eren makes a booing sound.

“Are you done? Can I talk now?”

You shove Eren.

“Stop being rude.”

“I’m not being rude. You guys interrupted me.”

“Why were you talking before us? That’s so inconsiderate of you.” Mikasa states.

You laugh as Eren rolls his eyes, handing each of them a tiny white slip and a marker, before he takes his spot next to you and gives you a big smile.

“Y/N is going to write a song. Multiple actually. I want you to write down ideas for her and she’s going to pull one out every morning and read it to us. Then she has to play whatever she came up with, even if it was only one line, at the end of that day.” Eren states.

“Eren.” you start.

“No buts. You guys know the drill.”

You watch as everyone follows his instructions, excitedly whispering to each other as their pens move, and you look over at Eren. He drops his own slip into the cup, the first one, with his name neatly looped on the outside as he gives you a smile.

“I’m not going to be able to write anything.” you state.

“Well, you heard the rules. You’ll have to write something.”

“Eren.”

He shakes his head, handing you his journal, opening it to the marked page as you flip through the sheets.

“I did this a while back, when I was getting back into it. It helps a lot more than you think. And you can ask the person who gave you the slip for help if you really need it, but that person only.”

You take the book for him, watching everyone give you excited smiles as the cup fills up just as fast, and flip though the pages.

“write a song about me and sukuna” And underneath, the lyrics to a song called Daylight.

“write a song about connie’s one year anniversary of being sober” with Levi’s distinct handwriting and the lyrics to a song called Forever Winter scribbled messily on the page.

And the last one makes your throat bob in your chest.

“write a song about y/n”

You read over the lyrics, pressing your fingers against the ink, as you fervently read the lyrics.

We didn't know that we had it all But nobody warns you before the fall Don't leave, I just need a wake-up call

I'm facing the greatest The greatest loss of them all The culture is lit and I had a ball I guess I'm signing off after all

You look up at him, his attention drawn away as he shuffles the cup in his hand to mix up the slips and then holds the cup out to you. Everyone’s watching, waiting for you to pull a piece, as you set the book down, and give them all a meek nod.

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, and an obscene amount of screaming from Connie and Sasha, as you close your eyes and pull out the first paper. You open up the little slip, floored by how random the request is.

“Write a song about upstaging someone's wedding. Connie.” you state.

A resounding smack fills the room - as you look over to find Jean hitting Connie.

“I told you not to put that in.” Jean yells.

“What? It’s funny! Eren said random stuff helps with this.” Connie defends.

“Dumbass. You just had to write something about ruining a wedding?” Jean grates.

“Who the fuck said it was about you, you egomaniac?” Sasha asks, reaching forward to flick his forehead.

“Who else is getting married, dumbass?” Jean responds.

“Why are you so mad? You’re clearly projecting your own personal issues.” Connie states, as Jean and Sasha follow him out of the room, their shouts filling up the quiet air.

Eren turns to you, a bright smile on his face. You want to smack him.

“I’ll see you tonight. Fully written song and all.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as he walks past.

You groan, leaning your head on Mikasa’s shoulder, as you hand her the little slip.

“Eren’s so fucking annoying sometimes. How am I supposed to write a song about this?” you complain.

“You’ll think of something. You’re amazing.” Mikasa states.

“I um…actually got you something. And I had something I wanted to ask.”

You took Sukuna’s words seriously. And had every intention to make amends.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yeah. It’s a keychain.”

You pull it out, the little penguin charm hanging off the end, as she takes it into her hands. It makes your heart swell - the way she carefully turns it over in her fingers, the excited smile on her face.

“Thank you so much, Y/N.”

“It’s kind of stupid but…it’s blue? Like something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?” you state.

Mikasa’s smile gets wider, her shoulders relaxing as she reaches forward to give you a hug.

“Thank you. I love it.”

“It’s just a penguin.” you murmur.

“Maybe to someone else. But I haven’t forgotten that we watched Happy Feet at midnight the day we were supposed to film the Colossal Titan reveal and almost missed shooting that day.” she states.

You can barely contain your elation this time. That Mikasa remembers the memory just as well as you do. You both laugh for a second before you muster the courage to ask.

“Listen. I want to ask something but I don’t want to overstep so know that you can say no.” you state.

“Okay.”

“I know that we have our own rooms, but I wanted to ask if you wanted to share again? Colt and Porco always snore and…and you have your entire life to share a room with Jean but only a few more months to share one with me?” you mumble, voice nearly shaking.

Mikasa brings her hands to your shoulders, squeezing hard as she can barely contain your smile.

“Really? You really want to share with me?” she asks.

“Are you crazy? You’re like the best roommate I’ve ever had.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really. Falco kicks, Colt smells, Porco snores, and Eren’s nothing compared to you. You're like a princess compared to them.”

Mikasa smiles.

“Deal. Lets go switch the signs - to their rightful places - right now.”

“What if Jean disagrees?” you ask.

Mikasa rolls her eyes.

“He can choke for all I care.” Mikasa states, linking her arm in with yours as you both pound up the stairs right to the hallway.

