#finding/making references was a FUCKIN BITCH

[fightzaynfight]

⛓️⚜️𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲⚜️⛓️

i feel like this is exceptionally late, given that payback was over a week ago, but i couldn't pass up an opportunity to draw kevin covered in his own blood. he and sami didn't win on paper, but they did steal the show, which is just as good in my eyes 😎 [alt text available]

[lordprettyflackotara]

dance w the devil || ticci toby & kate the chaser

smut MINORS DNI 18+. tw: you’ve been kidnapped sorry, weed usage, choking, virgin!toby, boss bitch slightly less feral than cannon!kate, mentions of physical abuse (yk, since you’ve been kidnapped)

You sat in the cold basement, shivering as the concrete scratched against your skin. The chains bonded to your wrist rattled as you shifted uncomfortably, the blinding light of the basement door opening making you cringe. You squinted your eyes, expecting to see the familiar shapes of Masky and Hoodie. The two hell hounds that belonged to the devil, you had decided. You had enough bruises on you to justify your judgment. You were surprised to see two new visitors, ones you hadn’t seen before. One was tall and lanky, orange goggles covering his eyes and a tarnished face mask covering the rest of his face. Beside him is what you assumed to be a woman, her face covered with a similar mask to Masky’s.

Her hands were shoved into her hoodie’s pocket, while the man carried an axe slung over his shoulder. They flicked on the light switch, the light bulb being held by a string above you sparking to life. You narrowed your eyes as you examined them, the two not as in sync as Masky and Hoodie. “H-Hello there!” The man greeted, crouching down to your level. He attempted to caresses your face, causing you to instinctively try to bite him. Your body was completely restrained except for your mouth. This was done purposefully, the hell hounds hoping you’d spew whatever they wanted to know. But you didn’t know what they were talking about at all, leading you to be trapped in the dreaded basement until you spewed up whatever they were looking for. Your teeth clashed together as the man pulled his hand away, chuckling as he looked back at his partner.

“Wow s-she’s almost as f-feisty as you Kate!”

The woman now known as Kate rolled her eyes under her mask. “Shut it goggles,” She hissed. The brunette lifted up his goggles, his chocolate eyes searching yours. You weren’t quite sure what for, your heart pounding as you tried to back away. “Jesus t-they made those p-pretty tight huh?” The man asked, referring to your restraints. You slowly nodded, unsure if the truth would bite you in the ass. He reached forward, assertively grabbing your bound wrist and unlocking it. You watched the metal fall and hit the floor with a clank, your hands instantly shooting to rub your sore wrist. “My names T-Toby, but you can call m-me whatever you want,” He purred. You blinked, attempting to move further away from the brunette. Kate grabbed his shoulder, shoving his backwards. “Shut up you’re scaring her,” She barked. It was apparent to you the two weren’t too fond of one another. It made you question why they decided to come together and not alone.

“Alright i’ll cut to the chase so goggles stops trying to butter you up like a shitty piece of cornbread,” Kate spat. She crouched down to your level, sliding up her mask. If you took away the dried blood splatters and dirt that painted different parts of her face, she was quite pretty for such a feral woman. “We’ve come here with an offer we think you’ll find quite enticing,” She continued. You managed to maintain eye contact with her, her rough voice somehow soothing to you throughout the terror. “You see kid, Toby’s a little virgin with no woman experience and you can bet your sweet ass i’m not going to be a test subject,” Kate went on. You felt your eyes widened as you knew where this was going, instantly trying to use your freed hands to back away. “Nuh uh, absolutely no fuckin way,” You snapped. Toby went to intervene, Kate’s hand stopping him. It was her silent way of telling him to give her a second. “Hold that thought, let me finish,” She said. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tucked your knees to your chest.

“Toby here can just guess how to fuck a girl. But foreplay? He doesn’t know shit. You let me teach him how to make a girl cum and we’ll let you spend some time in the sunshine,” She told you. You couldn’t hide the sight of your face lighting up. “You’ll let me go outside?” You asked. Toby tried to approach you again, both of them crouched down and to your eye level. Kate cut him off before he could talk, knowing her pitch landed. “It’ll be supervised of course, but you look like you could use some vitamin D,” She clarified. The thought of seeing raw and bright sunshine filled you with joy, your feet aching to touch the grass outside. It was hard to recall the last time you had been in the suns warmth. It was a miracle the hell hounds let you use the bathroom in peace. You began to agree, the realization of your filth occurring to you. “I’m uh, not the cleanest though, I don’t know,” You answered hesitantly. Kate delivered Toby a wicked grin, one that sent a chill down your spine.

“Why don’t we get you a bath kid?”

You were hesitant to undress in front of the duo, the bathroom much cleaner than the basement. “This is mine and Jane’s personal bathroom. You’re welcome kid. The majority of the residents here are gross,” Kate said, noticing your gawking. You took that as your cue to undress, shoving your shirt over your head. Glancing at yourself in the mirror you hardly recognized yourself, having lost weight dramatically and your cheeks hollowed. Toby turned on the water, checking the temperature to ensure it was nice and warm. He couldn’t help himself from staring at you as you awkwardly stood there naked, avoiding his assertive gaze. Kate pressed up against you, her breath hot against your ear. “Don’t worry kid he’s just admiring,” She cooed. Her fingertips traced over a bruise Masky had given you, the skin becoming a dark purple. “Damn, Masky got you good huh?” She muttered to herself. It was then Toby extended his hand, guiding you towards the bathtub. Kate went around him, pouring some bubble bath into the tub to create soap.

The inviting scent of vanilla flooded your nostrils, putting you slightly at ease. You swallowed as you took his hand, allowing him to guide you into the bath. You were shaky as you sat down, the waters warmth causing you to let out a relieved sigh. It was only when Kate sat on the edge of the tub the reality of the situation came crashing back down. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of a lighter, fear washing over you. “Relax, this is more for you than it is for me,” Kate said casually. The familiar smell of weed clashed with the vanilla, your eyes watching her take a deep inhale. “I-Is this really n-necessary?” Toby asked. Kate rolled her eyes, handing the freshly lit joint to you as she exhaled. “Do you want her relaxed or not? You can’t make a girl cum if she’s scared of you. Unless she’s into that,” Kate replied. You tried to flick the water off of your finger tips as you took the joint with a shaky hand. “Are you into that?” Kate added, glancing at you. You nervously inhaled the joint, hoping whatever they laced it with would cause you to not remember this humiliating ritual. “N-Not on the first date no,” You sputtered, coughing as you exhaled.

Kate grinned at the sight, Toby kneeling beside the bathtub. You went to hand it back to her, causing her to shake her head. “I think you may need that. Let’s get on with it so goggles here can get his rocks off. Open your legs,” She commanded. You did as instructed, Toby eagerly shoving his hoodie sleeve up to his elbow. He used his right hand specifically, your fearful gaze not failing to notice his left was covered in bandages. You nervously inhaled the joint as Toby’s hand dipped into the water, awkwardly cupping your cunt. “Alright goggles you know where the clit is right?” Kate asked. You avoided eye contact as your face became red, the smoke leaving your lips. Toby rolled his eyes, cockily placing his thumb on your clit. “Y-Yes Kate i’ve seen p-p-porn,” He quipped. Kate glanced at you, finding your flushed face quite cute as you stiffened in the tub. “Alright genius go ahead and rub slow circles around it, get her to loosen up a bit,” She instructed. Without arguing he listened, causing you to unexpectedly whimper. Your body responded well to his touch to your surprise, your hesitation floating away with each full circle he did. “Good job, now go ahead and put a finger in there. You needa make sure she can hypothetically adjust to your size. Not that I think there’s much to worry about,” Kate guided. With his spare hand Toby playfully slapped her leg, before doing as instructed.

This time you groaned, feeling his single digit exploring your walls. “Hear that goggles? Thats what we wanna hear. Add another one,” Kate continued. You felt a slight stretch as he added in a second finger, your walls clinging to him. “Now do a scissoring motion,” Kate added, accepting the joint as you passed it to her. You could feel the drug swirling around your lungs, your body relaxing and becoming content in the tub. “A s-scissoring motion? T-that sounds fuckin s-stupid,” Toby bickered. You tried to grind your hips against the brunettes hand, your core now throbbing with desire and desperation. “Do you see how desperate she is goggles? Get with the program. Jesus, nevermind. Just curl your fingers,” Kate sighed, before inhaling the joint. You gasped as he did so, curling perfectly against your g spot. You involuntarily moaned his name, becoming even more embarrassed once you had realized what you had done. “See goggles? Thats what you’re supposed to hear. Go faster,” Kate ordered. Toby seemed to understand, his own cheeks turning pink as he curled them faster inside of you.

