#(remembers how complex the fabric of her outfit is) fuck

[fallowtail]

(holds her gently) i just think shes neat

#cbs ghosts #ghosts cbs #flower montero #i love her sm #me: i'll draw flower first because her design is the most in my comfort zone #(remembers how complex the fabric of her outfit is) fuck #posting on main instead of my art blog for. reasons. idk #i havent drawn since august please be nice to me flskfkgk #mine

[darklydeliciousdesires]

London Will Burn - Chapter Six.

Your continued enthusiasm for the story is so exciting for me to read, besties! Thank you so much :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,507

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

It was the sunshine finally making an appearance across London that awoke Sean the following morning, the bright beams streaming in through the thin fabric of Rin’s curtains. He could hear the bells of Westminster Abbey sounding softly in the distance, birdsong in the nearby trees, and the soft breaths of the girl still sleeping in his arms.  

This posed a dilemma for him. Not because he wasn’t content lying there in a large, soft bed with a beautiful young woman, but more because he had a very full bladder, and didn’t want to disturb her by entangling himself to go and empty it. Two careful manoeuvres to free his arms later, and he was able to slide from the bed, Rin sleeping on.  

Returning to the warm soft of her nudity, he thought he’d gotten away with being stealthy, even heading for the bathroom a little way down the corridor rather than using her ensuite so the flush didn’t wake her.  

“Morning.” That smile, god. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d awoken to a smile so pretty. It was something he could definitely get used to seeing.  

“Shit,” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around her as she turned to him. “I was trying not to wake you.” 

“No matter,” she spoke on a yawn, turning to reach for her watch. “Mm, it’s only ten past eight. We can sleep in, unless you have somewhere to be?” 

He smiled, stroking her hair. “The only place I have to be is right here.” His usual Sunday would involve a trip to the gym, coffee on the way back and then an afternoon working from home. While Rin dozed against his chest, it was work that he had firmly upon his mind; namely how he could wash the amount of cash for the Kurdish and Albanian outfits needed through any other of the Wallace Corporation’s current projects, without having to secure the bid on the new complex.  

Laundering had to be done very, very carefully. There was only so many zeros one could tack onto legitimate expenditures without falling under the ever-watchful eye of accountants and HMRC, who would of course come down hard and involve the police, should anything even look slightly amiss with the company finances.  

He wracked his brains until he felt exhausted by it, eyes growing heavy again. He was stuck. Turning over, he wrapped Rin in a tight embrace, falling back into slumber. It took him by surprise, that he managed to doze for a further hour, finding the girl he had wound himself around so tightly still sleeping. Oh no. That would not do.  

Rin awoke with a bit of a start at feeling her legs splayed wide beneath the bed covers, her sleepy brain wondering what was going on until she felt Sean’s tongue take a slow swipe at her folds, the haze of sleep clearing rapidly. Well, if anything was going to act as an efficient wake up call, it was the sublimity of waking to feel her clit being licked.  

She virtually whimpered, feeling his tongue flatten and drag her again, her hands sinking into his hair and tugging gently. Trembling against each keenly delivered lick, her back arched, her body urging him to press closer. He read her need faultlessly.  

“Fuck, you’re too bloody good!” That firmer contact of wet heat pressed firmly upon her clit sent sparks skittering through her, a warm flush reaching her cheeks as she gasped and cried out softly. She could feel him smile against her, and she wanted to call him out for his smugness, but he had every right to be so. The tip of his tongue traced a series of circles down to her gently fluttering hole, Rin hissing a breath as he pushed within, the honey of her cunt bathing his mouth.   

He grunted against her, hands flexing at her thighs as he felt her streaming against his mouth, licking slowly through her folds again, plump lips wrapping her clit in a warm, sumptuous hug. The pleasure poured over her, like the gild from the sunlight steaming through the curtains, pushing the covers off them to beam a smile at him. His returned it, winking, his pupils lust blown already. 

The steel blue of his irises was only concealed by enviably long, golden eyelashes closing, lips still sucking at her, a little more pressure, the tip of his tongue rolling over her bud adding to the shocks that roared up her spine. Pleasure pooled golden in her very marrow, her hips shaking against his face, thighs closing around his head as she panted hard, feeling the heat begin to swirl and snap.   

Teetering on it, she felt bereft when he suddenly moved, but the slide of his cock arrowing deep into her soaking core as his body pressed to hers took her there, nirvana swirling, her cries of release muted by his mouth. She expected to the pleasure to begin ebbing away, but as she clutched his shoulders, the blaze burned forth again, Rin experiencing her first multiple orgasm as she bloomed beneath him.  

Her shudders reverberated over his muscles, her cries rending the air as he gently laid soft bites along her jaw, looking down at her with a smirk. “You just came again, didn’t you?” 

“Mmhmm.” Her hum was so dreamy and blissed-out, Sean couldn’t help but chuckle softly.  

“Shall we see if we can make that happen a third time?”  

She met his mouth with sweet kisses, her hands smoothing over his scratched-up back. “You’d better.” Something shifted, and they both felt it, Sean laughing softly as he continued to fuck her slow, stroking one another, sharing kisses, the tempo lazy and rolling. “This isn’t just casual anymore, is it?”  

What a question, because no, it wasn’t, but the impossibility of what he had to achieve made it just that. It was impossible for him to attain what he needed to keep his father pleased, while ensuring that hers fell in line, without her becoming hurt in it all.  

 Looking down at her, he stroked her face, his stare unblinking. She felt his heart quickening against her breast, his arms weaving to clasp her tighter, sinking into a long kiss. Therein was her answer. 

And for Sean? He knew that the video was getting deleted. He’d find another way. He had to find another way.  

Rutting into her deeply, he felt the pleasure fizzing over his bones, his release like the gentle patter of warm hail prickling upon his nerves, taking her with him into the blossom of release. They lay breathless and entwined after, Sean eventually moving to lie next to her, his chest fluttering at her smile as he reached to tuck her hair behind her ear.  

“You're bloody lovely, you know." 

That smile did nothing but widen. “I have my moments, when I'm not being a gobby twat." 

Laughing quietly, he pulled her close. “I like the gobby twat in you, though.”  

They lay there talking and dozing until the need for food drove them out of the bed, Rin opening the door to find a fresh pile of laundry that included Sean’s clothes she’d left outside the previous night. Their housekeeper Maisie was nothing if not entirely proficient in the speed she would return clean garments.  

The staff usually had the weekend off, especially if not many of the family were in residence, but that particular Sunday they were bustling around, readying the house for Kevin and Diane’s return.  

“I’m bloody famished, Roger!” Rin called, entering the kitchen to find their chef at the island, peeling potatoes ready for the roast dinner that night. “Would you mind so much if I came in and caused a bit of chaos in cooking?” 

His face pinched, slicing the potato in his grasp before plonking it into the large iron pot in front of him. “Your brand of kitchen chaos is barely tolerable. What would you like? I’ll make it.” 

“Full English, times two please. I’ll make the coffee, though.” She then paused, turning to Sean. “You eat meat, right? I noticed you only ordered fish things last night.” 

“I do, yes.” 

“Thank the lord,” Roger snorted, drying his hands on a tea towel. “I never enjoy trying to make a palatable breakfast for vegetarians. One of her little besties is a vegan, and it always throws me, having to go and order tofu and attempt to bloody scramble it.” 

Sean raised an eyebrow, his mouth thinning. “Scrambled tofu? That sounds utterly dreadful.” 

Oh, how right he was, the chef remembering well how it was perhaps the only thing he’d ever cooked that he did not enjoy trying. “I do not recommend it.” 

Reaching for the cupboard, Rin then quickly found herself knocked out of the way by a hip bump, Roger laughing softly. “Oi! I’m just trying not to be a spoilt little rich girl who can’t do things for herself!” 

“And I like my kitchen to remain tidy, without the bloody coffee grinds going everywhere! You and your chap can go and make yourselves comfortable and I’ll sort it. Go on, shoo!”  

Picking up an orange, she rolled it down her arm and popped it off her inner elbow, catching it neatly. “Fine, we’ll be in the conservatory.” They left the kitchen, taking a long walk down to the centre of the house, turning left at the roped off section, Rin giving a little wave to a few tourists who were being shown around the part open to the public.  

The conservatory itself had been a Victorian era add on. In truth, it had originally intended as a massive greenhouse, and still somewhat served such a purpose. Some botany still existed in there, plants edging the perimeters, comfortable furniture dotted around, she and Sean taking a seat at the table. Looking around, his eye was caught by a set of framed photographs upon a small bookshelf, reaching to grasp it.  

“You’re brave,” he spoke, looking up from the image of Rin sitting in the middle of an arid landscape, with a young lioness lazing on her back before her.  

“Yeah, I can’t act like that with her any longer now she’s grown, we don’t go to the reserve often enough for her to recognise me,” she lamented, looking over at the picture of her and Mya. 

Sean wouldn’t even have trusted her at the size she was, although the beast did look very content, flopped down receiving belly rubs. “Is it one of those places where they allow you to play with the cubs until they reach a certain age? I’ve heard of those holidays, frightfully expensive affairs.” 

“No, the reserve belongs to dad. Animals are where his heart lies, and he fucking hates trophy hunting, so he always said he wanted to do something about it. That something was buying up a gigantic reserve in the middle of nowhere in Kenya and dedicating it to a safe space for them. I bloody love it there. Our closest neighbours are a tribe about eight miles away, it’s so remote.” 

It was a softness Sean didn’t expect to learn about his business nemesis, the man having an obvious affinity for African wildlife – as well as plenty of money to spare in funding the preservation of it. It made a wave of bitter bile roll through his stomach, remembering being haggled with when in truth, Kevin was short of nothing and did not need to whatsoever. He did it purely because he could, and now was going to get away with it, all because Sean had softened towards his target of blackmail.  

It began to gnaw at him again, meaning that once their breakfast arrived, he only managed to successfully eat two thirds of it, pushing the rest around the plate.  

“You’ve got quiet on me,” Rin noted, sipping her coffee. “Is that because I’m likely talking way too much?” 

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Just tired, darling. I’m listening, so you carry on.” She did, telling him more about their vast African property, how she loved being out there more than anywhere else in the world, purely for how remote it was.  

It was while she was taking the plates back to the kitchen and going upstairs to retrieve her phone that he took his out and checked it, seeing he had an abundance of missed calls from it being on silent mode.  

“Oh, you are alive, then?” His father answered on the fourth ring. “Where’ve you been?” 

“I am,” he confirmed, sweeping toast crumbs into a pile with his index finger. “Just spending a weekend off the grid. Does a man good, to unplug from life for a couple of days.” 

Finn sighed. His son could be very impulsive like that, hence why he hadn’t worried too much about his vanishing act. “Well, you better be plugging yourself back in sharpish, boyo. The deadline for that bid is midnight tonight, unless you’re going to give me the news I’ve been waiting for, that you’ve secured the contract with Kevin?” 

“And if I can’t get it?” he broached, pinching his bridge of his nose. “Is there a way around all of this that would mean we can still invest in another project to facilitate the same long-term goal?”  

“This isn’t about finding other ways around it, Sean.” His tone was stern, biting, leaving his son under no illusion over his feelings, should he not secure the deal. “You either win, or you fail. I want that money, I want that port and I want that fucking bid. If it doesn’t happen then trust me, it’ll reflect upon anything I trust you with, going forward.”  

“Okay, but...” 

“No fucking buts!” Finn was emphatic, Sean closing his eyes as he swallowed back a sigh. “Do whatever the fuck you have to do in order for him to comply. That’s the fucking end of it. Bye.”  

He wanted to pick up the chair he was sitting in and hurl it through the glass of the structure he was presently in, a display of his fiery temper he knew he had to quell again. God, the fucking position he was in.  

The fucking position he’d put himself in.  

Sean realised that truly, he could blame his father all he liked, but it wouldn’t stop this mess from being his problem. If he was a better negotiator, he would have secured the contract already. If he was more like his father, he wouldn’t have faced the disrespect he had in the first place. If he was any less like his father, he wouldn’t have done something duplicitous in order to find a way through this mess, a way he now knew there was a very real chance he actually had to take.  

Or, just admit defeat and tell his father to fuck off. Not because he’d fallen desperately in love or anything, Sean was not that kind of person. It had more to do with his sense of morality, and wondering how little he’d truly have left if he did go ahead as planned. But then, if he didn’t... 

It was no small number, two hundred million. They needed it desperately to keep the money laundering racket continuing, but at what cost to him? He would never again witness Rin looking at him the way she had on that morning, when he’d reached across the bed and tucked her hair behind her ear. He could have something real with her, with perhaps the one person in his world capable of understanding him truly, for her reality near enough matched his own. 

Whatever the path, he knew he couldn’t stay there within the bubble of Mulford Hall with Rin while he came to that decision, though.  

“I’m afraid I have to leave, darling,” he spoke when she entered again. Immediately, she looked disappointed.  

“Oh, okay. Business calling, yeah?” 

He nodded, dropping a kiss atop her head. After grabbing his jacket, she saw him down to the side door, unlocking it, noting how warm the spring sun was as it illuminated that particular patch of the courtyard. “So, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Call me when you’re free and we can try and arrange something.” 

She noticed it right away, the discomfort in him, Sean rolling his shoulders up as he stuffed his hand into his pocket to retrieve his keys. “I’d say yes, but...” He shook his head, reaching to stroke her cheek. “You deserve better than me.”  

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” she spluttered, baffled at the sudden frigidness of his cold shoulder.  

“It means exactly what it’s meant to, Catherine.”  

He turned to leave, not uttering another word, and Rin certainly having more pride than to chase after him and demand he give her an explanation. It bothered her for the rest of the day, though, spending a good forty minutes on a FaceTime call to Rashida in order to rant about it.  

The explanation found its way into the ether seven hours later, the chain of events that would lead to her having Sean’s intentions revealed as her mum and dad were whisked from Gatwick in the back of a limousine later that evening.  

“Are you golfing on Thursday, love?” Diane asked, pulling her attention away from her phone. “We’ve received quite the last-minute invite to one of Sissy Hansen – Whiteman's lunches. Why we’re such an afterthought, goodness bloody knows, but I’d like to be politer than she is being in extending the invite so late.” 

“No, babe. I’m playing Wednesday morning before my meetings. Tell her we’ll be there,” he spoke. He could do with bending her husband’s ear about a few business deals, Harry Wiseman being very suggestable to further ways he could coin a profit.  

While his wife went about sending a reply, he heard his own phone beep, pulling it from his pocket to see he had a Whatsapp message from none other than Sean Wallace. A last-ditch attempt to gain his business, he wagered, opening it up to find a video file.  

Waiting for a few moments for the 5G coverage to pick up, the video began to play, Kevin frowning bemusedly before snorting a laugh. “Oh, lad. I don’t think I was the intended recipient of that.” he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked away from the screen, the video playing a filming of Sean going down on who he assumed to be his girlfriend or suchlike.  

“Are you watching porn?” Diane shouted at him from the other side of the car, hearing the moans of a woman in utter ecstasy.  

“Not of my own volition, sweetheart. I think Sean Wallace has got his contacts mixed up.” He was just about send a message back stating such, when the video changed shot. A pit the size of the limo they rode in dropped into his stomach at witnessing the girl whose face had so far been hidden was, Sean yanking her head back by her hair as he railed her from behind. A voice note message then followed. 

“Sign the contract, Kevin, or this gets released to the internet. I am done playing your games, now it’s time for you to bend to my will. Just like your daughter quite literally did. You have until midnight. As soon as the contract is signed and the funds transferred, the video will be deleted. You have my word.”  

Immediately, his phone was hurled in a fit of undiluted rage, the cold discomfort of what he’d just witnessed engulfing him entirely. “You little fucking cunt, Wallace! You fucking...”  

All that followed were growls of agitation, Kevin experiencing the bite of an icy freeze chill his veins, his wife attempting to get what had happened out of him but failing as his verbal tirade of utter fury did nothing but escalate. He was puce and sweating as he reached for his phone again, knowing he had no choice. His daughter’s dignity was non-negotiable. As any father knew, his duty was to protect his children.  

Still, it was with a tidal wave of bile licking his insides, putting his signature to that contract and organising for the release of funds, telephoning Sean as soon as it was done.  

“It’s done. Funds and docks are yours, but I swear to Christ above, if you ever fucking come near my daughter again, I will gut you. Heed my warning, because it’ll fucking happen.”  

Sean hung up, feeling what remained of the glowing buzz his weekend with Rin had left him with die off completely, leaving nothing but a stinging feeling behind that persisted right into the next day.  

Arriving at The Strand a few hours after his meeting, he exited the car to see his father just about to head in through the sleek glass doors, quickening his stride to catch him. He wasn’t the only one to exit a car and stride to catch up, though... 

#sean wallace fanfiction #sean wallace smut #gangs of london fanfiction #sean wallace x ofc #sean wallace fanfic #sean wallace fic #joe cole #gangs of london fanfic #gangs of london fic #Sean and Rin #London Will Burn

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional​​ for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head. 

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you. 

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks. 

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication. 

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.  

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile. 

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed. 

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it. 

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly. 

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off. 

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically. 

He glares. 

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar. 

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks. 

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible. 

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole. 

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-” 

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye. 

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands. 

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent. 

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line. 

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water. 

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there. 

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you. 

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat. 

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be. 

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten. 

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls. 

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you. 

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers. 

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.” 

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble. 

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens. 

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy. 

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered. 

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder. 

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #rick flagg #bloodsport #bloodsport x reader #robert dubois x reader #robert dubois #idris elba #suicide squad #suicide squad 2 #dc #dc smut #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #smut

[tetsunormous]

Prove yourself useful

pairing: dom!Kenma x f!reader x spectator!Suna x Spectator! Osamu

genre: smut (18+), established relationship, post time-skip university, gamer boyfriend

word count: 2.4 k

warning: thigh riding, exhibitionism, voyeurism, swearing, hair pulling, mentions of edging, spanking (?), degradation

It’s just past 2 in the afternoon and your lecture finally finished. University is nothing like what you grew up thinking it would be, but it would be a lot worse if you didn’t get to live with your boyfriend.

You met Kenma during your first year and it didn’t take long for the two of you to begin falling for each other. He is more complex than you’d ever imagine and everyday you learn new things to learn about him. At the surface level he’s incredibly successful; being a youtuber, a pro gamer, a fucking CEO, all while taking university classes. However, Kenma is so much more than that.

The Kenma you know and love is the Kenma that’s cooped up in his gaming room spitting insults at his friends while they practice for a match they have later on in the night. The Kenma that you find yourself daydreaming about is the one obsessed with your apple pie and insists it's never too hot to eat right out of the oven. Your Kenma doesn't show the world all his little quirks, but you’ve learned to understand all of his many facial expressions and what he needs at the time. Everyone sees Kenma as this shy intelligent man who prefers to keep things to himself, which he is, but your favourite Kenma is the one he only lets out behind closed doors.

For someone so reserved none of his following would ever expect him to be the kind of lover to share you with others. No one would ever suspect Kenma for being the kind of lover to get off on seeing you completely ruined and embarrassed. This version of Kenma is definitely the one you find the most interesting because he kept it from you for the first year of your relationship, but two years in and his friends have seen more of you than you could keep track of.

Just thinking about him gets you worked up and it's times like this that you’re grateful for online classes. You tiptoe into your shared bedroom to discard the panties you’re currently wearing. The mere thought of riding his thigh gets you so excited the pair of black lace you previously wore didn’t stand a chance. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, your outfit isn’t anything special but it's his favourite. The sweater you’re wearing just big enough to cover your ass, sleeves long enough to hang past your fingertips, no bra or panties, the sheer thigh high socks that never fails to leave him hard, and the little cat ears resting on your head he bought for you months ago.

If he saw you now, there’s a chance you’d get your way.

You knock softly on the door before entering. The blinds are shut and there's a purple hue emitting from his LED lights. He’s sitting in front of his three monitors with nothing but a pair of sweatpants and his headset on, “Kenma? Are you in a game right now?”

