#squash bullshit

[unhingedsquash]

is there a compilation of Caleb just like swearing speaking in Zemnian? for science?

[autumnrory]

really and truly unless it's a discussion about why peggy/steggy fans shouldn't like endgame, at this point idk why people feel the need to continually make the argument about her having a family as if that's the biggest problem about the ending especially when i figure most people are of the belief that it was another timeline or whatever idk what the current consensus on that is in the mcu and i don't care

but what about the fact that it destroyed steve's family? does that not matter because it's not the standard spouse and children but is instead a family he built for himself with sam and nat and bucky? because it's easier to decide steve is a selfish asshole and always has been instead of acknowledging that that storyline did more of a disservice to him than to anyone else? like oh maybe peggy's family was erased and that's horrible but it doesn't matter that steve's family was abandoned in the midst of the kind of trauma he knows very well?

i've said it before but it makes me so sad that so many people just turned on steve and decided a decade of movies don't matter in the face of one shitty desperate attempt of a movie to make him look like a pathetic creep just so they could justify their heterosexual nonsense ending

[mako-island-moon-pool]

Personally of the belief that live action fans who go onto animanga posts uninvited like 'I DESPERATELY NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I THINK THE ART STYLE IS UGLY EVEN THO THIS OPINION IS IRRELEVANT TO THE POST' should be hit with a big rock. We already moved past this ten years ago, get with it or get lost. Swallow the hunger inside of you that demands everything be palatable to you. Maybe you could stand to be a little uncomfortable for a while

[biancabelairs]

MERCEDEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[semi-sketchy]

I dreamt last night that my pepper seeds I planted 3 weeks ago finally sprouted and when I checked on them this morning LO AND BEHOLD

IT WAS TAKING SO LONG I WAS AFRAID THEY WERE DUDS

[actual-corpse]

Giving your character extra arms is bad if you suck at poses.

I don't suck at poses.... I'm just trying to keep the shapes of Luna Moth Girl clean.

[screampied]

FAKIN’ IT FOR YOU ?! ☆

gojo, sukuna, nanami, toji, choso. faking an orgasm n how they react

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, faking órgasms, praise, filthy dirty talk, orgasm denial, first time squirt (choso), öral (f! receiving), nipple play, impact play, manhandling, req by anon, mdni. total wc 3.7k

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“what the fuck was that?”

he wouldn’t even care he was balls deep—you can’t even try to fake an orgasm with toji because he’ll immediately know. toji knows every inch of your body—he studies it like one would study for an exam, every particular nerve, he knows how to hit it until you break. yet, the moment you decide to fake your release, all hell breaks loose. you’d be on all fours as he stops his churlish hits against you, a hand of his gathers a firm amount of your hair before he tightly yokes it back. sweetly, you play coy and moan, “what was what?”

“let’s not,” toji grumbles, and he’s annoyed. you can hear the extra grit linger underneath his tone as he speaks. ravened eyebrows of his curve into a frustrated furrow before he pulls out. it was so abrupt, you whine before he gives your ass a rude spank, darting his eyes away with an eye roll. “oh, please, girl. was that a fake moan too?”

“it wasn’t f-fake,” you protest, and you’re suddenly quiet from the way he rubs his fatten swollen tip against your soddened entrance. toji could read you like a book though—you weren’t bullshitting anyone. you was so close but instead, you decided to be a bit more of a brat, kind of desperate to see toji’s reaction.

all toji does is pull out. you whine, the friction titillating against every number of nerves hidden within your body before he spanks your ass again. “faking an orgasm for me, girl bye.” and as he speaks, you could hear his sheer vexation. toji brings your hips up to him, having your face laid down against the woolly mattress before he wraps a hand around his shaft. giving it a few pumps, he starts to slap his tip against your entrance. “got some balls, girl. i’ll give ya that.”

“w- why’d you pull out?” you whimper, making a cute attempt at grinding your rear against him. toji snickers, drubbing his plump cockhead against your slit, pushing it in—only to pull it right back out. the dewy squashes your pussy makes only rings against your ears further. all you feel is pure static, you’re panting, chest heaving, everything and above.

with a secure grip against a nice chunk of your hair, toji groans. “b- because i fuckin’ cannn,” he mocks your faltering stutter, a palm of his bedaubing against your folds before spanking it silly. “ooh,” he purrs, watching your thighs shimmy upon impact. you bite your lip, trying to rut yourself further against him and he only resumes to rub his rounded fat tip between your slit. desperately, you try to swallow him whole but before you could even attempt — toji pulls it back out, slapping his hefty cock onto your pussy again and again. “got some nerve faking an orgasm with me when y’er this soaked already.”

“f-fuck,” a mewl dies out your throat as you feel him continue to smear his rotund cockhead all over your most sensitive parts. with your back hunched over, pretty thighs parted, you let off a bratty giggle. huffing out a sweet sigh, you hum, “it’s just … you’re getting a bit old, toji. didn’t wanna be mean.”

toji’s left eye twitches. as he ghosts a few fingers against your cunt — he slowly inserts two thick fingers inside of your lewd opening before pulling his digits back out. “old, huh?” and he flips you over to look straight at him. sable hairs of his run down his brows before he slyly smiles. a gasp wretches out from your throat before he shoves both of your knees up to your chest, realigning himself. with a husky grunt, he snarls. “don’t play with me. old or not i’ll still break this bed, whore.”

“d- do it then.” you almost simper but he cups a hand over your face.

“tch, such a mouth on ya. ain’t nothin’ a few orgasms won’t fix,” and you moan once he starts to finally make his way inside of you. the girth of toji thickens and dilates throughout your walls and you feel his grip tighten against your knees. as the bed starts to creak in harmony again, he darkly cackles, hot breath aerating against your neck. “oh, and just a heads up baby. when i break this bed, ‘s coming out of your pocket to replace it. ‘ppreciate it.”

★ CHOSO KAMO

“h-huh,” he’d stammer in short briskly breaths. choso doesn’t realize you fake it until he actually realizes something wasn’t right. with him being propped up between your plush thighs, he gently gnaws against your chin, panting heavily. “baby, did you just fake your orgasm?”

you only give him a sheepish grin and choso pouts, he leans in to kiss your pout, soft sweet kisses gluing against your chin before he whines. “that… wasn’t nice,” and he buries his face into his neck. choso’s only teasing—but in the case that you do fake an orgasm with him, he’s more than determined to make you cum at least ten times harder. choso would have you laying flat on your back, gradually easing himself back into your sopping accepting walls before he whines. “oh f-fuck,” he’d gasp, feeling you immediately engulf around his length. he’s throbbing into you, various veins that run down his shaft pulse inside of you. your legs immensely snake around his waist before he starts to deeply drill into you.

choso’s pace is different this time — it’s much more frantic, he’s still whimpering praises into your ear as he’s plummeting his dick within your gummy clingy walls. “mhm, just like that baby. s-so good,” you’d mewl out, his hips continuing to drive into you at a full smacking speed. it’s addictive, the way his sharp hips rotate against you—you feel your tongue hang out before he leans in to suck on it.

you’ve always tasted so sweet, choso’s moans only grow louder as he starts to tap against that same spot buried inside of your cunt. he knows your moans are for real this time because of your body language—how you cling onto him tightly with your giddy arms and legs, biting down onto his right shoulder in pure pleasure. “fuck, fuck right there baby. that’s it, that spot, pleaseee.”

choso could have came alone from your melodic words of encouragement. you’re all stupefied with your eyes crossed, warm hot bodies clashing against each other in sync. he whimpers, feeling his thighs ache near the undersides before his hefty cock reaches yet another deep spot. your legs were steadfastly wrapped around his torso, making sure he’d never leave. “come on baby, give me one, please. gimme a real one,” and he licks a long stripe up your neck. “give it to me, make a mess on m-me so i can clean you right up.”

as you’re positioned in a sprawled way, choso’s hands roam towards your neglected bouncing tits. his head lowers down to suck against them as his hips go slow. a growing pool of heat resides near your lower abdomen as his delicious inches drill in and out of you. “f-fuck, ‘cho. ‘s coming, feel w-wet.”

“let go on me, please,” he purrs, his tongue licking against your sensitive nipples. after a while, he csnt help but start to suck against your precious mounds, moaning as you cup his face to look at you. choso grinds against you, verbosely slowing himself down before you let off a real shriek. as the coarse smacks against each body pitched louder and loduer, you feel yourself zealously jolt forward before you feel a sudden sensation gush out of you. the velocity of it all was soaking — you’re panting, chest heaving as you try to recollect breaths before you feel yourself spouting out more onto your boyfriend. choso pauses, his pink dampened lips quavering as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “baby,” his eyelids lowers, and he’s puffing for air right with you. a hand of his trails down between your thighs, lifting up your legs before he moans. “did you just squirt on me…?”

feeling a drenching pool of saliva coat into your mouth, you whine out a timid, “y- yes.”

giving you a hungry gaze, his dick twitches inside of you before he pulls out to watch the remnants of your own slick spill out. “o- oh wow,” he gawks at the filthy scenery right before his eyes. in a gruff voice, choso bites his lip, leaning down to press a final delicate kiss against your pussy. “mwah,” his warm lips ghost against your now drenched folds. he can’t help but lick against it, savoring your sweetened taste before he looks up at you with a pleading look in his eyes. “do.. do you think you can squirt for me one more time? pretty please. need you s-so bad.”

★ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

the audacity was beyond him—he knows right away, sukuna was no foolish curse.

if it was anything he knew by heart, it was your body. whenever you’re about to orgasm, he likes to stare dead into your eyes whilst he’s giving you his all. slow yet deadly strokes, he likes draining the pleasure out of you with the thick inches of his cock. oh, how his favorite part was to just hear your babbling little voice sob out his name over and over like a looping vinyl on a record player. your adorable cacophonies of “right there, right there,” and “gonna cum, ‘kuna,” and many more, many of which they all never fail to reverb across the padded walls of his sacred chambers.

although, he can easily tell from how it’s real or fake. sukuna gets up close—hearing the sounds of your heavy breaths as your legs wrap around his waist. as you’re taking in every part of his bare long length, your arms sling around him. you’re a mess underneath him, jostling against his beefy built body. the demon’s pure smoldering heat colliding against yours only makes you throb at a much quicker pace. his scent, you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “i-i’m close, ‘kuna.” you’d mewl out in a desperate cry, hearing his low animalistic growls all close up against the outer shell of your ear.

he knows,

you didn’t even have to remind him, he knows your body. it was his priceless treasure. sukuna groans as you claw your fingernails into the deep depths of his back. his thickened base resumes to jackhammer into your tight sticky walls furthermore until you croak. he’s just so big, you jaw was dangling open all stupid like before it finally comes— that familiar squeal he’s grown to love. his favorite part.

as your cunt sloshes against the repetitive thwacks against it, you whine out your finish—yet he notices something quite peculiar about your concluding climax. as you lean your back, doe eyes staring into the ceiling, his pointed ears twitch at the way you elongated that single orgasmic syllable. “think you’re so funny,” he says as he waits for your seven second orgasm to come to a closing halt. crimson red eyes makes your tummy churn as you meet his stern gaze and he grips your chin. “little girl, you’re playin’ a dangerous game.”

“w- what?” you coyly mutter, an almost smile pulls against each side of your lips before he glares at you.

sukuna pulls out and you gasp, your ankle brushing against the back of his torso and he squeezes your lips together. “brat,” he snarls, his tone all rough and husky. a free hand of sukuna’s sneaks down between your pried open legs to feel against your pussy. a real moan snatches out from your throat as he rubs sloppy circles against it, only to smack it again, and again, and again. your eyes start to roll as he continues to pace. you’re so soaked that it starts to coat his hand. “look at you. can’t get off to dick but you came just from a few pussy smacks? tch.”

“m-more, ‘kuna. don’t stop pleaseee.” you pant, feeling your tummy cave in as you’re directly underneath him. his weight hovers above you as he still grips your cheeks together, giving you a hot, steamy kiss. sukuna’s forked tongue glides against yours and you whimper in his mouth before he lightly pushes you off. you ‘oof’ back onto the fat padded mattress with a pout as he gets up. with a saddened frown, you sit up to whine. “where— where are you going?”

sukuna fixes his kimono before giving you an annoyed glower. “don’t worry about that. worry about how you’re gonna make that pathetic pussy finish since i apparently can’t make you cum,” and he snickers at your little grumbles before he walks out. “change the sheets when you’re done. fuckin’ wet girl.”

★ NANAMI KENTO

“…oh,” a deep voice groans from behind you. nanami’s voice was low, his simple oh sounded offended more than anything. most of the time he doesn’t really have you on all fours, doggystyle. but today, you were being a bit of a brat. nanami doesn’t mind your little antics, but if it’s to a point where he has to remind you of your place, he will. nanami’s thick cock was plunging in and out of you before he abruptly stops, slowing down once you ‘release.’

your moan sounded a bit too dramatic than usual, you gulp as he lightly grips onto the back of your shirt.