You take the marker, scribbling out Mikasa and Jean’s names (and Connie’s comments underneath) as you hand her the marker to do the honors. You both admire the little sign together, arms wrapped around each other, as Eren, Connie, and Jean join you two.

“What the fuck?” Jean asks.

You smile at him.

“Sorry. Not your room anymore.” you respond.

“One could argue that it was never really yours in the first place, Jean.” Mikasa states.

“Dude, you guys are so annoying.” Jean states.

“Did you just call your fiance, dude?” Eren asks, earning him a shove from Jean.

Connie comes up at Mikasa’s side, taking the marker from her hands, and adding his signature comment to finish off the new sign. You look over at him and smile, tugging him into your hug with Mikasa - as you all admire the door.

Y/N-MIKA FOREVER!!!

And underneath, Connie’s lopsided handwriting:

WE’RE SOOO FUCKING BACK

You understand why everyone was crowding you and Eren when they thought you were going to kiss in season two. It’s because you got to set early to make sure you got a good seat for Falco and Gabi’s love confession - so excited that you could barely eat your lunch.

You can’t help but watch them a few feet away from you, nervously kicking their legs on their chairs, as your notebook lays forgotten in front of you.

There’s a group of shitty lyrics on the page, so embarrassing that you shut the page as Eren approaches and takes the seat next to you and Mikasa.

“I wasn’t going to read them, silly goose.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as you tuck the book under your ankles.

“Good. I’d kill you before you tried.”

“Wow. Standing up weddings has you that mad?”

“The opposite actually.” you state.

Eren rolls his eyes as he scooches closer to you, halfheartedly shaking Levi’s hand as he passes. You look over to Falco and Gabi again - the two of them increasingly nervous, Gabi more so for some reason, as you lean over and whisper into Eren's ear.

“Ten bucks this pushes their real love confession ten years into the future.” you state.

“What?”

“Think about it. We had to kiss and it pushed things back basically a year and a half because we got all flustered and confused. Falco’s doing a whole bit, they’re going to be nervous about this for years.” you state.

Eren rolls his eyes, reaching forward to elbow you in the side.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m right! The same thing happened with Hange and Levi.” you defends.

“Rookie mistake, Y/N. Do I know your little brother better than you? He’s not half as pussy as you or Levi.”

“Touché, asshole. If he likes her so bad, why hasn’t he said it yet?” you respond.

“He’s a romantic. He’s waiting for the right time.” Eren responds.

You look over at the two of them, splitting a box of Tic-Tacs, as Levi walks back to his cues and sets up the cameras.

“Think about it. In a relationship, you’re either a Hange or a Levi. You’re either a Jean or a Mikasa. Falco’s obviously more like Mikasa and Levi. And Gabi’s like Jean and Hange. She has to make the move.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. Gabi’s the Levi and Falco’s the Hange.” Eren responds, nearly offended at your statement.

“Are you an idiot?”

“Watch. I’ll prove it to you.”

Eren pushes up off the floor, dragging Niccolo along with him, as they two of them approach Gabi and Falco. You’re not sure what they’re whispering - but you can tell that Falco and Gabi are flustered by the premise - and Eren and Niccolo are far too elated as Eren walks back over to you, this time with Niccolo in tow.

“Hi Nico.”

“Hi Y/N.”

You look over at Eren, glaring at him, as he gives you a sheepish shrug.

“Okay, guys. We’re going to start rolling. Falco, Gabi, you ready?”

“Yeah.” they respond in unison, giving each other a little fist bump as they take their seats on the floor.

“Was no one going to ask me? I’m in this scene too.” Colt complains, earning a fit of laughter from the crew.

Everyone quiets down as the lights dim on the set, the group of you hunching forward, trying to contain your smiles as you look at each other. It’s only then that you’re reminded of how good Falco and Gabi are at acting, the painstaking agony in their voice almost making you shiver.

“I helped make the attack on Liberio happen. I met a wounded soldier at that hospital, and without knowing it was Eren Jaeger, I sent letters from him to his allies using the mailboxes outside the zone.” Falco starts.

Mikasa leans over to look at Eren, mouthing the words “fucking bastard” as you try to contain your laughs. Levi gives the four of you a warning glance, as you muster out an apologetic smile.

“A lot of people died in Liberio. So….it’s my fault that Udo and Zofia died.” Falco finishes.

“I see…” Gabi responds.

Falco swallows hard, a pink blush on his cheeks, as you all excitedly smile.

“Also, I love you. I didn’t want you to inherit the Armored Titan. That’s why I became a warrior candidate. So…so that we could get married…and be happy forever.”

Gabi’s as red as a tomato. You almost feel bad for teasing the two of them so hard but it’s so endearing it makes your heart squeeze.

“I wanted you to live a long life!” Falco shouts.

“What are you saying?” Gabi responds.

“I might turn into a Titan at any moment. I just wanted to get it all out there before I’m gone for good.”

It's silent - leave for Gabi's tears before she quickly stands up. You watch as Gabi aggressively wrestles with Falco, pulling off the little black band secured around his waist, before she throws it on the ground, her chest heaving.