Your gummy walls came to life, clinging onto his slender fingers as he abused your g spot. You gripped the sides of the tub, the high only increasing the euphoria the awkward brunette was providing. He could feel his cock growing harder in his pants, tucking his bottom lip in between his teeth. Your moans bounced off the walls of the bathroom, the sound so sinful you refrained from thinking of anyone hearing it. “There we go, now she’s starting to loosen up. Keep rubbing the circles. That’ll push her over the edge,” Kate instructed, continuing to smoke the joint as she watched the pornographic scene unfold. Once Toby had the green light it made him go faster and harder, abusing your g spot with his fingers as he watched you come undone for him. Your eyes landed on his, the two of you entranced with the other as he finger fucked you. “F-feel good?” Toby asked. You licked your dry lips, forcing yourself to form a coherent sentence. “So good, please don’t stop,” You whined, his fingers relentless as he played with your cunt.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tighten, your knuckles turning white from gripping the sides of the tub so hard. “You see goggles sometimes she’ll need a little extra push to cum. Let me help,” Kate offered. You watched her flick what was left of the joint aside, before her pale hand wrapped itself around your neck. You audibly gasped, your gaze flickering to her. “Nuh uh kid. Don’t look at me. Look at him while you cum on his fingers like the good little slut you are,” Kate hissed. You whined as her fingers restricted your airway, your vision seeing spots and stars as your hips grinding against Toby’s hand. You tried to obey Kate’s command, maintaining eye contact with Toby as your orgasm crashed down over you. Your vision went white, your thighs trembling and splashing the water as you came. Your thighs attempted to shut, Toby’s hand refusing to leave your cunt. Kate chuckled as she released your throat, allowing you to breathe fully. As you inhaled the duo exchanged looks before returning their gaze to you.

“You didn’t think that was it did you? Goggles needs a full lesson and that was just the start up.”

[pasukiyo]

DRUNK ON YOU

journalist!anakin skywalker x f!ice skater!reader word count; 4,344 warnings; unprotected p in v sex, verbal and physical abuse from an ice skating coach?, anakin may or may not be following reader idk who knows!! summary; ice skating has been her life for as long as she can remember. she's not sure why her head hasn't been in it lately, and her coach certainly has something to say about it. thank god the cute and awkward journalist anakin was there though, right?

 “Have you forgotten how to land a fuckin’ axel?”

 Cold bit into her palms and pain flared up the muscles of her thigh as she pushed herself onto her knees, lips agape as she panted. She’d fallen so hard, bile was beginning to brew at the base of her throat, burning the pipe. 

 “Hey, are you even fuckin’ listening to me?”

 Her hands were starting to numb and she should really get herself up off the ice. She was creating a scene— although this was a private lesson, she knew there still remained one man in the stands, one who she could see’s gaze fleeting back and forth between her and the ground from her periphery. Normally, she’d care enough about her dignity to get herself up as if nothing had ever happened. 

 But she was just so tired, so frustrated. Her legs hurt like hell, her feet feeling like they’d pop off any moment now. And her son of a bitch of a coach’s voice was really starting to irritate her. 

 “Hey!” Speaking of her coach, she was skating her way, deep rouge lips pursed in vexation. Her eyelids fluttered themselves closed as she sighed, rolling her head back to hang towards the ground below. 

 Finally, she pushed herself off the ice, wiping her palms against her leggings and the moment she opened her eyes, her coach was in her face, fingers that weren’t her own tangled in the hair on the back of her head. She pressed her lips together to stifle any sound that may come out of her mouth, a sharp exhale still sneaking its way past her nostrils as her coach tugged on the tendrils she had between her fingers, angling her face so that she had to look up at her. 

“Where the fuck is your head, huh?” Her coach practically spat in her face, lips curling in disgust. “We’ve a competition in one week and you’re here actin’ like a goddamn fool,” she hissed. “You like embarrassing me?”

 She said nothing, her eyelids narrowing as she stared back at the stormy irises of her coach. Her coach sniffed and leaned away, recognizing the narrowing of her eyes for what it was— a challenge. 

 “You wanna embarrass me here, kid?” Her coach said after a long moment of silence. “Fine. But trust me,” she stepped closer, too close to ensure she could look down at her student. “You don’t wanna fuck around and find out what happens if you try me out there.”

 “You’re the one embarrassing yourself,” she spat in a low, hushed whisper in retaliation, glancing towards the stands where the man watched alone, a notepad clutched in one hand and a pen in the other. His head was bent down towards the notepad but even from here, she could make out the way he stared from between his top lashes, the bill of his navy hat casting a shadow over his face.

 A journalist, she guessed. 

 Her coach whipped around to face whoever it was she was referring to, dropping the fistful of hair she had in her claw-like grip just moments before. Relief washed over her as the pain at her scalp finally began to subside and she rubbed her palms over her elbows as she watched her coach skate her way to the exit of the ice where the man sat, glancing away from his notes when her coach’s voice thundered through the rink.

 “Who the fuck are you?” Her coach asked as she, too, began to skate her way towards the stands, her bag only a few seats away from where the man sat. As she approached, the man glanced her way, the dark blue waves in his irises crashing into her own. 

 For a moment, all was silent and for a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away from his. There was something so… alluring about him. He wore round glasses and a navy Puma hat, locks of dark blonde hair peeking out from the sides, just above his ears. His stare was dark, like a raging sea on a gray, stormy day. The longer she stared, the more she felt like she was drowning, as if she were astray at sea, helplessly fighting against the crashing waves. 

 His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips and she felt herself flush, forcing her eyes away from him so that she could make her way over to her bag and get the hell out of here. 

 “Hey!” Her coach yelled again. “Did you hear me? Who are you and what the fuck are you doing here? This is a private lesson.”

 She huffed as she sat herself down onto the seat beside her bag, leaning down to unlace her skates, sighing in relief when she pulled the first one off her feet. 

 “Just taking notes,” the man replied simply and she turned until she could see them out of her periphery, watching as the man held his notepad up for her coach to see. “Notes?” Her coach questioned in a scoff as she tugged her other skate off her feet, her lips falling open in a soft gasp as she stretched out her toes and rolled her ankles. “What? You some perv or something?”

 “No ma’am. I write for the New Repub–”

 ‘I don’t give a shit who you write for, you realize you’re trespassing on a private lesson?” Her coach raised a hand to interrupt him. “That girl over there has a competition in a week and I won’t let some lowlife reporter let it spill that my client is incompetent enough to not know how to land a fuckin’ axle!”

 Her eyes rolled in their sockets at this as she slipped her socks on over her feet, tugging her boots on over them. She rummaged in her bag for her hoodie and stood as she pulled it on over her head, slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

 “Relax, coach,” she cut through the argument as she approached, willing herself to not make eye contact with the man as he turned to look at her. “Besides, with the shit you just pulled, I’m surprised my axel is at the top of your priority list.”

 Her coach parted her lips, a remark surely on the tip of her tongue but when the man turned back to raise an eyebrow at her, she closed her mouth and huffed as she skated away towards the other side of the rink’s stands where her own bag was. 

 For a few prolonged moments, silence fell between her and the man still sat beside her, and it wasn’t until he rose from his seat and cleared his throat that she allowed herself to look at him again.

 “Sorry for causing such a scene,” he said at last, ducking his head so that their eyes could meet once more. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head just as she felt color begin to warm her cheeks once again. “Sorry about… her,” she replied, gesturing towards where her coach was angrily tearing her skates off her feet across the ice. 

 “Yeah, she’s…”

 “A bitch.”

 “Well…” the man rubbed the back of his neck, slapping his notepad down against his thigh with the other. “Yeah.”

 She glanced down to his notepad against his jean-clad thigh, tilting her head curiously. “You doing a story on me or something?” She asked, daring to look back up at him. Color rushed to his cheeks and he turned to stare off into space, as if it had the answers he couldn’t quite seem to form on his tongue. 

 “Um, well I…” he stammered before dropping his head in defeat. “Sort of?”

 She raised a brow at this, suddenly wary of the man before her. She was quick to let his looks fool her into thinking this man could be harmless when in reality, he could very well be far from it. He was alone, intruding in on a private skating lesson after all, taking notes on who knows what. 

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” She questioned, her wariness evident in her tone. He must’ve picked up on this and sighed in defeat, a nervous smile tugging at a corner of his lips.

 “Listen, I’m a journalist for the New Republic magazine and I was at your competition working on a story last week and I…” he trailed off, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as if contemplating his next words. “I was really intrigued by you.”