“oh….what?” you’d moan out, and you glance at the mirror that’s propped up in front of the both of you. there—you see nanami with a look of what seems to be mere irritation. nevertheless though, it’s hot. the way his gentle fawn irises burn into you, perfectly arched brows of his lower and a scowl forms onto his lips. he was still fully clothed, just his slacks from work hanging low. out of nowhere, he gives your ass a mean spank.

nanami sighs, feeling his dick that was stuffed inside of you twitch from the inside. “let’s not ask silly questions, my love. you faked that one, didn’t you?” and despite how sweet and alluring his delivery was—you heard a faint rasp in his voice, the baritone as he speaks makes you even more wetter than you already were.

you pout, not fond of how he stopped fucking you, you wanted more—you couldn’t help but be greedy for more of him.

“i didn’t,” you lie through your teeth, arching forward in a cute teasing attempt for him to finish drilling into you. nanami doesn’t follow through though, instead—he gathers a strong yet gentle grip of your hair. as his veins coarse through him, his hefty arms bulge as he pulls you forward to stare at your pathetic needy reflection. “f-finish fucking me, ‘ken. why’d you s-stop?”

“why should i continue, sweetheart? tell me that,” and his words were nothing more but a soft purr. his interest was suddenly piqued—you’ve never faked one of your orgasms before, at least not with him. as you lie on your chest, he takes a peek at your ass before letting off another low sigh. nanami gets directly up close to you before he delicately tightens the grip around your hair a tad bit. “ah, don’t be shy now. tell me what ‘m not doing right to make this pussy feel good. i know you faked it, my love.”

your breath hitches as nanami presses his weight against you—his throbbing cock buries itself between your entrance but he’s not even in fully.

he’s just … idle, his shaft remains near you and you whine from the feeling of him not moving.

“i was just p-playing,” you whine, feeling your perky nipples rub against the satiny-made sheets. whilst you smear your glossy lips together, you grind your hips against your husband. “just wanted attention, ‘ken.”

“my wife,” he whispers, planting a hot kiss near the nape of your neck. his touch alone could make you finish. it was that easy, nanami’s fingers skim against your waist before he sucks gently against your collarbone. “there’s other ways to get my attention, you know that,” and his voice softens by a mile. he’s always gentle with you, his throbbing cock all swollen and built up of so much volumes of seed that he was preparing to give to you. “ugh, having you bent over like this ‘s drivin’ me crazy,” he abruptly admits, feeling you wriggle your ass against his cock that was stuffed between the very temples of your ass. “but,” he swallows, sneaking another kiss, this time against your earlobe. “if i give you another orgasm, ‘s it gonna be real this time?”

“y- yes, promise,” you moan, desperate for him to go back inside. nanami’s hands grab onto your hips now as he pulls them up, relishing in your little arch you’ve got going on for only his eyes to see. you’re gorgeous, he huffs out a few breaths as you take your time to whine out your little words of desire. “won’t fake it anymore, jus’ finish fucking me, please.”

nanami groans—his fingers wrapping around his fat length, giving it a few mere pumps before he prods it against your hungry swallowing slit. “atta girl. keep that arch f’me, yeah,” he sucks his teeth, raising his chin up to where his jawline makes an appearance. “now,” he whispers, deepening his voice as he spreads your legs, making your right cheek sink into the cottony pillow. “let’s try this again. let’s see if i can get a little squirt out of you, sweetheart.”

★ SATORU GOJO

once he finds out you faked your orgasm, it significantly bruises his ego—he tries to play it off with a sheepish cackle cutting out of his throat. “heh, i can fake an orgasm better than that, y’know.” he’d mutter, yet you could hear the little tremor in gojo’s tone. he was quite literally pounding into you before he makes you lie down flat against his chest. he makes you spread your legs for him, exposing your dripping pussy before he pinches your clit. you moan, feeling gojo’s bulge brush off against your ass. “kinda hurt my feelings, hmph.”

“i didn’t f-fake it—” you try to lie. with his fingers rummaging near the inside of your cunt, it had you biting back your words in regret. you lean back against his chest, legs all spread and you start to squirm before he hums against your ear.

“squirmy today aren’t we?” gojo jeers with an impish smile. he titters at the way your legs judder all because of the indecourous stimulation. each tantalizing twitch makes him wanna rub his fingers against your clit even quicker. “if you don’t wanna gimme an orgasm, i’ll just have to do it myself, angel.”

you clench onto his thigh, allowing pleasure to overtake you before his fingertips skid against that familiar spot. now— your moans were very much real, gojo’s fingers was so lengthy that he could reach you in areas his own dick probably couldn’t locate. as your eyelids feel heavy, they shut before another whine leaves your mouth. he still keeps up his pace, maneuvering all kinds of circles over your pussy in a rotation manner before your thighs start to shudder in ecstasy.

“satoru, satoruuuu,” a heavenly sounded whimper dies out your throat. you only then roughly gnaw down on your lip, a cute try at trying to suppress your little moans. “don’t think i can c-cum anymore, ‘s good fuckk.”

he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “yes you can, i know you can baby,” he whispers, and that’s when he moves again, moving himself between your legs this time. gojo brings a chaste kiss towards your pussy, slithery strings of saliva peeling from your folds and it’s so sloppy. immediately, his lips get all moist and muggy with your honeyed slit. he creates a bowling ball grip with two lengthy fingers, shoving the two of them in and out before he blows parching hot air against your cunt. “gotta get my baby a little wetter.” he whispers, watching you pulse from the inside. within seconds, you happily coat your boyfriend's fingers with your dingy sheet arousal before he slowly vigorously continues to knead various circles and shapes against your swollen nub. you were throbbing laboriously, pulse after pulse as you panting repeats itself as if you’re running a marathon.

gojo lolls out his long wet tongue against your pretty pussy, savoring your candied taste as he feels you roughly joggle against his mouth. hot puffs of pants fans against your folds as he chuckles, and he then starts to spank your pussy raw. one spank turns into two, then three, then four . .

you didn’t want him to stop anytime soon—his guzzling greedy sucks against your clit only makes you spasm out even faster. by now, you don’t even remember why you faked your orgasm because the real one was finally about to present itself. it’s coming to you like a tsunami wave, you can’t predict it but it’s preparing to crash into you all at once. the build up has you almost drooling before you grip onto his his meaty thigh.

“s-satoru— something’s hnghhh coming. oh my goddd,” and you’re trapped in a haze, yet gojo doesn’t stop there. he’s so offended that he doesn’t just make you cream on his fingers. he makes you squirt on them too, gushing out so much the that sheets are now all soaked thanks to you. whilst your tummy heaves, your legs feel all numb and not before long, he makes you squirt again. your jaw cutely sways itself open as you lie back on the mattress, feeling the few spurts trickle out of you slowly. “f-fuck,” you whine, and your voice is all strained and tiny.

gojo hums before he starts making out with your pussy. his eyes close as if he’s actually kissing you, each smooch sounds more sloppy by the second before he pulls out his fingers, sitting up to slide them into your mouth. “taste yourself baby. now thaaaat’s how you orgasm,” and as you take his digits into your mouth with droopy eyes, your tongue swirls all around his fingertips. as you moan amply from your own taste, he wrenches out his fingers before sneaking a two second kiss on your lips. “awww, don’t tap out on me now. you can give ‘toru one more, right?”

[meta-squash]

listen youtube just because i’m trans does not mean i’m interested in rupauls stupid fucking drag race stop recommending me drag queen content i do not care and anyway if i want to watch drag i’d be watching smaller entertainers/creators and i’d go to shows in real life not look at youtube content

[astoriachef]

Ah, I see the Elite are taking all their CM Punk resentment out on Death Triangle.

I mean, I get it? The six-man titles were designed around you? But you don't have to have Omega single-handedly run the table on DT.

[mrsmiseryxo]

Behind Closed Doors

homelander x assistant! reader

🎧 Behind Closed Doors- Lana Del Rey

Disclaimer: This is finally done after two months, i first started this when the season came out. I don't know anything about the corporate world. I made up things as I went along :3 im sorry :( Also my first time writing fanfic and first time creative writing in a while, so I am a bit rusty be nice please :3 I wrote this as a challenge to myself , so i hope its not too bad. Constructive criticism welcome :)

around 3-4k words i lost count

this is so secretary ( 2002) coded

Tags: dom!Homelander Fem! Girly! Reader. praise kink, body worship, p in v, fingering, cmnf, homelander is soft for reader. creampie, breeding kink, daddy nickname used. homelander and reader are horny weirdos. I'm bad at tagging hopefully i'll be better :(

Set between seasons 3-4 but i didn't watch gen v oops

You transcribe the meetings for Vought, and you feel like you don’t get the recognition that you deserve. That is until Homelander calls for a private meeting. 

You were quiet and meek, like a little mouse. He viewed you exactly like that. A rodent to be exterminated. Squashed. He’ll have a word with whoever was in charge of hiring you. Even more of a word if it was Ashley. In your eyes, he could never hide the utter disdain on his face whenever he got a waft of your sweet, vanilla rose scent as you . He thought you represented everything wrong with humans. Your head was always hung low, you always stared at your shoes as you brought Ashley the notes for this week’s meeting. How dare you not look in his eyes? How can someone as stupid as you ever be trusted with confidential information about the company?

He absolutely hated everything about you. Your prissy nature, the way you only drank matcha lattes with soy milk. He turned his nose at that poor excuse of a milk option. He smelled that bullshit from a mile away. He hated the gloss on your lips. He hated the sparkle in your eyes, like you still had a lot of life to look forward to. He hated that hopeful mentality you held, following the philosophy that life was going to get better. He simultaneously hated and loved the way you cowered in his presence, the way your hands get sweaty and clutch at your skirt. He loved and hated the fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact with him. On top of all that, Homelander hated the way you made his dick twitch.

Even as you stumble around with a slight hunchback, he couldn’t keep thoughts of peeling off your tights and bending you over the table where meetings were held. How breathless and cute your pathetic moans would be. How he would make you speak up and ask for what you truly want. He wondered what your lip gloss would taste like. How soft your plush ass would feel as he caresses it. Even considering your horrible posture, something as small as your scent is enough to turn him on.

When homelander would retire to his apartment, he would drink a pint of milk and jerk off. That was his nightly routine for the last couple of years. He would think about Madelyn Stillwell, Stormfront, and if he was feeling especially normal, he would think about Queen Maeve. After a week of you working at Vought, his jerk off material had changed. He began thinking about you. A lot. You had dominated his brain, and this irritated the hell out of Homelander. He had never given this much thought to another person before. Mundane and ordinary things had popped into his brain. What did you eat for breakfast? What side of the bed do you sleep on? As much as he tried thoughts of you out of his head, they always came back with a vengeance. Just your entire existence bugged Homelander, but he got used to seeing you in the conference room, even looked forward to the weekly meetings if it meant he got to see you. He’d notice that his presence would have an embarrassing effect on you. Of course, he would have a certain effect on just about everyone that he encountered, but he relished in the fact that you would get so flustered when in the same vicinity of each other. He would then think of ways to get you worked out, he wanted to tease you just enough to coax you. He’d knew the type of girl you were, you thrived under words of praise. Homelander also knew that you’d be obedient enough to never say anything. He’d make you fear him, more than you already do. He wanted to make the desire to please stronger.

After the first month of your newfound employment at Vought, you wondered why anyone would put up with Homelander and the Seven’s antics. You pride yourself on your obedience and dedication. Why could nobody acknowledge the sea of tears shed over copious hours of overtime, and the perfection you put into shooting out emails everyday, keeping people on track. You even schedule the time the emails are to be put out. You know deep down you will never say anything, or even hint at the maltreatment and neglect that you recieve. You want to remain hopeful that this is just a rough patch, and as you get more acclimated to the company you won’t feel this way, they won’t treat you this way.

You wake up at 5:30 to face the day. 30 minute shower, a five step skin routine, and light makeup routine. You were told to always look your best when first hired. Vought has an image to maintain, and their employees should reflect that ( which only really applies to female employees).

While in the shower, you contemplate your life. You’re proud of yourself and what you have accomplished so far, but sticking to the Vought job is insane. It’s insane because you have a crush on your boss. Arguably the most famous and powerful man in America, or even the entire world. You know he's not a good person, but you wouldn’t mind being at his beck and call. God, it was pathetic how you imagine him grunting in your ear for you to take it. You try to move past these thoughts for the betterment of your life.

You are the first to arrive to the meeting room. You set up your space, placing your laptop, a notebook with strawberry pattern on it, and your matcha latte with soymilk.

As the supes settle in, you get ready to write. This week’s meeting was about searching for another member of the seven, or to speak truthfully, find a new black noir. You are clueless to how The Seven found itself without a Black Noir, but you know it is in your best interest to never ask questions. Of course, like the queen of England, Homelander is the last to arrive. Homelander strides in greeting everyone.

“ Mmm can’t wait for the bullshit we talk about today,” He rolls his eyes. You notice his tone even more irritated today. Homelander walks over to the front of the table and sits. Everyone waits for him to speak, for him to start the meeting. As you write the date on the top of your paper, you hear him clear his throat.

As you look up, he says your name. How does he even know your name? He couldn’t give less of a shit at anyone at this table, especially you.