His back is towards you so you begin to walk towards his desk, closing the door behind you. Osamu and Suna have seen the two of you naked plenty of times but for some reason, you still get a little shy. You wave at them on screen as you stand behind your boyfriend and you can hear their remarks through his headset.

“Oi, I think a little kitty wants to join before we play tonight”. Suna is always the first to say something, but Osamu definitely teases you more.

“You didn’t tell us we’d get a special treat today, Kodzuken”

Kenma stares blankly at his friends before turning to you, “Hi pudding, you finished with class?” he asks as his eyes wander down your body. You can see a slight smirk form on his lips before reaching out to give your hip a squeeze, “Miya was right, what a special little treat you are”

You know Kenma is observant but you can’t help but act a little cuter when there’s an audience around. “If you’re just practicing for now, can we cuddle Kenken, I missed you”, you ask with a slight pout on your face and your sweater paws reaching out for his arm, eyes glancing down at his bulge.

His eyes soften a bit and he chuckles at your act, “yeah yeah, sit on my lap you little brat”

You happily oblige and sit on his left thigh. Your head leaning on his shoulder as he presses a kiss to your temple. With your arms resting on his shoulders, you begin playing with his hair and rocking your hips ever so slightly.

“We haven’t seen you wear those little ears in a while y/n, don't tell me you put them on after class just for some cuddles” A blush creeps onto your face as Suna continues to tease you about your intentions.

“Awh, don’t hide your face from us y/n. Kozume has shown us you’re not really as shy as you seem, did Suna’s little comment really make you blush that hard?”

You feel your boyfriend nudge you lightly with his shoulder, a breathy chuckle leaving his mouth. “She knows I won’t fuck her till tonight yet she still climbs up onto my leg without panties on, she can act shy all she wants but we all know how shamelessly needy she is” You lift your head from his shoulder with a surprised look on your face. He’s still staring at his monitor, fingers busy with the controller, “you didn’t think I’d feel how wet you are? Your pussy is soaking through my sweats kitten”

The boy's laughter rings through the headphones and a whine escapes your lips. He takes his headphones off and has them resting around his neck before putting his controller down. You feel his hands under your arms and he positions you so that you're sitting on his left thigh facing his desk, legs resting on either side of his.

“Awh Osamu, look at the little kitty pouting cause her big bad boyfriend turned her away”

“She’s always so needy, aren’t you y/n? And in front of us too? You like putting on a show and having everyone see what a slut you are, huh”

Your thighs squeeze around Kenmas as your entire face starts to become red. You can hear your boyfriend clearing his throat before landing a hard smack against your thigh. “He asked you a question kitten. If you’re going to be a needy slut and come in here while we’re practicing, at least show some manners”

“Y-yes Samu” you whisper, “I like having you watch”

All the boys hum in unison and Suna leans back in his gaming chair, leaving his controller on the desk. “Well since you interrupted practice, I think it’s only fair you give us something in return, isn't that right Kenma”

“Suna makes a good point. I treated you so well last night cause we both knew I would be busy until later tonight, and I wouldn’t be able to give you the attention you need.” His slender fingers weave through your hair at the base of your scalp before pulling hard, exposing your throat for his friends to see. His nose softly traces your sensitive skin, inhaling your scent, “I let you cum all night long, but here you are with your greedy little cunt rubbing itself against me trying to get off”

“Maybe you need to be more mean with her, she should know better than to come in here if she isn’t going to make herself useful”

“You hear that?” Kenma’s other hand travels up your sweater and pinches your hardened nipple making you hiss in pain. “Should I listen to Osamu and be extra mean to you so you learn how to act?”

All three boys are now smirking at you but that just makes your body more aroused. Your pussy is throbbing and it takes everything in you not to start grinding on his leg. You feel him flex his muscles and you can't help but to cry out as the additional pressure on your clit sends an electric shot throughout your body.

“The poor baby can’t even respond”, Suna chuckles and pretends to pout “you are just a dumb little whore, aren’t you y/n?”

You let out a whine as your eyes meet Kenma’s. His cold stare alone asserts dominance over you and without thinking your hand reaches out to touch him. You feel a sharp pain as he smacks your hand away, “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me kitten”. He yanks his hand back from your hair causing you to jerk forwards and grab a hold of the desk for balance. “We all know you won’t get allowed to cum later on but you will put on a show for us and prove you aren't just a useless slut”. He leans back with one arm resting on his armrest, “shall we make things interesting boys?”

Osamu stares intensely at you before laughing in your face, “Yea, let’s see if she can prove herself. If she can’t, I don’t think she deserves anything tonight”

“Y/n can be more than just Kozume’s dumb fuck, right? You gonna put on a show for us?”

Your mouth parted and eyes wide, you whip your head back to meet your boyfriends but he only smirks at you. “You have eight minutes kitten. Your hands stay on the desk and I won’t be touching you. If we hear a peep slip out of your lips, you lose. You better ride my thigh like you’re chasing the last orgasm you’ll ever have because if you fail to cum, I will edge you all night long to the brink of insanity, but all you can do is watch me fuck my fist instead.”

Osamu and Suna are rubbing themselves through their sweats as they snicker at our boyfriends rules. They continue to tease you but all you can focus on is the way Kenma is looking at you. He reaches back to tie his hair into a low bun and bounces his leg lightly, “are you ready?” he asks with his eyebrows slightly raised and a smirk. All you can do is nod back in his direction as you feel him flexing his thigh. He reaches for his phone and you watch as he sets a timer for eight minutes, “alright kitty….start”.

Your legs squeeze around your boyfriend's thigh as you begin to roll your hips. You shimmy yourself forwards a little bit so your clit can press against the base of his quads every time you rock forwards. Kenma was right, you're so wet it’s almost embarrassing how your own juices have lubricated your folds. Even against the fabric of his sweats, your pussy is drenched with your own arousal, helping you grind against his leg with ease. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, trying your hardest to control your breathing so the overwhelming pressure doesn’t cause you to moan out loud.

You can hear the two boys teasing and laughing at how filthy you really are but all you can think about is chasing that O. The noises coming from your riding, the way your juices have dampened his pants, making a wet slapping noise every time you rock. Your fingers are gripping his desk hard and all you can do is throw your head back, chest heaving, trying to swallow your whines as you start to feel the tension building in  your stomach. “I can feel the way your pussy is twitching every time you rock forwards, sometimes close isn’t she?” Kenma moves forwards and speaks softly by your ear, “You only have three more minutes, why don’t you let us hear your pretty voice hmm?”

“Oh y/n, you look like you’re close to cumming, we’ve never heard you this quiet before. I bet it would feel even better if you moaned for us”

“Suna and I always talk about how pretty and desperate you sound, let us hear you”

The constant egging didn’t help but it definitely made you more needy. They all knew how loud you were when Kenma would stuff you full and just as you let out a heavy breath, your boyfriend flexes his muscles. Your mouth falls open as you roll faster, knowing your orgasm will happen soon. The way his thigh feels against your slick folds should be illegal, it shouldn’t feel this good before he even touches you.

“Oh I think someones going to cum, show us how you fall apart. Ride my fucking thigh and imagine how much better it would be if my cock was in your needy hole”. Kenma now palming against his dick as he watches your eyebrows furrow, your eyes squeeze tight, your cheeks glowing , the baby hairs sticking to your forehead, all while you bite down on your bottom lip trying your hardest to keep all your noises inside. You look absolutely stunning to him, falling apart over his leg. He keeps flexing his thigh at a fast pace to help you reach your high, no longer caring about the challenge. He’s so mesmerized by the way your pussy feels as it’s throbbing, and how your legs squeeze harder against his as you completely come undone.

You can hear the boys let out soft moans as you cum all over your boyfriend's thigh with a force that even you’re surprised about.

“Fuck Kenma, you get to see that every time?”

The timer goes off and you limp over the desk, “fuck off Suna, consider yourself lucky the two of you got to get off to her”, he says with a smile on his face.

“We know we’re very lucky,” Osamu says chuckling, “ thank you y/n, we’ll definitely win our 3v3 later”

Kenma looks over at you and pulls you close to him. He slips his hand under the sweater and rubs your back, “you did so well baby, I’m surprised you didn’t make a sound”

“Promise I did good? D-does this mean I get to cum later?”

“You really think I’m going to forget why this all happened in the first place? You just came all over me and you’re already thinking about getting stuffed huh” he cradles your face with a faint smile on his face. “You did so well, so we’ll see” and presses a kiss on your lips, “for now, you can stay here for the next while and sit in embarrassment as they continue to tease you about you cumming just from my thigh”

© tetsunormous 2021 lmk if you want to be added to my tag list

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #hq smut #hq x reader #hq #kenma kuzome #kenma #kenma smut #suna smut #suna #suna rintarō #osamu #osamu miya #osamu smut #dark #tw exhibitionism #tw cyber sex

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost

↣ inspired by @haik-choo’s post

↣ wc: 1.7k 

↣ warnings: some self inflicted pain (nothing major!), cheating mentions, serious heartbreak. 

↣  song recommendation:  tolerate it - taylor swift 

↣  preamble (as written by haik-choo):  akaashi keiji doesn’t get that not everyone can understand how someone feels with one look. he puts an extra sugar in his coffee and expects you to know that he wants to go out to a bakery, he clicks his red pens a few extra times and expects you to know that he needs refills – he says he has a lot of work tonight and expects you to make him midnight snacks. to him, that stuff is easy. why can’t you understand him? he does it for you – he shouldn’t have to say it out loud. you should already know what he’s thinking. if you don’t, maybe you don’t love him as much as he thought you did.

The complexity of love has never been accurately represented in the media. Films present reality through the lens of a fractured mirror to provide viewers a sense of emotion they cannot find elsewhere. Fairy tales are perhaps the worst form of media to exist. They are created to be consumed by young impressionable children who develop unrealistic expectations that are later thrust upon the unfortunate souls that become their partners. You were one of those children who bought the falsities sold to you. Love was something magical, the intertwining of two hearts.

You were sixteen when you fell in love for the first time. Enthralled by how one emotion could paint new colours in the horizons, you allowed yourself to fall… it was perfect, until you found yourself crying on the bathroom floor, wondering why the fairy tales lied to you.

You were seventeen when you first experienced heart break. Even now, you can remember the shame that drenched your soul when you learned that the one you loved, had slept with someone else. Each inch of your skin was tainted by your “prince charming.”

That night, your mother had to drag you out of the bath. The pads of your toes and fingers had shriveled up, while your arms and legs burned a bright crimson from the incessant scrubbing. Yet the tingling of your skin was merely a scratch in comparison to the laceration inside of your heart, and there was no band aid that you could apply there.

That was December 3rd 2014 – the date you abandoned your foolish ideals.

You met Akaashi Keiji exactly six months later.

If you were ever asked to describe the mystery that is Keiji, where would you begin? Were there truly any words that could accurately capture the very essence of his kind soul? Or the depth of this mesmerizing eyes? How would you possibly begin to explain how a single caress by his calloused fingertips had melted away the imaginary grime that had coated your skin? If anyone was prince charming, it was him.

But little did you know that sometimes he doubted whether you were his Cinderella. His happily ever after…

The first indication of his veiled concerns occurred in your last year of high school. With the departure of his third-year friends, Akaashi was titled captain of the boy’s volleyball team. While he enjoyed volleyball, he was never obsessed with the sport like his best friend. Volleyball was his hobby, nothing more and nothing less. He was more concerned with maintaining his high academic record than securing a ticket to nationals. Last year balancing the various fragments of his life was simple. But the absence of his friends weighed on him, each day the anxiety increased until he could barely sit without jitters swarming his limbs. As his girlfriend, you should have known the stress he was battling… Sure, he was pushing you away, but you should have known why.

Yet, when you attempted to thwart his efforts to establish distance, you were chastised for your lack of understanding.

“Y/n. I am busy. Please do not disturb me during practice.” Not the slightest bit of respect was allocated to you, despite your status as his girlfriend. And while his pointed response was undoubtedly directed towards to you, his attention was on the practice commencing inside of the gym. “Listen, I need to go back. If you want to talk, consider picking a more appropriate time in the future.” Rolling the towel within his grasp, he refused to acknowledge you beyond sharing these words.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” To even utter an apology stole the limited resolve you had to address the situation. How much did you have to degrade yourself to fix a relationship he evidently did not want?

But the following day at lunch period, a dozen roses were delivered to you with an apology note attached to the stems. It was only natural for you to grant him the forgiveness he sought. Dismissing his actions was simple once you rationalized it as a normal reaction to an abundance of pressure. Diamonds may be created under pressure, but he was no diamond, and neither were you.

The second indication of his concealed doubts did not emerge from a set of actions, nor did it include the exchange of harsh words. Rather, it was his silence that nurtured your insecurities and provided you confirmation that while he was your happily-ever-after, you may not be his.

To celebrate Keiji’s 19th birthday, his mother had offered to host a gathering at his childhood home. When the details of the party were conveyed to you, excitement had fluttered to life inside of your stomach. It was the perfect opportunity to develop your relationship with the woman who had raised your wonderful boyfriend. Yet, not even the purest of intentions would save you from the humiliation that awaited you that night.

At one point of the evening, Keiji had vanished for a considerable amount of time. Naturally, you searched the house for your boyfriend. When you peaked inside of the kitchen, you found him engaging in a conversation with his mother. You almost called out to him instinctively, except your vocal cords denied you access when you caught the end of their conversation.  

“Has she been tending to your needs yet? Or has she remained as useless as before?” The older woman clutched the stem of her wine glass, with a scoff clawing at her throat. It seemed that the liquor coating her tongue had turned the muscular organ into a knife.

Keiji stood with his back pressed against the kitchen island, listening without a reaction. The nonchalance emanating from his demeanour indicated that this was not the first occurrence. No, this had happened before, otherwise he would have had some form of a reaction. A flinch – a twitch – anything. But he stood still, emotionless, distant. The targeting comments were equivalent to a whisper in the wind – not deserving of a response, nor a stir.

“Keiji, you are aware that you are wasting your time and yet you stay with her?” The sigh falling from her stained lips was extended to emphasize her distress, and the gentle sound was enough to weaken your knees.

No longer able to support your own weight, you leaned against the wall, allowing your eyelids to flutter shut. Your fingers tangled with the fabric of your shirt as you waited for his response.

Say something – anything. Just tell her she’s wrong.

Yet the denial never came.  

The first two indications were shoved aside, dismissed with excuses that would serve as a band-aid on your decaying relationship. But then came the third.

The third indication of his doubt occurred on an average college night when you were in the process of selecting your outfit for the night. Bokuto had arranged an unofficial Fukurodani reunion for the boy’s volleyball team. As Keiji’s girlfriend, the invite was naturally extended to you. Usually your boyfriend would be in higher spirits knowing that he would soon be in the company of his high school friends. But tonight, a frown remained etched into his features, not wavering for even a single moment.

“Which one? I don’t want to be underdressed. But on the other hand, Kou is always dressed really weird. So, I don’t know.” Two outfits were presented towards the male, a scarlet cocktail dress and a navy pantsuit with a low cut.

“Does it matter, y/n?” The sharp remark was blown out with a heavy sigh. It was as though he could not muster the energy to care for your feelings. Or perhaps, he simply chose to display his inner conflict, with no concern of the consequences of his decision.

The noise was startling enough to strip you of the excitement that once animated your movements.

“I guess not, but is it wrong that I want to look good for my boyfriend?” The counter question was voiced barely above a whisper, with each word sounding fainter than the last.

“Maybe if you knew me well enough you wouldn’t have to ask.” His eyes did not meet yours, rather they stayed fixed on the writing utensil within his grasp. “It’s not that hard, y/n. You just don’t care enough to put in the effort.”

The verbal assaults implanted daggers into your chest, but the pain would only become worse – since he was not done just yet.

“If you refuse to love me with your entire heart, what is the point? Let me go.”

“Keiji!” Pain cut along the inside of your throat from the shriek erupting from your chest. Had you ever screamed his name in quite a harsh manner? Liquid blurred your vision, and with your air-filled organs wheezing in distress, your words were stated between staggered breaths.

“I am not a fucking mind reader.” The fog of desperation encompassing you was comprised of poison, one that soon threaded throughout your system. The properties of the poison enflamed your lungs, burning the organs and halting the flow of air. Instinctively your hands were sent to your skin, clawing at the flesh as if you could simply rip out the emotions suffocating you. “Just because I don’t love you the way you think I should, doesn’t mean I don’t.” Whether the words spilling from your lips were responsible for the bitter taste in your mouth, or the tears now gracefully parading down your cheeks was unknown. Either way, the release of the steaming liquid eased the burning sensation in your lungs.

“I’m done, Keiji. I’m done.” Slowly claiming your insides was a thin layer of ice. By now, you had run out of excuses for his behaviour. There were no longer any band-aids you could use to tend to the wounds. The question of whether your boyfriend considered you “the one” was answered.

Despite the ache weaving into your muscles, your feet dragged you to the front door. A piece of you desired to catch one final glimpse of him – as your heart knew this would be the final time you would see him. But afraid you would lose your resolve to leave, you pressed the car keys against your palm, and remained fixed on the exit.

Behind you, the brunette voiced a weak apology – you were unable to catch the exact words, as they were muffled by the fabric of his sleeves. But not even the sweetest words could remedy the situation. Since, now you had accepted the truth.

Love was never a fairy-tale, and Akaashi Keiji was not a prince. Love would never be what you wanted it to be, and it would always hurt.

Love would always hurt.

A/N: I ended up finishing this today because I got into a bad mood and so I needed to channel it into something lol 

Taglist: @sayakaaaaaa @sanitisegermsfree @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop  @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut  @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz  @mismatched-loves @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @prettyforpapiiwa @swoonhui​ @neobakas​ @azumane-kun @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​   

~ message me to be removed from the general taglist + bolded means I can’t tag ya 

#akaashi haikyuu #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi imagine #akaashi angst #akaashi x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu

[wing-ed-thing]

Cabaret (Might Guy x Reader, Chapter IV)

Oop here it is. Reminder that Cabaret is a rated M fic and this is about where we get more into that rating.

Summary: You can't stand Might Guy. Honestly, how could anyone be so boisterously unaware and sickeningly positive? Your heart sinks as the both of you are teamed up to infiltrate and collect information from the Hidden Sound's gritty underground. Maybe losing yourselves in the dark of the the Sound’s nightlife will help you both come to an understanding.

Word count: 3,268

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIIIChapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI 

Warnings: Foul language, alcohol, implied alcohol abuse, minor sexual assault and harassment (a booty is grabbed without permission)

You reached your temporary residence on the outskirts of the Hidden Sound by nightfall. Weary from your journey, you hardly remembered getting up the stairs of the complex. You stumbled through the door, tossing your bag on the floor before you collapsed on the bed. You placed a pillow over your eyes and sprawled your limbs across the sheets.

A rattle came from across the room.

“Did you even look around the place?” Guy’s voice resounded in your ears. You let out a string of curse words, too exhausted to move from your position on your bed.

“Why?” you lamented, “Why are our rooms fucking connected?” You moaned into your hands. You knew you didn’t have much time before you had to set out again, you just hoped that that time would be spent in peace. Sitting up, the pillow fell into your lap. You took in the small living area where Guy leaned against a very discrete door. If it had not been ajar, you wouldn’t have seen it at all. Only the lock at the very bottom revealed its location.

“You’re supposed to be a young, available bachelorette. It defeats the illusion if I’m seen leaving here all the time.”

“Who says you’ll be here all the time?” you snarkily snapped. Guy quirked an eyebrow. You huffed, moving to pick your bag off the floor. “Yeah, yeah, teamwork, I know…” You began to lay out your belongings on the bed. “Also, for the record, I’ve always been a ‘young, available bachelorette’, I don’t need to pretend to be one.”

“I know.” Your head snapped up from your meticulously folded clothes.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Eyebrows?” You hissed, putting one hand on your hips. Guy moved farther into your temporary apartment. He leaned against your couch, a hand on the back of it.

“Remember that time Genma asked you out as a dare in the academy?”

“You remember that?” you groaned.

“He had a black eye for a month.” Guy chuckled. “I think everyone remembers that.” A smile cracked on your face.