 She nodded, understanding finally washing over her. “Ah. So you’ve been following me.”

 The man’s pink lips parted and closed and repeated, and she fought the grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well no. Yes. Maybe? Ugh, I’m…” the man’s chest heaved as he drew in a breath, holding his free hand out for her to take. “I’m Anakin. And I haven’t been following you. You know, not in a creepy way.”

 Amusement finally got the best of her and she chuckled, allowing her smile to take over her mouth as she took his hand, warmth pooling into her skin. “Nice to meet you, Anakin. I’m not sure if I’m fully convinced that you haven’t been following me but I’m finding this really amusing so I’ll let it slide. For now.”

 Anakin chuckled nervously and smiled, white teeth peeking through the space between his lips. Her breath hitched in her throat at this and their eyes met once again, seemingly stealing the breath from her lungs. 

 He was… beautiful.

 She wondered if this man really had been following her over the course of the past week. Certainly she would’ve noticed him had he been stalking her before, right?

 The longer she stared at the man called Anakin before her, the more she wished to convince herself that he was harmless, that there couldn’t possibly be anything nefarious or sinister behind such a gorgeous smile. But when she found herself being sucked into the waters of that raging sea in his sockets like his voice was a siren song and his eyes were a wild, angry sea, she realized that maybe she wouldn’t care, so long as he looked at her like that.

 “What if I could convince you over some dinner on me?”

 It was safe to say that dinner went well.

 Too well.

 Ridiculously well.

 His hands were all over her as their mouths ravaged one another, hardly making it inside his apartment before she was pressed against the door, the thin straps of her dress falling loose down her shoulders. Anakin’s palms were pressed against the small of her back, the other firm and gripping onto the hair at the back of her head. Unlike when her coach had snatched her hair only the day before, Anakin tugged with enough pressure to have her mewling for more. 

 Her hands were entangled in the dark blonde curls atop of his head as his tongue demanded control over hers, his kiss making her feel weak in the knees before his lips trailed down to her jaw, to her chin, to her neck.

 She gasped when he nibbled on the space between her neck and shoulder, his name falling in a breathy whimper from her lips. His mouth kissed and sucked marks down to her chest where the tops of her breasts were spilling from over the hem of her dress. Anakin growled as he reached behind her to tug furiously at her zipper, tugging the dress down her body until it could pool in a puddle of fabric at her feet. 

 “Ana… Anakin!” She moaned as he unclasped her bra with one hand, tearing the glasses away from his face and tossing them into the wall beside them with the other. Neither were in the rind headspace to even care for the more than likely cracked frames as Anakin drew her back into his body, his mouth attaching to her nipple, her head falling backwards in ecstasy. She could feel the curve of his grin when she gasped as he nipped at the sensitive bud, guiding her back towards his bedroom with his hand against the small of her back, his mouth never once leaving her breast.

 It wasn’t long until she was nude and exposed on the plush of his mattress, blinking up at him as he stared down at her through hooded eyelids, tugging his shirt up and over his head. She eyed the defined lines of his chest and stomach as he breathed, working at the buckle of his pants and discarding it across the room, his pants falling loose down his legs. Her heart thud against her chest in anticipation as he crept his way onto the bed above her, hovering over her like a looming predator.

 She looked into the depths of his deep blue eyes now and was completely lost, blinded with libido, with the want for the man above her. “Please Anakin,” she whimpered, a hand slithering around to cup the back of his neck, desperate to bring their lips together once again. She couldn’t quite reach, unfortunately, but his breath was still warm against her face and she could still make out the outline of his smile against her mouth.

 When she opened her eyes again, his own were somehow a shade darker than they were before, the sweaty blonde curls damp against his forehead making his face darker than the shadows already made him out to be. He was beautiful, yes, but he was dark, and an enigma. Through the haze of her mind, however, she couldn’t quite bring herself to figure him out. She wasn’t even sure she cared right now. All she cared about was the feel of his skin against hers, the feel of his hard length against her thigh, the way he was staring at her now as if she were his last meal. It was impossible to think rationally when such a man wanted her the way she wanted him.

 “I’ve dreamed of this,” he whispered, bowing his head so that their lips were touching nut not quite, at least, not in the way she was wanting. “Anakin,” she panted his name again, a hand against the curve of his shoulder, the other tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck. She was so wet and she could feel it, could feel the evidence of her lust as it streamed down her folds, creating a pool on the duvet below. “Please,” she whispered again, her gaze surging into his, her brows furrowing in hopes to coax him inside of her. 

 Anakin took his time. He pulled his face away just enough to take a long look down her body, his hand not supporting himself on the mattress tracing a line up and down the curve of her waist, of her hips, the crease between her thigh and torso. She gasped when the tip of his finger came so close to where she was throbbing for him but yet again, not quite. 

 He was teasing her now, as if playing with his food.

 She could practically feel tears stinging the outskirts of her sockets, every ache in her muscles screaming for him, every throb she felt in her core pleading with him to just touch her. Anakin cooed when his gaze found hers once again, shushing her and using the edge of his forefinger to wipe away the tears that had leaked from the edges of her eyes. 

 “I can’t believe you want this as much as I do,” he whispered as if in awe. “You know, the second I saw you, you had just stepped onto the ice and all I could think was wow. And then you started doing all those tricks and shit that I can’t even wrap my head around and I knew that all I wanted was you. I didn’t care how much or how long it would take, all I wanted to have was you.”

 If Anakin hadn’t been dipping his hand in between her legs and brushing the tips of his fingers against her swollen clit, she might’ve had the sense to stop and really consider the meaning behind his words. With every stroke of his fingers up and down her folds and against her aching bud, he was reducing her mind to slime, turning each and every single one of her thoughts into nothing but putty. He was possessing every inch of her as if he were a parasite, as if he were doing some sort of mind trick on her, like he had her under some kind of trance.

 And when he dipped a single finger past the barrier between her folds, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

 Her back arched off of the bed and her lips fell apart in a gasp, Anakin watching in awe as she mewled and squirmed beneath him. He ducked until his nose was against the crook of her neck, breathing her in like a vapor, letting her fill in his every sense. He was drunk on her, on the way she looked, the way she breathed, the way she smelled. She was just so beautiful, and now she was his.

 “I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have you,” he whispered as he added another finger inside of her, his other hand kneading at her breast. “Every time I went to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, leaning down until his lips were against the shell of her ear. “I couldn’t stop touching myself thinking about you.”

 She whimpered again when he added a third finger, pressing his lips against her ear before leaning away, kissing her jaw before pulling away altogether. She whined at the loss of his digits inside of her and Anakin watched as her cunt pulsed and throbbed with the yearn for him. He was aching for her as well, maybe even more than she was for hin. His cock was so hard it was beginning to feel painful, having edged himself for so long.

 But he could let go now. He had her. He had her right where he wanted her all along.

 Anakin leaned down to press his lips against hers and she eagerly drank him in like wine, mewling against his lips. He could feel the mix of her sweat and tears against his face, and he smiled against her mouth again. 

 And he let a hand trail down between their bodies until his hand was wrapped around his length, giving himself one solid pump. Then, with one snap of his hips, they were one.

 She cried out in bliss as he entered her, back arching off of the mattress, her chest heaving into his as he sheathed himself inside her. Anakin pressed his lips together and grunted, wrapping his arms around her body to hold her close to him as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, throwing his head back in pleasure as he savored how good she felt wrapped around him. 

 Perfect, everything about her was simply perfect and made for him. He couldn’t believe he hadn't found her sooner, that she was the one he was waiting for all of his life. This was what he’d always needed– this girl underneath him, wanting him, wrapped around him, burning for him. There was no way in hell he was going to let her go now that he had her. 

 “Ana–!” She cried. “Anakin!” She barely managed to choke out the rest of his name when he snapped his hips against her again. She was just so full, so overstimulated that she couldn’t even form a single coherent thought. 

 Ice skating came like second nature to her. It’d been that way for as long as she could remember. But she swore, if you asked her to do anything now, she wouldn;t even know how to begin. All she could think was Anakin, Anakin, Anakin. He’d somehow found a way to put her under his full control until she was reduced down to nothing more than a mindless zombie for him. 

 “Oh… fuck,” Anakin cursed beneath his breath, using his hands against the mattress as leverage to stare down between their bodies where they were connected. His cock glistened with a mixture of their juices and oh, his mouth watered for a taste. He reached down until his fingertips were against her clit, her toes curling at the pressure and she cried out when he dipped his fingers inside of her for the briefest of moments to gather their mixture. 