“Can I speak to you at the end of the meeting? Alone of course. We wouldn’t want any of these morons listening in”

“ Oh. Yeah, of course!” You stutter a bit. You give him a small smile. He gives you his signature fake smile back. You know that look all too well. You recognize that that look is basically the middle finger. That highly calculated smile hides the disgust he feels for everyone around him at any given time. All the while, you are caught off guard by his words. Being alone in a room with any man would make you anxious, but being the only woman in the room with Homelander makes you nauseous. To say you are absolutely mortified would be an understatement.

Everyone in the room gives you a side eye. Ashley looks like she might pull out a gun and shoot you. She knows she’ll never hear the end of it. After all, she did hire you.

The rest of the meeting goes as smoothly as it could. Some dumb remarks were made by The Deep, but it could have been worse. You didn’t pay much attention during this meeting, as you were in your head about what this private session with Homelander would entail. Homelander senses your heartrate going up. He can practically hear the blood rushing through your veins. His hand quietly goes to grab and rub his bulge. He thinks of you on your knees, him grabbing your hair as you rub your face against his crotch with your hands on his thighs, looking up at him with adoration in your eyes. He brings his hands up and bangs the table.

“ Ok, I think we’re all done here,’’ He gives instructions to the Deep and Ashley to scout for the new Black Noir while A-Train shoots his movie. You write the details of the meeting in your notebook.

Everyone gets out of their chair and leaves, Ashley gives you a death stare. You feel faint, and your legs try to gather courage to walk toward Homelander.

“ Shut the door behind you, will you buddy” Deep closes the door, and you two are left alone at last.

Homelander slowly strides toward you with his hands behind his back. Like a deer in headlights , you were paraylzed with fear, you could not move. He softly grabs your chin. He sees the fear in your eyes.

“ Hey, you’re not in trouble. I can see the hairs on your arm standing up. It’s fine. You’re not in trouble.” He reassures you, eliminating the worst case scenario your brain. You breath a breathe of relief. You look at Homelander’s boots, still afraid to look him in the eye.

He gives a slight chuckle. “ I’m not going to laser you, ya know. Um, actually I asked you to stay because I realized something.” He places his hands on your shoulders, you finally look up. He is towering over you. You can see the absence of his pores on his face. He truly is perfect, which makes his presence even more intoxicating. Your head feels dizzy from both the fear and his course fingertips on your shoulders.

“ You’ve been here for a good while. I know that you think that you’ve gone unnoticed. But trust that that could not be further from the case.” He sighed. “ To be quite honest with you sweetheart, you’ve been too much of a distraction around here. Your short little skirts are killing me.” Homelander laughs. He imagined his hands hiking up your skirt all of the time. He toys with your hair as you cannot believe that this is happening. His hands travel to your neck as you can smell the mintiness of his breath. He places soft sweet kisses on the tip of your ear as you let out a whimper.

“ I know you wanted me like this.  Ya think I don’t know why you try so hard? You want to get my attention. Think of this as a reward, yeah?” Your knees buck. The pit of desire in your stomach is getting bigger, and you're aching for more of his touch.

“ I need you to look at me” He says in his stern voice. “ And I need you to respond when I’m talking to you, kay? Sit on the table for me.”

You nod your head. A light tap of his hand kisses your left cheek.

“ Use your words, doll.” Homelander whispers and looks at you tentatively.

“oh okay” you stutter and stammer.

He impatiently unbuttons your shirt, practically tearing it open, and quickly undoing the claps of your pretty pink bra ( which you wore everyday, holding onto hope he would one day see it) clumsily breaking a clasp in the process.

“ I’ll get you a new one, its fine” Your mouth opens in a slight gasp.

His tender, soft, touch full of need finds the softness of your breasts, as he bends down to delicately pinch your nipples, hard, from the building's chill and the unfamiliar feel of his leather gloves. He bites his lips, resisting the urge to come right then and there. He lightly sets you on your back, legs dangling off the table. He looms over your view. The blonde man begins to suckle on your breast, massaging the other. His lips leave soft marks all over your tits as he rotates his hands and his lips.

“ Oh god, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart, your tits feel amazing” You let out a mewl as your pussy clenches. Filthy sounds of Homelander lapping at your tits and soft cries escaping your mouth fill the room. He lightly nibbles your nipple. In a fleeting moment of bravery, you give Homelander a request.

"Mmm want you inside"

“Not yet honey. Needa prep you first, know you can’t handle it right now. ” He unzips your skirt and throws it across the room. Your tights were thigh high, so he didn’t have to take them off like he would have liked. He looks almost animalistic as he crouches down to level with your cunt. He rubs his gloved hands up and down your bare thighs, as he inhaled the scent of your clothed pussy. You run your hands through his soft, blonde hair, thinking about how how heaven feels.

He murmurs into your pussy, “ you’re fucking soaked and i barely touched you”

His nose brushes with your clit. Catching wind of your squirming and quiet mumbles, Homelander purposely moves his nose in a circle while he maintains eye contact with you. A strong hold of his hands is on your hips, trying to contain the buildup of your pleasure. His rhythmic movement works your way toward an orgasm, and as you get higher and higher, almost reaching your peak, he moves away, toward your mouth, embracing your tongue, biting your lip softly, as your lips sloppily crashed into each other. He sat you back up as his arms moved up and down your back. Anger quickly left your body as quickly it came, you couldn’t be mad at his denial when you inhaled his fresh linen and sandalwood scent.

He breaks away from your lips .“I want you to cum on my cock, so im just gonna make you nice and wet for now, sound good?” You look into his of course that sounded good, but something felt off.

“ mmkay homelander” you mumble, feeling a bit odd and disconnected suddenly. You don’t want to call him that, his nose was in your pussy, his tongue all over your chest, it felt wrong to call him homelander. Sensing this, he does the unthinkable.

“ call me john” he mutters under his breath, almost inaudible. you grin at him.

“ mmkay john!” God. your squeal and positive attitude made his cock even harder, which he didn’t think possible. You relax a bit more, as this was a sign of him opening up.

He slowly wiggles you out of your panties, as you giggle. Leaving you fully naked, Homelander basks in the sight of you, ready and pliant for him. 

“ Yeah, what’s so funny” Homelander smiles at you. 

“ hmm. Dunno. You’re just so…” you trail off at the end of your sentence.

As you’re responding to his question, Homelander slips a finger inside you. You let out a cry, slightly rolling your head back.

“ Im so what sweetheart, finish your sentence” He grabs you by your neck, demanding a deep sloppy kiss, whilst adding another finger in your pussy, plunging deep in and out of your slick folds. He curls two fingers up,

‘So..mmph..good, feels good, john” 

“ Mmm yeah I know honey, I know ”  He coos, mockingly in between kisses. He worked his fingers until your breaths became ragged, squirming and quivering under his touch. 

“ You’re so fucking wet, baby” He grunts while you moan as John scissors his fingers in and out of your slick pussy. He moves his fingers, moving them into circles on your clit.

“Im gonna cum, please!” You plea for him to keep going, faster.

“ Ah ah ah, no i don’t think so. going do it on my dick remember?” He pulls his fingers out of your wet warmth, drags his tongue up and down his fingers.

He moans as he sucks on his own fingers, you look up at john with utter adoration.

“you taste so good mmph” Your tongues intertwine, lapping filthy at one another. He bits your earlobes while his hands lazily fidget with your nipples.

He then brings the bottom of his suit to his knees, cock swinging out. It’s egregiously thick. His length swollen and aching, leaking out precum from his pretty tip.

“ I’m going put my cock in now, ok sweetheart?” He seems to take it easy on you, as he doesn’t mention your mouth salivating at the sight of his dick.

“need it bad, been waiting for it”

“ Oh I know, i’ve seen the way you look at me” he laughs sinisterly.

He uses one of his arms to spread your thighs wider apart as his other hands supports you up, grasping the whole of your back. You smile up at him

He positions himself nearer to you, his cock at your entrance.

“ it’s gonna be a big stretch ok, need you to breath, if you need support, hold onto my shoulder.” he senses your lack of experience, or at least your naivety. you had never experienced anything like this, and you never would again, he would make sure of it.

you nod your head and look up. You’re already cock drunk, you trust him with your life. He reassures you with a kiss to your forehead.

Homelander bullies his length through your warm walls, gently and slowly. you let out a cry, both of pleasure and pain. you feel so good full, He groans into your mouth, as you moan into his.

“ ok honey, it’s going in”

“mmmphh John, so big..”

“does it hurt?” he stops in his tracks.

“a little, but not a lot” you say almost in a whisper.

“ok, ill keep going really slow, sweetheart”

He thrusts real slow, as he caresses your face. you lose feeling in your legs as he pounds softly into you. He finds him rhythm quickly as he maintains his pace. You hold onto his back as he moves his hands all over you.

“ God, your tight pussy clenching my cock feels so good sweet girl”

You smile and giggle.

“ My dick needs to be in your sweet cunt forever, sweet cunt, sweet girl” He growls into your ear.

“mm Keep going daddy!” you squeal, not knowing the damage you have done but uttering those words. Homelander feels like could come right then and there. A primal switch flipped in his brain.

Tears begin to swell in your eyes. “ I’m so so so sorry i didn’t mean to say that” Homelander sees your eyebrows furrow and your eyes widen.

His thrusts begin to pick up the pace, the perfect rhythm becomes sloppy, as your juices spill out of your thigh. His fat cock ever so slightly touches your cervix as you let out a soft sob.

“you don’t know what you do to me don’t you? Jesus, this pussy was molded for my cock” He grabs you by your knees and throws your legs over his shoulders. His dick twitches inside of you, signaling he’s about to cum, and you’re about to follow him.

“Say it again. Call me what you just called me” He annunciatesin a low voice.

“ Fuck, daddy feels good, want your cum” You feel free of all embarrassment and shame in that moment as you bask in euphoria.

“ That’s a good girl. Good girls get to cum. Good girls get filled up with daddy’s cum” Homelander never knew that this nickname did it for him. Hell, he was more of a mommy kind of guy, but he would do anything for you. Any word that came out of your mouth would make him hard, because it was you. But submitting yourself to him in this way, it did more than getting his dick up. He was disgusted by this feeling. What was it? Why did it feel so weird?

“ Oh god I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in you, give you babies oh god” He sloppily kisses your face, as fat blobs of sticky cum drip out of your cunt. He keeps his cock in your pussy, as he holds you with your face pressed to his chest.

“i need to come daddy” you stutter and shake under him.

He allows you to come and you swear you see stars. John smears his cum across your pussy, then he bends down to kiss in between your lips highs.

He helps you into your skirt and what’s left of the rest of your clothes. You smile at him, and he smiles back. A genuine smile.

that got a little more emotional then i thought it was? idk should i make more of homelander x reader in mind? if you want to give feedback feel free to :) i’m doing this to be a better writer !

divider creds: @cafekitsune @bunnysrph @anitalenia

[unhingedsquash]

The voices that “Ace Attorney w/ a Real Lawyer” do are so fucking good.

God they made Klavier sound so yummy I’m sorry

[writingsbychlo]

LAST NIGHT | mattheo riddle

summary; on again, off again, you and mattheo have always gone round and round in circles, but this is the last time.

word count; 3962

notes; based on this song! my first ever mattheo fic, or even slytherin boy fic, so hope you enjoy, sorry if it sucks lmao <3

“I’m done, Mattheo!” Your voice bounced off the walls, giving the half-arsed silencing spell you’d cast two hours ago a run for its money. “I’m fed up of this. I’m fed up of your attitude, and your bullshit, and the way you just don’t seem to care about anything!”

“Oh, you’re done?” He mocks, bringing the cigarette back to his lips as he sits on the windowsill, rolling his eyes and blowing smoke out into the night air. 

“Yes, I’m done.”

“Bullshit. You say that every other week. What is this, our fourth breakup this year? Fifth?” Stubbing out what was left on the stone wall, he flicked the butt out into the darkness, finally swinging his legs back to the floor and turning to face you. “You had no problem with my carefree attitude and my bullshit and my laidback nature when we started dating. Why are you throwing a hissy fit now, what’s this really about, huh?”

Your jaw clenched, clenched so hard it hurt. He smirked at that, wider when your fists balled by your sides, and he took an arrogant swig of the firewhiskey the two of you had been splitting. The very drink that had given you the courage to do this in the first place. 

“Nothing to say, then? That’s what I thought.”

“Mattheo—”

“Storm your pretty arse out the door, love. Slam it, like you always do. You’ll come back in the middle of the night, like you always do, and I’ll be here waiting for you.” A lump caught in your throat, and the fiery anger in your body settled into a cool rage. 

“It’s different this time, Mattheo. When we started dating in the fifth year, nothing but having a date to Yule Ball mattered, but we’re two months from graduation, and you— you’re hopeless. We’re hopeless.” His brows pinched, a snarl taking over his features at your harsh words and the small seed of victory was squashed by the tension building in the air. “You won’t tell me anything about our future, about your own and if I even have a place in it. You won’t make plans, you’re barely even passing your classes and you don’t care. It’s been years, Matt, and you still treat me like I’m just some fun.”

“Exclusive fun. At least I’m not sleeping with anyone else.” He smirked again around the words, throat bobbing as he swigged at the whiskey, a golden drop leaking down his chin and your hands itched to wipe it away. “You knew who I was when we met.”