“He deserved it though!” You insisted, waving a makeup brush at him. “I didn’t even know it was a joke, I just thought he was being an idiot.” Guy let out a jolly chuckle.

“Well, you’re not wrong there.” You moved to the bathroom a few feet away from Guy, carefully storing your neatly organized cosmetics. You went back to your bed, gathering more items. Your partner stood, migrating to lean against the doorframe, watching you work. “So tell me, what is all that anyway?”

“These?” You looked up, a few airtight bags in your hands, “Wigs?”

“All of it.” He laughed bashfully. You hummed, tinkering with the cabinets.

“Um, it’s a lot of things really. Wigs, brushes, latex. They’re all kinda for different things so I couldn’t really tell you without going on about it all.” You held the small bottle in your hand. You hesitated. Glancing up to Guy, your eyebrows wove together. “Why are you asking?” You squinted your eyes at him before tending to your items once more.

“Well, I’m curious and I think you do good work.” Those words stopped you once again. You blinked a few times, squatted on the floor. You twirled a hairbrush in your hand as you stood.

“Oh.” You moved past him. Your heart pounded in your chest as you attempted to think of something better to say. The words didn’t come to you. You reached for your now empty pack, kicking it under your bed. You stood in front of the mirror. Giving your faux hair a brush, you glanced at Guy who was still leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. Leaning forward, you looked at him with a muddled expression and reached around the frame to switch off the light.

“Aren’t you going to go get ready?” You signed, returning back to the mirror. A stick of lipstain rolled over the rim of your mouth. You stood up straight, adjusting your shoulders. “Because that would be a better use of your time rather than staring at me doing my makeup like this morning.” Guy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, striking his classic thumbs-up pose.

“Yes, I am!” You rolled your eyes as he bounded to the small door, closing it behind him as he left.

You considered the wardrobe next to your bed. Your outfits hung up neatly and you plucked out a red dress. You slipped it on and zipped it up yourself, feeling the fabric hugging your frame and coming snugly around your neck. Your hands ran down the lace, smoothing it down your thighs. A pair of fine gloves rolled up your hands as you grabbed a small bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You checked your cosmetic touch ups once more in the mirror. Satisfied with your appearance, you exited the small living space.

Guy was waiting for you in the hall. He fiddled with his sleeves, rolling them to the elbow, showing off his well built forearms. He adjusted his leather suspenders over his shoulders. The black button up tucked into simple slacks. The buttons strained, giving way to the muscle that was outlined by the fabric’s thinness. He cleaned up nicely. You turned away, attempting to appear ever aloof. Guy’s face lit up as he opened his mouth to compliment you. You held a hand up and cleared your throat.

“Let’s go.” You offered curtly before Guy got a word in. Guy accompanied you down the stairs and down onto the street. His stare lingering on your figure as he trailed somewhat behind. Guy glanced back up at the back of your head, quickly shaking himself out of his trance. He’s not about to objectify you like that. You would surely murder him if you caught him anyway. He strolled leisurely at your side in contrast to your determined walk as you made your way down the street.

It was almost odd to see that the Hidden Sound Village looked like any other village. From what you heard about it, it was not what you expected, not that you would share this goofy thought with Guy. The buildings were the same as in the Leaf. They had the same wooden structure, the same thatched roofs. The few civilians that milled around the residential area wore similar robes dyed with locally sourced pigments. One main road bisected the neatly laid out districts which made it simple for you and Guy to navigate. The streets were lit with lanterns. As you traveled, the lights multiplied as the city morphed from community storage to bustling downtown businesses.

Dubious characters littered the street but you pressed on. If there was one thing that the Sound lacked, it certainly was not night life. You paid little attention to the whistles you got as you passed. Neon signs and flashy displays form boisterous bars seemed to now exclusively light the streets and one shone brightest. For a moment, you and Guy took in the outside. You took in your new place of work with a deep breath in. The name “HEAVEN” swung out onto the avenue and  radiated in bright neon on the outside of the establishment. On the building, the outline of a woman in a short dress practically lit the whole street. The halo on her head blinked on and off. You straightened your shoulders and entered.

You stepped into a world of plush walls. Your kitten heels clicked against the hardwood before sinking into the velvet carpet that led to the maître d'. Ornate traditional Japanese decoration ordained the larger woman’s European features. She took you in with questioning eyes. To both her sides existed space that opened into the main lounge. You could only see the front bits of it from where you stood. The wall behind her obscured the rest. The lady inspected you over. It must be rare for a woman to pass through here.

“We’re here to speak to Shima-san.” She took you in, closing the large book that rested on the podium. “We’re your new hires.” The woman’s glasses slid to the end of her nose.

“Ah, yes. You must be the new girl.” She narrowed her eyes at you before glancing up at Guy. She seemed more comfortable with your partner’s presence. “It will be nice to have a competent bartender from what I am told of your skills. Come with me.”

Her embellished robes flowed behind her as she led you into the lounge. Your eyes adjusted to the low lighting. Panels hung from the ceiling and modern lamps glowed around the tables. The chique fixtures tastefully placed around make for a modern ambiance. Low circular booths embellished with plush adorned the large space where groups of men sat with their arms around elegant women. Two hostesses in evening gowns occupied the small stage in the center of it all. Their sultry voices filled the room.

Strips illuminated the rim of the bar counter and the back bar glowed. A blond woman worked behind the counter in her evening gown, scrambling with tears near the edge of her eyes as she shuffled from one side of the bar to the other. The woman who met you at the entrance led you past the struggling bartender into a back hallway on the right. The woman knocked on the door that lay at the end of the hall and an energetic voice could be heard from the other side.

She opened the door for you and Guy to reveal a small office. Papers scattered across the mahogany desk, frames tilted crookedly on the mahogany paneling. A man sat in the middle of the chaos, rubbing his goatee. His eyes lit up on seeing his guests.

“Ah! Come in, come in, I have been awaiting your arrival!” the man sitting behind the desk exclaimed. He came around in front of his desk, glancing up at the woman. “Thank you, Mama-san.” She closed the door, retreating back into the hall.

“Thank you for having us, Shima-san.” Guy remarked. The two of you bowed to your new employer.

“Please, call me Daisuke! You must be Aoki-san.” He reached for Guy’s hand, giving it a rigorous shake. Guy was momentarily shocked before he returned the energy. Daisuke turned to you, grabbing your gloved hand, he gave it a kiss. “And you must be Takeuchi-san. Gorgeous, even more beautiful than described!”

“You’re too kind.” The owner waved you off. He motioned to the two plush chairs in front of his desk before maneuvering around to the other side, pulling out a file as he settled back into his seat.

You and Guy sunk into the chairs. You took in the man across from you with poised posture. You learned against the arm of your chair, sitting on the edge with your wrists and ankles crossed. Daisuke did not look young, but not necessarily old either. Fifties? Sixties? You would have to consult with Guy as to your best guesses later. Wrinkles showed around his eyes as he smiled at the two of you. Guy leaned back in his chair, lounging in stark contrast to you.

“ I have heard a lot about you two!” Daisuke flipped through the pages. You resumes, supplied by the informant, you guessed. “Very talented professionals, we are happy to have you here! I was surprised, though, as to why two such talented folks such as yourselves would want to make the trek from the Leaf all the way over to this dinky ol’ place!”

“No, no not at all, Daisuke-san.” You gave a jovial laugh. “Trust us, the journey is well worth it!”

“Just being here in the Sound is like a breath of fresh air,” Guy crossed his legs, the ends of his mouth upturned, “The Leaf takes itself too seriously, it’s like living in a police state over there! I can’t speak for Takeuchi-san, of course, but I’m excited to start my life over here.” You smiled politely at Guy.

“My words exactly, Aoki-san.” You chirped.

“It’s kismet!” Daisuke exclaimed animatedly, slapping the edge of his desk as punctuation which made him chuckle louder. You noted how easily he became pleased with an audience.

“As for getting down to business,” Daisuke shook his hands in a dramatic fashion. “I was hoping that you two could start tomorrow. As much as I’ve been hearing great things, I would like to see you both in action. We didn’t get a chance to have an interview in person and I’d like to see your skills!”

“Why, of course, I feel that’s only logical.” You nodded.

“With beauty like yours, you’ll be a hit in no time, gorgeous Takeuchi-san.” Daisuke turned to Guy. “We haven’t had an actual bartender in a while either! Needless to say, I’m not expecting to be disappointed.” He stood from his chair and you followed suit.

“It was very nice meeting you, Daisuke-san.”

“Come an hour or two before we open tomorrow so you can get an idea of the place.” Daisuke stood from his chair once again.

“Wonderful idea.” Guy remarked. Opening the door, Daisuke showed you out of his office after polite farewells. You maintained your pleasant exterior, even as the door shut behind you.

You were more focused on getting back to your room than anything else. It would be nice to break character and go to bed. You traveled back down the hall, past the blond bartender, the businessmen with their arms around hostesses, and out of the range of Mama-san’s stare. She nodded in acknowledgement at your presence as if to bid you farewell. Guy flashed her a smile, lagging behind you. You stepped back into the plain of neon lights, marching back the way you originally came. Maybe you’d make yourself a small meal before going to bed.

An arm snaked around your waist and a hand on your rear. You didn’t register it at first, but when you did, you slowed, stopping in your tracks. You immediately thought, hoped to Kami, that for some odd reason it was Guy. You looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with him as he was just coming out the door of “HEAVEN”. You looked up at the man with his arm around you. His slender face contorted into a sleazy smile. You tore away from him. Your face scrunched up in anger.

“The fuck are you trying to pull, you fucker?” The man said nothing. Guy came between the two of you. The man puffed out his chest as if to try to size him up. Guy looked at you, silently telling you to continue forward. You huffed and Guy followed, keeping an eye on the stranger. You seethed for the rest of the way back. Guy was silent, giving you space as you boiled.

You both entered your rooms separately. You flung your heels off and tossed your gloves on the floor. You tugged at your hair, feeling the rip of the glue against your skin. The wig flew onto your nightstand along with your cap. You’d take care of it when you were in a better mood. You took a wipe to your make up.

“I could have taken him, you know.” you snapped, standing in your bathroom.

“You could have, I have no doubt.” You heard Guy remark from somewhere in your living area. You tossed the wipe in the trash, storming out into your studio where Guy sat on your couch.

“I could’ve fucked him up,” You surged, zipping an oversized sweatshirt over your dress. You wriggled the red garb out from under it in a swift movement, tossing it on the bed. “I should’ve-... I should’ve made him fling himself off a bridge, that’s what I should’ve done!” You paused, taking your partner in. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Something told me that you needed to decompress,” He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, “And what kind of partner would I couldn’t help with that.” Guy winked at you. You rolled your eyes at his thumbs-up. You stomped to the kitchenette, wetting a paper towel. You tapped your foot against the floor as you rubbed the wig glue out of your hairline. Guy brought a bottle to his lips.

“Where did you get beer?” You stopped mid dab. Guy held another one up with his other hand. Not looking back, he placed it on the couch next to him. Enveloping the paper, you scrambled over to check the fridge. You could’ve cried. “Please remind me to kiss the envoy if we ever meet him.” You threw the wet wad away, reaching over the couch to grab the bottle. You cracked it open on the doorframe to the bathroom before sitting next to Guy. You immediately started downing it, not coming up for air until the liquid had disappeared halfway. He took a long glance at you, chest rumbling as he laughed.

“Slow down there! I brought this to you to take the edge off. I thought you’d sip it.” Guy scratched his temple, the smile fading from his lips. “Can’t do this every time someone gets handsy, right?”

You hummed in question, having downed half your bottle. “Get angry, then drunk?” Guy glanced down at his almost full portion, then back up at you. He crossed his legs, tilting his head. He blinked.

“You’re planning on getting drunk?” You sighed, taking another long swig.

“I’m pissed.”

“You can’t get drunk every time you’re upset.” Guy told you slowly. His eyes nervously shifted.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t be pissed at a dude grabbing my ass?” You arched a brow, placing your now empty bottle on the table. “Not being able to do anything about it?”

“Not what I’m saying. He deserved to be knocked into next week and under normal circumstances I wouldn’t get in your way.” Guy set his drink on the table as well, still full. He leaned back again. “But you’re working as a hostess now in order to gather sensitive information. Unfortunately, you can’t drink every time you get unwanted attention, as much as they deserve a swift punch to the mouth.”

“I don’t like being touched when I don’t want to be touched.” You reached for his beverage. Guy quickly put up a hand to stop yours.

“Well, you also signed up to take missions.” You shrunk into the back of the couch. “You knew when you entered the academy that you might be called to do less than savory things in your career.”

“I was also, what? Seven?” You breathed. You fiddled your hands in your lap, throwing your head back. Guy shifted in his seat, turning more towards you. He wore a serious look on his face. Guy glanced down, trying to choose his words. “I get it, we’re on a job.”

“(Y/N), I don’t really know much about what you do, but I do know that you’re the best at recon. I’m just saying to prepare yourself, watch your back.” You snorted.

“I thought that’s what you were here for-” His wide eyes met yours. The back of the couch still supported your neck as your natural hair sprawled out behind you- “to watch my back.” You missed the red that sprinkled his cheeks.

He opened his mouth, taking just a second to snap out the shock.

“No, uh… I mean yes, but I meant-”

“I know what you meant, don’t worry about it.” You cut him off. Guy looked deeply at you.

“I was assigned to protect you. You know I’ll back you up.” You let out a snicker to yourself.

“I’ll allow it.”

Notes: I want to make it clear that I do not condone sexual harassment or assault. If you find you yourself on the receiving end of this kind of treatment please do not be afraid to speak up and advocate for yourself because chances are that you’re not an undercover ninja trying to collect intel from jerks. It’s also tempting to try to drown your feelings in something else but please try to find healthy outlets and find someone to talk to. 

Also, I’ve been doing research on hostesses/cabaret girls. It is inherently a dark and adult topic (as much as it would be easier for the world to be like Ouran). I do not intend on writing triggering material, but I will continue tag warnings. 

#might guy #might guy x reader #shy!readerxmightguy #might guy relationship #Maito Gai #maito gai x reader #maito guy #Maito guy relationship #gai sensei #guy sensei #minor original characters #cabaret #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto imagine

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

The reader finding out she is pregnant so she tries to leave but Erik finds out anyway.

Her eyes watered instantly and a loud scream escaped her mouth. The scream made her throat burn and her fingers tremble, dropping the pregnancy test within her hand. The plastic clattered against the bathroom floor, the positive sign unseen because it flipped from the impact. Her shaking hands circles the belly that now carried an embryo, fingers balling up the fabric so hard it almost ripped.

Her hot tears dragged along her cheeks like a stream from a lake, soaking her t shirt. With a shake of her head and a choked up cry, Y/N lowers to the bathroom floor, knees hitting the tile and head resting against the sink cabinets. The news hit different, the type of different that had her upset and angry with herself.

Just that one time, she ends up pregnant.

She remembers the time like the back of her hand. It was a late Friday evening, She hadn’t expected him because he would come and go whenever he pleased and the gullible person she was she would open her home to him, give him what he craved, and watch him leave to whatever part of the world he ended up. Spain. Iraq. Russia. Brazil. It didn’t matter where. He could be there for months but with her for two days.

How could she raise a baby with a man who didn’t even claim her as his woman? He didn’t believe in that soulmate shit and refused to be tied down so why even raise a baby? Usually they had sex unprotected but Y/N hadn’t seen him in over three months so she stopped taking them. The late night she wakes up from her sleep around 10:00 pm to open her door, he stands over her, dark circles under his eyes from exhaustion, two large duffel bags in hand that carried all of his gear from being a Hitman, and all black camouflage gear on like he was a man of the night.

She couldn’t even be angry with him, all the rage she felt slipped away once he looked at her like he’d be seeing her for the last time. He looked down at his boots, the sight of her just as painful as what he told her.

“Blaze, he’s dead.”

Blaze was his trusted friend from the JSOC Ghost Unit. Blaze was the only man he had grown to trust with his own life. Blaze was set up and tortured to death in Morocco. She didn’t want to do anything else but comfort him in that moment. He melted in her arms as she pulled him into that home. From there she undressed him, ran him a bath and wash his scarred body. It wasn’t just the keloid scars but scars from knife wounds and possibly gun shot too. The Brand on his chest from his old Kappa days held a warm spot in her heart because that let her know that at least some part of his earlier life he enjoyed with a true brother hood.

All of that turned into passionate sex. Deep, raw wet, rough, slow. Hours long of sex. Sex that she craved times before. A connection that Y/N yearned for. He gave that to her, in every which way. But the sad part, he was gone the next morning, leaving her crying in her bed.

“I hate him,” She whispers in pain, “I hate his every being.”

That sex was at least almost three months ago.

Y/N hoped he wouldn’t show up soon, she needed to leave without a trace to hopefully figure out how to handle her unexpected pregnancy. The thought of raising a baby by a man like Killmonger wasn’t something to praise. The baby of a killer. A man with no heart. A selfish man. Thinking quickly, Y/N sprang from her kneeled position, stepping over her pregnancy test and heading straight for her bedroom. Erik wouldn’t know that her sister who lived in Florida moved back to LA. Y/N figured she could lay low there for a bit, hoping that Erik would come knocking down her door and she wouldn’t be around to respond. She packed about five outfits, electronics, toiletries, and her favorite blanket. She was out that door in about an hour, locking it behind her and never looking back.

Too bad she forgot the pregnancy test on the floor.

Around 48 hours later, Erik Killmonger Stevens shows up at her door. He sat within his mustang for a good hour contemplating if he should even go in there to see her. The way he left her last time would sure make the sight of him put her into a rage. He taps the stirring wheel to some random rhythm, eyes focused on her apartment complex. Fuck it, he could only hope to explain to her why he left and why he always has to leave without a trace of her. His job was dangerous and he didn’t need for anyone to find out about his happiness outside of being a killer. Erik turns off his car, pocketing his keys within his denim jacket, making his walk of shame towards her complex.

Once on her floor, Erik stands outside of her door, staring at the brass knob and black door with fading numbers saying “7B” just above the peep hole. His scarred knuckles knocked twice, a pause in between so she would know it was him. Erik waits, heart beat thumping so hard he could almost feel it in his legs. Erik tried again, no response to his knocks. They had an agreement that she would be there around this time for him. She worked from him and did mostly everything from home so why isn’t she answering.

Erik became worried, his hands reaching into his pocket again to pull out his key ring. She didn’t know that he made a spare key to enter if need be. This situation called for it. Erik takes the key, happy that the locks didn’t change. The door opens and a sudden heat overcomes him. Her apartment that usually flowed with fresh cool air now felt musky to him. Erik steps inside, looking around for any clues of intrusion. Eyes like a hawk he looks behind every piece of furniture and in every corner. The entire living room, dining room, and kitchen were safe, only leaving him with the bedrooms and bathroom. Taking out his pistol, Erik walks slowly to the back, ready to catch anyone who tried to hurt his girl.

Kicking open her bedroom door, Erik flips the light on, her cat jumping down from the bed and everything else safe. To be sure, Erik opens her closet and looks under her bed. Nothing. Picking up her cat he leaves the room to check the guest room. That room brought back memories. When they first met eachother and Erik needed a place to come to he would sleep in there. The place was only filled with some of his clothes and shoes, and boxes with a large floor mattress. Closing it, the only place left was the restroom. At this point Erik figured no one was here but he still felt a way about her not being here. Pushing open the bathroom door and flicking on the light, Erik looks around the small bathroom, stepping in further until his left boot made contact with something on the tiled floor. Dropping her cat and stepping back, Erik notices a pregnancy test. His heart sank, fingers quickly reaching down to pick it up. The moment he flipped it over to read his shame and guilt settled in further. He felt like he wanted to break down, legs no longer holding his strength anymore.

Y/N was pregnant with his baby.