You sincerely hope Levi campaigns for them to win an award for this one.

Levi calls cut, as Hange runs up to the two of them, excitedly cheering them both on as they avert their gaze from each other. Eren’s quick to jump up, grabbing you by the wrist as he pulls you up to the group of them, a devious smirk on his face.

Niccolo’s quick to join his side, the two of them crossing their arms over their chest and smirking at Falco, as he sighs.

“Really, guys?” Falco asks.

“Really. You agreed to it, little dude.” Eren states.

Falco rolls his eyes, nervously eyeing Gabi - who is excitedly jumping up and down in front of a very unamused Levi - before he walks over to her and plants a big kiss on her cheek. The group of you all gasp, Gabi’s skin burning red, as Falco runs away, claiming he needs to go to the bathroom.

Niccolo and Eren are fist bumping at your side and Eren’s turns to you, irritatingly positioned with his hands on his hips, as he smiles at you.

“Told you so.” Eren states.

“What the hell did that prove?”

“It’s simple. I asked Falco if he wanted to play a game of Truth or Dare. Then, I asked him to kiss his favorite person on the cast on the cheek after the scene was over. Told him to run right up to you and do it since I knew for a fact you’re his favorite.”

“Eren, you little-”

“Falco is most definitely the Hange or the Jean of the relationship. Would even go as far to argue that he might even be the boldest.” Eren states.

You groan, the two of you walking past Gabi and Falco near the snack table, a sizable distance away from each other and nearly sweating in the presence of each other. You and Eren shoot them a thumbs up, and Eren continues to gloat all the way back to the house.

At the end of the workday, Eren’s gathered everyone in the main room in a big crowd, doing nothing to help your nerves, as you give them all a smile and loop the guitar strap over your shoulder and sit on the bench.

“Okay. Repeat the request, Y/N.” Eren guides, the group of them all giving you warm smiles.

Mikasa and Sasha blow you a kiss, Porco and Connie with overenthusiastic thumbs up, and Eren’s smile pushing you on.

“Right. The request was ‘write a song about standing up a wedding’ and it was from Connie.” you state.

You swallow hard as you shut the book and place it under the bench and start strumming on the guitar to warm up.

“Be nice to me guys. I called this one Speak Now.”

I am not the kind of girl Who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion But you are not the kind of boy Who should be marrying the wrong girl

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, Connie and Mikasa clapping along with the sound as everyone else follows suit. You can feel your head pounding, your voice slightly shaking as you continue on and the guitar strings uncomfortably burning your fingers.

I sneak in and see your friends And her snotty little family all dressed in pastel And she is yelling at a bridesmaid Somewhere back inside a room Wearing a gown shaped like a pastry

Mikasa scoffs.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

Everyone laughs, including you, as you shake your head and blow her a kiss before continuing. She makes the little gesture at you - like she’s catching the kiss in the air and tucking it into her pocket. You can feel Jean rolling his eyes at your side.

Don't say yes, run away now I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door Don't wait, or say a single vow You need to hear me out And they said, "Speak now"

The rest of the song goes relatively smoothly, the excitement from the group of them making your heart soar, that block in your throat dissolve.

Sasha’s trapped Niccolo in her arms and has been aggressively swinging him around for the past minute, Porco and Gabi locking their fingers together to do a little swing dance, and Hange, Armin, and Eren bobbing their heads in unison at the side.

The group of them all give you a deafening sound of applause when you finish, aggressive hugs and kisses being placed on your cheeks as they all applaud you - claiming your brilliance - as you feel your cheeks burn with excitement.

Eren’s the last one to approach you, an almost too satisfied with himself smile on his face for the second time today, as you give him your most peachy smile.

“Like it?” you ask.

“Loved it. You’ve still got it.” Eren states.

“You know it.”

“Can I give you one note?” Eren asks.

“Please.”

“The last verse. You have to change it.”

“What? Why?” you ask.

“It’s a good repeat. But I’m more curious…did the guy from the song leave the altar for her?”

You nod, giving him a smile, as you reach for the book, and gesture for him to sit next to you on the bench. You quickly jumble the lyrics onto the page, nearly misspelling half of the words, before you hand it to him for inspection.

And you'll say, "Let's run away now" I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door Baby, I didn't say my vows So glad you were around When they said, "Speak now"

"Always a sucker for a happy ending. It's perfect." Eren states.

He gives you a glimmering smile, making your heart skip a beat as his hand brushes against yours. Eren pulls out the little slip from earlier today, taping it right above the lyrics.

He gives you a last pinch of the cheek before pushing off the bench, leaving your entire body burning at his praise.

“That’s my girl. I didn’t doubt you for even a second.”

You pause.

"Eren?"

He turns back, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?"

"Ask me who my favorite person on set is."

"What?"

"Ask me."

"Why would I-"

"Can you just do it?"

Eren turns back, hands at his side.

"Who's your favorite person on set?" Eren asks.

You walk up to his side, standing on your tip toes to press a kiss into the softness of his cheek. You hope that he understands - that you're overwhelmingly thankful for him. For the documentary, the days in Seattle, and the lifeline he always throws you. That you'll always be indebted to him.