 Anakin’s mouth was practically watering, fuck, he was drooling by the time he finally brought his fingers to his lips, moaning and his eyes rolling when their mixed arousals coated his tongue. “Fuck,” he moaned again once he had finally licked his fingers clean, snapping his hips before wrapping a hand around the base of her neck. “Come here.”

 He met her halfway so that their lips could crash against one another and she hummed into his mouth when she tasted both of them, following his lips when he pulled away. 

 “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured, grabbing a handful of her hips with one hand and reaching forward to grasp onto the headboard with the other. “I can’t wait to taste you once you’ve come.”

 Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head as Anakin pistoned his cock inside of her, quick to find that spot deep inside of her that had her seeing stars. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been fucked like this– no, she’d never been fucked like this. No man had ever been able to make her feel the way Anakin made her feel now, she knew that for certain. No man had ever been able to make her dumb to the point of no return, to make her so drunk on their cock that she couldn’t form a coherent though other than their name. No, only Anakin had ever made her feel like this. 

 Anakin thrusted into her again and again and again, ravaging her body like his life absolutely depended on it. There was something animalistic about the way he fucked her, something territorial as if this were the beginning of something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around at this moment. Not when she was so close that even Anakin could feel it, could feel it in the way she pulsed and throbbed around him. He gripped onto the headboard harder as leverage to give her everything he had, the bedframe making noises so loud that it was a miracle it hadn’t broken yet. 

 She was almost there. She was so close that she could already taste it, could already see it. She closed her eyes until she was submerged into a dark, seemingly endless tunnel. But there, off in the distance but approaching at rapid speed was a white, blinding light that she knew was her orgasm. She began to race towards it, meeting it halfway until they crashed together like a supernova, her back arching off the bed, her toes curling, fingernails clasping around Anakin’s wrists and burrowing deep. 

 Tears fell like rivers down the sides of her face as she thrashed, feeling so full and satisfied and overstimulated that she couldn’t take it anymore.

 “Oh shit, oh fuck,” Anakin panted, his thrusts sloppier but still as forceful as ever. “Almost there, almost there, almost the– fuck!” He growled as he bottomed out with a single forceful thrust, spilling himself into her. She could feel rope after rope of his seed bursting inside of her and her vision blurred until all she could see was watercolor. She barely even registered the moment Anakin’s cock slipped out from inside of her and he kissed a trail down her body until his mouth was ravaging her sore, fucked out cunt. 

 She cried as she gathered a fistful of the duvet below, squeezing her eyelids shut, her head rolling until her cheek was flush with the mattress. Anakin’s tongue swirled inside of her as if he were hunting for every last drop of her spend and her eyelids fluttered open, her vision murky with bliss. She blinked away the blurriness as much as she could, making out photos on the wall beside his bed that somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt like she’d seen before.

 It was hard to focus when Anakin was practically digging another orgasm out of her with his tongue but she zeroed in on one of the photographs, recognizing it as one of her from a competition she had done months ago. Her eyes darted to another, all of her, her at competitions that she’d done more than just a week ago, but some of her out and about on the street, at the grocery store, at the bar just a few blocks away from her apartment. 

 She wasn’t sure where these photos came from– she’d never seen any of these specific ones before anywhere. It meant that Anakin had to have been the one to have taken them but surely this wasn’t true– he said he’d only found her a week prior to her being fucked on his bed, didn’t he?

 “Taste so fucking good,” Anakin purred against her pussy, hooking his arms around her thighs and burying his face in even closer. Her heart was pounding against her chest at the realization that even despite her horror, she couldn’t tear herself away from Anakin. Maybe he really did have her under some sort of mind trick, some kind of trance. Maybe she really was drowning, falling into that raging sea in his eyes with no hope of ever resurfacing. 

 She knew how wrong it was, how disgusting it was, but it didn’t matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help but reach down until her fingers were woven in the dark blonde curls on his head, pulling him in even closer to her throbbing heat. 

a/n; so hey! i've had this sitting around unfinished in my drafts for, like, ever and i finally just now got around to finishing it lol so sorry for not having been active! as some of you may know, i've been working on a book for the past couple of months on top of being in college and having a job so i've been pretty busy lately! i hope you all don't mind and still enjoyed this one nonetheless 🤭

TAGLIST;

@your-nanas-house

@chaoticevilbakugo

@k1ttenmittonz

[valentine-cafe]

heyo! could i please get pathetic top!amab reader and his first time with alessio (781), rishen (1311), & zhao (9948e) but as seperate scenarios? 🫀

. ˚◞♡ pathetic top male reader x amab characters ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. you top your lover for the first time. . . in a rather pathetic way /male reader

꒰ SO we are gonna assume you were referring to jìngyí 9948e! if not - we’re dreadfully sorry but we were unsure of who from the zhào family you were referring to ꒱

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 781 ꒱ has always been a bit iffy on the idea of letting someone else top him - unless he fully trusts that person. so when he eventually came about to trust you enough - it was definitely something he was not used to.

not the idea of being topped. but the way you went about it. makeouts and neck kisses on his sofa turned into you rutting into his clothed hips with whining noises. face buried into his shoulder while your moans spilled over his neck - muttering about how good he felt. you weren’t even inside and you were such a mess.

he’d be lying if he said the sight didn’t turn him on. the sheer contrast of your hiccups and whines paired with the way you so firmly held him down by his throat or hair - it did something to him.

“gonna f-fuck you s’good baby. gonna make you cum. can I? can I? p-please. oh please querido, please please -”

how can he do anything else but let you push into him? make him dizzy with your rough thrusts that made whines pour from his own lips. his eyes cross and his short black nails dig into your back.

“l-like it?” you’d pant. snapping your hard cock into his clenching hole. you bite on your lip as he shivers. your hand wraps around his own dick. rub along his tip in a way that has him groaning your name. “yeah? like it baby? can you cum for me? please? please please just wannna make y’feel good. . . a-angh - hhn-”

the way you pressed your lips into his so messily and slammed all the way. humped into him like a bitch in heat and cried about how good he felt. he’d cup your face and brush away your tears despite you fucking him so hard that he couldn’t think straight. despite his own tears pouring out of his eyes as you make him cum again and again.

“c-come on hermoso - you can do it - y-you can make me - hah fuck - c-can make me cum - come on -” he’d whisper into your ear.

mercenary x reader, enigma x reader, immortal x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHEN 1311 ꒱ was quite surprised the first time that you both spent together. the way you so quickly took charge. he didn’t mind - with the decision fatigue he experiences? he didn’t mind one bit when you bent him over his desk with a hand buried in his hair and started fucking his thighs.

what did surprise him was how vocal you are. not that he minded - if anything it made him already begin leaking precum into his leather pants.

your grunts and whimpers to his ears made his head spin. at one point he’d try to do the switch on you - but you’d just slam him further into the desk and hump against his ass aggressively.

��n-no. no I wanna fuck you. wanna fuck you. w-wanna make you feel good.”

you whined like a bottom. but he’d quickly find out that wasn’t the case when you fingered him until he was drooling into the mahogany wood. his eyes fluttering at your soft pants and ragged breathing. as though you were already fucking him.

“d-dios - so fuckin’ pathetic - you gonna - gonna - ah! gonna cum from just finger’in me querido? y-yeah? ah,”

he wasn’t ready for just how big you were. how he struggled to take you and ended up being the one whining when you start ferally fucking into him. his soft ass rippling with every buck of your tempered hips.

oh you were strong. he learnt that when you gripped onto waist and fucked him back into you. when he felt your nails leave crescent marks all over his skin. but what made him cum all over his floor three times and more - was the things you whimpered out.

“s-so tight - s’tight fuck - g-gonna fuck you good - promise. I p-promise baby - promiiissee angh,”

not to mention the amount of times you came. he’d so much as shudder out your name and you were stuffing his ass full. when you sat down on his chair to let him ride you - he thought it was his chance to take advantage.

but all you did was snap your hips and bounce him like a ragdoll. all while whimpering, whining and even crying about how pretty he looked with his head tossed back and his makeup running down his face.

spy x reader, assassin x reader, admiral x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ JÌNGYÍ 9948E ꒱ was so excited during your first time. he couldn’t stop giggling and chuckling against your lips as you kissed him so heatedly. as you stumbled him right to his bed and got on top of him.