She must have found out and panicked, leaving to a friends or a families house to avoid him because she knew Erik would be home soon. This raged him, his hand squeezing the test so hard it broke in half. Tossing the pieces in the trash Erik placed his hands on the sink, looking in the mirror. He tried to think of where she would go. Not many friends lived here. Her sister was in Florida. It had to be somewhere she could have gone. In the distance, Erik heard a car pull up. To be sure he walks to her living room, opening the window curtain to see who it was. A red Honda pulls up, Erik’s eyes squinting until he notices her solem face and her sisters. So she was back in California. Erik watches as she tried to step out but the moment she notices Erik’s car parked next to hers, she freezes, eyes in a panick. Erik quickly rushes out of the apartment, hoping that he could catch her before her sister drives away. He needed her, she couldn’t just leave with his baby growing inside of her. He ran for his life, jumping down flights of stairs.

Now on the first level, Erik pushes open the door, spotting her arguing with her sister before their eyes connect. The color drained from her face, tears soaking her cheeks. Erik takes quick steps to her but her sister saw that as a threat, pointing a gun at him.

“Take one more step and I’ll kill you!!!” She held her gun out, pointing to his head.

“Y/N, get out of the car. I know what’s going on. We can talk about the shit!” Erik yells. Y/N sat facing forward, no emotion in her eyes.

“Y/N!!! TALK TO ME!” Erik was angry and ready to flip that car over and get her out himself.

“You’re not leaving me. That’s my baby in there, girl. You’re not running away from this, Y/N,”

He stepped closer, not caring that her sister yelled out threats. She didn’t look like she would try him anyway. Erik steps around to Y/N’s side, crouching down and knocking on her window to let it down. She continues to cry, not meeting his eyes. Erik pulls the door handle roughly, banging on the glass hard.

“Open this fucking door Y/N!!!!” He barks out. She jumps. Erik steps away, hands in his dreads ready to rip them out.

“GET AWAY FROM MY FUCKING CAR!!” Her sister yells into the night sky.

Erik knew he needed to be calm. But it angered him that she would just leave with his baby. He understood her rage, Erik was never around but that didn’t mean she could make the decision for him about her pregnancy.

“It’s my body, Erik,” she finally speaks.

Yes, it is her body, but the thought of her getting an abortion or giving the baby up for adoption sickened him.

“Y/N, don’t do this. Don’t get rid of the baby.”

She looked at him with shock and hurt, “get rid of the baby?!!! I would never do that!!! I am going to keep this baby but I can’t stand my baby being your child!!! You are never around and you have blood on your hands!!!”

He didn’t argue back. She was right, Erik never wanted this kind of life. He could never see himself with a baby and a wife. That was non existent when you were a killer. Erik fought to cry himself, her words cutting deep like a dagger to the heart but it was true. He wasn’t in the right mind and position to father that child.

“You’re right,” he finally speaks, “I’m not the perfect man you want me to be, Y/N.” Erik turns away, rubbing his eyes before looking back at her, “but I can try, I can try to be I sware.”

She wanted to believe him but she knew that he was in this too deep.

“I can’t believe that, Erik. You have left me so many times with a broken heart. How am I supposed to believe you will be here now.”

He couldn’t even find it within himself to answer that. She waited, and he said nothing.

“Drive the car.” Y/N’s shaky voice broke out in their silence. Her sister started up the car. Erik watched with pain as it drove away and out of the lot, his rage kicking up as he yelled into the air. He was no man for a baby and a life with Y/N but he wanted to try, a part of him did.

[trying-write-fanfics]

Shouji Mezo X Reader part 12 Remember

“So who do you want to go with you?” Sero asked. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” She smirked. “Satou, could you accompany me to the store?” She bowed. 

“Me? Obvious?” Satou was confused all around

“Yeah you look cool.” She told him. “Gotta surround myself with hunks just in case if I see anyone I know. Makes me look cool, like a celebrity with body guards.” 

“Well who's your other choice?” Mina asked. 

 There was an obvious choice. But she had to play it off cool.

“Shouji you can come if you want.” She tried being nonchalant. 

Shouji was on his phone, but he was listening. He knew he would be picked. The choice of Satou was surprising, but it was becoming clear. Y/n figured he would want to go, since he was always playing the hero.

“I guess.” touche.

“Now that I have my gang, I got to make myself look cool.” Y/n said doing a twirl.

“That’ll take a million years!” Bakugo yelled.

“I’ll kill you.” Y/n growled at him.

“I gotta change actually.” Satou said. 

Y/n waited outside for the two guys. Satou just wore a t-shirt and jeans. But Shouji’s look got a bigger reaction. 

“Cameo pants! What are you trying to do?Go hunting?” Y/n yelled.

“They’re my casual pants.”

“There’s nothing casual about hunting, Shouji.” Y/n said. “I thought maybe you guys could wear some chunky rings or something, something that says you’d beat any punk coming at me.”

Y/n didn’t let them in her room as she changed. She came out in a shocking look. It wasn't just going out to the store. It was a pale blue slip dress with a big fuzzy pink jacket. Not only did she wear high white boots, but also huge sunglasses, at sun set. It was obnoxious. 

“Here, I have some manly sunglasses.” Y/n offered two more pairs.

“I don’t need that.” Shouji said.

“What’s with the outfit?” Satou asked

 Was something up?

“I haven’t been in public in weeks, I’m no longer wasting my time with boring outfits. I’m a star with a cool closet that must be seen.” She told them. “C’mon can’t we look like a cool band or something cool.”

They didn’t accept the glasses, but Y/n didn’t press them. They walked to the store. Shouji knew the girl's mind was still clouded with whatever the phone call was about.

“Satou, you’re quiet. Learn anything cool today?” Y/n asked.

“I- I guess, what about you-” Satou asked.

“I learned that Shouji Mezo is an eavesdropper and does NOT mind his own business.” Y/n said. “Why are you so nervous? Am I really this big scary demon of the UA campus?”

A small smile crept under Shouji’s mask. So she would tease him, an interesting thought.

“I’m not the best at talking to girls.” Satou confessed.

“Why? Are you bad at flirting? You got big lips.” Y/n asked

That smile got pulled a little bit.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Satou asked.

“No one wants to make out either small lips, Satou. Too thin and it’s like making out with plastic wrap.” She explained. “I’m sure someone would make out with you, there’s enough to grab on to.”

“How do you know that?” Satou was shocked. 

“I’m good at listening-“

“Eavesdropping.”  Shouji corrected. 

“I know what’s good, okay. Besides why are you bad at talking to girls? You think I’m an alien?” She asked Satou.

“No-no nothing like that. I just get nervous. Not just with the idea of flirting” Satou said.

“What are you gonna do when you have to rescue a woman? You’ll have to ask questions, like oh my god how hurt are you?” Y/n said. “And what if she’s just so gosh darn beautiful with blood shooting out of her eyes?”

Satou didn’t like how detailed she was going and the. Thought of a perfect topic changed.

“What do you want us to call you? Since your name isn’t Velia but (last name). I feel like if we call you (last name) I’m calling you by your mom or dad’s name.” Satou asked.

“(First name) is fine. There’s no huge reason to be formal with me.” She was quick to say.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I like my name and others should say it. I am a gosh darn star, Satou” Y/n said.

 Y/n got quiet as they entered the store. She was on a mission. The group got stares, but people didn’t know who to look at. The overdressed brat, the land octopus and the real sugar beefcake was quit the crew. Whispers of “is she a celebrity, do I just not recognize her?” Were heard. Then some kid had the gall to ask for a picture. Y/n did agree and the parent took it. “Did you know her” “no, but I don’t want to miss my chance just in case she is.” Satou watched what she picked out. Baking soda, lemon juice, sugar, and honey. She was still looking, but he thought he figured her out.

“Are you trying to bake something for the class?” Satou asked.

“No, but you’ll see.” Y/n said.

“Oh my god is that Y/n!” A woman’s voice called.

 Shouji and Satou both became on alert. Was this an escape route? She picked a perfect duo if she wanted to escape since they were both close combat types, bulky and strong, but not the fastest. The teen was blond and also was wearing a ridiculous outfit to the grocery store. It was white romper. Her hair was done in a complicated fancy fashion. She was a bit taller than Y/n. Y/‘n’s eyes said she knew they girl, but neither boy could read the emotion. 

“Oh my god, Brittany.” Y/n shimmied her shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know to get food for my healthy complex diet that keeps me looking like a goddess model. What about you? You haven’t been posting on social media and I heard some of our friends could no longer reach you? What is up with that?” Brittany asked. 

“I’m doing a cleanse for my mind. You’re working on your body and I gotta dig a little deeper for my own self-improvement.” Y/n said one upping her assumed friend or enemy.

Were they competing for something? The comment y/n made clearly pissed off Brittany, but she remained composed.

“We just haven’t seen you in so long, I was gonna try and get the gang back together, you know a  nice meet little get together.” The girl said. “I don’t know how much you’ll have to say though since you’re just doing online classes, I bet there are no juicy stories.”

Was she not going to acknowledge the two tall muscular guys?

“Well if you need to contact me, you can call the U.A. offices. They’ll let me know.”

Brittany’s eyes shot open. 

“I was gonna say these two guys do look familiar? What are you doing at U.A.?”

Y/n was about to say she’s a teaching aid but then it was gonna look weird to hang out with students after class. 

“Oh you know.”

“I don’t.” Brittany was quick to say.

“Well I can’t just tell you, you either get it or you don’t, Brittany.”

 Brittany looked at the two boys, they felt the daggers shooting out of her eyes, but it seemed she didn’t know how to counter Y/n’s comment. 

“Are you still-“ Brittany’s hands went to the fabric of Y/n’s dress, sliding it up her leg. “-bruising easily-“

“Hey!” Y/n growled as she smacked her hand away. 

 It was an uncomfortable moment, but Y/n started laughing it off. 

“I was only checking, I remember back in middle school you would bruise so much. You wouldn’t want these two fellas to be in charge of body inspection control. It’s indecent.” Brittany said. 

Shouji couldn’t watch this shit show anymore. 

“We should get going.” Shouji said, hoping to change the scenery.

“Oh is there something special you have to do? Either of you didn’t make it to the final round of the sports festival, I thought they would just like expel you.”

She avoided talking to them this long and now that they said something she was ready to fight. What was she gaining from this?

“No. They don’t”. Shouji said. 

“My body guards are right though, we do need to get going, Brittany. I will be waiting for your call and maybe we’ll do a sweet little brunch.” Y/n said.

Brittany smiled and the two girls hugged. Then they kissed each other on both cheeks like this was France. They thought the two girls hated each other. After checking out, one of them decided to speak .

“So was like your friend?” Satou asked.

“My best from  middle school.” Y/n explained. “I hate and love her. We’re the only two to keep up with each other.”

“You’re kinda like Bakugo and Deku.” Satou said. 

“You’re always telling Bakugo to let off too.” Shouji added. 

“That’s because Midoriya isn’t asking for it or deserves it. Brittany and I’s rivalry all started when our parents said we should be like the other and then we both started acting out, and on a mutual agreement we are mean to each other because we can handle it.” Y/n explained. “I have not see any documentation where both Bakugo and Beefcake have fully agreed to mutual rivalry.”

“Do you two have that, for real?” Satou asked.

“Yeah, on Instagram. We both use to vote each other for hottest mess for our school page.”

“Why was she checking out your leg?” Shouji asked. 

“Cause she can’t keep a fucking secret.” Y/n said harshly

They started walking back to the dorms. Y/n did get some food for herself that she ate on the way back. Shouji and Satou carried some of her bags, they had the arms for it. At the cross walk, Y/n looked one way and began to go. She didn’t hear the electric car coming from the direction she didn’t check. She heard the groceries being dropped and then felt the arm pull her back. Her back was pressed against Shouji’s strong chest. She felt his heart beating fast. The car kept going as it would have hit her. Though she was safe Shouji still had her. She looked up at him a little shocked. Was it the saving? Was it the fact she didn’t notice the car that was gonna hit her? It was a new feeling. He was looking straight back into her eyes registering what he did. 

 Satou hated this feeling. Third wheeling. He bent down and picked up the groceries Shouji dropped, luckily the items remained in the bags. 

“You should really look both ways.” Satou broke the moment as he picked up the fallen goods.

The duo came back to reality and Shouji set Y/n down. There was a war of emotions Y/n was feeling. Embarrassed, she needed to be saved! All this hard work to show she wasn’t this weak dying child and now no one has to worry about her quirk killing her, bad luck and irresponsibility will! But it was nice, it was really nice. He’s a wannabe hero so of course he’d save her and prove himself that he would do the right thing in a snap second decision. But it was still nice. It was nice not being splattered on the road. 

“That was on me.” She said finally. 

The mood was changed. Shouji and Y/n were quiet thinking about what had just happened, and Satou didn’t want to talk about it knowing it would only make it more awkward. It felt like Y/n’s lungs were gonna get jet packs and burst in opposite directions. Her stomach was a tangled mess, the more she couldn’t understand her feelings the more she felt overwhelmed. The two guys walked Y/n to her dorm. 

“You good from here?” Satou asked. 

“Actually I’m gonna stop at your dorm again, Satou can you stay behind actually and help me put away groceries?” 

“You don’t need my help?” Shouji asked. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t talk bad about you.”

“Okay.”

 Shouji left and Y/n waited for him to be completely before she talked out loud. Satou helped put food away.

#shouji mezou #shoji mezo #xreader #bnha #bnha fanfiction #shouji mezo #bnha x reader #bnha shoji #mezo x reader #shoji x reader #series

[suckerforsmylex]

I Think I Made You Up Inside My Head - Pt. 7

Harley giggles and hangs up, and you aren’t sure what to think.  Part of you is pissed that The Joker had to leave to tend to Harley’s bullshit. He answered her call earlier while he was in between your legs for god’s sake. The other part is mad at yourself for being so insane. I mean – here you are swooning over your attacker like a dumb school-girl.  

 I still don’t believe that this is real! Why the fuck is this happening to me?  

You decide that you’re going to leave.  You have to see what’s going on outside of your apartment where apparently, it’s Gotham City.  You put on an all-black everything outfit, and set out for the city.  

If I’m going to sneak out, I’ll have to blend in with the night.  

You glance at your wall again and see a cut out of the front page of The Gotham Times with a photo of Harley and a team of other criminals propelling off of a building. Shaking your head, you leave the room quickly, and finding that the bathroom door is still open from your medicine cabinet discovery earlier, you run inside with the intentions of taking your medication.  You shake out a pill into your palm and stare at it and then close your eyes. The memory of The Joker bandaging your bleeding foot with his shirt comes to your mind and that’s all it takes for you to dump all of the pills into the toilet and quickly flush before you can think twice.

If I’m going to figure this shit out, I’m doing it as me, not a sedated version of myself.  How much crazier can it get anyway?

You grab your car keys from the glass bowl and turn on your remote start.  The engine purrs to a start and you open the hall closet door to grab your purse and…

KaaaaaBOOOOM!!!!     

The car is in flames and you almost feel it before you see it as you thrust the door to your apartment open. Shutting the door quickly, you lock it and put the chain on just as your cell phone rings. It’s an incoming facetime from The Joker.  You’re afraid to answer, but even more afraid to let it keep ringing. When you answer, the picture-in-picture display shows you dressed in black on the tiny screen and The Joker appears on the main screen, wearing a maroon button-down shirt, half unbuttoned and a platinum blazer. His clothes are covered in blood and he’s got it spattered on his face as well.

“Cupcake,” The Joker drawls out as he rolls his head around in frustration, “…what part of DO’NT LEAVE YOUR APARTMENT did you not understand?” His chest heaves up and down and it looks like he’s going to have a heart attack. “Answer me,” he demands as he gets up from the chair he was sitting in and removes the blazer, throwing it down to the floor brusquely.  “I…I’m sorry…I just wanted to see what was going on outside. Did…did you just blow up my car,” you ask with tears welling up in your eyes.  

“Did I…blow up your car? Did I blow up your car?” The Joker turns to a henchman behind him who’s wiping blood off a wall.  “She wants to know if I blew up her car.”  He’s got full on crazy eyes and the henchman lets out a nervous chuckle. “YES!  Yes, sweetness.  I asked one of the twenty men guarding you to point a fucking bazooka at your car the moment you started it.”  The waterworks are in full effect on your end now and you’re sobbing.

“Stop blubbering.  We’ll steal you a new one,” he says, waving you off with a ringed hand. The thought of you and The Joker stealing a car together makes you grin from ear to ear, even through your tears and you force yourself to take a deep breath.  “I remember now, Mister J.  I met you in the court.”  Saying that to him only makes you grin more, until you’re laughing.  “That’s where I met Harley and we robbed that expensive department store.  I broke you out of Arkham.  I have the jewelry heist stash!” The tears are streaming down your face but you’re laughing between almost every word. The Joker cocks his head to the side, grins and slaps his thigh. “Oh…she’s back.  My naughty, little thief is back!  I don’t know what I like more.  When you’re a naughty girl or when you’re a sweet angel.  HARLEY! HARL!”  You hear Harley before you see her on the screen, and then she comes bounding in, almost knocking the phone out of J’s hand.  “Hiya’, Puddin’!  You need me?”

Both of them are now on the screen, and Harley is also smeared with blood. Her baseball bat it leaning against the wall and gunky with some kind of bloody, clumpy matter and she’s got droplets on her face and her Daddy’s Little Monster shirt.  “Hey, hot stuff!” Harley seems genuinely happy to see you and she keeps nudging J out of view in her haste to speak with you.  “I got a little nutty ova’ here and beat the living shit out of someone!  Okay, it was more like someones.  Five someones to be exact!” She wrinkles her nose, smiles and puts her fists up in a boxer’s pose and starts shadow boxing.  “When I get going, I don’t know when to stop.  We had to get rid of the bod….”

The Joker bats her away from the phone.  “Daddy is gonna’ leave Harl with Frost and come and pick you up.  Be ready to go out the back patio in ten minutes.  We’ll have some company to respond to that little explosion. Get the jewelry and get out. We’ll get you new things tomorrow. DO NOT make me wait.”  The last thing you see and hear are The Joker’s finger waving in a “no” motion and Harley singing a nonsense “la…la…lala…la” in the background.      

This is it.  I guess I’m quitting my day job and joining the circus.

Obeying his directive, you run and stuff all of the jewelry into a black duffle bag and say goodbye to all of your pencil skirts and your steno-graph. You grab the news clipping off the wall and stuff it into the bag too.  The sirens blare as they come down the street.  In a moment your apartment complex will be swarming with fire trucks, police and maybe even The Batman.  You open the patio back door and hop the small fence landing in a short bush.

Smooth.  Real smooth.

The Joker pulls up in an unmarked car, just in time to see you brushing twigs and branches off yourself and out of your hair, and you jump into the passenger seat with the duffle bag.  He’s dressed in a GCPD uniform from the police badge right down to the hat.  “Oh, I love a man in uniform,” you purr out as you look him up and down.  He growls and tosses you a uniform too and the two of you speed off into the night. “Feeling frisky, sweetheart?  Put on that uniform.”  The Joker’s eyes are locked on you as you change.  His hands are steering erratically, weaving in and out of traffic as you take off your top and jeans and put on the uniform.  “Sure, Mister J, I’m up for anything.  What do you have in mind?”  You finally feel like you.  Untouchable.  Unstoppable. It’s alarming how good it feels to be a bad guy.  

When the car stops you look up and see you’re at the Gotham Museum of Classical Art. The Joker turns and grabs you by the throat. “You’re a work of art, sweets.”  He pries your mouth open with his and covers it with a kiss.  “Mmmmm. You’re my little cherry bomb.  Sugar and spice and everything nice and then, KABOOM! All that explosive heat.” The Joker has a hand snaking its way down your GCPD uniform pants. He lands on the outside of your panties, stroking your wet lips with two fingers through the sheer fabric, leaving you breathing heavily and trying unsuccessfully to suppress a moan.  He leans in close and whispers in your ear.  “Youuuu…are dripping right through your panties, officer.”  He gives your ear a nibble and pops out of the car, leaving you gasping.  

He pulls out a briefcase and starts walking up the museum steps.  “Come on, let’s keep popping your criminal cherry.”  You jump out of the car and run after him and he rings the security door, telling the desk guard that you’re responding to a report of a disturbance.  The guard buzzes you both in and you proceed to handcuff him and his partner and then bind them with duct tape.  Lastly, you lead them both down the stairs and secure them with a second set of handcuffs to pipes in the museum basement.