"It's you." you whisper.

Eren's cheeks are pink.

"Is that right?" Eren asks, the tone in his voice teasing.

"Don't push your luck." you state.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Eren responds, as he gives you one last cheek pinch before leaving you alone with the piano.

Singing the song, strumming the guitar - it's almost like stretching an old muscle, flexing out the soreness. You're so excited that you reach for the cup on top of the piano to start writing the next one right away. But when your read the slip, you feel your mouth go dry.

you love someone with your entire being, and all they do is tolerate it

And at the bottom, a name scribbled in messy handwriting

Jean.

next part linked here

an: OK GUYS. WE'RE IN THE ENDGAME NOW!!! sorry its kind of boring but we die like men

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejgg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-morii @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv @cowgirlikets @dreamxiing @mamamammarga @tangerine-neonlight

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

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luvindrr · 2 months

Text

Kenma is harassed into getting his nails done

kenma kozume x fem!reader | fluff | 773 words c/w: skinny shaming (briefly, once)

It’s a weird building, Kenma thinks, as he pulls into the parking lot. Enormous arched glass on a too-pink wall. It hurts his eyes. The entire street does; it’s all so Barbie-like.

He finds the inside is just as pink when he enters. “Time of appointment?”

“Uh, no, I’m just here for my girlfriend.” Where are you? It smells like alcohol in here. Maybe he should just text-

“Kenma!” His eyes whip towards you, as every other set of eyes whip towards him.

“Your boyfriend?” “He’s very pretty.”

“Very pretty.”

“Like a girl.”

Kenma feels himself go rigid. It feels like a family dinner, where every aunt is scrutinizing his long blonde hair. He points backwards with his thumb. “I’ll just uh- wait outside.” Fuck. Why is he so awkward? This is pathetic.

“You sure? I think I’ll be here for another half hour-”

“PICK A COLOUR! PICK A COLOUR!” Cardstock flurries in his face, and he instinctively stumbles backwards. The sheets are shoved into his arms- some land on the floor- and pushy hands are now ushering him into a chair. “Uh, no, actually, I’m just here for my girl-” He’s shoved into a seat- a very plushy one- before it rams into a table, lurching him forwards slightly. He whips up. Are middle-aged women supposed to be this intimidating?

“I’m- uh, I’ll just-”

“Pick a colour.” The sheer intensity of her glare shuts him up.

Fuck, are you laughing?

“Pick a colour, Kenma!” He whips around, affronted. “We can be matching!”

Kenma looks down at your nails-in-progress. Stickered. Sparkly. Kuroo would never let him live it down. “I don’t think I want that.” You smirk, and he knows you know exactly what he’s thinking.

“You have a My Melody keychain.”

He looks down at his hands, still holding his keys. They certainly are adorned with an obnoxious My Melody plush. You won it at an arcade, but couldn’t fit it on your own keys.

“Oh! You should get Pompompurin. He’s yellow, like you.”

“COLOUR!” He snaps back to the woman in front of him, somehow more irritated and somehow more frightening. He cowers. “PICK A COLOUR!”

Is this normal treatment? Is he paying for you to get your nails done or to be harassed and accosted? Because if this is normal he’s not sure he wants you coming to this place anymore-

“Kenma.” Your familiar scent drifts over him, releasing the tension he didn’t know was there. “You can get something simple. What about this?” You pull out a picture on your phone, but he doesn’t really see it, not when he's resting his head on you behind him. “Whatever you think.” Is that a mistake? Will he regret that later?

Thankfully, he doesn’t see the usual devilish smirk on your face, which surely means you’ve taken pity on him. He stares daggers as you walk away, willing you to come back. Why are you ditching him at the boss level? You’re supposed to be a team; this is supposed to be a two-player game.

“Your hands are pretty! Long fingers!”

“Good nail shape. Very healthy.”

“Too soft. You don’t work?”

When did the crowd spawn? And how the fuck did he get roped into this?

—

The next half hour is a blur. Somehow, he weathered the scrutiny of the mob (“too skinny”, “why blonde?”), paid some ungodly sum, and escaped that Barbie dollhouse hell. Fuck. It’s getting dark. He was going to treat you to boba but the shops are closing so he can’t do that. The shops wouldn’t be closed if your appointment wasn’t pushed back- and your appointment wouldn’t have been pushed if that one rude customer hadn’t been late. What’s up with late people anyway? Fuck them. This is why he became a streamer- so he doesn’t have to deal with people. Now he has to drive in the dark- he hates driving in the dark- he’d fucking die if he crashed the car and you flung out the windshield and paralyzed yourself. He’s not going to be responsible for making his girlfriend a paraplegic-

“Kenma. Your face is weird again.”