“you wanna take lead?” he’d breathe. if only to groan when he felt your hand already palming at his dick. you’d squeeze and feel what was finally yours. all while you panted against his ear in a way that made him bite his lip. you sounded so feral.

you were jerking him off and humping on his leg with soft whines while you did so. the sight of him in pleasure and bucking his hips into your hand was simply too much to bear.

he very quickly noticed how whiney you were. it made him cum way quicker than he expected - and when you lowered yourself to suck him off. he felt like he would spill all over again when he saw the way your eyes fluttered and rolled back at the mere taste of him.

“taste so good. . . fuck. lay down. need to be in you sooo bad,” you’d hiccup. pushing him down onto his back and grinding your clothed crotch into his twitching dick for a moment or two.

he was in a state when you pushed into him. when you threw one of his legs over your shoulder and started rutting into him with a series of whines and a crease to your brows.

“s-s - f-feel that good baby? yeah?” he’d moan up to you. bringing one of his hands to your shoulder. you very quickly would remind him that you were the one taking lead when you started fucking him ball’s deep and in a way that made the headboard slam into the wall repeatedly.

his eyes were rolled back and yet he still heard your whimpers right above him. your drool dripping down onto his neck.

“feel s-so good - feel so so good - b-baby - oh baby g-gonna cum -” you couldn’t help but clash your lips down onto his. swallow his moans and spill your own cries as you pounded him until you were both in tears and whining.

grim reaper x reader, ghost x reader

[luvvrz]

Burning [Logan / Reader, 18+]

AKA: YOUR LITTLE PUPPY! THROW THAT MAN A BONE!

Additional tags: Pet play ig but not really? Subby Logan, Servitude, Meowwwww

OTHER WORKS

Soft. Too god damn soft.

This was one of the rare instances when Logan wasn't being the gruff, stick-up-the-ass old man everyone knew him to be. I mean, an attempt was certainly made, but it was hard to act accordingly when you were on top of him like that, riding him like you were fuckin' made to do it.

Those hips of yours are sin incarnate, and he's unsure of where to look. His eyes keep fluttering, and it's one helluva fight trying to keep them open, but he's managing - because you told him to, and he'll be damned if he doesn't say how high when you tell him to jump.

Finally, he decides to settle his gaze on that pretty face of yours, unsurprised to find your eyes already on him as you moved. Your hair is stuck to your forehead in a sweaty mess, yet you've never looked more like a goddamn angel than you do right now. With the light flooding through the drapes as your backdrop, your face twisted up just the way it always does when he fucks up into your g-spot, it's a miracle he hasn't already lost it.

You're calling him your puppy again, and he's unashamed of the way he whimpers - though, he'd deny it until his last breath if asked. He was the goddamn Wolverine, not some sniveling dog - though, it always sent a spark of electricity up his spine when you referred to him as such. Especially as you give the leash around his neck a firm tug, making him snap back to attention once more. His eyes are glazed over to all hell and he can barely even fuckin' see anymore. Everything is you.

"Thank you, baby, thank you."

His voice is already broken, and he's acutely aware how it wavers almost desperately - but you love it, if the way your pussy flutters in response is anything to go off of. Always so tight, so wet for him, and it's fuckin' filthy the way you get off on parading him around like your little pet.

But that's what he is, isn't he? An animal, put on this world to please you.

You're bouncing faster still, more purpose, and it's taking everything in him not to thrust up to meet you. But you like control, you like having him wanton beneath you. A little bitch, that's what he is right now. Your property. His dick is throbbing, needy, and he's sure you can feel it - you'd been teasing him for an hour prior. You know his sanity is draining, that's what you're going for. Reminding him that you're the only one that can make him feel like this, you're the only one that can control the fire burning within him.

And you get to decide whether it's snuffed out, or keeps burning.

[hellfirecvnt]

The Foundation of Learning

Lee Russell x Fem!Reader pt. 2

Summary: This school is unlike anywhere you've ever worked. Who's lying and who's just an idiot? You know how dreaming about a person can make you feel some type of way? That.

Read part one here. // Part three here. // Part four here. // Part five here.

Your first day was last Friday, meaning after that accidental acid trip, you had a whole weekend to decide if this is the type of environment you want to work in. Sure it's exciting, but you weren't even a whole day in before you were taking hallucinogens against your will. That's a bit more than the drama you're used to in a school.

Sunday night, you can't help but wonder about the two men you'd only just met. More so, you wonder about Lee Russell. A loud man who dresses even louder. His hair is stupid and you can't help but laugh every time his plans fumble, but you can't help but catch yourself developing a bit of a crush on this peculiar man.

You fall asleep peacefully only to find yourself in a dream about that same strange guy. Lee. He touches your cheek so softly, you're so sure you can feel it. The rest of the dream becomes a hazy fog of a childish feeling of infatuation. It lingers in your mind well after you wake up.

Monday morning, you're quick to rise, almost excited for whatever nonsense will be thrown your way this week. Last night's dream is still heavy on your mind as you enter through the front doors of North Jackson High.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Lee greets you with a bright, wide smile. You feel the heat rise in your face. You rely on your makeup to conceal that.

"Good morning, Mr. Russell," you beam, waving as you approach.

"You can call me Lee, darlin'. I'm not a fuckin' psycho," He says, referring to Neal's insistence on being referred to as Mr. Gamby during work hours. You return the favor, stepping into a first-name basis with him. It's nice. Like your first friend in your new town.

"Can I get you a coffee or anything, Lee?" You offer.

"No thank you, doll. I gotta get to-"

"Y/L/N, wake your ass up. I need you to hold any calls for me and Mr. Russell for the next," he glances at his watch. "45 minutes."

"Good morning, Mr. Gamby! No problem-" but he cuts you off.

"45 minutes, Y/L/N!" He exclaims, dragging Lee with him as they congregate outside in the woods by the train tracks.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Gamby? God damn." Lee pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Don't worry about it. I'm treating her like shit so she'll do better."

"She's been here for a day," Mr. Russell groans as they cross the empty field to get to their meeting area.

"Well, look at you, being at everybody's defense and shit for the first time in your life." Neal sneers at his cohort.

"I wish you would just shut the fuck up. For once in your life." Lee sighs, taking a seat on a large boulder. The two men bicker for a moment before breaking into brainstorming. Anything they can do to knock Dr. Brown off her throne. Eventually, and mostly to the credit of Lee's deranged mind, they hatch a plan to frame Ms. Leblanc, the meanest bitch in the school, for stealing and selling textbooks to a third party.

"I'll go plant the evidence," Gamby, stone focused on his objective, beelines for the school ahead of Lee.

"God damn... Idiot," he mumbles to himself. With Gamby occupied, he decides to stop by your desk.

"Y/N," he snatches your attention away from your duties on a dime. You quite literally drop everything when you hear his voice. You silently scold yourself for letting that dream get you bent so far out of wack.

"What can I do for you, Lee?" You wait for instruction as Russell just stares at you for a moment like he's considering something.

"Come with me to my office." He takes off down the hall. You round the desk and follow him with haste. Once you're inside Lee's office, he closes and locks the door behind you. You look at him with wide, curious eyes, trying your best to stifle back the heat on your face.

"We're going to frame Ms. Leblanc and turn her against Dr. Brown." Lee's words fill you with immense disappointment. Of course that's what this was about. You're embarrassed by how excited you allowed yourself to become, even if he's none the wiser. You furrow your brows and cross your arms.

"And how are we going to accomplish that one?" You ask, disgruntled. Lee gazes at you with a big smile, excited to hear you include yourself in his plan.

"Take a look at this." He grins, sliding an altered invoice across the table. In this convincing looking writing it says Leblanc signed for 600 books and no more than 60 have been accounted for within the school. "That bitch is fucked."

"Oh, wow. Is Ms. Leblanc a super bitch or something?"

"She's the super bitch, Y/N. And she is going to destroy Belinda for us. All Gamby and I have to do is sit back and watch." Lee revels in what he believes to be a foolproof plot. As if summoned by the sound of his own name, Neal appears. He steps through the door without knocking and looks at you quizzically when he realizes that Lee has just blown up their spot to you.

"What's going on in here?" Neal asks, hesitant to trust this new employee.

"Relax, Gamby. I'm just catching Y/N up on the details," Lee grins, pleased with himself

"Isn't this above Y/N's pay grade?" The mustached man does very little to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Well, I'm trying to work her into the inner circle." Lee makes a circular gesture with his hands.

"Yeah, Gamby," you chime in, happy to be included in something that isn't reorganizing the incredibly fucked up records someone shoved into a box of papers before they switched to computers years ago.

"You can't just bring strangers into our plans just because she's an attractive person or what the fuck ever!" Gamby attempts to whisper, but it's just quiet yelling.