“Yes, I did.” Your voice cracked, and just like that, a gaping cavern seemed to split through all those emotions, leaving a feeling of hollow, cold numbness to fill your chest in its place. So wide it was dark, echoes of feelings bouncing on stone walls, and you rubbed over your chest. “But I wish you were someone I never met.”

Silence filled the space between you both, airtight like the oxygen was starting to thin. “You wish I was someone you never met?”

“Yes.” Your voice shook even as you said it, the glass bottle clinked on the stone ledge as he set the bottle down. His shoes scuffed on the floor, as he made his way over to you, long strides that you matched backwards, until your back was pressed to the door. “Mattheo.”

His hands slammed onto the wood on either side of you, crowding you until your noses were brushing, the warmth of his body seeping into you. His voice was like a growl, skittering along your body like a reverberation as he spoke, “You wish you never met me?”

“I didn’t—”

“No. You didn’t.” He cut you off, your shoulders slumping in defeat as that red in his gaze took over. There was no sentience now, nothing to be said, not as your hand slipped across the wood towards the doorknob behind you. The time for talking was over, there was nothing left to be said now.

He was right. 

He knew you far too well. Just like every other time, you wanted to storm out, slamming the door and cursing his name, promising you’d never go back. Just like every other time, you’d end up coming back to him, over and over again, a vicious circle where you crawl back into his bed, and he whispers sweet things in your ear that never come true, and you go on like it never happened. 

Over and over and over. 

You released the doorknob, his eyes searching your own, and instead, you gripped his jaw. He startled, even more when you yanked his mouth down to yours, hands sliding around until you were pulling yourself up to his height. He groaned, a deep sound as his mouth opened against your own, wet and needy with desperate kisses. 

His body collapsed against yours, pinning you to the door, only interrupted by his own arms sliding around your waist, bodies flush and racing hearts pounding together through your chests.

“See, isn’t this so much better?” He muttered, nipping at your lower lip as your head tipped back to rest on the wood, his mouth beginning to make tracks along your jaw instead. “When you just shut up and stop overthinking, and let things go how they work, huh?”

That same hot mouth continued its path, your breath shallowing as he kissed down and down, wet tongue licking across your collarbones and the swell of your tits. Rough hands pushed up at your shirt, bunching the fabric up as your shaky hands attempted to undo the buttons, falling into every touch and lie that came from his mouth. 

Just like always, you fell into his trap, like a bee to honey, he knew every weakness. Dropping to his knees before you, pretty brown eyes all but sparkled as he smirked up, glittering with victory. His tongue laved over the soft skin below your belly button, tracing the edge of your skirt, fingers toying with the hem line when your own laced into the soft brown curls, pushing them back. 

“Matty…”

“That’s right, baby.” Another wet kiss to your stomach, one sensual enough to leave your back arching against the wood, pushing closer to him as his hands dipped under the skirt to find the sides of your panties. Peeling them slowly down your legs, he propped his chin on the soft pudge of your stomach, peering up. “The only thing that mouth should be screaming at me is prayers to God and begs of my name.”

Your scoff was lost to a moan as he slapped the tender back of one thigh, skin stinging, the welts that would be left by the cold rings decorating his fingers only made you tremble with further excitement, further need. Need for him, desperation for the man who knew you so well, like the back of his hand. Every touch, every tell, every weakness exploited was by design and knowledge. 

“You want my mouth, baby? Say it. Tell me what you want.” A nip to the inside of one thigh, delicate skin abused by teeth and lips, a bruise there he would leave so proudly. 

“I want your mouth.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Tell me, who would make you come like I can if you left me, huh?” 

A retort sat on the tip of your tongue, stinging words with a bitter bite, ready to chew his head off once more for his arrogance, but it all died away as your head thumped back on the door. His tongue swept through your folds, head hidden under the pleats of your skirt as he lapped from your entrance to your clit, hot breath fanning across your sensitive skin as he moaned. 

He wasn’t gentle, nor was he patient, not as he set to work on something he enjoyed just as much as you did. His tongue worked you over, your thighs trembling on either side of his head as he licked and swirled, fingers sliding up the sides of your legs. You didn’t want to speak, to give him the satisfaction of rewarding him for his effort, teeth sinking into your lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet.

He took it as the challenge it was, growling against your core, the vibrations shaking along your spine and lighting you up like fireworks in the crisp night air, sparking you to life like a fuse. He doubled down on his efforts, wet and messy, pulling on every trick he knew you loved, tongue sinking into your hole just to pull back as you clenched, teasing and taunting until you were dizzy. 

Sucking on your clit until your knees shook, almost threatening to give way, he sank one finger into your dripping cunt, and your pledge for silence gave way, a loud cry slipping from you and bouncing around the room. He nipped at your sensitive clit to celebrate his own victory, a squeaky sound escaping at the sensation, and your nails scratched into the wood of the door, doubtless leaving claw-marks he’d never let you live down. 

That one finger became two, scissoring and curling until you could no longer take it, exploding around his digits with frantic rolls of your hips into his hand. He let you ride it out, never letting up, never stopping his assault, your body spasming under his hold until he was pulling back, other hand pinning your hips to the door. 

Your legs finally gave way, only held up by the support of his body as he kept you locked where you were, slamming those fingers in and out of you until you were begging. Begging for another release, begging for reprieve, begging for anything at all, as he barrelled you towards another orgasm. 

When this one struck it was with a scream, with a burning heat so intense you thought your clothes might turn to ash on your very skin, melt away into nothing the same way every thought in your head had managed to do. 

He finally pulled back, slick and shining fingers going straight to his mouth as his body supported your own, one hand slipping to your hip and holding you tight, steadying you against the door until your shaking breaths evened out. 

The taste of yourself was still on his tongue as his mouth crashed into your own, your shaking hands nothing like his steady ones as the two of you tore at one another’s clothing, stumbling together in a tangle of limbs and kisses towards the bed. Stripping on another of clothes in rough movements and angry tugs and rips, until you were bare, his hot cock pressing to your stomach, smearing precum over your skin and letting you know just how much he wanted you. 

He may have you fucked stupid, wrapped around his little finger, but at least you knew you had him in that same helpless grip. 

Reaching between your bodies and taking his hard cock in hand, he let out a stuttered moan at the first pump, the drag of his flesh in your hand, precum spilling out over your fingers in a sticky trail. His need tasted like sin on your lips, your name a mumbled praise that sounded like a curse as you pumped him slowly, his hands flexing so tightly on your hips they’d no doubt leave tainted marks. 

“Fucking hell, baby. Gonna’ fuck you so good, gonna’ fuck you ‘til you remember some sense, ‘til you’re screaming the way only I can make you.” With one rough shove, you were spilling out across his mattress, gripping the sheets with your fingertips as he crawled up and over you. 

A quick movement and you were flipped, finding yourself face down into the bedsheets, his weight pressing into you at every angle from above, and then—

Then the stretch, the slow drag as he sank into you, joint moans as he gave you no time to adjust. The burning rage in his veins drove him into you until your hips sat snugly together, his throbbing cock stretching out every wall within you to that delicious brink between pleasure and pain. 

“Fuck, Mattheo…”

“Don’t say my name again tonight unless you’re fucking screaming it.” He pulled back, snapping his hips into your own with such brutality that the sound echoed around the room, your fingers screwed into the sheets practically turning white-knuckled with how your body tensed and shuddered. He did it again and again, slamming into you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs every time. “I’m still so goddamn mad at you, but you’re just too hot when you yell at me.”

“Fuck you.” Your words didn’t have nearly as much vitriol as you wanted, not when they were muttered out into the sheets as your face pressed into them, drool on your lips from every slam of his cock into you. He caught them though, fingers lacing into your hair and yanking your head up, the pace never slowing, even as his body covered your own, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“I already am, sweetheart. You just can’t help yourself, giving yourself over to me even when you’re mad. My pretty little slut.”

A particularly sharp thrust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as every other feeling seemed to melt away until only the pound of his hips into your own was left. You could feel him everywhere, outside and inside, as he filled your every thought and every cell. It had always been like this, utterly intoxicating with him since that very first kiss, the moment those captivating eyes had locked on your own and you’d been tangled in the web that was Mattheo Riddle. 

The first scream slipped free from your lips as his hand came down across your arse with a slap, a condescending chuckle followed it and he rewarded you with an extra hard squeeze. Driving into you with renewed force, he left a matching handprint on the other side, and you cried out his name with cracked voice. “That’s right, fucking take what I give you.”

“Mattheo!”

His name was like a chant now, unstoppable as pleasure swelled and built inside of you, brain going foggy and his name the only thing that was clear, His touch was grounding but his kisses were like a drug, trailed along your shoulder and spine as he smothered you into the mattress, tears building in your eyes with the delicious overwhelm of it all. 

Trembling, shaking, your body was hardly your own as you squirmed beneath him, pushed down into the bed as tears wet the sheets from your eyes, used like a whore and loving every second of it. 

Another peak was building, the tangling in your stomach a telltale sign as your body tensed under his touch, like an instrument he knew just how to play as his fingers skated along your body, tweaking nipples and travelling down to your clit, harsh circles rubbed into the swollen bud.

With only a couple of unsteady circles, you exploded, screaming his name just as he promised you would heat flaring through you, sweat slick between your bodies. 

His lips left sloppy kisses along your neck as he never let up, only stopping enough to pull back, and leave you for just a second as a trembling mess on the sheets. Long enough to flip you over, to push your knees up until they were almost to your chest, hooked over his shoulders as he sank back into your wetness. 

Your hands were shaking, coming up to grip at his biceps, half-lidded gaze locked on that fiery stare of his own, even when his forehead came down to press to your own. Your nails tore welts into his arm, a pleasured hiss on his lips and his hips stuttered, lips tugging up at the edges in a pain-fuelled smirk of sheer bliss.

“God, look at you. My perfect girl, and this perfect pussy grippin’ me so good. I fucking love you, and you love me.” You could only muster a whine in reply, arching your back until your nipples brushed his chest, the added stimulation making your eyes roll back in your head, shuddering right down to every last nerve you had. 

“Mattheo…” Your voice was raw, unable to scream anymore, and a sick gratification flashed over his features, open mouth brushing yours, letting you swallow every moan he let out. 

His hips rolled, the fluttering and spasming of your inner walls sending him toppling over the edge, and with one last rough stutter of his hips into you he stilled. Bracketed between your thighs his weight collapsed atop you, heat flooding your core as he spilled into you, pump after pump, the aftershocks of your orgasm reigniting a little at the feeling, drawing out until you tingled right down to your fingertips. 

If you’d had any strength at all, any ability to even move, you’d shove him off of you, roll away from him out of his grip. Instead, he lay against you, panting, tracing his fingertips softly up and down your ribs in that way he knew you loved, until he’d gained enough of his own strength to push himself up. 

A whimper slipped free from your lips as he pulled out, wetness leaking from you immediately in his absence, goosebumps covering your skin as his body peeled away from your own. Kneeling back between your aching thighs, Mattheo’s lips twisted in a cruel smirk as he eyed the mess he’d left between your thighs, only growling at the embarrassed flush that covered your body as you attempted to snap your legs shut. 

That burning look of anger and passion still flared somewhat in his eyes, no longer a blazing inferno but lingering enough like smouldering ashes, and he barely bothered to reach over the side of the bed and snatch up his abandoned shirt, tossing it onto your chest for you to clean yourself up. He collapsed down onto the bed beside you, a satisfied sigh escaping him as he propped one bent arm behind his head, rolling onto his side and watching you mop between your thighs with amusement, snickering at the sensitive gasps that occasionally slipped free. 

When you were done, his arm snaked over your waist, tugging you closer to face him as you tossed the ruined shirt down onto the floor somewhere to be cared for later. Sometimes he’d light up a cigarette at this moment, in others, he’d pull the hidden bottle of firewhiskey from under his mattress and take a mouthful. Today was one of the rare occasions when he did neither, settling into your side with a smile on his face, eyes slipping closed and he nuzzled half of his face into the pillow on your side.

Your eyes remained open, though. Studying him. It was no wonder you had caved so many times, no wonder it had been so easy every other time to fall into his arms, to believe all his embellished promises and pretty words. So easy to stay, when he looked like an angel, innocent and sweet and kind, with half a smile on his face and an adorably possessive arm over your waist as you cuddled into him. It was just like every other time you’d caved to him. 

But not this time. 

No, for once, you’d be strong. You’d endure the pain of leaving him, endure the suffering of being without him if it meant being happy, being healthy, being the kind of woman a daughter could look up to one day. You would never let your own child, your friends or family endure this kind of toxicity, so why did you continue to allow it for yourself?

No more handsome smiles and golden eyes drawing you back in. 

It was as you were making this decision, taking a bracing, deep breath, that his eyes cracked back open, focusing on where you lay mere centimetres from him. Staring at you from a shared spot on the same pillow, he gave a hint of a smile in the dim lighting of the room, eyes sparkling, like things might really be different this time. 

You’d fallen for it one too many times. 