He’s never treating you to boba again-

“C’mere; I want a picture.” Kenma lets you manipulate his hand into frame, holding yours when you let him. They’re pretty, your nails. They always are, but this time they’re sparkly, catching the light at every turn. His aren’t bad, either. A simple four-point star in the corner of each. And a Pompompurin sticker on one. It’s cute, actually. They’re nice.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He looks back up to the sun. Probably not too late for boba after all.

masterlist

#kenma x reader #kenma fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #nekoma #nekoma x reader #nekoma fluff #kenma #kenma kozume #haikyuu imagines

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aliensupastar · 8 months

Text

i wouldn’t ask you

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You try to break your promise. Carmy won’t let you. Follow-up to “shouldn’t feel like a crime”

Part I Part II

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food issues, heart-to hearts, arguments, swearing

A/N: once again, thank y'all so much for the love on parts one and two of this fic, it brings me so much joy!! also, im terribly sorry for how long it took to write this. school happened and i think it got away from me a little bit, i did a lot of rewrites, and it's shorter than i'd like it to be but it’s something i’m finally satisfied with, and i hope you guys enjoy it! to anyone who’s sent me asks, left comments or replies telling me they connected with this fic, i hope it continues to bring you comfort as it has for me. i can’t express to you enough how much all your responses have meant to me. this will be the last part for this lil series, but im grateful to anyone who’s read n supported it. title insp by "i wouldn’t ask you" by clairo, gif by riickgrimes <3

Logically, you know that healing — if that’s what you could call what you were trying to do — isn’t linear. You’ve heard it a thousand times, and on some level, you know it’s true. Knowing it doesn’t stop the shame you feel when you start skipping the train, opting instead to walk, or on shittier days, run to work.

At first you thought you’d been able to escape the anxiety that came with eating anything you didn’t know the exact calorie count of, that you’d been able to eat Carmy’s spaghetti without complication. In retrospect, it had merely been delayed, the calm and warmth afforded to you by Carmy’s presence wearing off as soon as you’d gotten into bed that night; you’d laid awake for another hour, paralyzed by your own panic.

The only solution you found fit was to force yourself into physical activity, making your travel to and from work ten times more miserable, waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual just to get to the restaurant on time and still have ten minutes to freshen up and change into your uniform. You at least managed to make the change in your routine go unnoticed, still looking presentable once it was time to open for service, or at least you thought so.

“Did you run here?” Sydney asks one morning, spotting you right as you clocked in and rushed to your locker to pull out your uniform.

“Uh, yeah, I did.” You’re a little too breathless to come up with an excuse, to properly deflect her concern and surprise.

“Okay…” She watches as you shove your other belongings into the locker space haphazardly. “Does that, like, happen often, or-“

“No,” You say, too quickly, shaking your head. “Just, uh, don’t tell Carmy?”

You look up at her, eyes pleading, hoping she accepts this one request without question, hoping she can disregard something just this one time.

“Tell Carmy what?” Hearing your boss’s voice makes you jump in shock, as he comes around the corner and spots you, hair messy and sweat still dripping down your temple.

Your skill for being unnoticeable is escaping you, that much is clear. You’re essentially caught red-handed, a deer in headlights, eyes bouncing between Sydney and Carmy as you struggle to come up with something, anything to respond with. But Sydney swoops in just seconds after you freeze, granting you mercy, this one time.

“Tell you to mind your own business, chef,” She says, her tone light-hearted so that you know to force out a laugh, and Carmy takes it. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head, heading over to his prep station and as soon as he’s out of sight, you look back at Sydney.

“Thank you,” You whisper as you head for the bathroom, uniform in hand, and she nods, still looking concerned but thankfully, dropping it.

Carmy’s the one who won’t drop it. It stays on his mind all day, even after you’ve changed clothes and fixed your hair and erased any trace of the mess you looked that morning; every free moment he has, he spends thinking of you.

He wants to believe that you’d simply missed your train. An innocent, easy mistake. But the way you avoid meeting his eyes during service hours, no matter how many times he tries to get your attention, or get you to just look at him and confirm that you’re okay, tells him it’s more than that.

He rushes through closing duties that night, just to make sure he’s good to leave before you finish closing up the front with Richie. He waits, sits in his office chair pretending to be busy until he sees you heading for the lockers, ready to clock out, and then moves to lean as casually as possible against the doorway.

“You want a ride home?” He asks, interrupting you as you pull clothes out from the locker; the clothes you were wearing this morning, he realizes, a sweatshirt and biker shorts. Like you expect to break a sweat on the way home, too.

“Nope. Thank you, chef, I’m good.” You barely even look over at him as you say it, and Carmy has to stop himself from making a face, making his displeasure visible.

“I really don’t mind,” He tries again, but you just close your locker door and shake your head, ready — and desperate — to change out of your uniform in the bathroom before it’s time to lock up. You put on what you hope is an easy smile, but it comes off tense.

“I’m okay, Carm, really. It’s not like it’s raining-“

“Chef,” He interrupts you, suddenly stern. “C’mon.”

He nods his head motioning for you to follow him, and it’s clear from his tone that there will be no room to argue.

You trail behind him while he locks up, and on the way out to his car, you can feel that frustration building up inside you again. The same resentment and irritation you felt in the hospital, when he wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses in the same way that nurse or your other coworkers would, it rises and rises till you’re gripping your backpack strap a little too tight and shutting the car door a little too hard.