"Y/N, can we trust you, sweetheart?" Lee asks with big, shining eyes, grinning at you as he awaits your reply. And that name, "sweetheart." My God, you nearly melt on the spot. What's come over you?

"Of course you can. I only have time to talk to you two. Who am I going to conspire with?" You toss a hand up in confusion.

"Alright, but if I see you talking to any of the teachers after this, you will be fired on the spot." Neal wags a finger in your face.

"Fucking Christ, Gamby. Lighten up. You ain't firing anybody. Get your ass to the library." Lee snaps his fingers and points at the door.

"Am I really not allowed to talk to the teachers now?" You ask, a little confused.

"Don't listen to him, darlin'," Lee sweet-talks you, taking the falsified invoice in his hands.

"No. No, you do listen to me. I am your boss. If I see you talking to anyone besides me and Mr. Russell I will banish you from this campus." The pretentious vice principal stands firm in his decision.

"Okay, sir. I won't talk to the teachers," you sigh.

"Or the janitors and counselors," he adds and you nod. "No Para-pros either."

"Gamby come the fuck on!" Lee whines, rushing this interaction along so he can put his plan into action. The two men exit and Neal makes an "I'm watching you" gesture through the large, glass wall before disappearing around a corner.

You return to your desk and take a few phone calls, certain that Gamby's insane rule can't possibly include parents. After a while, a lady comes to introduce herself to you.

"Hey! Finally got over here during a planning period," she laughs. "I'm Amanda." She extends a hand for you to shake.

"Hi-" you stop in your tracks as you make eye contact with Neal way, way down the hall. He slowly shakes his head back and forth. You roll your eyes and return your attention to the woman in front of you. You begin to spell out a word in the ASL alphabet, hoping Amanda has even as little understanding of sign language as you have. You sign "Email" and she squints at your hands.

"Oh, I don't... Are you deaf? I swear I just saw you answer a phone..." She tilts her head. You sigh with frustration and begin typing out an email on your computer. Confused and feeling awkward, Amanda slowly walks away from the entire situation. You're quick to write her an email about Gamby's strange training practices, careful not to uncover their scheme.

You shake your head, hoping she sees the message soon so you're not blacklisted from making any friends besides these two maniacs in this new town.

"Hello, North Jackson High School," you answer the phone with a darling customer service voice.

"Oh, you're fake as hell, Y/N. That ain't what you sound like at all," Lee laughs through the phone.

"Hello, Mr. Russell-"

"Lee."

"Hello, Lee. How's the plotting?" You mindlessly twirl the telephone cord around your finger as you listen to him talk.

"I need you and Gamby's help tonight. We'll need a school bus."

"A school bus?" You ask, unable to fathom what you'd need a bus for.

"For the books, sweetheart. Stay focused," he scolds.

"My bad."

"I'll see you tonight," he says, hanging up right after. You could hear Neal calling his name in the background, otherwise you'd take that fast goodbye as an insult.

You attain the keys to a bus sitting out in the bus lanes. It was left to be cleaned after a kid pierced his own ear and bled everywhere on a field trip.

"Try not to touch any of the seats near the front. It's... Not good." You warn as you toss the keys to Gamby. "I'm not fucking driving."

You and Lee ride in his car, driving ahead of Gamby to the location to store the "stolen" books. Mr. Russell guides Gamby as he backs the bus up and you help the two men unload the boxes of extremely heavy textbooks.

"Holy shit, we fucking did it, Gamby!" Lee grins, self satisfied and hungry for confrontation. "And you too, darlin'. Thank you." He's quick to add.

"Nicely done, Mr- Oh, uh, Lee." You smile, hoping your newfound nervousness isn't too obvious. And to him, it isn't, only because he's distracted by his own infatuation with you.

The next day, shit hits the fan. Lee calls the front desk again and you answer.

"Hello, North Jackson High," you speak warmly.

"We're about to head straight to Leblanc's class right now!" You can hear his devious smile in his voice. "Brown is so fucked if she really tries to go against that stone cold bitch."

"Hey, do you think I'm allowed to talk to teachers now? Aman-" just as you're about to finish your sentence, Gamby swipes the phone from you and slaps it onto the receiver.

"No. And especially not Ms. Snodgrass."

"Why not? She's so nice and I don't know anybody in town besides you and Lee and I doubt you two are gonna want to go to bars and get drunk off fruity bullshit on Fridays." Your monologue leaves Neal pondering. He doesn't get invited to payday drinks, this is new for him.

"No. You'll let something slip. Snodgrass is wholesome. Too wholesome to get wrapped up in the shit we do," Gamby explains.

"Well then why the hell was I wrapped?" You raise a brow, questioning what he's insinuating.

"I don't know! I never would've done something so stupid and reckless like that." The broad man shrugs. "Russell has a thing for you or something."

"A 'thing for me?'" you repeat.

"Yeah. He thinks that you're an attractive person. And I guess he's not wrong, but... You're no Amanda Snodgrass." Neal shrugs as if delivering bad news he can't hold back.

"You're so right," you nod. "So when can I talk to her? I want friends."

"When I'm Principal." Mr. Gamby disappears to join Mr. Russell and Dr. Brown in pursuit of the books and you're left alone with Gamby's words. A thing for you. How delightful to know your little crush isn't as one sided as you thought.

"Ms. Y/L/N, could you come with me? I need you to take notes," Dr. Brown's eyes are narrow. It's clear she's on a mission when she makes the quick stop by your desk on her way to Leblanc's class.

"Yes, ma'am." You scoop up the board and a pen and follow her on quick feet. Just as she rounds the corner, you see Lee. You knew he was with her, and he smiles when he sees you.

"Mr. Russell," you smile, greeting him in a professional manner in front of the woman that holds reign over both yours and Lee's job. You follow the principal and vice principal down the hall and slowly you come up to a classroom with an involved teacher. She seems well educated and passionate about her teaching. Ironically, today's subject is about protecting your reputation with your life...

As you linger in the hall taking quick notes of the passive aggressive exchange, you see Ms. Snodgrass walking by. After a quick glance around, you're certain there's no Gamby.

"Hey! Ms. Snodgrass. Sorry about yesterday. Mr. Gamby has me on like... A vow of silence? I think I'm being hazed."

"Oh! That makes so much sense. I thought you were just kinda weird," she laughs, clearly relieved of the awkwardness.

"I emailed you about it," you chuckle, also relieved.

"Oh, I must've missed it-" Amanda's sentence is cut short as Belinda and Lee take off down the hall after the climax of the conversation. You wave a quick goodbye to Snodgrass and bolt after them.

Belinda is ranting and raving down the hall, all the while Lee cheers her on. He antagonizes every single time she seems to be calming down. It's eerie to watch the way he plays with her mind. You hope you'd be able to tell if he ever tried this sort of brain sorcery on you.

"I can't believe that bitch," Dr. Brown shakes her head, clearly fired up as she stomps into her office. Gamby follows her and closes the door behind him, keeping her on track and gathering information for later. Lee, laughing carelessly, leans against your desk as you take a seat. All you can think about is Neal's confession of Lee's feelings. Even if it was just a "thing." Whatever that means.

"Lee," you nervously call for his attention. "Do you want to get a drink tonight?" You're unsure where the nerve came from, asking your boss out, but it's not like he adheres to the rules very much anyways.

At first, he seems surprised. Caught off guard, mostly. He blinks a few times, knitting his brows for just a second as he calculates how to respond. Of course he's not worried about the rules, even if he plans on becoming Principal, the only thing he can focus on right now is you. His mouth hangs slightly agape as he carefully and regretfully makes his next statement.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Y/L/N. Maybe another time. I've got some stuff to handle real early tomorrow. I'll be a little late getting in, actually." He fidgets with his ringless ring finger, unable to keep meeting your gaze.

"Of course, sir. It's hard making friends here. You guys are... Different." You smile at Lee as best you can and turn your attention to the computer screen where you slowly and pointlessly sift through each individual piece of spam. Lee lingers for a moment, chewing on his lip in thought. After a short while, he's off to find Gamby and Brown to ensure she's still wrongfully fired up.

Immediately in your solitude your mind runs amok with rejection sensitive anxieties. You're heinously embarrassed, and the redness on your face only darkens when you replay it all in your head over and over.

"Jesus fucking Christ, why did I fucking do that? Who do I think I am? Where the hell do I get off?" You mumble to yourself, trying so hard to regulate past this visceral reaction. You begin to wonder if you've over valued yourself to this little team just because of your interest in Lee.

"What's wrong? Why are you doing that?" Gamby gestures vaguely to your whole being with his hand.