His lips puckered slightly, expectant for a kiss, and your own lips pressed together, resisting the urge to find his. Instead, you rolled over, throat stinging and eyes burning as you faced away from him, sliding out of the bed. The stone was cold under your feet as they hit the floor, every step from the comforting warmth of the sheets was like stepping into the Arctic. 

“Why are you not in bed right now?” Mattheo groaned, and you heard the sheets rustle as you gathered your clothes. He rolled in the bed, clutching a pillow to his chest instead, an amused look on his face. “You don’t need clothes, I’ll keep you plenty warm.”

Tugging on your shirt, you only bothered with two buttons, his brows rising and smile beginning to dim, as you tugged on your skirt and yanked up the zip. Socks didn’t matter, nor did your tie, shoving them into the pockets of your robe, and he propped himself up among the pillows. 

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“This again?” He said, still not taking you seriously. His messy hair, swollen lips, those pretty brown eyes, it was all so hard to resist. The frown on his face, the disbelief in your conviction, less so. “Stop being ridiculous and come back here. You’ve made your point, I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Whatever.”

“No, Mattheo. That’s just it.” Finding your shoes and scooping them up, your toes flexed on the cold floor, a protest at the cold, but you’d make it back to your room before they got frostbite. “You won’t change. You never change. I’m not doing this again.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“Yes, and you were right.” His eyes narrowed, confusion flashing over his face at your concession. “I always leave, and right about this time, I always come back, and crawl into your bed, and I’m not doing this again. This time it’s different. This time it’s over, Mattheo.”

“It can’t be over.”

“But it is. This is the best decision for us both, really.”

“I think I should have been part of a decision that's in my interests, then!” He burst, scrambling across the sheets and standing himself, beginning to tug on his own clothes. “We’re not over. We can’t be, you don’t mean that.”

“Mattheo, stop.” He did, pants sitting low on his hips, unbuttoned as his hands fell slack to his sides instead. “Just, give it some thought. You’ll see, I’m right.”

“You’re not right.”

“Sleep on it.” You couldn't do it anymore, any longer and you’d give in like always, fall into his arms and let him temporarily kiss it better. 

“I’m still gonna’ wake up wanting you and me.”

You sighed, hand closing around the door handle again. This time, you had the strength to open it. For once, you truly felt like he was listening to you, like the threat of leaving was at last finding its home within him. He was hearing it. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispered as you stepped into the hall, the silencing spell crumbling around you as you left the bubble, and the sounds of the world came crashing back in. The howl of the wind outside, the shuffle of midnight wanderers in the common room, and owls hooting to the moon, all fill the empty space. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”

“Become something worth staying for, and I’ll keep loving you too.”

[cameronsprincess]

rafe x jealous!reader inspired by lana del rey „jealous girl“ (unreleased song sadly)🎀

„if i can’t have you baby, no one else in this world can.“

where he broke up with her because of her obsessive & jealous behavior a few weeks ago. (let’s pretend he’s not a killer haha) she sees him with another girl at a kook party & explodes with emotions. she beats up the girl & punches rafe & screams her lungs out that he belongs to her and no one else & that no one can have him if she can’t. topper and kelce literally have to drag her away from the poor beat up girl.

which literally leads to her breaking into tannyhill & threaten him with a gun. i’m thinking about no happy end because she ends up killing him and herself. but that’s up to you. or you can just erase the no happy end!

hope it’s not too gory, if it is it’s okay! maybe you could recommend someone who writes this kind of „gore“😩

BRO I LOVE THIS!!!! OMFG!!!!! she is me fr, bc who tf does Rafe think he is ???? leaving me??? NAH bby.

CW: violence, strong language, jealous!reader, toxic!reader, alcohol consumption, mention of a gun, breaking and entering, toxic relationship, mentions of blood. i think that’s it?

I didn’t understand why he’d left me. I mean, sure, I could be unpredictable and a little overly jealous. But he was mine. Any woman in my position would be the same way, right?

Maybe I took it too far sometimes. Maybe that was my problem. No, fuck that. If you’re not obsessed with the man or woman you’re with, then what’s the point, right? I was obsessed with him. I still am. So seeing him here with her has my blood boiling.

“Don’t do it.” My best friend, Kayla, says firmly.

I narrow my eyes on her, biting at the rim of my solo cup. “Don’t do what?” I ask, feigning innocence.

Kayla sighs, tossing back the rest of her drink before setting the cup onto the countertop. I place my eyes back on Rafe. He stands at the other side of the room, his right arm draped around the bitches shoulder as he laughs at whatever bullshit Topper was saying. He’s not that fucking funny.

I feel Kayla’s hand on my shoulder before she’s spinning me around to face her. Her amber eyes are narrowed in on my face. “I see the way you’re looking over there. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, squash it. It’s not fucking worth it, Y/N.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. It is fucking worth it. Rafe Cameron is mine, and it’s about time I remind him of that.

“Kayla, haven’t you ever loved someone so much, that you become overly obsessed with them? That you would do whatever the fuck it took to prove that they belonged to you? Because that’s what I feel for Rafe. I’m never going to win him back with her in the way.”

She sighs for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “Look, I get it. But you’re not going to win him back by doing something stupid. If you go over there, you might as well kiss him goodbye forever.”

She’s right. But I’ll never tell her that. Instead, I down the rest of my drink, tossing the cup into the trash bag that sits behind me and say, “I don’t give a fuck. She’s touching what’s mine. And that’s just unacceptable.”

I yank myself from her grip, turning and making my way toward Rafe and Jade.

Rafe’s eyes go wide when he sees me approaching, and I can’t help the smile that spreads on my lips.

“Hi baby, you miss me?” I ask him, batting my lashes while smiling widely.

“What’re you doing, Y/N? We’re not together anymore.”

I frown. “Baby, come on. You know you didn’t mean that shit. So why the fuck are you saying stupid shit? And why the fuck are you draped all over this bitch?” I ask, pointing toward the bleach blonde that’s tucked underneath his right arm.

A smile forms on Jade’s face, making my blood boil and my hands fist down by my sides.

“Oh Y/N.. You poor thing. Rafe told me you were fucking craz-”

My fist connecting with her nose cuts her words off. She falls to the ground, blood pouring from her nose as she holds it, glaring up at me.

“You bitch!” She shouts, and I just laugh. I jump onto her weak body, throwing punch after punch to her once perfect face. My knuckles are split from her teeth, my voice hoarse from screaming as I continuously hit the poor girl.

I feel two sets of strong arms ripping me up off her, my feet instinctively kick forward, getting her in the face one more good time before I’m physically dragged out of the house.

“Yo! Calm the fuck down, Y/N! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My body is buzzing, adrenaline pumping through my veins has me seeing fucking stars right now. I look up, my eyes focusing on a mortified Topper and Kelce. I smile at them coldly.

“You guys are no fun” I pout. “I was winning back there ya know?”

Topper scoffs, his eyes wide. “You fucking broke her nose Y/N! You fucked her face up, Rafe’s gonna have to take her to the hospital… What’re you gonna do if one of them turns you into the police?!”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in my chest. “Oh please, Top. Rafe would never turn me in. He loves me.”

Kelce throws his hands up, turning and giving me his back before walking into the house to presumably check on Rafe and his bitch.

Topper takes a cautious step toward me, his right hand landing on my shoulder. I glare at his hand for a second before he pulls back, sighing. “Look, he did love you. But you scared him away. You were too jealous and too obsessive. Rafe didn’t like that, so now you have to let him go.”

I laugh at that too. Maybe Topper is funnier than I gave him credit for.

“Top, he will be mine. No one else in this world is good enough for him. I’ll make sure he knows that.”

Before he can say anything else, I turn on my heels and skip down the steps of his front porch, making my way home to get the things I’ll need for later together.

-

Two hours after I’d absolutely beat the shit out of Jade in front of all of my friends, I’m sitting outside of Tannyhill, my right hand holding the small metal weapon i’d gotten from my house, fingertips tracing over the trigger slowly while I hum silently to myself.

Rafe will learn tonight, that if I can’t have him. No one can.

He’ll either be smart and take me back, or I’ll take us both out. The choice is his.

After what felt like forever, his headlights lighting up the driveway have me sitting up straighter in my spot. I watch as he pulls his truck to the side, putting it in park and hopping out. He makes his way to the door, slightly swaying from all the alcohol I assume he consumed after Top and Kelce threw me out.

Fuck them. And fuck Rafe for allowing it. He should stick up for me. He should fucking love me. I do everything for him. I would do anything he asked. And yet, he doesn’t want me? The thought of him with anyone else has my blood fucking boiling.

I watch as he pushes the door open, moving to shut it but I quickly stand and sprint toward the door, stopping it with my hand. He drunkenly staggers backward, turning his head as a confused “what the?” falls from his mouth.

His eyes land on mine, squinting to try and make out who he’s looking at since it’s kinda dark in here.

“Hi, Rafe.”

His eyes go wide and he stumbles backward, throwing his hands up. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He asks, shaking his head from side to side.

A slow smile makes its way onto my lips. I make my way farther into the house, shutting and locking the door behind me. “I came to see you, baby. Why would you ask me that?”

He laughs. “We’re- we’re not together Y/N. You fucking broke Jade’s nose, along with many other bones in her face. You’re fucked in the head. Please, leave.”

I can’t contain the laugh that bubbles in my chest. I take a few slow steps toward him, and he matches them, taking a few steps back.

“Rafe, you’re hurting my feelings. You love me, why are you acting like you don’t?”

His back hits the couch behind him, and he sticks his hands behind him to catch himself. His blue eyes are wide and full of fear.

“Y/N… I- I did love you, but you were too jealous, too fucking obsessive… I couldn’t handle that shit.”

Tears fill my eyes as the words leave his mouth. They stung. But he also just pissed me off. I pull the gun I had tucked in my hoodie pocket out, pointing it toward him as I let the first tear fall.

“How could you say that, Rafe? I love you! I would do fucking anything for you! Why can’t you just accept me for who I am?”

Rafe’s eyes go wider—if that’s even possible— and he raises his hands higher. “Y/N… We can talk about this. Put the gun away baby.”

I let out a laugh that makes me sound borderline insane, and maybe I am. But love makes you do crazy things right? I love him, and if I can’t have him, no one can…

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” I scream, my hands shaking as I continue pointing the gun at his beautiful face.

“I-I’m not lying. Please, princess. Put the gun away so we can talk…”

I take another slow step toward him, standing almost directly in front of him now. His intoxicating scent floods my senses, making me feel almost dizzy.

I clear my throat, blinking away the fresh tears as my shaky hands stay pointing in his direction. “I would have done anything for you. I love you, and you just cast me aside because what? Because I cared too much? Because I was so in love with you it made me fucking crazy?” I pause, letting out a choked laugh as I watch the fear in his eyes slowly turn into sadness. He fucking felt bad? Good. “I love you, Rafe. I’m just here to let you know… If I can’t have you, no one can.”

His blue eyes well up with tears, and he quickly blinks them away. Lowering his hands to his sides, he takes a cautious step toward me, the barrel of the gun pressed into his chest. He reaches out his right hand, running his thumb across my cheek and wiping away a tear that had fallen.

“Sweetheart… Put the gun away, and let’s talk, yeah?”

I sniff, my eyes finding his piercing blue ones. I slowly nod my head, lowering the gun in front of me, hearing him let out a deep exhale before his hands wrap around the cold metal object. He quickly turns the safety on and tosses the gun behind him and onto the couch.

Tears flow quickly down my face, choked out sobs pulled from my chest as I just stare back at the man who’d broke my heart. If he didn’t choose me, I wasn’t sure how I’d continue living. I needed him. The thought of never feeling him again, never smelling his scent, having his lips on mine, hearing his soothing voice — it was all too much for me to think about.

His arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush into his hard body, has all of those negative thoughts flying out the window. He still loves me.

I sob into his chest, apologies falling from my mouth like word vomit as he lovingly rubs his hand up and down the length of my back, shushing me. “Shhh, s’okay baby. ‘M here. I’m sorry.”

He holds me, swaying our bodies back and forth for what feels like forever. The sweet words spilling from his mouth and the feel of his hands on my body again are comforting. Like a warm blanket wrapped around you on a particularly cold day, or like your grandmother having cookies out for you after school.

Rafe was my safe space. He was my home. And I couldn’t lose him. I refused to go on in life without him by my side.

His next words hurt, but gave me a sense of hope that we could make it work after all.

“We can work on us, okay? I’m not going anywhere princess,” He pauses, lifting my head from his chest so my eyes are on him, “But you need to get help. Get medicated or something. You can’t be going off the rails batshit crazy all the time. I’m worried about you, and I need to know you won’t lose your goddamn head anytime you feel threatened by someone.”

My eyes search his, his eyes telling me he means every word he’s saying. I couldn’t be mad. I was a little over the top sometimes. If getting help for my psycho tendencies meant getting to keep Rafe? I’d do it. I’d do anything to keep him.

I swallow thickly, nodding my head, “Okay…”

He places his right hand on the back of my head, pushing it back down onto his chest and pressing his lips onto the top of my head. My body melts into his, my arms tightly hugging at his waist as I silently cry. I suck in a shaky breath, mumbling against his chest, “I love you, Rafe.”