The two of you move fast, climbing the museum’s main staircase and walking down the second-floor corridor that overlooks the courtyard and into The Dutch Room.  You both fill large bags with pieces of art that you lift from the walls.  It’s easy because you have a list of requested items with each piece’s exact location within the museum.  He cases The Early Italian Room and you make your way through the The Raphael Room and reconvene in The Wayne Gallery.  

There are so many diamonds and jewels in this room that it makes you stop dead in your tracks, remove your police hat, let your hair down and put on the first ornate tiara you see.  The Joker takes one look at you and clears a large marble table of relics and they crash to the ground. He lifts you by your waist and drops you down onto the table.  “If you don’t have a collection of tiaras already, I guess we’ll just have to start one, princess.”  You squeal and The Joker starts peeling off your clothes.

Laying on the cool marble slab in your black lace bra and panties, wearing the newly stolen tiara and your black booties is surreal.  “I’ve been dreaming about this moment since we locked eyes in that courtroom,” he snarls as he unzips his pants and releases his massive cock.  It’s a struggle for him, to take his thick shaft out of the fitted pants and you blush and turn away for a moment.  The sight of him is enough to make you almost come on the spot.  He grabs your chin and turns your head back to face him.  “Oh no. No shyness.  Look at me. I want you to see how hard you made, Daddy.”  Looking at his cock makes you clench and whine.  “Daddy, please…”  You’re squirming around on the hard surface, helpless and needy.  “Daddy, please what,” he says with a chuckle. His thumbs hook into the lace waist band of your panties.  “Daddy, please…”  The Joker has his eyes locked on yours and it’s quite clear by the way his cock twitches that he’s enjoying tormenting you.

“I need to hear you say it, sweets.  You know what Daddy likes.” You moan out hungrily.  “Daddy, please fuck me. I need you inside of me.” There is no room for shame.  You’re desperate for him.  There is no room for coyness.  He grins but doesn’t remove your panties.  Instead, he slides them to the side with his thin fingers, poking digit into your pussy, and then pulling it back out and sliding it into his mouth.  “I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name.  Did you forget that too earlier,” he asks with a low laugh.  Before you can respond he slams himself into you, filling you with the thick weight of his dick, pounding into your wet slit.  It feels like he’s ripping you in two and the tears well in your eyes as your body is thrust hard into the stone.  You grip both sides of the table tightly with both hands.

“Awww, baby? Does it hurt?” When he says the words, you lose it completely and start bucking your hips back against him, feeling your orgasm building and your inner muscles clench the full length of him.  He rips your tits out of your bra and roughly tugs on both of your stiff nipples. Your body is hot and loose now, writhing all over the table and you know you are about to come.  You manage to lick your lips and tell him, which makes The Joker pull himself entirely out of you. 

“Nooooo! I was about to come,” you whine, and it makes him give you a terrifying smile, licking over his metal teeth.  “You have to earn it first, greedy girl.”  He walks around the table and you can see him hovering above you.  “Taste the mess you made.”  You open your mouth and engulf all of him, sucking sloppily back and forth, the sound of spit and your wet arousal on his cock and in your mouth, bring you back to the edge.  You can taste the sweet tang of yourself mixing in with his own taste.  “You better ask for permission before you come,” The Joker warns, and with that, you start waving your arms wildly as a signal that you are close, as he continues to fuck your mouth.  “Do you need to come?” You nod as best you can with him filling your mouth.  “Let me hear you ask me nicely.” Looking up in desperation, you ask as best you can. It sounds pathetic. “Caaghh I peeess cunnn, daahh deee?  

He cackles and removes himself from your mouth with a wet pop and you gasp for air, while he leaps onto the table, straddling you and thrusting all of himself inside of your pussy.  You cry out, frantic for release and he grips your throat, his face inches from yours.  “Come.  Come now.  Come all over my cock.”  You explode all over him on command, shockwaves running through your body as he thrusts as hard as he can. “Give me what’s mine.” With one last hard thrust, you can feel him filling you, and the pulse of his balls as he empties himself inside you, and you collapse back onto the table.  

It’s only now that you hear the alarm has been tripped on the first floor. He hears it to and there’s no time to savor the exquisite way he’s cream-pied you.  He pulls out and tucks his ruddy, wet dick back into his pants, while you scramble to put all your clothes back on.  It’s a miracle that you don’t end up with your bra on the outside of your shirt, at the speed you’re going. You both run and manage to escape out of a hole The Joker laser cut into the second-floor back window and propel down to the street.  You jump into the nondescript car with the stolen art and ride off, still wearing the tiara from the museum display.  

The Joker turns to face you, smiling broadly.  “You’re mine now, and you’ll have anything your little, crooked heart desires and that includes plenty of tiaras.”

You smile at the thought of being his favorite and of having a new crime family to come home too. Harley was like your sister from another mister, after all. After looking in the rearview, you lean over to give him a peck on the cheek but he turns his head quickly and the kiss lands on his crimson lips instead, making a genuine giggle rise from your chest.  It was easy to laugh with him and he laughed to, his infamous, “Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha,” echoing into the impending sunrise of a new morning.  This was the start of your new life with the Clown Prince of Crime, and you were ready for whatever was going to come next.  

#the joker #joker #leto joker #leto joker fanfiction #joker x reader #fairy tale endings #i reworked this chapter so much #because some of the things I used to write #are super embarrassing!

[twohearts-hs]

‘She’s Deadly’ - Shawn Mendes Gang AU

Words: 7.4k

Pairing: Gang Leader!Shawn Mendes & Assassin!(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Warnings: Swearing and Smut

|| Masterlist in bio ||

There was a heavy vent. The blowing of air was all she could hear over her thoughts of what would happen. Y/N reckoned she wasn’t afraid, honestly, she didn’t know what would happen. All she knew was that the FBI had caught her and she had one thing in mind; she was probably gonna go to jail.

After all, she was well known under a specific name as an assassin. She killed people, that was easy to say. She had killed people and she didn’t regret any of it. The reason for that - and it was quite simple, really - was the girl had no emotions.

“Fucking finally. Thought you wanted me to rot,” she smiled wickedly to the man in uniform coming in. She looked down to her hands that were cuffed to the table and she raised her eyebrows, “Fucking gonna let me go, ain’t guilty for anything, just a simple crystal shop owner.” The bald man kept a poker face and pulled papers out of a folder.

“Ms Y/L/N-”

“I want my fucking lawyer,” he huffed.

“You’re not being accused of anything, Ms Y/L/N,” the man said towards her, “we know about you, Eve.” There it was. She stared at him, humour all gone at the moment; this was business now.

“What do you want?” she leaned over, looking the scared man right in his eyes.

“We want to hire you, Eve,” she nodded, instantly recognising her street name, seeing the paper that was slid in front of her.

“Why would the government want me to kill someone for them?” she asked as the bald man leaned over uncuffing her.

“The guy we have been tracking is nowhere to be found. You seem like the gal to know where these type of people live,” she raised her eyebrow.

“I’m the type of gal? What the fuck does that mean?”

“If you don’t want the job, we can arrest you right away,” she was done for, the choice was that either she could do what she loved or she went straight to the death serum.

“I’ll do the bloody job. Who do you want me to kill?” she leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms.

“A global crime syndicate leader,” he turned a file over to her, which she grabbed.

“Shawn Mendes,” Y/N readout and automatically flinched as the memories flooded in.

-

“Smile!” she covered her eyes as her lover straddled her, the Polaroid camera in her face.

Y/N let out a giggle as Shawn leaned over her, taking a picture of her, the flash crossing pass both of their eyes.

“See? You’re so beautiful,” he rolled over back on the grass in the park, and looked at the picture, “nothing to be ashamed of my lovely.” Shawn looked over to the girl, hair braided into a bun and subtle smile.

“You’re funny,” she leaned over bopping his nose, yet he caught her off guard with grabbing her by the hips and pulling her in for a kiss.

“I love you Y/N Y/L/N, never forget that,” he pulled away staring at her as she sneakily pulled out the camera and taking a picture with him; kissing him hard on the lips.

It was cute. It was two teenagers at the age of sixteen in love and expressing it in the purest way ever; stolen kisses and pretty lullabies.

-

She ignored everything the man was saying. Shawn, her Shawn, could it really be him that he talking about? But, this is a job. It must be a common name because her Shawn would have never done that. He was too good, or at least to her.

-

“I want more in life,” she told him, huffing the smoke from the cigarette and stared out the window in Paris.

“Meaning?” he was confused, standing behind her, afraid of what his love has said.

“I want to do more,” she turned around trying to figure out her words, “I bought this apartment.”

Shawn gave her a puzzled look, “What?”

“I think it’s best we break up, Shawn, I’m living in Paris now.”

-

Shawn. It ended badly. But, it was the best for her. She hit her first victim that night; dressed in leather and an everlasting need for more blood. Y/N believed that after that, he would’ve never have loved her. She was a monster.

“I’ll accept it,” she smirked, snatching the folder for herself and reading it. “But I want twenty million,” the bald man was speechless.

“Two,” she laughed, he clearly didn’t know the business.

“For drug dealers, it’s eight, for normal people, it’s five, for FBI it's twenty.”

“That’s not entirely legal…”

“My job isn’t entirely legal, sir,” she murmured, beginning to pack up and heading towards the door. “Do we have a done deal?”

“Yes.”

-

Y/N walked into her new apartment in Toronto. Her finger slid across the walls of the modern flat and she winced, definitely not her taste.

This city brought too many memories. Her emotions that she was long forgotten have begun clouding her. This was the city where she was an actual human, not a cold-blooded murderer. It may have been good to some, but for her, she wanted to bury all emotion that defines her as human; just a murder robot.

She sat down on the couch, the fabric and cushioning not so comforting, but it’ll make dues. But, whenever Y/N goes to a new country, her first step was to find the nearest liquor depot. So, she placed herself down with Shawn’s folder and a giant gin and tonic. It was a treat to herself.

Shawn Mendes. Where does she begin with the boy? For one, he was always the sweetest person, but now he must’ve changed.

Shawn Mendes owns a global drug and weapon trade. It was simple, yet this Shawn Mendes that she prays isn’t who she thinks it is, fills all of her past lover’s details.

Y/N has come to the conclusion that her Shawn is the Shawn she has to kill.

- She had the brains, it is what helps her in the job; beauty and brains. It was simple, the complex brain of her’s; nobody knew her job. Eve, that was what people called her when they called her up; the plan of being arrested wasn’t in her mind.

Y/N has been doing this job for as long as she could remember. If you look in her diary, the name of every man or woman she killed was written there. Yet, she was feared on the streets. When hired, she’d do as much research as she possibly can, hoping that that person who called her wanted her to kill a bad person, not a good person. Therefore, every name in that roughed up leather journal was a bad person; they’re better off dead.

The lounge was dark. It wasn’t her thing, but she needed to spot her Shawn. Subtle chatter was heard over the quiet music, as she made her way through. This was awful, the plan. She has come to the conclusion of what is going to happen for her to murder him. But, Y/N was a heartless creature.

So, she sat down on the stool, looking over the expensive lounge. Her eyes staring at every dirty lawyer, every drug dealer and perverts trying to pick up girls. If the metal machine on her hip wasn’t so heavy at the moment, she would’ve ignored it, but every person in this room deserves to die.

“Can I have a—” she tried to order but was stopped by an all too familiar voice.

“A dirty martini with two extra ounces of gin, and salt on the rim,” she shyly smiled, turning her seat around and having an eyeful of eye candy.

“Shawn Mendes,” she drew his name out, as he smiled, arms crossed over the all too expensive suit. That moment Y/N felt like the fifteen-year-old she once was around him; shy and cheeky.

“Why the fuck are you in Toronto, Y/N? Thought you’re owning some crystal shop in London, living the life and drinking your way to the top, as well as smoking,” she turned around, grabbing the martini and bringing it to her red lips.

“I moved here,” Shawn bit his lip, eyes slowly undressing her at the moment. She surely has matured into a beautiful woman.

“Why?” he sat down, ordering a whiskey.

“You know me, can’t commit,” he nodded, having one plan that night, “what are you doing now, Mr Mendes.” This has escalated quickly, her manicured hand on his thigh, as she leant in and whispered in his ear. Definitely, the plan will go through tonight. The thought of her sprawled out on his bed with her moaning his name just had him going.

“I own a business,” he mumbled, as Y/N placed a delicate kiss under his ear and leaning back in the stool. She smiled, biting her lip. But, Shawn knew this wasn’t the Y/N he fell in love with back in his teen years. She was more risky, kinky, sexy, dominant even. She was one hell of a tease.

“I noticed, Givenchy?” she pointed to his suit and he nodded. He sipped the whiskey and tried to guess her outfit, but couldn’t come up with it.

“Chanel,” the lie rolled off her lips, the black dress actually handcrafted for weapons to hide. He nodded, ashamed that he didn’t know that; she knew him so well still.

“How are you?” and that is all it took for the conversation over whiskey and rum to escalate to her waking up totally hungover in his bed. But, the conversation was good, no remorse still for the actions that should be released in a few months to a year. But, he was her same old Shawn.

-

A headache was what woke her up. A groan left her lips as her hand went to her forehead. Her eyes slowly began opening as she took in her surrounds, definitely not her little flat.

“Fuck,” she rolled over, looking for her phone, but found nothing.

Shawn leant against the doorframe, watching as Y/N began waking up to her hangover. She was different, completely different from the last time they saw each other five years ago. He coddled the mug of coffee as he stood with joggers and no t-shirt.

Y/N pulled open the sheets revealing her in new clothes. An instant worry fled through her.

“Looking for this?” she looked up, seeing Shawn toying with her gun. Y/N kept a poker face and tried to cover everything. She has truly fucked up.

“Did we do anything?” he chuckled, placing the gun on the drawers and walking towards her.

“No, you got drunk. I don’t know where you live so I took you to my place, you vomited all over yourself, so I had to take off your clothes, shower you and put you to bed.”

Now that was embarrassing. Y/N pursed her lips together and stared at the male beauty in front of her. Shawn brought the coffee cup to his lips as he stared back at her.

“I-I am sorry?” he chuckled, her apology sounding like a question.

“Advil is next to you. Your purse is in the kitchen,” he got up and left the room, picking up the gun on the way out.

“You know this is illegal in Canada. Carrying one without a good reason,” he turned around and gave her a cheeky smile.

“You know me, Mendes, always breaking the rules.”

Her finger dragged against the wall as she exited to the bedroom, looking down the hallway in the big flat. She heard the mutter of a voice but had no rush to go towards it; gently taking her time. The black and white flat was definitely screaming ‘bachelor’, but Shawn was probably too addicted to his job to settle down.

“It is not nice to snoop,” she smiled at Shawn as he came around the kitchen counter to her. Y/N saw her gun behind him.

“I just took my time,” she muttered, placing her arms around his neck and gave him a gentle smile. He just stared at her.

Shawn was so organic. So raw and full of emotion while she was the opposite. He reckoned something happened in the last five years to make her so two-faced. Yet, she wasn’t the hippie he fell in love with when he was fifteen. Y/N was something else now. She was broken.

“Do you work with the police?” he asked, eyes staring at hers and Y/N choked.

“Fuck no,” she dropped her arms and went towards her purse to grab a cigarette. Shawn watched her, as she lit the stick.

“What happened to you?” she smiled, taking a puff in his house, which Shawn wasn’t appreciating.

“I grew up. I saw things I shouldn’t see. I have done things that are wrong. I am tough now, I guess,” Shawn crossed his arms and stared at her.

“I still love you,” he said Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Good on ya, then!” she winked, walking up to him and grabbed the gun and placing it back in her purse.

“That is not just any gun, Y/N, who are you and who are you working for?” she rolled her eyes at her past lover.

“I work for myself. I am a female, I can’t walk the streets without being attacked,” Shawn was beginning to get angry with her. This was not the attitude he wants. This is not the answers he wants right now. “How’s the business?” she was trying to change the conversation, “It’s not any business, eh? I see the roles of cash under the sink, I saw the gun rack that you hidden. I ain’t stupid.” She brought the cigarette to her lips and blew smoke.

“What are you?” she shook her head.

“I asked you first.”

“I own a global crime syndicate,” he told her, Y/N looked unaffected. “You’ve done worse?” she smiled, rubbing the cigarette on the granite.

“I ain’t your hippie gal anymore from high school; flower crowns, indie music, tattoos and long road trips. I am an assassin,” Shawn was emotionless.

“Then why are you here?” she shrugged.

“New client, wanted to say hi to you,” he stood, so done with all of this bullshit. She got up, walking towards the coffee machine and pouring herself a cup. “Well, thank you for the stay,” Y/N went to the bedroom with the mug and picked up the neatly folded clothes that belonged to her and went back to the living room.

“You’re just gonna leave?” she nodded, grabbing her handbag and shoving the dress in, while still holding the mug.

“Here is my business card, mister. I would love to do business with you. Also, you probably want your mug back so my number is there,” and she left with no turning back. Shawn was speechless. She was so odd nowadays; so mysterious.

-

Two days is all it took for him to call her. Her presence left a mark on him, and he couldn’t deal with the lack of Y/N in his life anymore. So, he gave her a date and time to meet up and he patiently waited to see that beauty again.

This was getting too much for her. She realised that she couldn’t keep up with what she is supposed to do. Shawn is the same. Y/N isn’t who she use to be, but Shawn is still the man she fell in love with all those years ago. But, being her stubborn self, she didn’t even accept the smallest feeling of all this.

“Nice office,” she said walking in. Shawn stood, normal clothes on; black skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt.

“Thanks,” Y/N walked around, looking at all the trinkets in the dark room.

“Do you still eat meat?” she nodded, sitting down and grabbing his sandwich and taking a bite into it, “I was gonna ask you for dinner, but that works too,” he mumbled as she smiled so innocently.

“I prefer drinks,” he nodded, watching how such an angel turned into such a demon.

“So, Eve, is it?” she glared and stopped chewing her food. Shawn smirked. This was a game between them.

“The funny thing, Y/N, is that I was looking for an assassin for this one guy and I found this gal Eve, I looked into her and boom she is sitting right in front of me,” he was leading her into something.

“Who do you want me to kill?”

-

Y/N sat on the roof of some apartment building that night, leather suit, a couple of guns, a shitty magazine and her inner demons; sounds like a perfect night.

Shawn hired her, giving her the file at that meeting and she went her merry way to kill this drug addict. It was fun. She sat on the rooftop, waiting for the junkie to fumble his way out of the club and the job is done.

This part of the job was the worst, the waiting. Y/N was victim to her own thoughts so, of course, thoughts of Shawn flooded in, but this was a job. Her life was a job.

-

“So, let me get this clear,” Geoff said, sitting at Shawn’s counter and took the beer from him, ”your first love is now an assassin and you think you’re still in love with her?” Shawn groaned, chugging his beer and helping himself with the next one.

“I am still in love with her. My ex-girlfriend is now some cold-hearted, murderous, no-emotion assassin and is somehow back in my life with no explanation. She broke up with me in Paris in an apartment that I thought we rented but turned out she bought it…besides the point. Y/N was this hippie who saw the good in everyone and danced in the meadow type of gal. Now, she is in some designer black dress with guns and heavy makeup and cares about getting drunk and killing people. I love her still, yes, always will, but I am worried,” Geoff nodded, watching his mate and partner in crime talk.

“People change,” Shawn shrugged.

“She’s out there right now, killing that white kid with the sword tattoo-”

“Ah, Sam. Yup, how much does he owe?” shawn glared, not appreciating his friend’s teasing.

“Let’s not talk about it,” Geoff laughed.

“The thing, dude, is that you’ve also changed. You run a crime gang and you kill people too. You two are not angels,” Shawn nodded.

“I know, but she isn’t my girl anymore, it’s just-”

“Weird, I know,” Shawn nodded. “Do you think she still loves you?” Shawn shrugged his shoulders.

“She is not easy to understand, that is one thing that is the same. But I love her still.”

“Then tell her, dude.”

He can’t tell her. She is on and off at times. One minute she is cheeky and in love and the next she doesn’t want anything to do with you. She was the most confusing creature he has definitely come across within his life. Eventually, he was interrupted by a doorbell.