"Fuck, Mr. Gamby. You scared the shit out of me." You gasp, a hand placed on your chest in fear.

"You should be more aware of your surroundings and you won't get caught off guard."

"Hey, tomorrow's teacher work day, right? Do I need to come in?" You ask, hoping for a no so you can drink away the humiliation.

"At any other pussy ass school, maybe. But I need all hands on deck. You're coming in." Neal points at you with integrity and you groan to yourself.

"Are you sure? I'm going to drink the same amount regardless tonight. I might not be very useful tomorrow." You shrug, hoping the trust you've built allows for this sort of candid behavior.

"Something wrong?" He asks.

"You said Lee had a 'thing' for me, so I asked him to get a drink with me and he turned me down," you laugh, slowly accepting the embarrassment.

"Huh, well. That's just Lee, I guess. He's never made a lot of sense to me. All those fuckin' outfits." Neal shakes his head. "Guess he's not into you anymore."

"Oh, word," you say, swallowing the bluntness of his words. "Window closed, got it." You give a small salute gesture and turn back to your computer. "I'll be here tomorrow, Mr. Gamby."

"Well, yeah. I just said you would. I just told you that. I am your boss and you'll be here tomorrow." He nods and emotes as if he's repeating obvious information like 'the sky is blue.'

"Dude." You pinch the bridge of your nose.

•••

Taglist: @its-in-the-woods // @blackwoodtree (you didn't ask to be tagged, but you did ask for a part 2 ❤️)

[training4theapocalypse]

PLEASE do what Scots actually say I’m so curious

Soap x Reader Scottish Dialogue Inspo

To celebrate Burns Night, here are some realistic smutty Scottish terms and some general stuff to do with relationships. Feel free to use this if you find it helpful 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Disclaimer: my tiny country is made up of countless accents and Soap is canonically from Kilmarnock but his voice actor is from Elgin so who TF knows what he’d actually say.

I also don’t think you need to write in Scots either - I’m Scottish and I don’t (unless am absolutely ragin aboot somethin’) but I can see why you’d want to for Soap’s dialogue. 

Behave yersel’

This is easy - it’s just ‘behave yourself’ but it can be used as a smutty admonishment.

“I’ll sleep on the couch - you take the bed.”

“Behave yersel’,” says Soap, unfastening his belt.

Bonny / Bonnie

Spell it whichever way you like. This is primarily an adjective but I see it used as a noun in fic. All. The. Time. It was used a long time ago as a noun - and maybe it still is further north - but where I / Soap are from it's really only used as an adjective these days.

“What do you think of the new recruit, Captain?”

“Aye, she’s bonny, awryt.”

But use this sparingly - and only to describe a person as a whole and not individual body parts. (e.g. you wouldn’t say “Your tits are so bonny.”) 

Darlin’ / Doll

The two most common pet names I hear from men here. It is ROUGH as anything and makes me melt. Ughhhh. 🥵

“D’ye like whit ye see, doll?”

Fuckin’ hell

An exclamation that’s pretty ubiquitous across the UK. Soap would 100% say this after sex or if he was surprised by something that made him horny. From clips of Soap I’ve seen I know he says “Steamin’ hell” too but I’ve never heard this IRL.

You sit in Soap’s office, perched on his desk wearing your new lingerie.

He opens the door and freezes, jaw on the floor.

“… Fuckin’ hell.”

Gads 

This is a very specific Kilmarnock / Ayrshire thing (which is where Soap’s file says he’s from). And it comes from a very old-timey phrase ‘egads!’ which is hilarious to me.

Gads can be used as an exclamation for something shocking (OR something cringe depending on the context).

“You honestly think that I snuck into your room because my bed was uncomfortable? I want you to fuck me, Soap.”

He swallows. “... Gads.” 

Gantin’ for it

AKA Gagging for it. Juvenile way to describe being horny. Soap would probably say this about himself in a jokey way. 

“You alright, Soap?”

“Aye, aye. I’ve just been gantin’ for it ever since that new lassie joined.”

Lassie / Lass

Girl. Younger. (Pop off age difference fics)

Missus

Literally “Mrs” but surprisingly not just used to refer to your wife. Really commonly used to refer to a girlfriend.

“Look, whatever the missus wants she gets. Awryt?”

Wee (insert expletive)

Literally call me whatever you want as long as you put ‘wee’ in front of it. Wee bitch, wee slag, wee slut (omggggggg). 

Soap tuts, as you writhe against his thigh. “Yer an impatient wee thing, aren’t ye?”

Anyway, that's all I've got for now- if I think of any more, I'll add to this. You don't need to credit me if you actually use this - I like to think of it as service to my country 🫡

P.S. This made me realise I've only ever had sex with Scottish people so maybe some of this is just normal sex stuff and not Scotland specific???? HAHAHAHA

P.P.S. I was getting really into the dialogue so I've written a short fic about Reader x Soap.

[kiwixlime]

Quiet and Confident

X is for Xennial 

You really love this old man.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader Notes: I haven’t died! I have just been through so much since I last updated anything and as much as I told myself I could do things, I just wasn’t in the right headspace. In these two years, I’ve fallen in and out of love, dealt with natural disasters, ups and lows of my emotions, and a boring list of other things. But I’ve been going down the rabbit hole lately, replaying my games, and I’ve been missing my boys so badly. And for the first time in forever, I have the inspiration to pick up where I left off. Who knows how long this will last. But right now, it feels right. I feel happy and ready to move on. So I present this. I felt it was the easiest way to ease back into writing. A simple and short one shot that of course includes our favorite dilf.  Warnings because we need those: Just some fluff and some suggestive conversation. Age gap, obviously. I love old man Joel. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything interesting so I’m not ready to dive right back into the smut yet haha. Soon, though! Soon. Anyway, this is short and sweet because it’s been a roadblock in my drafts and I have better things planned and I just want to get this out of the way. Definitely not my best work, but I promise better things are ahead. 

“Ha, Xennial.” 

“Somethin’ funny to you?” 

“Nope, nothing.” 

“You’re askin’ for it.” 

“Asking for what, grandpa?” 

Joel groans and mutters something to himself. You can’t help but laugh, sitting up in your bed, bringing your arms out in front of you to stretch yourself awake. The sun barely seeps through the curtains of your bedroom, but there’s enough of a glow for you to take in the markings that embellish your wrists. You smile, tucking your hands into your lap. 

“We should be more careful,” you express, catching his attention again. 

Curious, he enters your room, closing the bathroom door behind him. His sculpted figure makes its way to the edge of your bed. You stare in awe as he stands tall over you. He's old, but he's Godly. So fucking Godly. With a concerned pout, he holds his hands out, urging you to show him your wounds. 

When you comply, revealing the reddening marks and deepening bruises, he frowns. In the moment, he loves being rough with you. There's nothing better than listening to you beg and plead and whimper like a desperate little bitch. But once the lust wears out, he feels a little bad for treating you so...dirty. 

“Sorry, princess,” he hums and brings your wrists to his lips. His warm breath hits your skin, sending goosebumps up your arms and warmth throughout your belly. “Grandpa just can’t help himself.” 

“Oh, ew,” you whine, yanking yourself away from him. You fall back onto the bed, pulling the sheet up with you to cover your grossed-out face. You started it, but ew. “You ruined it.” 

“Hey,” he chuckles, lowering himself onto the mattress with you. “You started it. Callin’ me old 'n' shit.” 

“I’m sorry!” You giggle, exposing your face to him as he slowly pulls the white cotton fabric off your body. He's barely listening as he takes in the sight of you, gorgeous and innocent, just for him. “I just can’t get over it. Xennial.” 

“Why is that so fuckin’ funny to you?” He asks with a smile, his focus back on your face, finding you absolutely adorable with your cheeky smile and glistening eyes. 

Last night, before heading home, you guys were out with your sister and his brother and a few others, just shooting the shit and having a drink. Tommy referred to Joel as an Xennial and for some reason, you just lost it. It was the funniest thing you'd heard. 

“It’s just another way of calling you old,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “I like it.” 

“Yeah, well,” he huffs, feigning annoyance. “You weren’t thinkin’ I was too old for you last night, tied to the bed and beggin' to be--.” 

You grunt, slapping his arm. He’s not wrong. And he knows you’re joking. You like the fact that Joel is so much older than you. It’s not some weird kink thing, even though it seems that way and you happily play along to the roles. But there’s maturity in him, wisdom, and he doesn’t play games with your emotions. He’s straightforward and too old for bullshit. He lets you know what he wants and you love that you don’t have to guess. 