He sighs, rubbing his hands up and down my back softly. “I know, princess. I know.” He pauses, and the hesitation of him telling me he loves me too pulls at my heart. Shattering me. But he finally says the four words that kept me sane, “I love you too.”

rafe cameron masterlist | requests | taglist form

[yoditopascal]

Home

“I made it, I'm home.”

Or

Four times Sanemi wants you to use his first name and the one time you do.

pairings: shinazugawa sanemi x fem! reader

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, slight angst, sanemi is bad at feelings and communication, slight sanemi/giyu if you squint

a/n: first sequel is up! My Nemi is 18+ so minors DNI

The first time Sanemi crossed paths with you was the day you were introduced to him.

He’d recently become the Wind Hashira and you were requesting to become a tsugoku.

They were all gathered for a hashira meeting to discuss the next training procedures for the lower ranking slayers. As time drew on, Shinazugawa found himself mentally thankful as the meeting drew to an end.

“Before we draw this to close, I’d like to bring one last thing to attention.” Oyakata-sama paused before continuing as you stood behind him head bowed in respect as he spoke

“I’m sure you’ve heard of a demon slayer who has been performing above expectations,” Oyakata-sama said gently. “She’s an exceptional swordswoman and has been recommended by Tomioka-san.”

The training grounds remained silent as the nine hashira waited for their master to continue.

“After some thought, I have reached the conclusion ….” Oyakata-sama smiled. “I’m assigning her to one of you as a tsuguko.”

“Shinazugawa-san,” he offered Sanemi a kind smile. “Since you both trained under the same master I think she would be best in your care.”

“Not interested.”

“Maybe Tomioka-san would be interested then since he-“

That got his blood boiling.

If he didn’t want to do it, why the hell should Tomioka be the one to replace him?

“With all due respect sir,” he said, Tomioka’s head tilts in his peripheral. Sanemi’s index finger plays with the hilt of his sword. “I don’t think Tomioka can cut it.”

“Why does it matter to you Shinazugawa? You already said you weren’t interested.” Uzui raised a brow at him, a hint of teasing behind his words. Obanai nodded his head in agreement in the background.

“It's because I doubt she can handle my training.”

“I’d like to prove myself to you if you’d let me Shinazugawa-sama, '' you said, stepping forward. You were significantly shorter than him, probably around Obanai’s height.

“Cut the -sama bullshit.” He fired back, also stepping forward. He practically towered over you at this point. You were cute he had to admit albeit a little annoying.

You had to admit from your distance you thought he was attractive too. His lilac eyes and fluffy white hair were striking, his scars added a liveliness to his features that you also liked and don’t get you started on his muscles that he proudly had on display.

“Fine then if you think you can keep up with me I’ll take you.” He said snapping you from your thoughts.

“Very well, then.” Oyakata-sama said, pleased. “She will continue training from here on as Shinazugawa’s tsuguko.”

“I can’t wait to work together, I’ve heard so much about you from Giyu-san!”

Giyu?

Why the hell were you already on a first name basis with him?

“It’s Tomioka to you brat.”

“My apologies I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t let it happen again.”

The remaining hashira grinned teasingly in the background, at the commotion. For someone who had claimed to hate Tomioka’s guts he sure was defensive about the first name thing.

But that wasn’t it at all.

Did he just take on an apprentice because he didn’t want Giyu to have you?

Yes, yes he did.

Did he also correct you just because he didn’t want Giyu to have the satisfaction of being on a first name basis with you?

Of course he did.

He was Sanemi Shinazugawa after all and he had a reputation to uphold.

He had no idea how you two had even met each other with your breathing styles being so different and all or why the hell you two seemed so close to begin with but if you were to train under him he had to squash that in the butt right here and now.

Sanemi was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize that the meeting had officially ended. As the hashira began filing out of the courtyard you approached him startling him from his inner monologue.

“Are we ready to begin training Shinazugawa-sama?” You asked

“What the hell did I tell you about that honorific shit?” He groaned.

“Fine then how about Shinazugawa-sensei?” You replied cheekily

Knowing that he wasn’t getting through to you he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He decided then that he doesn’t like being called Shinazugawa by you.

The second time

“Fuck off.” He rasped. You had just reached the inn you were staying at when you noticed him wincing.

“You’re hurt.” You mumbled, noticing the blood dripping onto the floor beneath him.

“‘m fine,” He shook his head, but the state of him said otherwise.

The blood around the wound had already started to congeal, sticking to his skin and clothes. He was starting to go dizzy from the blood loss.

“No, you’re not,” You frowned

“I told you I’m fine.”

“If you’re as fine as you say, then you won’t mind me taking a look.” You persisted with a grunt he submitted to you and your examination

You were looking at the cut now, nose wrinkled as you assessed the damage.

“Well the good news is you’ll live.”

“Oh joy.”

“The bad news is this’ll probably scar up pretty bad” you said standing to gather the necessary medical supplies before returning to his side. You two had foregone bring Kakushi with you this time as you weren’t that far from the butterfly mansion.

“Let me bandage it up so it doesn’t become infected.”

Wringing a rag out, you forced Sanemi to sit as you began to dab at the wound cleaning it, little sparks of pain ate away at him at each stroke of the cloth, his muscles tensing under your delicate touch.

“Sorry sensei, I’ll get this done as fast as I can.”

Again, there it was.

“I told you to drop the formalities.”

You pulled the clean bandages tight as you began to wrap his torso with a small uneasy chuckle.

“Force of habit.”

You were warm and he could smell the soothing scent of you with how close you were to him, the proximity was getting unbearable, a knot was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

As your fingers gently brushed against his chest with such tenderness he wasn’t used to since Kanae, Sanemi felt a jolt of electricity in his chest.

What the hell was that?

“There, that should do it.” You smiled to yourself admiring your handiwork as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll get Kocho-san to take a better look at it when we return tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” He brushed you off but all you did was smile your same smile at him.

Realizing the close proximity he felt another pang in his chest as his cheeks began to dust pink.

Was he developing a heart condition? He’d have to ask Shinobu about that the next time he saw her.

Easing up from his place on the ground he stood with his back to you hiding his flustered expression.

“Get some sleep. We’re leaving early in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?” You teased.

“Just shut up and get some rest.”

The third time

Sanemi pulled off your haori and tied it to your torso trying to staunch the bleeding. The feeling of the warm, sticky blood dripped down your side as you approached the Butterfly estate.

He could feel the warmth from your blood soaking through your uniform, staining his own.

Shinobu, who had been tending to the grounds outside rushed to his side at the sight of you and ushered him to bring you inside. It was hard to separate him from you, he was holding on so tightly, his grip almost like an iron vise.

A strong hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and got him to loosen his grip. He looked to see it was Rengoku who had also just come back from a mission and was having his own injuries tended to. “Kocho’s got this Shinazugawa.”

"Don't worry, I’m sure she’ll be fine."

He didn’t know that, how could he?

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know that she’s in good hands here. The same hands that treat you and all the other Hashira when we need it most.” Rengoku said, placing a hand on Sanemi’s shoulder which he shrugged off immediately. “So just try to keep a clear head Shinazugawa.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Sanemi said, storming off in the direction they took you, feeling more irritated than he was before speaking with the Flame Pillar.

It had all happened so fast.

Both you and Sanemi had been chasing after a demon who had been kidnapping and eating children. The absolute worst of the worst.

You were losing your temper and fighting brash, something he’d never seen from you before but not something he was new to entirely.

Just like Masachika.

You were so blinded by rage over the fact that the victims were children that you could barely hear him as he directed you to coordinate your attacks.

The last thing he remembers is going in for the killing strike when suddenly the demon throws a kid at him, a little girl. He stops his attack mid swing to catch her but in doing so he leaves himself wide open to the demon.

Fucking idiot! He thought as he tried to move out of range in time, before the demon could sink her claws into him he felt a hard push and the next thing he saw was red.

Blood.

It was your blood. Dripping onto the ground forming a dark red puddle around your feet.

When had you gotten there?

You had pushed him out of the way at the last second and had taken the brunt of the attack, your side torn almost clean open.

The smell of copper fills his nose completely and he almost chokes on it.

“Shinazugawa.” Shinobu started firmly sitting at a desk chair snapping him from his thoughts. She had just finished stitching you up and had sent Aoi and the others to get you situated in a bed after you had passed out. “If you need to talk…”

“I don't need to fucking talk,” he said pacing grooves into the the wooden flooring of the hall of the Butterfly estate. “She was a fool for jumping in like that.”

“I know you’re worried about her but-“

“I’m not fucking worried!”

He was but he’d never tell Shinobu that.

His anger clouded his senses, sure he was worried but he was mad more than anything.

Who gave you the right to step in and put yourself on the line like that? For him of all people.

No. To Shinobu he wasn’t worried, he was pissed.

You’re met with the sight of a starch white ceiling as you came to, head pounding you slowly, sit up looking around the room, no one was occupying the other beds. Your body ached at even the slightest movement. For a moment, you thought you were completely alone until a familiar voice greets your ears.

“You finally awake?”

Sitting on a chair next to the bed was Sanemi, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared.

"How could you be so fucking stupid, you brat?"

“It’s okay Shinazugawa-san,” you sigh, “Kocho-san was able to patch me up.”

Shinazugawa-san. As if he wasn’t already irritated enough with you.

How annoying.

“Okay, my ass,” Sanemi grumbled, “and drop the -san.”

“You’re a Hashira sensei, your life is worth at least a hundred of mine.”

“You’re an even bigger moron than I thought if you really believe that shit!” Sanemi snapped “Don’t be so ready to throw your life away!”

“I guess I’m your dumbass then.” You mumble under your breath

“What?”

“Nothing, don't mind me.” You said waving your hand in front of you as if to dissipate the tension in the air.

Silence filled the space between you two.

“I won’t let you die. Not for me.” Sanemi said somberly, refusing to look you in the eye.

“That’s the only way I’d like to go,” you sighed dreamily, only half jokingly.

“Don’t say dumbass shit like that.”

“You’ve made bigger sacrifices. Let someone else make them for you for a change.” You nodded contentedly at what you said. “You deserve to live a full life just as much as I do so let me help you live it to the fullest.”

You would have thought that was the end of your conversation if Sanemi hadn’t stood with such force it knocked his chair over from your bedside.

“Don’t gimme that bullshit!”

“You think you’re so high and mighty talking about sacrifices when you really don’t know shit about sacrificing anything!”

Before you could say anything more, he stormed out slamming the infirmary shoji doors behind him.

He was right, what right did you have to tell him of all people about sacrifice when you knew about his past?

Sanemi hadn’t told you much himself but when you asked Oyakata-sama about him he had reluctantly told you about Genya and his mother.

If anyone had known anything about sacrifice it’d be him.

Slowly getting up from your bed you found yourself leaning against the wall as you limped through the halls searching for your teacher.

The wind whipped through his white hair as he sat in the garden attempting to meditate. He had initially come out here to cool his head by slashing at the training dummies but when he saw other slayers out there training themselves he opted to go to the other side of the grounds just to have some alone time.

He hadn’t meant to snap at you like he did, gods know you weren't wrong no matter how much he hated to admit it, so why did it piss him off so much to hear you talking so easily about throwing your life away for him.

You deserve to live a full life just as much as I do so let me help you live it to the fullest.

You reminded him so much of Masachika it made his head ache.

The wind picks up once again carrying with it the smell of wisterias and…something else he couldn’t quite place.

It was almost like it was trying to tell him something, like he wasn’t alone.

Whipping around just as the sliding shoji doors open up, Sanemi jumped up and made it to you just in time to catch you as you slipped and fell out into the garden having lost your grip on the wall.

“Dumbass! What the hell are you doing up?!”

“I was looking for you!” You cried “I’m sorry Shinazugawa, you were right, I had no right to be so ignorant!” You tried to bow but the searing pain in your side said otherwise.

He tsked as he went to sit you down on the engawa. Setting himself beside you so you could lean on him if you needed to.

“You really aren’t that smart are ya?” He asked roughly trying to lighten the mood but the way it came out made him wince at the harshness.

Thankfully after months of training at his side you could tell when he was trying to lighten the mood, so you simply smiled and closed your eyes savoring his warmth. “No one’s ever accused me of being a genius.”

It was then that he realized you hadn’t called him sensei, or by any honorific. He was simply Shinazugawa.

Maybe he was finally getting something through that thick skull of yours.

The fourth time

When the two of you arrived at the swordsmith village you split off almost instantly Sanemi muttering to himself something about needing a drink. You were so excited at the promise of hot water on your aching muscles that you hadn’t thought to ask Sanemi if he planned to bathe too.

Which was how you two found yourselves in your predicament.

This was good. Way too good. The hot springs were perfect. From where he sat Sanemi could see the steam rising off from the clear water. The atmosphere around it is breathtaking, decorated with rocks, and lush plants. The scent of it was intoxicating.

He can already feel the relaxing effects of the mineral waters soaking into his bones as he sinks further in. Sanemi’s entire body felt overly warm, whether from the springs or the sake he drank earlier that evening he wasn’t sure.