You’re grateful, at the very least, that he says nothing when tears start to spill out and down your face as he drives you home.

You sit in silence for a minute when Carmy pulls into your building’s parking lot. You can’t bring yourself to leave at first, part of you still craving to savor his presence for as long as you can, even if the other part of you is too angry to even look at him.

“You wanna talk?” He asks quietly.

“Nope.” His question is enough to set you off, pushing the car door open and furiously wiping away your tears as you haul yourself out.

Logically, Carmy knows it might be best to leave you alone for tonight. Let you calm down and attempt reconciliation tomorrow morning. Knowing it doesn’t stop the feeling that he can’t just leave you alone, and let you walk away upset.

“Hey,” He calls out, opening his own door and moving to follow you. “C’mon-“

“Fuck you, Carmen.” You spit out.

He’s undeterred, even if you don’t turn back to face him once, refusing to acknowledge him tailing you the entire way up to your apartment.

You don’t tell him to leave you alone, to stop following you, to fuck off. You don’t even slam your front door in his face like he half-expects you to. Instead it hangs open as you storm into your living room, a silent invitation. An invitation Carmy doesn’t hesitate to accept, stepping through your door and carefully closing it behind him.

He’s still wracking his brain on what to say, clueless on how to stop the tears flowing down your face as you toss your backpack down and meekly lower yourself to sit on the floor between your couch and the coffee table, knees pulled into your chest.

“Will you just fuckin’ talk to me?” He finds himself pleading with you again after a minute, but his helplessness in the face of your distress makes his words come out callous, and you just scoff.

“Don’t be a dickhead, Carmy.”

“I’m a dickhead? I-I’m the dickhead, for giving a fuck?” You lift your head to glare at him, and you can see that he wants to match your anger; all the tell-tale signs of an upcoming screaming match appearing in his features, scrunching up his face as he repeats your words back to you, and you know you’re not being fair. You promised him you’d let him in, allow him to help stop you from going off the deep end again, and yet you’re the one resisting him. You wish he’d let the frustration on his face overtake him, walk out your door and leave you alone with your mind.

He doesn’t, no matter how much you will him to. His eyes meet your own, filled with misplaced ire, and all he does is lean his head back and sigh, running a hand over his face and forcing himself to curtail the urge to give in to your bait.

“You don’t wanna talk, I’ll talk,” He starts tentatively, before saying maybe the last thing you’d expect: “I’m sorry.”

Your narrowed eyes widen, the contempt in them turning to pure shock, but he barely notices.

“I didn’t mean to- if I went too far, the other day, with the spaghetti. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I’m sorry.” The absolute sincerity in his voice as he apologizes for something you know isn’t on him — it’s too much.

You’d love to pass the blame off on somebody else. If you could find a single other person to hold accountable for causing the near-constant state of discomfort that you’ve been stuck in for weeks, the distress of living in your own body, you think you’d jump at the chance. But you can’t bring yourself to do it to the one person who’s offered to take the fault away from you, because even now, after you’ve lashed out at him, he’s deliberately gentle with you.

You can see Carmy is ready to move towards your front door, you’ve sat here for too long without giving him a response, weeping silently. And maybe that would be the right thing to do after breaking your promise, letting him worry over you till he thinks he’s the one who owes you an apology. But selfishly, you reach up and grasp his arm before he can even turn to leave, gently tugging him down to sit with you, and he lets you.

“I’m sorry,” You start once he’s settled next to you, your voice still thick with tears. “I know what we talked about in the hospital. I haven’t been- I fucked all that up, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s shaking his head, looking like he wants to refute you, but you continue on.

“I just… I’m so fucking scared,” You nearly choke on your words, but it’s a relief to get them out, and suddenly you can’t stop the rest from spilling from your mouth. “I’m scared of getting better. I can’t stand the thought of it, I don’t even- I don’t know what I’d be for, if I wasn’t like this all the time. And it’s fucking embarrassing. That’s all I feel, all the time, just- constant fear, and shame. I can’t fucking stop myself.”

You take a pause, doing your best to breathe deep and avoid Carmy’s intent gaze, so you don’t lose your nerve.

“We were good, for a bit, and I wasn’t so… out of control. But then I fucked it, and I-I couldn’t just, tell you. Felt like, for once there was someone who understood, and I just wanted to keep the rest of it out of sight, I guess.”

It’s the most you’ve expressed to anyone about this. You think maybe you’ve gone too far, that maybe now you’ll have alienated the one person you’ve been honest with in years. But when you finally look up at Carmy, he’s nodding thoughtfully, no trace of judgment or pity in his expression.

“I don’t.” He says carefully. “I don’t really understand. I-I don’t think I could, uh-” He pauses, clasping one hand over the other tightly, like it pains him to force his words out, too. “I guess, growin’ up, food was basically a love language. It was how I bonded with Mikey, it’s why I wanted to do this job in the first place. So, to avoid food… I don’t think I can imagine what that’s like.”