“That would be her,” Shawn quickly headed to the door, and opened it, seeing her.

“I thought you’d give me something juicy, but you just gave me a deadbeat junkie who doesn’t know the difference between his roots and tips of his hair when he gets it dyed. The dude needed a serious makeup over,” Y/N just invited herself in and went straight to the kitchen counter. “What you have?”

Geoff looked at Shawn and mouthed, ‘that’s not normal’. Shawn nodded. Heading to grab her a beer.

“Y/N,” She nodded to the man next to her, and which Geoff replied with his name. She began busying herself with Geoff, talking about his job in the gang and all.

Overall, Geoff really liked her. She was funny, charismatic, good with her words, and let alone drop dead gorgeous. Shawn just watched from afar, busying himself with incoming emails and texts from the boys about the gang. She was letting loose a bit and he was enjoying watching from afar.

Shawn had to interrupt eventually, as Y/N began blessing Geoff with some high key embarrassing stories about Shawn. But, overall Y/N was beginning to adopt her original self.

“Nice meeting you, Geoff,” she said, giving him a hug as he grabbed his jacket and went out the door.

“You’re being friendly tonight,” Shawn smirked, walking towards her which she scoffed.

“I am always friendly,” Shawn raised an eyebrow.

“Three hours ago, you killed a guy,” Y/N stood, hands on her hips and had an open mouth.

“Let’s separate business with pleasure,” Shawn just stared at her with such sparkle in his eyes.

“So, we are now pleasure,” he grabbed her hips and looked at her, as a gentle smiled replaced her shock features and he bit his lip.

“I can be anything you want me to be, Mendes,” Y/N placed her hands into his hair and massaged his scalp lightly.

He smiled down at her, starting to massage her side of her hip and just stared at her, “Can I kiss you?” “You don’t need to ask.”

He leant in catching their lips and connecting them as one. She let go, the mission not even in her mind as her hands wandered his body. Up and down, her hands covered his back as his were in her hair. It was supposed to be an innocent kiss which led to much more.

She began walking, making Shawn walked backwards towards his bedroom. Y/N pulled them apart, letting her take a look at his lust filled eyes. Smirking she removed her shirt that she changed into before heading to Shawn’s flat. He just was gobsmacked, her body more mature than he has ever seen before. Round breasts are much more fuller now, complimenting her hips and feminine body. She was perfect.

“Take a picture, Mendes, it lasts longer,” he had no facial expression just staring at her with so much love. Y/N bit her lip and walked to him, slipping his shirt off and throwing it across the apartment.

“Bedroom?” he smiled, grabbing her cheeks and smashing his lips into a kiss, and placing his hands on her bum, a signal to jump.

Y/N’s legs wrapped around his hips as Shawn began walking to the bedroom, making out aggressively with this woman. They forgot how well their lips fit so perfectly, it is like they are somehow made for each other. It was awe striking. The exchange between them, aggressive yet so purely love of making out and manoeuvring around the big apartment.

Down the hallway they went, Y/N knocking a few paintings and a vase being broken which created both parties to laugh it off.

Eventually, she was thrown on the bed as Shawn crawled towards her, hands and knees on the mattress. She just stared, the exchange so hot between them; chemistry and hormones, a perfect mixture of.

Y/N kept a gentle stare, as she slowly removed her bra, making Shawn feel the obvious tent in his pants.

“You’re a rascal,” she laughed, grabbing his cheeks as he straddled her and bit her lip.

“I’m your rascal, mister,” the kiss began again, as her red-manicured fingers moved to his joggers, pushing them down and palming his boner.

Moans began to come out of his lips as their lips moved together, and her hand played with him.

“Y/N-” He was so easy to please, he was so soft for her and so easy. He was hard as hell, but he was a giant softie.

Y/N stopped as her hands moved to his back and gripping it. He was left there, completely naked, yet she wasn’t.

Shawn realised this and began pulling her leggings down as she flipped them; hands in his hair now.

It was heavy, sweaty and fast. They moved in motion and it was pure love now. He was all she was thinking about and likewise. It was perfect, two naked bodies intertwined.

“Condom,” she mumbled against his ear as she began to kiss his neck.

“Draw..” moan after moan, “on your left,” she nodded, disconnecting them as she rummaged his draw.

She ripped the packaging and rolled it down him, a hiss crowding the room. He was so hard, and it was all for her.

Shawn moved to be on top of her, Y/N’s back against the mattress as he positioned himself right in front of her entrance.

“It’s ok, hun,” she mumbled into his ear, placing a kiss on his cheek.

It surprised him. Shawn wasn’t going to complain about all this, but she was flirty and dominate when they saw each other a few days ago, but now she was her self from when they were together all those years ago. It was amazing. He was happy.

Shawn pushed himself in, the silent room now filled with silent moans, mumbles and hisses. He was big, but she got used to it quickly, as it was neither’s first time.

“Move,” she mumbled, connecting their lips, as her hand went down to his bum and gripped it, as he began to pump in and out of her petite body compared to his.

The room was filled with moans of each other’s names and swears exchanged between them as the pleasure was so needed.

“Fuck, faster, Shawn,” quickly, the lovemaking escalated to a full blown fuck fest.  Skin slapping began to occur as his balls hit her, he was so deep and the pleasure was beginning to override each other’s system.

Her hands were in his hair now and Shawn’s were on her hips, gripping hard as he pounded into her as hard as he could.

Sweated covered them as they yelled each other’s name. It was full-blown sex now. It wasn’t pure nor innocent, it was filthy and dirty sex.

Y/N began gripping the bedsheets, making Shawn notice it. She was close, as he. But, he kept having to go. Simple kisses were given to one another once and a while, but both were too focus on fucking the living daylight out of one another. She truly was a devil in the sheets.

Y/N got the force and flipped them, and began riding him even though she was close. She grabbed his cheeks and rolled her hips on him.

“Fucking hell, babe,” he mumbled, as she grabbed to grip his hair, as his hands went to her bump, gripping it with all his might as she moved so fast.

“I’m close, honey,” he mumbled, trying his best to form words at that moment.

All Y/N could do was nod and keep moving, she began moving her hands down to his neck and rolled faster and faster. She was truly a master at all this. It even hurt his mind to think who else she has done this too. Y/N was his and he was gonna make sure that was enforced.

They rode out their highs with one another, panting and a little chuckle came from both of them after Shawn squirted his seed into her. Y/N fell against the mattress and stared at the white ceiling, trying to catch her breath.

Both stayed like that for a moment, and Y/N did something she forgot she had the ability to do. She accepted emotions.

“I can’t kill you,” Shawn turned his head to Y/N, looking at her, yet her attention was focused on the ceiling.

“What?” she couldn’t do it.

“I can’t kill you,” Shawn was puzzled. He moved his body to be on his side and to place his hand in his lover’s hair.

“I don’t understand,” a tear fell from her eye. She hasn’t done this in years. Y/N was finally breaking.

“You stole my journal,” Y/N can’t look at him. Shawn sighed.

“I can explain,” she shook her head and sat up, pulling the duvet to cover herself. Shawn followed, grabbing her hands.

“My journal has lists upon lists about things,” he hasn’t looked at it, but he stole it, thinking it was a key to figure who she was. It was in her purse that night she stayed over, he couldn’t help it. “It has names upon names of people I have either had sex with or have killed,” he was gobsmacked.

“Do you love me?” tears were flooding down her eyes as she stared at the man who only had access to her heart. Shawn grabbed her cheeks and wiped her tears.

“I’ll always love you, honey,” she was crying now, Shawn grabbed her, shushing in her ear and repeating the same words over and over again, “I love you, so, so, so much.”

Y/N pulled away and looked at him. She was so broken.

“You’ll never forgive me, Shawnie,” he shook his head, mumbling a no, “I’m not in Toronto for no reason. I am here for a client, but I am with the police,” he was gobsmacked. She was the police, “I am not the police, but I have to work them or else I am put in either jail or put on death row.” Shawn doesn’t know how to absorb this. “I am here because the FBI found out about you, Shawn. I am here to kill you,” Shawn’s face stopped and he didn’t know how to feel.

“Y/N-” he began to get up, trying his best to form the right words. Y/N instantly got up, grabbing the blanket as he put his joggers on and walked to the living room.

“I can’t kill you, Shawn,” she yelled, following him.

“You need to leave, Y/N,” she shook her head, grabbing his arm and he had the most hatred in his eyes she has ever seen.

“You said, you said you love me,” he bit his lip and pulled his arm from her. Y/N was in tears.

“I can’t love you when you lied to me about everything. Was this,” he pointed between each other, “all an act? Get me to a point of vulnerability and then kill me in my sleep,” she shook her head, trying to get him to look at her.

“I love you, Shawnie—”

“Don’t say my name like that, you have the audacity to do that. You fucking bitch,” he shook his head, and begin picking up her clothes and throwing them at her.

“You fucking need to get out of my fucking house, you whore,” she stood still, grabbing her clothes and quickly put them on.

“If I leave, I’ll probably be dead by the morning.” “The world would be a better place, Y/N.”

-

She was gone by the morning, catching the earliest plane to the smallest Italian town she could find, which happened to be her father’s. Shawn was on her mind the whole time. He loves her, but of course, she had to ruin it all and for what? She was a mess and he was too, little did she know.

Y/N went to a little town outside of Lucca where her father lived. Shawn knew her since middle school, but her father is also in the Mafia business. Antonio was welcoming to his daughter with open arms and a kiss to a cheek. She needed a break with being ‘Eve’, flirtatious, alcoholic Eve.

She spent her first few days getting to know the locals, taking walks with her father and filling her nights with festivals in the town. She was happy. But, she became happier when a little stick told her a dream she never thought of.

Y/N was pregnant and even though they were careful, things happen. She was pregnant with Shawn’s baby and she was ok with that. Shawn wanted nothing to do with her, therefore she had no intention to tell him. It was her past and she was willing to let it go in favour to learn to love with this fetus. Nothing could stop her glow.

Italians are very sexy she learnt off the bat. They were extremely flirty, not like Brits at pubs in London, but even buying her bread from the bakery, the boy around nineteen gave her wink and a smile, while Y/N just shook her head and mumbled, ‘you wish’. Her life was perfect, with no killing and no murder.

Well, that is mostly an entire lie. Her father was still in the business therefore once and a while (roughly once a week - she didn’t mind), she’d hear a gunshot and someone hitting the ground. What she meant was, no one got killed by her. In her eyes, she was a changed woman.

Her fear of the FBI finding her was there, but her father was watching her every movement after he found out that she was growing his grandbaby. Antonio made sure no one touched his little girl since day one, but with the FBI on her track, he was extra protective.

She enjoyed her days. Y/N took up painting and drawing again. Her room was filled with landscapes of her life in pictures, besides the fact she is a murder. Her father’s mansion began being filled up with her art, but it wasn’t just landscapes about places in Amsterdam (where Shawn proposed to her and she said no) and Paris. In her closet, in a box was drawing after drawing of different mediums of one particular boy - Shawn.

His picture was embedded in her mind. When her pencil or charcoal hit the canvas, her hands automatically drew him. He was so easy to just draw.

Her pregnancy was a bliss. She learnt she was having a baby boy and her father was fulfilled with the thought of a little boy carrying the family’s name. Yet, Y/N wasn’t so happy with her father’s reaction. Her baby wasn’t going to have any business with their family’s past. No crime, no murder, no drugs or weapons. Look how she turned out. He was gonna be normal.

Matteo Otis Mendes was born that October. It wasn’t an awful birth, long labour, but it was all worth it. Y/N cried, holding onto the nurse’s hand as she pushed as hard as she could to deliver her little baby boy.

When his cries erupted into the room, her heart shattered. This love she has for this being was so different than any love she has never felt before. This love was unstoppable and indescribable. She loves that baby with every fibre with her being.

-

Shawn. Shawn regretted everything the moment he woke up the following morning to an empty bed.

It was all real. The fight, the truth, Y/N. He woke up and prayed it was a dream, but yet his pride took over him and he had to fuck up his potential relationship with the love of his life.

The dictionary didn’t have enough words to describe what a being Y/N was in his eyes. She was all that and bag of chips, as she’d say. But, she was it for him and the little truth that rolled out of the tongue, he had to make it ten times how it should’ve gone.

What the most difficult thing Shawn experienced months after her walking out the door, was that she was untrackable. At first, he checked every newscaster, praying that she wasn’t put on death row or jail. But, the girl is herself, and she can hide within a small village of five hundred and not be found.

Shawn had to go on with his life whether he liked it or not. But, his broken soul couldn’t deal with the lack of her presence again; the first time was hard enough. Therefore Geoff took over the business for a few months as he filled his nights with strangers and hard liquor.

That is what Y/N would do if she was in this position, but she wasn’t. In fact, he didn’t know how happy she was at the moment, holding her baby and watching him grow.

Eventually, Shawn got his shit together and went back to work. Yet, the journal of everything Y/N has ever done from it being a diary, her art and her kills, just had to be a reminder. But, he kept it, he loved her. He kept it in order to keep her memory alive.

Shawn knew he could never replace such a kindred spirit. She makes up more than just an average human being. She was it, but God had to be hateful and rip her away. He forgave her the second she walked out, yet it was too long before he could chase her down like Cinderella at midnight. All good things have to come to end eventually, they say.

So he moved on. He met a girl, they broke up, he met another one, they broke up. He lost hope for love but filled his days with overworking himself and praying for her to end up at his doorstep one day, yet that day never occurred.

Two years later, he and Geoff decided to have a deal with this man in Italy. He had good weapons and a good plan to bring them to Canada without being caught. So, he packed his best Armani suit and boarded on a plane.

The little flame of Y/N was still a tattoo in his brain, but she was like a death to him. There isn’t a day where he doesn't think of her. He carried that horrid journal everywhere, that and the engagement ring he proposed her with at the age of nineteen.

The little town, Romeo was the town Antonio resided in. He created this little town to branch his companies to cover his actual work. A working genius, Shawn would tell you. It was small, cute and screamed Y/N, which didn’t help him one bit.

He was welcomed by a few men in black suits, but he kept his facade on, big scary crime guy from Canada. He was tough, no facial expression and went with Geoff to meet this Italian man. He didn’t expect to see her.

Y/N sat on the doorstep, playing with blocks with Matteo in the sun. She was in a dress with a sun hat, and just stared at what a creation she created. Shawn stopped in his steps and just stared at this picture in front of him.

Y/N was with a little kid, playing with blocks and such a giant smile on her face. She was happy, while Shawn was miserable.

“Mistress Y/L/N,” the man nodded to her, she looked up and met with one of the men that worked with her father.

“Morning, Alexander,” she smiled, and looked behind him, “business appointment with my father?” they nodded and Y/N saw him. The smile on her face faded and bit her lip, trying to figure out what to say.

“Hello to you,” Shawn said, beginning walking to her but was stopped by an arm from Antonio’s man.

“Let him through, Alexander,” Y/N got up and walked towards the stranger yet friend.

“I tried to find you,” she smiled and looked down.

“I have to hide,” Shawn nodded, but she turned away.

“I’m sorry for my reaction,” Y/N smiled, picking up her baby and opening the door to her home.

“My father is waiting for you in his office,” she told him and went to the kitchen.

-

The meeting went fine and Antonio knew already who he was and the fact that he was the father to his grandson, but he held no grudges. He did know the full story about her job and her mission with him, and he completely understood Shawn’s feelings but his reaction was horrible. He hurt his baby girl but also blessed them with such an amazing child.

“You never told me your father is part of the Mafia,” Shawn walked into the kitchen seeing her with the child again, sitting, having a cup of tea as the little one was playing.

“It never came up,” Shawn rolled his eyes and sat next to her at the kitchen table.

“I knew you since we were like thirteen. I dated you and I met your father and all this time he has been in the criminal career,” Y/N watched her baby waddle to her, bringing her a block. “What’s his name?”

“Matteo,” she beamed. Shawn admired her with this child and just smiled. He’s glad she’s happy, she deserves it.

“Your husband must be happy that he is the spitting image of him,” Y/N opened her mouth and looked to Shawn and frowned.

“No husband. He was,” she tried to form the words, but Shawn bet her.

“I get it, I did it too. Slept with a bunch of people after you left,” she shook her head and looked at the man she is still in love with.

“He’s yours, Shawn,” she told him and Shawn just froze. Y/N couldn’t look at him, shame running her system never like before. “You said you wanted nothing to do with me. The FBI is on me and so I had to come here and hide.”

“How old is he?” she watched her baby.

“Fifteen months,” he looked at her and just watched her.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me,” Y/N looked up to the man that sat across her.

“I really wanted too. He is just perfect and I just wanted to tell you how perfect we made this baby,” her smile was so wide speaking about this young soul. Shawn smiled.

“Are you still in the business?” her head showed no and Shawn nodded.

“Wanted to raise him to be normal,” his love muttered.

Matteo walked up to them and Y/N scooped him up. A smile plastered on her face as she whispered words his ear and played with him. Shawn noticed Antonio in the doorway and all of a sudden he got the nerves he had when he was teen with her. Y/N just held her baby and Shawn smiled to her, grabbing his little hand.

“I want to try us again,” this sparked her interest and she looked at him. “I don’t hate you, I still love you, Y/N. I don’t care about the mission, I don’t care about your past. I love you and I want to be with you. I want to be there for Matteo. I want to be yours,” a little tear fell from her eyes as she looked at the man in front of her. She nodded, looking at him and gently moving the curls out of his eyes.

“I’d like that, Mendes.”

-

Tag list - comment, dm or inbox to be added:

@mendesnecessary @i-am-bisexual-and-a-girl @notunlimited @purple-cream-cheese @iimagineloves @ashwarren32 @claredolphinbear24

#shawn #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes preferences #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes blurb #gang leader shawn mendes #gang!shawn

[hellyeahomeland]

“Chalk One Up” | Directed by Seith Mann, Cinematography by David Klein

The episode opens with Carrie arriving from a long night out doing… God knows what with God knows who. We love the starkness of this close-up on the exterminated motorcycle light. According to Lesli Linka Glatter, this mode of transport is based on a real life story: 

“The scene where she gets out of the embassy was based on the real agent who Carrie is based on. She was based in Iraq at the time and that’s how she got out: by dressing as a man and traveling on a motorcycle. So, we used that for this. Also, you can’t leave in Kabul without an armored vehicle.”

...as the camera slowly pans up to reveal it’s Carrie underneath that (gigantor) motorcycle helmet, the question becomes clear: where the fuck was she? 

Sara loved these scenes between Samira and her friend. Homeland has depicted several cities in the Middle East over the years but has rarely given us glimpses into the world outside the walls of a hotel or CIA station, especially without our main characters. The market that Samira and her friend walk through is vibrant and filled with color, as are their outfits. It’s a stark contrast to the interiors of the CIA station. And Samira’s line that the Taliban didn’t go away but were no longer hiding proves remarkably predictive of the rest of the episode’s events.

The real highlight of the scene is the selfie, of course. We love the detail of the man on the far, far left being cut out. Samira’s friend is the master of the one-arm selfie! 

This shot of the various players at the Kabul station looking outward at Carrie is striking. It’s almost a reverse fish bowl. Carrie remains on the outside but everyone’s looks are in her direction. Jenna standing at the front of the room further suggests she was never “stuck in the starting gate.” She’s in the same position of power in that room as the Chief of Station and the commanding military officer at right. From afar, the dynamics are almost similar to early season one, Carrie running an ops meeting with Saul by her side. All of which is to say… is Jenna the Carrie to Mike’s Saul?

Dog.

This was such a specific detail that we thought it required pointing out, but 27 is not a significant number on this show (at least that we can remember), so we’re not sure why they bothered to show this. 

...unless it’s a reference to the general ominousness of the 27 Club and a hint that Carrie (who, to be fair, is far past the age of 27) is going to die. 

This week the show confirmed that Tasneem is the Director of the ISI. Which means that (after President Elizabeth Keane) she’s the second most powerful woman ever depicted on this show. And boy does she dress the part! 

Tasneem’s all-white ensemble is attention-grabbing and distinctive (the other women in this frame are dressed in dark clothes). It’s also visually similar--especially with her long, black hair peeking through the sheer fabric of her headscarf--to the dress worn by several other men at the reception.