Something like a splash echoed off in the distance and Sanemi turned toward the sound only to find you, sitting with your back to him, eyes closed as you groaned in pure bliss, the hot water easing your sore muscles.

“The hell are you doing here?!” He screamed jumping up to point at your naked form forgetting to cover himself up as he did so.

“Same as you Shinazugawa-san, taking a bath!” You smiled cheerfully “you’re naked by the way.”

You said averting your eyes from his very bare form.

He quickly sank back down into the water, cheeks turning a bright red before he rolled his eyes at you.

There it was again. If you said his last name like that one more time he swore he was going to-

But before he could finish that thought he caught a glimpse of your back, almost completely unmarred and blemish free save for the gnarly scar that twisted up your side and shoulder as you moved to grab your rag to wash yourself.

Sanemi had never seen your body so exposed before, he hadn’t meant to look, he swears he hadn’t but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

That was my fault.

“It’s not your fault.” Your voice brought him back to reality before he could get lost in his thoughts.

“Huh?”

Now you were sitting next to him, back resting against the warm boulders that surrounded the springs, arms folded, covering your amble chest from his view.

“It probably would've happened either way. I was being too reckless that night.”

“Doesn’t stop me from feeling any less shitty about it.”

A silent blanket fell over the two of you, the rippling of the water beneath you two the only sound that could be heard.

“Don’t get hurt again.” The request came in a tone you’d never heard from your teacher before. There was an emotion in his voice, one that you couldn’t quite place. Fear? Pity?

Nonetheless you smiled at him with a reassuring smile before answering back “I’ll try my best.”

“Good,” he began cheeks tinging pink once again as he looked away from you. “now get the fuck out.”

The one time you do

When the battle with Muzan and the remaining Upper Moons was over and the Corps had officially dissolved, you took your time to heal from your injuries, paid your respects to the fallen and moved back home.

Your childhood home looked more or less the same since you’d left, but it felt different. You couldn’t put your finger on it, maybe it had changed somehow or maybe it was just you that had changed but something felt like it was still missing.

Once you were settled in you resumed work in the family’s tea shop, your family thankful for the extra help. Soon you saved up enough to get yourself a little home on the edge of the village.

It wasn’t a spectacular abode but it reminded you of the Wind estate you stayed at when you trained under Sanemi. A place you like to think of as home.

Speaking of the devil, the arrival of Shinazugawa Sanemi to your village was a spectacle. He sent whispers and murmurs everywhere he went, the town buzzing with excited chatter and imaginative speculations but to you it fills your belly with fluttering butterflies.

You hadn't seen him for months since the final battle, a battle you hadn’t even had the luxury of sharing with him since you were with Shinobu at the time. Had he changed at all? Would you remind him too much of the past? What if he didn’t want to see you? Had you changed?

All those thoughts gripped at your head as you walked home from the store, groceries tucked tightly under each arm. It’s as you approached your home that you stopped dead in your tracks nearly dropping your bags.

There, standing in front of your door, was Sanemi himself.

He was thanking an old man, a regular of yours at the tea shop, on your front porch.

“Thanks for helping me find the place, old timer.”

“It’s no problem, oh there she is now!” The old man waved you over.

“Welcome home! I bought you a visitor!” The man cupped his hand around his mouth shouting excitedly as you approached.

“I see, it's been a long time Shinazugawa!” You smiled at them.

Sanemi looked different, he had even more scars and was missing fingers on one of his hands. Even though he appeared more battle hardened there was a surprising gentleness to his features now. As if there had been a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“It’s good to see you too.” He replied, surprising you with a soft smile.

“You wouldn’t expect it by looking at him, but Shinazugawa is really good with kids.” The old man, who you both realized was still there, teased. “We found him helping out some of the village kids before he asked for you.”

Face reddening, Sanemi ears tinged pink.

“Shinazugawa-san, you’re blushing! Ah I remember my first love…” the old man trailed off, his expression dreamy despite yours and Sanemi’s vehement protests in the background.

“I’ll leave you to youngsters to it then.” He waved you two off as he turned to leave, you quickly pulled Sanemi inside, cheeks equally as flushed as his own.

You invited him in and ushered him towards the back before the old man could say anything more. The two of you soon found yourselves resting on the engawa outside as you served him and yourself tea and ohagi, attempting to awkwardly catch up with one another.

You can tell he’s tired from his eyes as he spoke, and he has every right to be. The battle was hard fought not without great sacrifice even if it was months ago, Sanemi had a lot of recovering to do still.

The two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours admiring the beautiful scenery around you. More than once you caught Sanemi’s gaze lingering on you but he always caught himself and looked away before you could say anything.

“Forgive my intrusion.” He broke the stifling silence first.

“There’s nothing to forgive, I’m glad you came to visit.”

“I really wanted to see you, I even thought about coming to visit your estate but I figured, after everything….” You paused

Maybe you didn’t want to see me.

“You might have needed some space.” There’s a pause before you continue. “Have you been to see him yet?”

“I visit his grave as often as I can,” Sanemi says with mournful eyes that can’t quite meet yours.

“It’s all my fault… Genya….” His voice sounded watery as he trailed off. “I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Please don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It feels like it is. Maybe if I hadn't pushed him away…”

He’d still be here.

If only he had taken his place. Sanemi thought as he swallowed thickly trying but failing to hold back tears.

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, we all make mistakes, it’s what makes us human.” You said placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

How was he supposed to be going about doing this?

All he wanted was to come visit you, see how you were doing, not spill his guts out to you in the courtyard. He never meant for this to happen.

“I can see the love you had for him. I know he saw it too, otherwise he wouldn’t have fought so hard to get your approval when you pushed him away. People have different ways of showing affection." You started, Sanemi remained silent, his eyes fixed on you as you spoke.

"Genya might not have chosen the path you wanted for him, but he was with you all the way until the end and that’s what matters."

"He was a dumbass," he muttered, wiping stray tears from the corners of his eyes.

"He was your brother, and he loved you to pieces. He forgave you even when you couldn’t forgive yourself. I think it’s time you started trying to forgive yourself too." You smiled warmly. “You’re not alone in this sensei. I'm right here with you.”

“Drop that sensei crap. We’re both civilians now, we’re equal.”

“Sorry, old habits.”

A thick silence envelopes you two once again, this time a little less awkward than it was before as a hint of sadness lingers in the air.

“Please allow me to accompany you on your next visit, I’d like to see him too.” You said leaning into his side.

“I think I’d like that.”

It was getting late, the sun was starting to set over the mountains surrounding your village. The two of you had retired inside your home where you offered to make him dinner. Sanemi accepted and the two of you ate peacefully while you reminisced.

After clearing and cleaning up a bit you returned to your engawa where you sat in a comfortable silence just enjoying each other’s company.

Refusing to meet your eyes, Sanemi moved to place one of his hands over yours. The gesture has your heart thumping wildly in your chest, his too. “I very much wish… to see you again.” His words came out as though he was struggling to say them.

“I’d like that too…Sanemi.”

His name falling from your lips makes him stop in his tracks, looking up at you instantly.

“Say it again. My name.” He breathed out, he wanted to say more, but he’s too caught up in the fact that you finally called him by his first name.

“Sanemi.” you said tested it out on your tongue once more, pronouncing each syllable

At that he smoothly bridged the gap between you, pressing his lips softly against yours.

You almost forgot how to breathe. Cradling your face, he reaches his right hand around you and pulls you closer, deepening your kiss, relishing in the feeling of you.

It was then that you knew what was missing all those months ago when you returned home. It was him, he was your home and your village just didn’t feel like it had a place for you without him.

You're the first to pull away from the kiss, lungs not at all what they used to be back when you had to constantly use Total Concentration breathing, resting your forehead against his you stare into his lilac eyes with a shy smile.

“Stay with me tonight Nemi,” you murmur, fingers lightly tracing along his cheek as he hums in contentment. “Let me take care of you.”

Sanemi does not answer you, instead settling to pull off his haori while going in for another kiss, this one a bit rougher.

You admit to yourself right then that the name Sanemi rolls off the tongue so much better than Shinazugawa does.

[jesuisgourde]

(this is why i think the “he had planned his disappearance for months/years” thing is absolutely bullshit. already he’d had one breakdown caused in part by a close friend’s suicide, the treatment he was given wasn’t right and seemed to hurt rather than help him, then he was made to give up drinking and all his other unhealthy coping mechanisms without any healthy or positive replacements for them, and the only replacement he got was aa which just gave him more issues and confused him more, and either the meds he was given weren’t working or he wasn’t taking them, euro audiences were fairly unresponsive to the thb tour and album sales were middling which meant they were afraid they’d be dropped by the label, he was allegedly having terrible agoraphobic anxiety attacks and also allegedly maybe hearing voices or something, he was voicing suicidal ideation to his girlfriend and family and others around him, then the hotel in hamburg thing, then he asked his girlfriend to marry him and when she said no they broke up, and then less than a week later his dog died -- who had been a beloved pet since he was a child that he mentioned pretty often in interviews and who was clearly very very important to him -- then they were scheduled to do 35-40 dates in a month and a half on the North American tour. i mean i feel like just like two or three of those things in a row alone would be enough to really fuck up someone who was mentally well from the start and richey had all those things stacked up on top of each other plus the depression and alcoholism he was already struggling with. idk you just put all those things together and you definitely don’t get “planned disappearance”)

[buggybambi]

lost in translation | carmen berzatto

you get a job working as a waitress at the bear. if only you knew it would get you here. ─ 3.68k ─ angst and fluff, breakups / fighting, some cursing, reader is younger then carmy.

THE STRANGERS PHASE

The first time you and Carmen met was when Nat and Richie had hired you as part of the Bear staff. 

A waitress, and a sweet looking one at that. Younger than him. "You guys finally settled on a candidate?" Carmen asks as Natalie and Richie watch you from the small window in the kitchen.

You sit there for a moment before adjusting the silverware, passing Richie's test almost immediately. "I believe we just did." Nat confirms. Carmen takes a look for himself and swears his heart skips a beat as he watches you for a brief moment before clearing his throat, having to pull himself away. "Okay. Cool." He brushes it off.

He didn't get the chance to meet you right away, not until the night before their soft opening. You'd been through training, getting used to the system at the Bear and getting accompanied with staff. All but one. The head chef and owner, 'Carmy' as everyone called him.

"Hey, you're the new hire, right?" A voice asks as you shut your locker. You jump a bit, as you turn, smiling. "I am." The male nods, holding out his hand. "Sorry about scaring you. I'm Carmen Berzatto, don't think we've had the chance to meet." He introduces.

You accept the handshake, swearing you feel a little spark between you two just from touching him.

───

From there, it was like clockwork. You and him would get stuck closing together, and each night you'd dive into a new part of his past. "So, what made you wanna open this place?" You question. He exhales, momentarily pausing his movements of scrubbing the counters before he sniffles. "My brother left it to me after his death."

You pause, staring at him. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked-" He laughs. "You couldn't have known. It's okay, really. I actually wanted to work here, or what used to be here, for the longest time by his side but he didn't let me. Never knew why. It was the thing he left me in his will." He gives a more in depth answer.

You nod slowly. "I'm sorry about that, Carm. His death and not letting you work here." You specify as you look at him. "If it's any comfort, I think your brother would be really proud of what you've turned this place into." You say.

He nods, sniffling again. You set your rag back in the soapy water, sighing as you mark off your final station to clean on the clipboard.

"See you tomorrow night?" He asks as you begin walking to the lockers.

You smile. "It's a date, chef." You confirm. He blushes at the idea of you and him being on a date.

───

Carmen swore to himself he'd take you on an actual date. The planning was easy, it was actually asking you that he found to be a challenge.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" He asks, trying to sound as casual as he can the next night when you two are closing, which didn't come for almost a week. Though he was grateful, it also felt like torture having to wait to get you alone.

"No, I'm not actually. Chicago hasn't exactly been my Paris, you know? City of love and all that bullshit." You answer as you stare at the chore list for that night. "Check the mayonnaise labels. Does Nat think our mayo is expired?" You question.

“Nat thinks all of our stuff is expired one way or another. It doesn’t expire ‘till the nineteenth of May.” He grabs out a knife to start chopping the vegetables. “Anyway, Chicago isn’t really known for its romance.” He points out.

"So I've been told." You stare at the menu. "What's a vegetable medley?" You question as you look back up at him, catching him staring at you. He clears his throat and quickly sets the knife down, wiping his hands on a towel. "Uh, it's a bunch of veggies like green and yellow bell peppers, asparagus and squash topped with balsamic vinegar.” He answers.

You nod slowly. “Only you can explain something like that and make it sound so good right now, Carm.” "Did you eat today?" He doesn't hesitate to ask. "Haven't had a chance to. Richie had me running around all day with the new system, but don't worry, I'm gonna make myself something at home."

"No, come on. I'm- You're not driving home hungry like that. It’s a safety risk. Sit." You go to protest before he repeats himself. "Sit."

The entire night was spent with you and Carmen eating his way too fancy dishes and talking. Sharing memories - childhoods, dreams, stories.

He likes to consider it your first date.

You like to consider it the night you fell in love.