All you can do is nod. You shouldn’t have made him listen to you vent your emotions, you should’ve let him walk out your door-

“But, I’d like to try. If that’s what you want.” He says, interrupting your spiral. “I just need to know you’re safe. Shutting me out like this – it’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just- stop caring. Even if it’s ugly. Just don’t shut me out.”

His earnestness practically shoots you in the chest, filling you with that warm, familiar feeling that usually comes with his presence. You want to push against it, you haven’t earned it back, it’s too damn much.

“Even if I… end up in the hospital again?” You say, trying to keep your tone light, but you can’t keep the pleading out of your voice.

“I’d drive you to the hospital a hundred times.” Carmy replies, completely genuine, and now you can’t push back against the urge to throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

You don’t know how long you sit there, on the hard floors of your living room, arms tight around each other, breathing together. All you know is that you don’t want him to leave; he makes no move to go.

a few people asked to be tagged on this part, so here you go! @rexorangecouny @moonlight-sonata99 @kpopgirlbtssvt

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto angst #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #the shrimp that fried that rice

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mandowifey · 10 months

Note

What happened after reader and miguel’s lovemaking??? Morning after scenario is?

Sunrise

Miguel O'hara x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dark!Miguel, noncon, creampie, forced orgasm, captive reader, standing sex, lots of praise, kissing. Just general dark and hopeless energy with smut. This is part of the Dark!Miguel series I am doing.

Word count: 1.9k

Miguel o'hara masterlist

× × ×

When your eyes first opened, you were hit with the stark realization that this was not your home. You also noticed that you were naked, covered in a dark red sheet with a large form snoring softly beside you. As the events of last night sparked in the back of your brain, your hand clapped to feel the puncture marks on the side of your neck. What happened had been real, and your assailant was still with you.

Staring at the man - Spider-Man, you recalled - you began to carefully slip out of bed. The sounds of his slumber remained steady as your limbs slipped from under the sheet and touched down onto cold, tiled floor. This place was quiet aside from Spider-Man's snores and your heart pounding in your ears. Tip toeing around the bed, you searched the dark bedroom and located a t-shirt on a dresser. Yanking it on, you rummage through the drawers until you find a pair of red boxer shorts and promptly step into them.

You step towards the open door in agonizing silence, forcing your limbs to move as slow as possible to avoid accidentally waking him up. Not looking back, you step along the front of the house and past the open kitchen and living area. Due to the limited light, you couldn't make sense of any furniture aside from the kitchen island and a microwave that read '6:48'.

The front door had to be somewhere along this wall, so you hoped. Blindly groping your hands out, you find a flat surface and follow along it, wishing that it'd shape into an exit so you could flee. Being in the dark, barely dressed, and in a strangers house wasn't an ideal situation, but you'd be dammed if you didn't try to run.

Something juts from the otherwise flat wall and indicates a door frame. You draw a gasp, then fumble as your fingers press to the shape of a handle. Thanking every god known to man, you grope along the door in search of the lock, perspiration gathering on your temples and back of your neck. Every second felt like an hour, especially standing out in the open like this.

"Sneaky."

The voice comes from behind you, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You can make out the shape of him now, and his voice brings you back to the night before. "Stay the fuck away from me." You hiss, still trying to find the lock. He chuckles, his heavy footsteps loud as he prowls to you. The dark only heightened the prey instincts to run, but the rational part in your mind - the part untouched by fear - told you that was a bad idea.

"You were close to getting out, I mean." His voice was like warm velvet. "Doors here open on a pressure control on the wall - I'm guessing you were looking for a lock." Miguel's voice became louder as he approached. "Smart, but not quite enough. It's a shame. Wouldn't have minded starting the day with a jog." Your stomach twists when he chuckles. This situation, your panic, it was all some amusing joke to him.

"Fuck you."

You can feel his presence looming over yours, catching a flash of red as he closes in.

"Okay."

Large hands capture your hips, and you're lifted off your feet, held against the door. Now that you were not paralyzed, you began to fight. You become an animal, claws and teeth, shrieking curses as you swing out at him and hit at anything you could. The impacts have no effect, and the man simply chuckles as he holds you in place. "So kitty has claws. That's cute." When you swing in the direction of his mouth, your open palm strikes his cheek and silence follows.

"Huh." A breath fans your face as Miguel chuckles. "Wanna see mine?" His mouth was near your ear, drawing goosebumps and sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could tell him where to shove it, lips press over your own and smother your words. Miguel encompasses you, kissing you like a long-lost lover. Your taste and the way you squirm and push his shoulders had him hard already.

Kicking your legs, you try to turn your head away from him, letting out disgusted groans. Miguel licks into your mouth, and your tongue tingles strangely. That was when you recalled the venom and how he'd bitten and paralyzed you. Heart racing, you slow your struggle, understanding that having some control was better than laying limp like a doll for him again.