Homeland has told lots of stories over the years--whether intentional or otherwise--about the challenges women face living in a patriarchal, misogynist society. Whether it’s Martha losing her career because her loser husband couldn’t stand having a wife who was more powerful and smarter than he…. Or Allison dying in the back of a car near the Russian border in an act of scorned lover revenge. Or Carrie, screaming and crying at the end of “The Vest”... but being right the whole time. 

Or, as Abigail Nussbaum said more elegantly than we ever could: 

“Carrie is, in many ways, a boogeyman; she is what professional women, and particularly ones in male-dominated professions, have been taught never to become - emotional, hysterical, crazy. Emotion is how women who want to be taken seriously are undermined and dismissed. Even if you’re perfectly sane, being emotional - and most especially, being angry - devalues you and your professional contribution. A woman can be called crazy simply for behaving like a normal human being rather than a robot (and of course, if she behaves robotically and unemotionally, she’s a cold bitch). But Carrie isn’t simply emotional (though she is that too, and worst of all, she allows her feelings for a man to cloud her judgment) - she actually is crazy and hysterical, in the proper clinical sense rather than the exaggerated one which attaches to any feminine display of emotion, and profoundly pathetic and unattractive in that state. And she’s completely right, the only person who figures out Brody and Abu Nazir’s plans and motivations, and the person who saves the day by being hysterical, infecting Brody’s daughter with enough of that hysteria that she calls her father and convinces him not to blow himself up.

It’s certainly possible to read this arc as purely tragic, Carrie’s self-destruction being the cost of saving the world (though this is a character arc that is applied to men as often as women, for example in Thomas Harris’s Red Dragon), but to my mind its effect is more complex. It makes a crazy, hysterical woman into a hero without in any way mitigating her craziness or hysteria, and thus defangs the argument that emotion in women is a weakness. It’s the rational, sane men around Carrie, who turn away from her unattractive mania with distaste and embarrassment, who are blind and incompetent, and it’s that same inability to look past surfaces that leads them to put their trust, wrongfully, in Brody - just as Carrie performs hysterical femininity, Brody performs stalwart masculinity. Both are misleading.”

All of which is to say, we’re really fucking pumped to see how Tasneem’s role expands for the rest of the season, and we think the array of women in Tasneem, Carrie, and Jenna and their varying degrees of power is going to be really interesting to see unfold. 

Sara is obsessed with this shot. She’s obsessed with the set design of Samira’s apartment. She’s obsessed with this moody lighting. She’s basically just obsessed. 

Last week we had a slow pan around Jalal to reveal Tasneem. This week we have a similar slow pan around Carrie to reveal Jenna. This definitely means that Sara’s theory that Jenna will “single white female” Carrie is right on track. 

Also, Gail hereby declares Carrie’s delicate silver jewelry her “FULL circle earrings,” because everything is coming full circle this episode, including accessories.

That said, we can’t deny the power of this shot. First, we have to note what’s going on in the background (which is actually in focus). President Beau has just arrived off Air Force One and immediately stops for a photo op with the Afghan president. From the beginning, the show is clear this is an optics-based trip. 

But we really love this image of Carrie and Jenna (out of focus, but in the foreground) side by side. Again, they mirror each other, but in opposite ways (“So they’re mirror opposites?” --Sara’s brain). Carrie’s light hair versus Jenna’s dark hair. Jenna’s light jacket versus Carrie’s dark one. It’s eerie.

On the podcast we talked at length about the scene between Beau and Carrie. It’s genuinely moving. The staging of it is unique as well. The camera shoots them both at the same height. They stand close together. Ironically, the power dynamic seems almost equal. He’s one of the few people who’s ever acknowledged the sacrifices she’s made in service of her country. 

Their twin smiles here are all the more tragic following the sequence of events that closes the episode. They all sincerely want peace. So many characters smile real, genuine smiles this week. That’s not a normal Homeland occurrence! 

And they all legitimately believe in what they’re doing. They believe they’re doing the right thing. Maybe they are. But partly out of necessity, and partly out of more selfish desires (Hayes later says it’s all about getting a second term), they get caught up in the theater of it all. They make poor decisions. They take the wrong risks.

Every so often in this series we have to abandon screenshots in favor of gifs in order to truly capture ~the moment~ and this is one of those times! The way Claire plays Carrie’s reaction here is so specific, so nuanced and strange and wonderful. These “lived in” moments are something we’ll really miss when the show is over.

IJLTP.

We’ve all been there, Carrie. 

This is another interesting shot choice. We’re not sure what its purpose is, other than to add interest to a fairly run-of-the-mill scene. But still, the set design! *heart eyes* 

Sara’s note for this shot was “Saul is so extra.” We talked about genuine and sincere smiles above and Saul’s here does qualify… sort of. This is halfway between genuine and self-aggrandizing. AKA “where Saul lives 100% of the time.” He looks like a director about to screen his short film at Sundance. The red curtains parting slowly behind him are Too Much.

Tasneem and G’ulom are the kids in the back of the classroom who are so fucking done with this shit but can’t leave because they’ll get detention. We will continue to stan. 

It’s a classic Homeland device to show a significant moment from a variety of perspectives, especially if those perspectives involve screens. The multitude of angles on Beau’s speech here reminded us a lot of Keane’s resignation speech in the Oval Office in “Paean to the People.” Coincidentally, that was her last hurrah as president too. 

(P.S. Another Saul over-the-shoulder shot!)

Two selfies in one episode! 

We loved the payoff to Max’s subplot. For once this season the weird LA filter actually looks nice! These are beautiful shots and the reflection in Max’s glasses is especially striking. 

The skull and crossbones on the barracks is an ominious detail. As is the rock labeled “Boredom Rock.” Death and boredom really have been the two extremes of Max’s stint at the combat outpost.

We’re still divided on the merits of the “Carrie has to save Samira” storyline, but the camerawork here, with Carrie’s armed hands appearing out of nowhere, was pretty cool. 

This RPG shot was one of the cooler special effects the show has done in a while. The entire sequence of Chalk One looking for Chalk Two was tense and thrilling and extremely well-executed.

Bringing us back to the ops room, the “LOSS OF SIGNAL” projected now for both helicopters is pretty chilling.

This is now Sara’s favorite shot of the entire series and we’d be remiss if we didn’t mention that it’s another over-the-shoulder Saul shot. This time he observes one of the crowning achievements of his long career literally blowing up in his face. 

Visually, this shot anchors the viewer back to the Carrie/Saul relationship, the central one of the show. The black blankness--and the failure it represents--engulfs the frame. 

We love the choice to end the episode on Carrie alone. It refocuses the event back to her. The horror in her eyes, welling up with tears, is palpable. How does Carrie feel? Alex Gansa explained that the writers wanted to create a new 9/11 with this maybe-assassination of the president. And it’s a fitting bookend for the show in many ways. In Homeland’s pilot, Carrie says she “missed something that day,” misdirecting blame to herself for not preventing 9/11. Now, in the final season, the show seems poised to tell a story in which Carrie is blamed for the “new 9/11.” 

Strap in, folks. It’s gonna be a rough ride. 

#homeland #homelandedit #in the director's chair #chalk one up #seith mann #* #by: sara #by: gail

[ill-skillsgard]

Patterns in the Ivy, Part 3 - Bill Skarsgård

Title: Patterns in the Ivy

Description: A continuation of Smoke & Money. Ghosts from the not-so-distant past come back to threaten her. She must choose between a lavish life of servitude or have everything she ever loved stripped away.

Warning: 18+ smut/swearing/mentions of drugs/kink & fetish themes

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

It was late and Ivany had fallen asleep on the couch between Bill and me. Her feet were across my lap and her head was in Bill's. I could feel myself growing more and more tired as the quiet minutes ticked by. I had slipped into this surreal headspace that was hard to shake. I was at home on my couch with my daughter, sitting in front of the same TV I had saved up to buy when she was a year old and across from me was Bill; a malignant force, an incessant shadow of a man that had hooks in me even after I thought I was free of him. I was uncomfortable and I could feel my body being galvanized by his mere presence. It was the most unbalanced I had felt in so long. I risked a look to my right and saw him drawing his fingers over pieces of Ivany's hair. He looked at her fondly and then as my stare became unsubtle, he looked up at me with glistening eyes. It was then I realized that Bill was simply human, like me, with complex emotions and methods that had been carved into him in patterns that I could not see. Bill was a stranger to me emotionally but in that precious moment, I saw something else besides the stoic, powerful man that got everything he wanted. "Do you want to bring her upstairs?" My voice cracked as I watched a tear roll down his pale cheek. He nodded and as we shifted, Ivany mumbled sleepily. Bill hooked her little frame underneath his long arms and slowly lifted her up from the couch. I followed behind, watching our daughter limply asleep in his possession. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was to see them together. In fact, my heart swelled and the tears that Bill had shed had somehow found their way to me. I stood at the doorway as Bill laid Ivany down gently in her bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin and giving her head one more loving stroke. After we left her to sleep, Bill then followed me back downstairs. He went towards the front door but stopped and turned to face me with an expression that told me he had more to say now that our daughter was out of the room. "I want to take you out tomorrow," he told me. Unsure of how to respond, I said nothing. I only watched him shove his hands into his pockets. "Why?" I finally asked. "Because I want to convince you that coming back home with me is a good idea... For all of us." I gave a wary look that suggested my suspicions surrounding him had not changed. "You threatened to take my child away from me Bill. Now you want to go out? Why can't you see how hard it is for me to react to all of this?" Bill shook his head, more to himself than at me. "I'm sorry. I had to get your attention. You have to know how serious I am." "You once had your chauffeur almost pull a gun on me. I think I know how serious you can be and that's what scares me. Ivany hasn't been exposed to that kind of thing before. Our life is simple... I don't want to complicate things for her." Bill's eyes circled around the living room. "She won't find anything complicated nor will you. Come out with me tomorrow night and I will show you just how uncomplicated I can make everything for us." I lowered my gaze to the floor and that was when Bill took a long step towards me, raising his hands to either side of my face, guiding my eyes back up to meet his. His eyebrows furrowed and those insatiable eyes bore into me as they liked to. With the pad of his thumb, he stroked my bottom lip tenderly. He bit down on his own lip and he looked positively lustful for a moment, causing me to shiver. "J, please. Don't fight me anymore. It's not going to get you anywhere. Just say that you will come out with me." "Okay," I breathed, unable to get my voice above a whisper. A smile of success rolled across that statuesque face and he pulled me into his embrace. I inhaled his scent and I was immediately intoxicated by it. Memories that I had tried hard to repress came flooding back just by the faded scent of his cologne. I remembered his house, his shoes, crawling around on his carpet. I remembered it all; the money, the smoke, the vulgar sex. It all became so vivid again. I let my arms encircle him too, our bodies pressing flush together and we stood like that for a while until he pulled back. "I'll pick you up at eight." He told me. I simply nodded, unwilling to say anything else lest my voice crack again. I watched as he went to the door to leave. "Oh, and J," He said as he turned the doorknob and opened the door, letting in the cool Summer night's air. "Yes?" His eyes darkened and he licked those appreciably full lips. "Don't wear any panties." I couldn't reply when he winked at me just before stepping out. I stood there motionless in the living room even after he was gone and tried to shake the feeling that was sending heatwaves through my body. Everything within me was screaming, sounding alarms, melting down and telling me that I should take Ivany now and run but there was one voice that was saying the one thing that I knew existed all along no matter how much I tried to deny it. 

Go with him. You can't deny that you want him. You want him bad.

~*~

The next day I called Kiki and asked her if she could watch Ivany for the night. She jumped at the opportunity to come over immediately, wanting every last detail of what was happening. I knew I couldn't put off telling her for long. She was my closest friend and only confidant. "I thought you said this guy was psycho?" Kiki asked as she sat on the lid of the toilet, watching me get ready for my night out with Bill. "He might be but..." I paused to make sure Ivany was occupied in the living room, which she was. "To be honest, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I can't ignore him, I can't run from him... I don't even know if I want to anymore." "So, are you going back West with him?" I sighed as I looked at myself up and down in the mirror. "I don't know. I don't want to leave but he wants Ivany to have all of these opportunities and I really can't compete with what he can offer." Kiki took her turn leaning over to watch Ivany playing with her stuffed rabbit in the living room. "Have you told her about him yet?" My red-stained lips turned down into a grim little frown at the thought of it. "No, not yet. That's kind of why I said yes to going out with him. If I'm going to tell her about him I want to get to know him a little more, test the waters I suppose. I can't just say to her 'oh by the way, sweetie, this man you don't know at all is actually your dad and guess what else? We're moving across the country!'." Both of us peered over and saw Ivany sitting on the floor surrounded by all her stuffed animals and dolls, completely oblivious to anything that was going on besides her make-believe tea party. Sometimes I wished I could be as blissfully ignorant to my surroundings the way she was. Kiki pouted. "I don't want you guys to go." I looked at her with the utmost sympathy. "I know. I really don't want it either. I want to stay here. I finally found a halfway decent place after spending so much time moving from dump to dump." "Can't you convince him to just move here?" She asked me. I gave my bottom lip one more swipe of lipstick before replying, "I don't know. Maybe. I guess we'll see how tonight goes." "Just let me know if you're going to be out late so I know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere." Laughing nervously, I smoothed out my dress and took in my reflection. By my standards, I looked really nice and it had been a long time since I had put on a dress. Kiki's eyes sparkled at me and she stood up to hug me warmly from behind. "You look so hot. You are so going to get laid tonight." I chuckled nervously again and for a moment with Kiki's arms around me, I felt like everything was going to somehow be okay. I gave Ivany a kiss and told her to behave even though she always did. Precisely at eight, a glistening jet-black Lincoln town car pulled up in front of our house and I couldn't help but shake my head at the unabashed opulence that was Bill Skarsgård's taste in vehicles. I stepped out of the house as his driver stepped out of the car and circled around to open the door for me. The driver wasn't the one I had met all those years ago. He was a shorter man with arms that could burst the seams of his sport coat if he flexed hard enough and a bald head that was almost as shiny as the Lincoln. Bill was awaiting me in the back seat. He had on this black suit with a white shirt underneath that was left unbuttoned at his collar. His hair was slicked back and he smelled as expensive as his vintage car. "Good evening," he said to me as I got comfortable beside him. It was easy to see that I was all nerves. I wasn't sure what to do with my hands and I didn't know where to let my eyes wander either. "Hello." Was all I could say. "That's a nice dress," he said, letting his eyes fall down the fabric of my outfit. "Thank you." As we drove off, Bill closed the window and cut off the view of the driver with the push of a button. The inside of the car was all black leather and polished wood. I had been inside a few vintage cars in my day and it looked like the interior had been updated to meet today's aesthetic standard. There was a pull-down armrest between Bill and I that he lifted so he could get closer to me. I couldn't believe how nervous I was around him. I used to get into the backs of cars with men I didn't know all the time and I didn't remember ever being so on edge. Then again, Bill wasn't just any man to me and I had no idea where we were going. I also wasn't the same girl anymore. "How is our daughter today?" He asked. "She's... She's perfect. As always." "I can see that. She certainly is a ray of sunshine." He said with a sigh. "She's so smart. I can't believe the words that come out of her mouth sometimes. It's like she's from another time." I could talk all day and night about Ivany but what I really wanted to know was why Bill insisted we go out together. I couldn't exactly ask him and I didn't want to appear ungrateful but I couldn't help but think in the back of my mind that this was some sort of manipulation tactic of his. "You seem tense. Do you want a drink?" Bill asked me after a long period of silence. "Yes, actually. That would be great." Of course, Bill had wine in the back of his car and there was even a selection. I shrugged when he asked me what kind I wanted. He poured one glass and handed it to me carefully and then went back to pour himself one. The sour taste of the wine coated my mouth and I made a little sound of appreciation as I swallowed it. Before I knew it I had drained three-quarters of the glass. Bill smirked at me and topped me up, never taking his eyes away from my face. I watched as Bill sipped the glass of wine he had poured for himself. I didn't entertain the thought that maybe he was just as nervous as I was but with a better capability of concealing it. Then I saw his wine-stained lips and the cool way he sat back, all relaxed and confident in the back of his nice car, long legs stretched out to take advantage of all the room. "There aren't too many nice places to eat around this town," Bill pointed out. "Small town. There aren't a lot of rich boys like you living around these parts," I said before my first laugh of the night. "I hope you don't mind, I'm taking you to the city. There's a place a friend of mine owns and I heard the food is good." "I guess I can't really say no. Not now anyway." He could sense my uneasiness. I could tell by the way he turned his body in towards me and laid his arm on the head of the seats behind me. "Would you do me a favour?" He asked. "What's that?" I asked between sips of wine. "Would you just relax and trust me?" When I stared at him he had this sparkle in his green eyes, the same green as Ivany's, a shade of hazy green that I had fallen in love with. The warmth of his body became apparent and all at once I was hyper-aware of how straight I was sitting. Bill reached over and took a piece of my hair between his fingertips. "Have I ever given you a reason to not trust me? Have I ever lied to you or deceived you in any way?" I tried to relax my spine and resorted to draining my second glass of wine to help. "It's not that, Bill. It's just the entire situation. I never thought I would see you again." "Why don't you want to see me?" "Bill..." "Listen, I know I may have come across insensitive the other night but let's be honest with each other right now. You and I both know that you wouldn't be here if you didn't actually want to be. You would have put up a fight, but you don't want to fight anymore, do you?" I sighed and sank further into the leather seat. "I don't know." "Can't you just be happy to see me?" "I'm trying," I replied. "Things will be different. I promise you. If you come home with me... You and Ivany will be set for life and you and I... Well. You and I will have our own fun, hm?" Bill got closer to me and I began to feel the stirring of lust inside my chest. "Don't you want to have fun with me?" He whispered close to my ear. "I guess so." His hand landed on my knee and I tried not to tense up. He was so close to me I could almost taste his breath. "You missed Daddy, didn't you?" His slender fingers slipped underneath the hem of my skirt and glided up my thigh. He kept his eyes to mine as he ran his fingers up my hip. I melted when he purred against my neck. It had been far too long since I had felt turned on by anyone. "And you forgot your panties, just like I asked. Now, tell me you don't want to have fun with me tonight." A smirk broke on my lips. Bill took his hand away and sat back a little, admiring the scenario and giving me a look of satisfaction. Bill and I finished a whole bottle of wine before we arrived at our destination. By the time we stepped out of the car I was already feeling kind of drunk. After the car pulled away, Bill led me inside with his hand on the small of my back, pulled the door open and let me through. Inside the restaurant, there was a polished classical piano being played and a hostess awaited us with a campy grin plastered to her face. "Skarsgård," Bill said with a nod and a sexy taste of a Swedish accent. "Right this way Mr. Skarsgård." We followed her through the restaurant that was checkered with square tables decked in silverware and geometrical salad plates. Most of the restaurant's patrons were dressed in designer clothing; taffeta dresses, pearls, Armani suits, glazed gold watches, hundred-dollar hairdos and perfectly white veneers flashing in the low light. I was horribly out of place but I knew I could fake it pretty well. Walking in with Bill and being shown to a room in the back of the restaurant definitely helped. There was a huge round table mounted on top of a platform that had booth-style seating all the way around it. The cushioning ballooned out and the table was big enough to seat about a dozen people but it was all for us. The walls were lined with creamy brocade wallpaper and a few paintings but other than that the room was quite simple. Elegant, but reserved. Once we were seated I started to feel the urge to drink again. I didn't want to get shit-faced but I felt like I had to maintain a steady level of intoxication in order to be able to carry on a conversation with Bill. The only thing him and I had in common was that we shared a daughter. Other than that, I had no idea what to say to him. Luckily for me, Bill was good at talking, much to my surprise. The brief amount of time I knew him certainly didn't allow for a lot of chitchat. Even the idea of him flirting with me was a new concept. Back then, when I was doing sketchy things for cash, he was all about business and never had much to say to me besides making his demands known. Now there was this whole other side of him that was being revealed to me. I found it interesting to just observe him, to hear what he ordered to eat and watch him interact with other people. It didn't take long before another bottle of wine arrived and I found it odd because Bill hadn't mentioned wanting any to the server yet. "Funny thing about having enough money is you end up getting things for free anyway," He pointed out to me after our drinks were poured. I took in every last inch of him from his silky brown hair to the tip of his nose, the corners of his mouth, the way he crossed his leg and how he flagrantly got extremely close to me after our orders were taken and the server left. "Can you tell me more about her? Our daughter," Bill's tone was entirely too innocent for how close he was to me. "Well, you already know that she's smart. Her teachers are all impressed by how quickly she learns. She can already write her whole name." Bill looked like he had been pinched after I said that. I knew it was because I hadn't given her his last name. I sighed as I watched him spin his wine glass by the stem, making the liquid swirl around and settle back down in the glass. "Look, Bill, I'm sorry that I left you and never told you about Ivany and I'm sorry she doesn't have your last name. I was in a bad place and, to be honest, I was terrified of you. I was just a young girl." "Certainly you don't feel terrified now?" He asked, his hand finding its way to my thigh again. "If anything, I find you more terrifying than ever," I said with a humorous tone. He darkened his stare at me and licked his bottom lip ever so slowly. He leaned closer to whisper in my ear, "you should be scared, little girl." Underneath the table he ran his palm flat up my leg, stopping briefly only to intensify the moment that he let one finger graze my unclothed slit. He held his finger there, surveying me to see my reaction. I didn't break eye contact with him for even a second and I knew he took that as a challenge. I was already sloshing with wine and the thought of Bill's long fingers toying with me made me swelter even more. "After this nice meal and a couple more drinks I'm going to eat that little pussy for dessert." My eyes rolled involuntarily after he said that and pulled my skirt down again. It wasn't too much longer until our food arrived. "Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr. Skarsgård? Madam?" The server asked. I shook my head and Bill rose his hand, the one that had just been touching me underneath the table. "That's all for now, thank you," Bill dismissed. We ate in silence mostly and I tried not to groan with each bite I took of my food. It had been a long time since I had eaten anything that I hadn't cooked myself and the five-star quality was made even better by the amount of wine I had in me. Bill didn't allude to whether he was enjoying his food or not. The piano music filtered in quietly and I started to feel a little more comfortable with my surroundings. It was easy to forget when every time I looked at Bill he was casting me this agonizingly lustful scintillation that made me feel like once we were alone somewhere I was going to be in for it. I kept having flashbacks to when we had met and he had me do things for him that nobody else had ever asked me to do. I remembered his shoes and the leather of his belt. The night we spent together in that filthy motel was something I often replayed in my mind but with him sitting right there next to me I felt like I was reliving it. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted him again. By the time we had finished and our dishes were taken away I was full and waiting for him to touch me again. Bill wasted little time after he wiped the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin and tossed it onto the table. "Did you enjoy that?" He asked me. "Yes. It was really good. Nice place." "We can eat at restaurants even nicer than this back at home, you know that right? We can do whatever the fuck we want." Bill got closer to me again, propping his elbow up on the table so he could use his hand to tilt my face towards his. "Go wherever we want. Fuck whenever we want. I could fuck you right here in this restaurant and nobody would stop me." I turned towards him, opening my chest up to him. His hand ran down my neck and down the shoulder strap of my dress. "Do you want to be able to do anything you want to?" "It would be nice," I replied. "Let me make it happen for us. Come back to the West Coast with me. We can leave next week." I bit down on my lip. There was no way I was going to agree with him yet. I wanted to hear him beg for it before I said yes. I wanted to listen to all of his grand promises and hear his velvety voice telling me what was in store for us. Mostly, I wanted him inside of me and I think he got the hint. Bill brought his mouth to my ear and his hand underneath my dress again. "Such a good girl, wearing no panties, just like Daddy asked." My skin prickled and I let out a hushed purr when he stroked two fingers over my clit. The sensation sent shock waves of pleasure through my body especially when he rubbed it a couple more times ever so gently. "Is your pussy wet for me?" He whispered. I nodded my head. "Yes, Daddy." "You promise?" I bit my lip and nodded again, moaning softly with each brush of his fingers he gave me. Spreading my legs a little bit wider made him groan as his lips fell down my neck. Suddenly, he pushed his index finger into me and absorbed my gasp at the same time with his mouth. He forced my lips apart and found my tongue with his so quickly I hardly had time to breathe. With his digit inside of me, I squirmed and when he pulled out and went back in I whined softly. He broke our kiss to stare into my eyes, forehead pressed to mine, finger working in and out of me slowly. "I missed my sweet little pussy." The leather of the seat became sticky on my skin as my body heated up. He made such an obscene show of fingering me as slowly as possible, grinning slyly as I tried not to make my pleasure too evident. It was hard though and soon I had to bite down on my lip to keep from squealing. Bill started getting a little quicker and it felt so good that I thought I might cry. Bill smothered my sounds with his mouth again, letting out his own groan of pleasure that only I could hear and taste. "I want to fuck you right here on this table, baby. Christ, that pussy is so wet for me. So, so wet. Say it." He demanded. "My pussy is so wet for you, Daddy." His eyes rolled to the back of his head. "Yes, sweet girl. Who does that dripping little cunt belong to, hm?" "You, Daddy," I whined. "Oh, I know you missed me. Only Daddy gets to make you this wet, isn't that right?" He whispered. From anyone else's perspective, it would have looked like Bill was simply speaking to me flirtatiously. Nobody could see him fingering me under the table. I really tried hard not to make any suggestive sounds but everything he was saying and doing to me was so dirty and delicious. "Bill!" Someone suddenly shouted. Bill yanked his finger out of me and I nearly gasped. There was someone standing at the door with his arms wide open, a jolly smile spread from cheek to cheek. Bill looked up with his big wide eyes and smiled. "There's my good friend!" The man sang. "I was actually singing your praises to my lady friend just now," Bill lied, popping the finger he had just been using to fuck me with into his mouth. I watched in awe as he sucked the moistness off that finger and gave me a knowing wink. The man held his palms to his chest. "Finally! The insatiable Mr. Skarsgård is accompanied by a beautiful woman! I never thought I would see the day." Bill gestured the surprise and I could only watch as the man approached and shook his hand. He turned out to be the owner of the restaurant and an old friend of Bill's but that was the only thing I gathered from the short exchange. I was still dumbfounded by how easily Bill played off just having been knuckle deep inside of me. Once they exchanged courtesies we were left alone again and I let out a pent-up breath I had been holding since the moment his name was shouted. I couldn't help but laugh and Bill couldn't either. "Let's get the fuck out of here. I'm nowhere near done with that pussy yet." Bill told me. After he laid down an undisclosed amount of cash on the table, he took my hand and guided me up and around the table's edge and didn't let go as we walked out of the restaurant.

#bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgård smut #bill skarsgard smut #fanfiction

[cygnahime]

FFX Liverebloggening Part 2

Starting from wandering into Besaid Temple for the Cloister, because Tidus worries about complete strangers and doesn’t care about rules. What a good boy.

I used to have such troubles with the Cloisters. I remember calling my friend in desperation at Kilika to get me unstuck. Now, of course, I know them by heart. Poor Lulu, trying to lecture Wakka and suddenly there's someone with the face of her dead boyfriend staring at her. That would throw anyone off. I love Yuna's outfit in FMV. It's so pretty. I mean, Yuna is also very pretty, but I love how the fabric goes. Her hair is darker in the Remaster. What's up with that? I love seeing Yuna interact with Valefor. It's really good how her summon animations involve her doing it too. They're not just combat devices for her. Yuna's second lines, and she's already both taking everything on herself and subtly resisting what she thinks are unfair restrictions. That's good characterization. "Do you think I can become high summoner die in the most effective manner?" What a conversation to have with someone you just met and are kind of attracted to! Yuna, honey. Honey, no. Wakka thinks there's no way Yuna would make a move on Tidus when she's going to die. Little does he know, she wants to live what's left of her life to the fullest. She's subtle about it, like a Good Girl, but she definitely expresses her interest after this. I love Tidus's dream. It's so weird. ...Fuck off, Jecht. No one wants to listen to you. Is this the real Jecht speaking through dreams, or just Tidus's mental image of his father? Either way, pretty damning. Lulu is upset, not entirely justifiably. What was Wakka supposed to do, leave the guy on the beach and hope he died of thirst before disrupting their mourning? That's just silly. It's unfortunate, but it's not anyone's fault. The unspoken: Yuna's leaving Besaid for the last time; we're not making her leave alone. (I mean, except for when we come back immediately for Valefor's Overdrive. And later, for the Jecht Sphere. And theoretically even later than that, to beat Dark Valefor. But they don't know about any of that.) Do they not have magic in Zanarkand? That would be inconsistent with it having been a land of summoners, but Tidus seems confused about Lulu's black magic. Of course, it's really all about introducing the player to magic, but you know, Watsonian vs Doylist, gotta go Watsonian where possible. Except when dealing with misogyny/racism/homophobia, because in that case the creators don't get to hide from my wrath. Dude, O'aka, of course my clothes aren't clean: I'm wearing them! It's a long, sweat-soaked trip from Besaid Village to the boat. Also, everyone in this game appears to have only one outfit, and Tidus certainly does. Spiran ecology count: several chocobos, harnessed to provide human transportation. Poor things. Talking about Yuna having "noble" blood makes me wonder if there are other descendants/family members of the other High Summoners out there, maybe in Bevelle, and if they have any kind of position of privilege. Wonder what Yuna's life would have been like if Kimahri hadn't found her... Probably not as good. Braska knew what he was about, making Auron promise to take her away from all that. "You know, our meeting like this must be the blessing of Yevon." Yuna, was that a line? It sure sounds like a line. Yuna understands the sailors wanting to attract Sin's attention to keep it away from Kilika, because that's just what she's doing too, albeit on a larger scale. So of course she forgives them. Love how Tidus can still hold his breath/breathe water while unconscious. Spiran ecology count: a pair of dolphins, who hopefully escape the Sinspawn. The Sending, aka the most beautiful necromancy scene in video game history. I wonder how many non-pilgrimage summoners there are around to do these things, or if everywhere except maybe Bevelle is reliant on whoever happens to be passing through. Apprentice summoners have to learn from someone after all, don't they? Poor Lulu has forced herself to become resigned to Yuna's death. She doesn't want it, she doesn't like it, but she is in some ways as tied to Spira's culture as Wakka is, and she's been drowned since birth in the philosophy that accepting death is the greatest good - after all, if you don't accept death, you become a fiend, and that's horrible, isn't it? You don't want to hurt the people you leave behind. If it's inevitable, you have to accept it. Meanwhile Tidus is struggling to comprehend that for the people of Spira, this is just another day - a disaster, yes, but not something they can stop for, or they'd never get any living done. Aw yeah blitzball kid! You live your dreams, kid! Fact I just discovered: you can examine blitzball players with square before the game tells you it's possible. You can't do anything about it, but you can see who they are. And here's Yuna, definitely coming on to Tidus in the best way she knows how. Tidus doesn't get it, because he's a doofus, but I think Wakka definitely does. So you know it's obvious. At least, it is if you know Yuna is saying she wants to be around Tidus for the rest of her life. I love...Yuna running up the stairs instead of starting off the race. It shows her mischievous side, which can get lost among all the noble self-sacrifice. She's still seventeen and a little silly. Leveling early on is a delicate balance; you want to get stronger, but ability spheres are at a premium and everyone comes up on new abilities pretty fast. Lulu definitely feels like everyone around her is projecting the dead onto each other, and she's the only one seeing them as themselves. It's not just about Chappu; it's also about Yuna trying to be her father, associating Tidus with his father. Those dead can't be replaced either. Oh hey it's the Asshole Squad. I'm going to kick their asses, no matter how often I have to reset. That's what my team deserves. Yuna definitely saw a version of Jecht who was on his company manners, and also, the second time, who had become less of a jerk. But the company manners had a lot to do with it. People can be very different with other people's kids. Dona appears, in her clothing-term-used-loosely. I really softened up on her my second playthrough -- once you know she also is planning to die at the end of her trip, she becomes more complex. After all, it would be a kindness to beat Yuna, wouldn't it? That said, I love Yuna gently sassing the shit out of her. "But I would never dream of questioning your ways, either, because I am more polite than you."

#Cygna Fantasy X #FFX #Final Fantasy X

[puckleisdreaming]

The bar was empty apart from one old man over by the slot machine in the corner. He’d been there all night as far as I could tell and hadn’t so much as gotten up to relieve himself in at least the two hours I’d been here. Every now and again he’d post another coin in and pull the big red lever on the side of the machine and it would light up and play a little tune as the wheels spun and then ‘thunk, thunk, thunk’. Sometimes this was followed by a metallic trickle of change as the machine begrudgingly vomited forth some coins only for them to find their way back inside as the man continued to play his games. I couldn’t understand it. They say the definition of madness is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, I can’t remember where I’d heard that. But if that’s the case this guy had to be absolutely fricking nuts, like out of his mind crazy considering how many times he’d pulled that fucking lever. Again and again he’d yank it and the machine would make that noise like an old washing machine with a brick in it. I’d come to brood and here was this old nutcase throwing money away over and over and for what? What was he hoping would happen?

I was getting wound up over nothing, I turned back to my beer. It was a miserable night and the damp that the patrons of the evening had tramped in and out of the place had suffused the air with a nasty humidity that fugged up the back of my throat. I kept sipping this beer to try and clear it but it didn’t work.

“You must really hate yourself.” Anette took the stool next to me and looked right at me. The way she was staring it was like she could burn holes in my temple, I just kept staring straight down at the beer. Ca-chunk went the lever as the psycho in the corner pulled it again and tumble tumble tumble went the wheels.

“What do you want, I’m busy.” I took another sip and glanced at her through the corner of my eye. She must have been on a job dressed up the way she was. Her freckled face was framed by crinkly blue black hair. She’d died it a few months back and now it reminded me of the ribbon inside cassette tapes all scrunched up the way it caught the light sometimes. New glasses and boots too, someone was paying her good money. I wasn’t used to seeing her in a dress and the sleek black number stuck out painfully here, if it wasn’t so empty, the attention she was drawing would have made me feel sick. My palms started itching.

“I can see that, just like you’ve been busy every night for weeks.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

“I’ve got better things to do than watch you every night but you know we’ve got eye’s and ears, you weren’t going to be able to just stop calling us and hope to slip away”

“I don’t see why not, it’s not like you need my help.”

I dropped a handful of coppers on the bar for a tip and headed out leaving the beer half drunk, Anette cannoned it down before following me out the door. I pulled my collar up against the rain hoping the foul weather would dissuade her, she had a U-field up. No such luck. I stopped and turned to face her watching the rain as it got caught in the static field being projected by the small device attached to her wrist. The droplets got within a foot of her head before slowing to an eery stop about two inches from her hair. They vibrated slightly caught between their momentum carrying them forward and the static field pushing them away before they spat off the field like water splashed on a hot pan. She stood there fizzing and spitting water out in every direction forming strange rainbows caught in the neon light of the nearby bars and casinos.

“Wasn’t it you who told me only assholes use U-fields? Spraying every passerby without one in the face as you walk by.”

“That was before rain water became the leading cause of skin cancer. Got sick of stabbing myself with a syringe full of Oncoligon every time I got caught in a shower.”

“Rather that than give some poor sod ocular just for passing me in the street.”

“Are we going to do this all night? You’ve been in that bar every evening for three weeks. If you were drinking yourself to death I’d be less concerned but you’re not and you’re not returning our calls so tell me what’s going on with you.”

She was more pissed off than I thought she was, crackling there like a live wire out in the rain. I’d known Anette long enough to know not to get her too wound up, she had a tendency to lose it and like all Neomancers when she lost it people tended to end up needing retinal surgeries. It had been a while since I’d seen her at work but I was watching for the tell tale signs, flickering electrics nearby, a slight glow to her skin.

“We’re friends, I think I’ve been very generous with the time I’ve bought you, but people are starting to wonder when you’re coming back into the fold. I’ve told them all you’re good for it, that you’re just getting your head together but when you took off you made a few people look very stupid and you know what happens when certain people are made to look stupid.

“I told you Anette. I don’t have it. I don’t know what happened in that vault but I don’t have it. If I’d made it out of there with a mancy like that don’t you think I would have made use of it by now? A sorry sap like me I could have sold it for a fortune, paid everyone off, and still had money left over to make a break for it. If I’d collected what we were looking for that night and wanted to make a getaway I would be gone.”

She moved like lightening. The world exploded in agony as ice picks were smashed through my eyeballs and my brain burst with white. Lights out.

I came to on a cold concrete floor, as my eyes began to focus I was aware my clothes were still damp, couldn’t have been long since our little chat. The headache I had was splitting and my vision was fuzzy, my periphery dropping away to a hazy blackness like I had weird tunnel vision. From what I could make out I was in a small room with a steel door, the only light was a fluorescent tube up in the ceiling and there were no windows. Guess I was staying put. I crawled over to the wall and placed my forehead against the cool concrete hoping to curb the oncoming migraine. I hadn’t been hit by Anette before but I’d seen her wipe out others, I found a sudden deep well of sympathy for her victims. She’d been training with someone as well. She’d always been tougher than a carrier like me but I was quick at least and made a living off of being able to get out of trouble. Sure I was a few weeks out of practice but she had definitely gotten faster.

Without moving I considered my situation. Concrete walls, no windows, probably a basement. As it was Anette who picked me up it was most likely one of Desto’s spots but without more information I couldn’t guess where. There were hundreds of Desto’s places all over Avon and I could have been bundled to any one of them whilst I was out cold. Up until fairly recently Desto had been my employer and ever since Anette had joined two years ago she’d been Desto’s number two. Most of Desto’s income came from snatch jobs and implantation surgeries so she had plenty of carriers in her employ. Her mancer’s were always there for when she needed a little more muscle but she preferred to keep a low profile for most of her work. I found a small crack in the concrete wall next to my cheek and traced it with a finger, feeling the rough texture and waiting for the beating that would inevitably be coming. It was the best gig around if you could get into a boss’s good graces but pissing them off was verging on suicidal.

Thinking about that stupid man and his stupid slot machine, how many times had he been there in the weeks I’d been frequenting that place? Every time I’d gone I knew it was stupid to keep returning to the same spot but I’m a creature of habit. I don’t like change. What happened in the vault had shaken me and suddenly the dashing high life of working for a boss didn’t seem quite so desirable. I wanted out and I had let myself dream that word would get back to Desto that the job had gone to shit but all she’d lost was a carrier. She had hundreds of me in her employ, no skin off her nose if one got caught by the enemy and beaten to a bloody pulp. Maybe, just maybe, she’d decide to cut her losses and forget about it, forget about me.

It had been a risky job, we always knew that, but word had gotten out that Jacob had some crazy mancy stored down in his vault whilst he tried to find someone who could make an implant that could carry the thing. Mancies came in all shapes and sizes and the more powerful the mancy the more complex the implant you needed to integrate it. Any sucker can carry the thing around but to properly integrate a complex bit of Arch tech with the human nervous system took serious technology. Most bosses have vaults to keep mancies they find whilst their techs fabricate integrations for them. Even when the tech was done you had to pretty much just hope you were compatible with it. Different mancies integrated with different people. Anette was a neomancer, her little bit of Arch tech that sat in a chip at the base of her skull allowed her to project and control, to some extent, visible light. How? I don’t know, ask the techs, but it’s all because of that micro chip at the top of her spine.

I’m no mancer, I’m a carrier. Outfitted with an all purpose petabyte microdrive in my forearm I can carry pretty much any non integrated mancy as long as I can get close enough to download it. No one fully understands Arch tech but the one thing we do know is the file sizes are enormous. Stupid big. Even the flashest of new computers couldn’t come close to needing the kind of square footage these things needed in dataspace. So they load up people with massive drives, hook the drives up to our metabolics for fuel and send us around to carry them from place to place. Wireless would take years and a simple portable drive won’t do it. You need something with some serious horse power and you know what’s easier than lugging around a hard drive hooked up to a car battery? Knitting a microdrive into the cardiovascular system of a human being.

#writing #fiction #scifi #samantha shannon #inspired