───

You weren't sure what you and Carmen were after that night in the kitchen. Or how to even ask. Do you just come right out and say it? Is there a specific way or time to ask? Google provided zero help, so it was up to you to solve this one.

Maybe that’s what was driving you and Carmy apart for the next week: your mind trying to run through how to even approach that with him. It wasn't until he ambushed you at your locker that you were forced to approach the topic with him. "Not talking to you all week has been driving me insane. Are we okay? If dinner was too much.." He lets his voice trail off.

You smile, as you exhale. "Carmen, I loved dinner. I was just unsure of where we stood. Thought I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out if that was a date or not." You admit. He stares at you, nodding slowly. "Let me take you out to an actual dinner. A real date night." He requests.

You nod. "Okay, I'd like that." You barely have another chance to speak before Richie's calling your name. You place a hand on Carmen's shoulder as you pass him, giving him a small smile before you rush to find out what Richie needs you for.

Carmen watches you leave, wishing you'd come back to him.

Carmen had thought of your date night perfectly. A romantic, rooftop dinner overlooking Chicago’s nighttime streets. “You bring all the girls up to your rooftop, Berzatto?” You question as you stare at the cars passing by.

“Only the special ones.” He’d answer with a grin.

You wished he kissed you that night, but he didn’t. Instead he settled for dropping you off at your apartment before leaving. You could tell he wanted to kiss you, too, but he wanted to wait.

"So, you and Carmen?" Sydney asks as you help her open the Bear that morning, cutting vegetables up with her. You sigh, a smile on your face regardless. "How'd you hear about that?" You question in return.

“It’s the Bear. There’s no such thing called secrets when you work here. Everyone knows everything about everyone. Now, you and Carmy?” She asks again as you laugh. “There’s nothing going on between us. He and I got dinner a few times, but I don’t think it’s going anywhere.” You say with a shrug.

She stares at you, noticing the blush in your cheeks. You grin. “Don’t even. Nothing has happened between us.” You reiterate. She laughs, grabbing her bucket of vegetables. "Whatever you say!"

You roll your eyes, turning and staring at Carmen in the doorway. There he goes again, staring at you when you aren't looking. It doesn't slide past you that he has a noticeable sparkle in his eyes.

───

Of course the universe would have it out for you and Carmen to close together that night. As you two stand over the counters, cleaning them down, you decide to ask the question that had been plaguing your mind.

"What are you and I?" You ask, looking up at him for the first time. His scrubbing stops, as he looks back at you. "I want us to be together." He answers honestly, and you're a bit taken back by his honesty.

“You seem like you’ve thought about this.”

“More than you know.” Translation: I’ve thought about you.

You nod slowly as you walk over to the sink, beginning to wash your hands. "I want us to be together, too. I just don't want this to be weird between us because we work together, you know." You voice your concerns as you grab the towel, drying your hands.

You turn, finding him standing behind you. "I don't care if we want us to be together. I want us to give.. us.. a chance." He says, taking your hand in his. You stare at your hands interlocked as you hum. "Carmen."

"Yes?" He asks softly.

"If you don't kiss me right now I might just walk out and not come back." You tease.

He doesn't have to be told twice, and he kisses you like he's been thinking about it. Like he's been needing that. Hands cupping your face, yours finding his waist.

You didn't need much of an answer as to what you and Carmen were after that.

THE LOVERS PHASE

You and Carmen had agreed: the staff didn’t need to know you two were officially dating. If it was important enough to share, sure. But other then that, you two wouldn’t go around publicly announcing it.

Turns out, dating Carmen wasn't much different from being friends with him. Except now you were in the kitchen at two in the morning, slow dancing with him.

It'd started with dinner that night. Him holding you from behind,

Frank Sinatra plays lowly on the radio as he spins you around, with you grinning as you sway with him. “Who taught you to dance, Berzatto?” You question.

“Nat did. Taught me for her wedding. Said if I looked like a fish outta water she’d ban me from the reception.” He answers with a lovesick grin. You laugh, throwing your head back. “Sounds like Nat.”

He smirks. “And who taught you?” He asks in return. You hum as he pulls you closer to his chest, as Sinatra’s ���The Girl from Ipanema’ plays. “I did. Convinced myself when I was a little girl I'd be like Misty Copeland.” You answer.

He grins. Only two weeks had gone by with him being officially yours, and he was falling in love with you. Maybe that’s why it spilled out as he held you close.

“I love you.” His voice is hushed.

You pulled away only a bit to look at his eyes. Maybe searching to see if they were genuine, if he said what you think he did. "Carmen..." You smile, a laugh coming out. "I love you, too." You repeat it back to him.

"Take the too out. Makes it sound like you're just agreeing." He requests softly, lips brushing barely against yours. You giggle at his plea, but comply anyway. "Carmen, I love you." You say it again, this time it feels more real.

Two weeks in, and you two are in love. If you knew any better, you'd assume you were screwed.

───

"What do you wanna do with your life?" The question startled you as you and Carmen sat on the balcony of your apartment, overlooking downtown Chicago. Buildings illuminating the night sky, car horns blaring every few minutes from the nighttime traffic.

"I wanna open a bar. Maybe go to Los Angeles or New York, just open my own place. You know?" You hold your knees up on the patio chair with you, a cup of tea in hand. "Some dive bar but... fancier. Live music, live entertainment."

He nods slowly, grabbing out his notepad. "Get out of Chicago?" He asks. You laugh. "Pretty much. Don't get me wrong, I love this city. This just.. isn't the plan." You say with a shrug.

"Mm." He says, scribbling something down on the paper. You lean over, staring at it. "What are you drawing, Berzatto?" You question. "Nothin'. It's a surprise, if I show you it now it won't be a surprise." He points out.

You grin as you lean your head back. "Okay. What about you? Is the Bear your final dream?" You question, still looking over at him. He sets the pen down, looking over the skyline. "I don't know. Though until I met you I had all my dreams and goals figured out."

"Don't say it-"

"You're my new dream." He grins, looking over at you. You laugh, rolling your eyes. "That was unbelievably cheesy, Berzatto. I don't know if I can ever look at you the same after that." You tease.

"You don't have to look at me to kiss me." He points out as you roll your eyes, standing up. You give him a quick peck as you open the door, stepping halfway inside. "Don't take too long getting to bed, okay? It's cold out here." You comment.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." He waits until you're fully inside to pull back out the notepad. Sketched on is a logo for a bar, your bar. Your name written in what he imagines is neon lights. 'ANGEL'S BAR'. The way he views you, an angel. His angel.

He hums, standing up and making his way inside, the notepad tucked under his arm. He finds you in the living room, sorting through the mail. “Hey, hey, my old college roommate’s getting married. New York. What a terrifying city.” You laugh as you set the invite down, before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you down to the bedroom. 

───

Carmen had spent so much time in your apartment that it practically felt like his own. So, the idea of asking him to move in wasn’t totally crazy. His clothes were now hung up in your closet, his cologne and cedarwood soap lingered.

Your relationship with Carmen had grown, so much so that you were now spending time with his family. You stood in the kitchen of the Berzatto home. Your first family dinner with them, and it had been more drama filled then a soap opera. Soft music filled the room, cinnamon roll scented candles lit making the house smell like a bakery. Your scarf hung on the staircase banister. 

"First official Berzatto dinner. How ya holdin’ up?" Sugar asks as she slides beside you, handing you a glass of wine to match her own. "Oh you know me so well. It's going.. as good as I expected it to be. Are they always this chaotic?" You question.

"Hell yes. The Berzatto family has never been calm, y'know?" She laughs. "But you seem to be fitting in nicely. And this is the first year of us doing one of these that Carmen truly seems happy, I think you're to thank for that."

You grin. "Well, as long as he's smiling." You and her watch him in the living room, chasing down the younger family members, laughing as they tackle him down to the floor.

"Yeah, well, I've seen Carmen with other girls before, and none of them have made him this happy. So, on behalf of the Berzatto family, thanks for bringing us a smiling Carmy." She raises her glass to you as you laugh, lifting yours as well.

Carmen watches as you clink glasses with Nat as he enters the kitchen. "You two doing good in here?" He asks. "Oh, we are doing wonderful. I should go find my husband." Nat says, smiling and walking out of the kitchen.

You sigh, setting your wine glass down behind you on the counter. "Hi." He greets, arms wrapped around your waist. You hum, wrapping yours around his neck. "Hey you." You reply, pressing your lips against his.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” He says quietly after he pulls away, placing his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

You smile, placing a hand on his cheek. “I’m glad too, Carm.”

───

Arguments in relationships are common. They’re healthy, they bring growth. You and Carmen had a fair share of disagreements but never ones where he called you the name he did tonight: clingy. 

“Can you just fucking leave me be for a second?! I don’t need you crowding me and being so- so fucking clingy.” Right in the office of the Bear, as you made sure he understood what was happening with Syd’s plans. 

Now here you were, in Nat’s living room. “He probably didn’t mean it, you know?” She asks softly as she pushes some of your hair out of your face, wiping tears that fall down your cheeks. “I think he’s just been so worried about our mom, her issues and the Bear.”

“What if he did mean it though? What if.. What if he was just with me out of convenience or pity?” You voice your worries. She shakes her head. “I have never seen Carmy as happy anywhere else as he is with you. He loves you, Y/n. He wants to be with you, no one else.” She replies.

“You don’t call the people you love clingy.” You point out. She sighs, letting you lay your head on her shoulder. No matter what she said, nothing changed how you felt. Carmen thought you were clingy. Whether subconsciously or not, he thought it. 

The thought made your heart ache. 

───

You were younger than Carmen, you knew that much from the moment you met him. But it had never been an issue in your relationship, until now it seems. A simple, offhand comment about kids and marriage you had made to Syd. You wanted those things, and you wanted them with Carmy. 

That’s what landed you in this position on a cold night, with him sitting on the armchair in front of you and you on the floor, crouched to try and read his eyes. Find any sign that you could get past this. 

“We’re just on different paths. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get this close to you. And I should have stopped myself before I hurt you.” Translation: you’re still young and I can’t hold you back.

He didn’t stay after that. His clothes still hung in your closet, with you on the floor of the living room. 

Translation: what now? 

THE ENEMIES STAGE 

“So, plans for you being in New York?” Diane asks as you and her sit on the rooftop of her apartment building. You sigh, as you lean back on your chair. “Drink a lot. Forget my relationship problems in Chicago and hope for the best.” You answer with a nod.

She rolls her eyes. “Come on. You can’t expect to fix your relationship in different states without talking.” She points out as you look over at her. “When did I hire you as a relationship therapist?” You tease. “Carm and I will be fine.” 

You couldn’t find the translation anymore for what “fine” meant. 

───

The wedding was gorgeous. Diane looked stunning and her husband was the sweetest man. The sun was setting over Manhattan, as you sat at the open bar perched on the rooftop. Staring at the missed call from a familiar contact: ‘Chef’s Kiss’. Carmy. 

Maybe you had asked him for too much. Wanting kids, marriage. He’d give them to you if you asked, you knew that. But the idea of him just putting up with that just to keep you? 

You didn’t return his call or any of his texts. Instead, you kept quiet until you returned to Chicago a week later. A box perched on your apartment doorstep with your belongings. Jewelry, shirts you left at his place. All of them except for the scarf that still sat on Donna’s staircase banister.

Maybe he kept it because it smells like you. Or because it reminded him of something pure. The one thing he really knew was now gone, and the scarf was a fragment of that. 

───

It didn’t shock any of the staff at the Bear when you turned in your notice and stopped working there. Or when you took the couch you and Carmy used to sit on during late night conversations and moved it eleven hours with you to New York. Along with his hoodies, the one you wanted to keep most because it smelled like him still. 

You didn’t delete the videos or photos you had with him. It feels too real if you do. 

You stared at the kitchen. Where he used to hold you, scolding you for how you handled knives. The balcony, where he told you that you were his new dream. The living room where he’d kiss you like it was the first time. The bedroom, where some nights, he made you his own, and others he held you while you slept. 

The only thing you found in the apartment that was foreign to you? A piece of notepad paper, with “ANGEL’S BAR” drawn on the front. You stuck that in your pocket as you made your way to your car. 

It hurts to look at. It hurts to think about him. 

Now it’s just you, in your hundred square foot apartment that you share with a roommate now. You manage to delete the playlist of songs that he loved swaying with you to in early mornings in kitchen lights. You learn his favorite melody by heart: stranger, to lovers, to enemies.

─── 

Closing that chapter of your life, you focused more on opening Angel’s Bar. His logo on the front, in downtown New York. Soft piano playing as chatter fills the room, drinks being poured in the corners. 

It may have just been Carmen’s luck to find you on opening night, chatting around with the customers as he watched from the window, a familiar red scarf wrapped around his neck to help fight the cold air.

Translation: it reminds him of innocence. It reminds him of the better part of himself, the one you brought out in him.

Carmen learned to take lessons from break-ups pretty early on into his life. The one he got from you?

“Falling in love isn't for the weak. So don't try it at home.” He closes the book that he was given as an assignment for his AA class.

Maybe you were his favorite melody after all.

𓍢ִ໋🔪 ♡₊˚ 🧣・₊✧

shine on, shine on, my loves!

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- mae