He breaks the kiss and nips along your jaw. "Good girl." His hands work in tandem, one pushong up your (his) shirt, and the other effortlessly yanking off the boxers you'd stolen. Dropping his head, Miguel latches the heat of his mouth around your left nipple and you wheek in surprise. The suction sent a shiver through you, briefly stunning you before your senses returned. "S-stop-" you croak, a hand in his wild curls and trying to pull him off. "Please-"

Miguel hums and licks over the pert bud before popping his mouth off. He wordlessly kisses your ribs before licking a path up your body to your lips. He seals his mouth to yours as he adjusts your legs to wrap around his hips, sitting you against the bulge in his briefs. "Feel that, hm? That's what you do to me." His words were husky, breathless as he begins to grind up into your bare cunt. Your head spins with disgust and shame as the friction begins to dampen you. Head turned, you resume pushing at his shoulders.

"Please let me go," you gasp, "I just wanna go home." Miguel smoothed a large palm to your throat and wrapped his fist around it, not squeezing just yet, but the message was clear.

"You are home."

Tears sting your eyes as you squirm, your knees trying to shut but only succeeding in squeezing his hips. "Shh, shh." His mouth finds yours, kissing you and pushing his tongue down your throat. Bringing a knee up, Miguel keeps you seated against his thigh so he could use his free hand to tug his briefs down enough to spring out his aching cock.

In the dark, you couldn't see it, but knew what you were up against. This time, you weren't going to be paralyzed, and you were scared it would hurt. Fisting himself, Miguel released your throat and held you up with one hand on your hip. "Open wide, princess." There is a sickening smile to his words. Miguel drags the swollen tip of his dick through your folds and nudges your clit. You tense, then clamp your teeth into your lip, not wanting to validate this disgusting behavior.

"There you are," he sighs as he aligns with your weeping hole. Before you could begin your protesting, Miguel forces inside of you in a burning stretch that makes your head drop back against the door. Mind going white hot, you dig your blunt nails into the meat of his forearms and choke out another soft 'stop' as he begins to bottom out inside of you.

The tip nudges your end, and you shudder. Miguel groans softly against your neck, peppering you in delicate kisses. "Such a good girl." He sighed and took his time leisurely dragging his cock in and out of you, loving the way you squeezed around him. "All wet, just for me." Miguel nips your pulse and you give a strangled sort of sob. He had a way about him that somehow managed to hit all those special buttons inside of you. While you hated him and were afraid, you found yourself sinking against him and struggling less.

"That's it," Miguel groans as he begins to rut into you, his pelvis impacting your thighs and causing you to bounce rapidly against the door. Each strike knocked out a whine and a gasp, your eyes fluttering as the swollen head of his dick rammed across your gspot with pinpoint accuracy. He filled you to capacity, stretching you to your limit and plugging you so full you would remember his presence inside of you when he was finished.

Digging your nails into his shoulders, you rake your fingers down his biceps and make him hiss against you. He mutters in Spanish, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. "Gonna cum for me?" He sounded drunk, wasted on your pussy and how good you felt for him. "Gonna coat my cock? Hmm? Fall apart, just for me baby girl. I wanna feel you squeeze me again." He grinned as he moved and pecked your open mouth, his tongue flicking between your parted lips.

Stars flashed behind your eyelids, and your noises grew from pitiful sobs to loud, shrieking groans. Had he drugged you? Did Spider-Man have some sort of brain manipulation power? Disgust could come later. Now you were focused on chasing your release. "F-fuck," you squeak out, chest heaving as he continues to strike deep inside of you. Miguel's own noises came louder, which you assumed indicated he was close too. He kissed you again, swallowing your groans as he fucked up into you relentlessly hard. The super human stamina coming in handy, he hadn't slowed down once since starting.

Your brain became fuzzy, forgetting for just a couple of wonderful seconds that you weren't being forced on against your will. You shriek out, hugging your legs around his hips as you cum. Miguel grunts and drops his head to your neck, more focused on yanking you down into him as he bucks. Your milking walls were too much, his thrusting became unwound and uneven as he suddenly pushes all the way inside. His cock throbbed hard, and you felt a searing warmth inside your body that coated your innards in sheets.

Panting, Miguel kisses your neck and jaw, cooing as he keeps your bodies connected. "Don't wanna waste it," He muttered, nosing your pulse point and nipping it gently. "Such a good girl, you did so well. You're beautiful when you cum, princess." Smiling, he leans his head back to look at your face, watching as you went from basking in your after glow to disgust. Your head turns and your eyes close, feeling a sting in your eyes.

"Shh, shh. There's no time to cry. Sunrise is in 7 minutes." He pecked your lips and you grunt as his cock drags out of you. There was a rush of warmth that spilled out after him and he chuckled. "I'll clean you up afterwards." Miguel doesn't set you down and instead carries you towards the bedroom. You were boneless, legs like jell-o and head fuzzy as he opened the curtains and sat on the floor with you on his lap. The two of you still bare as you watched the city and the sun as it began to crawl from the horizon.

For a long time, you appreciate the sunrise for what it was and how little of a fight you'd put up against Miguel. Your thoughts are distracted when he presses a kiss against your scalp, those strong arms wrapping around you and securing you against his broad chest.

"Can't wait to spend every day watching the sunrise with you."

Every day,

You felt your heart sink into the pit of your stomach, and when your eyes stung again, you didn’t fight the tears.

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