Plus, you feel comfortable with him. He’s strong and tough and sometimes a little scary, but he makes you feel safe. More than that, he teaches you how to hold your own; he teaches you how to protect yourself. You appreciate that. He’s delicate with your feelings and serious about your well-being. 

“Speaking of,” you say, the tone change in your voice is not lost on the older man. “You’re getting careless in public, you have to be careful or my sister will find out.” 

Thickness fills the air around you, leaving Joel with an uneasy feeling in his gut. You can feel the tension raying off of him and practically suffocating you. "Right," he says. 

Recalling the night prior, you can’t count the number of times Joel almost slipped up in front of everyone. It was either an intimate look that lasted a few seconds too long, a touch that was borderline indecent, or just his overall demeanor showing that he was way too close to you. Luckily, no one noticed as they were either occupied or intoxicated, but one of these days you won’t be so lucky. And your sister will lose her shit. 

“Is it the age thing?” He asks with a frown, his spirit darkening a bit. In all seriousness, his age is a bit of a sore subject between you two. He made sure a thousand and one times that you were okay with the large gap that existed between you two, and you were - you are. But sometimes it still gets to him. 

The last thing he wants is for someone, your sister especially, to think he has ill intentions towards you. And he doesn’t want people thinking badly of you, either. Even at the end of the world, the town loves their gossip. 

You’re young, but you’re not naive, you’re not stupid or careless, you know what you’re getting yourself into.  

“That and you know…” You trail off when you notice he’s lost in thought. 

“What?” He asks, dumbly, and you laugh. You stare at him, waiting for his brain to catch up, and when it finally clicks he lets out a small “oh.” 

“She wanted you first,” you finish, watching his face fall. He looks uncomfortable, squirming a bit under your gaze. It’s not something he likes remembering, mostly because it brings his tired brain back to the age thing again and leaves him with a sour feeling in his stomach. He’s not a creep. He’s not. Right? 

“And I wanted you,” he says softly, shyly almost. He doesn’t have to say much for you to know what’s going on in his gorgeous head. It’s painfully obvious. 

“And I wanted you,” you reply. “I know there’s something, deep down in your gut, telling you that this is bad, but I’m telling you to ignore it. I’m an adult, Joel. I’ve been an adult for years.” 

“I know that,” he sighs. “It’s just--” 

“It’s nothing,” you say firmly. “Look around, love. Look at the world we’re living in. If we find love, if we find comfort, who are we to deny it?” 

“I like what you’re sayin’,” he admits with a handsome grin, his hand finding yours, counting your fingers as he presses soft kisses to each one. He brings your palm to his cheek, resting against it and looking at you with such adoration. “You have me wrapped around your finger, you know that?” 

You hum, eyes fluttering closed, loving what he’s saying and how he says it. His naked body relaxes against yours as he climbs on top of you. Warm lips find your neck, sending your sensitive body and mind into a spell. You could stay here forever, getting lost within him, making yourself at home in his embrace. God, your sister would be so disappointed for so many reasons. 

“Everyone always says I’m just the younger version of her,” you whisper, killing the mood as Joel’s lips falter against your skin. He pulls away, brows furrowed in confusion and a little disappointment. “Sorry,” you squeak. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” He asks with concern. 

Sighing, you sit up, Joel grumbling in disappointment as he sits up with you. “I don’t question whether or not I want to be with you,” you tell him with certainty. “But she is the one person who scares me with this. She already thinks I’ve become a different person since coming to Jackson. And I keep going over last night. One of these days, we’re going to slip. And she’s going to kill you. I’ve always been told I’m just the mini version of her. So if she finds out, she’s going to think the worst of you. She’s going to think you’re the worst kind of pervert.” 

The rambling is doing your head in, but you can’t stop. Your inside thoughts are out there now and you can’t get them back on their leash. It’s been a while since you’ve panicked like this and you really don’t care for it. 

“Because I didn’t want her?” He scoffs, standing from the bed and grabbing his clothes from the floor. He slips his boxers on and then his jeans, feeling awkward being exposed during this kind of conversation. “You’re not a mini version of her,” he insists, sitting back beside you. “You look alike, sure, but that’s where the similarities end, darlin’. I promise.” 

It’s nice to hear, and it’s something you want to believe. But his words can’t erase years of everyone you know telling you how alike you and Lexie are. Maybe that’s why you’ve changed so much. It wasn’t the world ending, it was the newfound freedom. Here, you aren’t Lexie’s little sister. Here, you are your own being. And no one knows otherwise. 

“Listen,” Joel starts before your mind can spiral again. He grabs your hand, holding it tightly to keep you grounded. “Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I just don’t know Lexie well enough. But your sister, to me, seems like the type who is always tryin’ to impress everyone. I get the feelin’ she has the need to be liked; to fit herself into whatever shape someone asks of her.” 

Part of you wants to jump into your sister’s defense and tell Joel she's not like that. But you can’t seem to find your voice. And you’re not sure if you’d be lying or telling the truth. 

“But you aren’t like that at all. You don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, and you don’t cater to 'em. You don’t make yourself smaller to make everyone else feel more important. You’re quiet and confident. And I love that about you,” he finishes and you can hardly contain yourself. 

As the words leave his lips, you pounce on him, rolling him onto his back while you crawl on top of him. He lets out a little grunt and winces, grabbing onto your hips tighter than you were anticipating. 

“Oops,” you laugh. “Did I hurt your old back?” 

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart,” he says, gruffly. “I’ll show you how fuckin’ old I am.” 

You roll your eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

Joel grits his teeth before asking, “When does your sister get home?” 

You shrug. “Not for a couple hours, why?” 

He laughs and pushes himself up, quickly flipping your positions. He reaches for the binds tied to your headboard and grins down at you, fire in his eyes. “I just think you need a reminder,” he says. “of what happens when you talk back to me.” 

[starryylies]

Hi !!! Idk if you've done this already but can you do my angel boy Gaz and Ghost with a girl who love scary movies ??? I feel like they'd totally have the mentality of "I gotta comfort her when she's scared" but Gaz specifically flinches and I think Si would like "brace" if that makes sense like wincing his eyes. I dunno if you've done something like that but your emo story reminded me of me and it made me so happy I'm a metalhead and I was gonna ask for more but it was already in there and that just mad emy day ilysm already okay bye -🫀

Simon n Gaz watching a horror movie with s/o

HELLOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Again so sorry (I’m sorry for saying sorry sm) but like Omg I love this cuz I love horror smmmm!!! Insidious,suspiria,Bwp, conjuring you name it I love them omgggg.

So thank you so much for the awesome ask and I hope you enjoy it 🩷🩷🩷

Also I used the movies sinister and lights out for the references :))

SIMON-

♰ he thought watching the movie sinister will be fun cuz he thought he could protect you from the jumpscares

♰ he needs to be protected from the damn movie tho (okay this movie is fucked up tho and it’s totally normal to be scared)

♰in the beginning he thought it will be some poorly made movie with shit ass jumpscares but boy was he wrong

♰ when the scene of the family hanging themselves comes on he was taken aback and he lets out an audible wince shutting his eyes

♰ he genuinely finds the movie scary and gory, cannot help but find himself wince and shut his eyes whenever he thinks there will be a jumpscare

♰ as the movie progressed and the other tapes were revealed he just couldn’t take it anymore, his limit broke off when the mowing scene came

♰ but you seemed to be enjoying the movie, anticipating what the next scene will reveal

♰ he shut the tv before he could see further, it was too much for him

♰ “fuckin hell love this movie is a fuckin nightmare” he groans

♰ “noo It’s a well made film :( plus I enjoy a good scare ya know”

♰ god how could you be so chill with it, he can’t tell if he should admire you or keep his distance

♰dw he admires you :)

♰ keeps on ranting about how he’d never do such a stupid fucking thing

♰ says Ellison was a stupid fuckin idiot for getting his family there and curses him for the rest of the day

♰ asks you your opinion on the movie and who you think is recording the tapes

♰ ends up going on the net to see how the movie ends cuz he can’t let it go

♰when he finds out the ending he has an ‘aha’ moment.

♰ tries watching the movie again but ends up stopping in the beginning itself cuz he can’t handle it.

♰ probably doesn’t want kids after this movie

GAZ-

♰ Awh this poor guy just wanted to watch a scary movie with you to hold you when you’re scared but it kinda ends up being the opposite

♰ you both decide on watching lights out (I wanted to pick hereditary or mother but too much cuz I’m writing this at 3am)

♰ see lights out is a Pretty chill film but Diana is creepy as hell and sadly gaz became a victim to Diana’s jumpscares

♰ when she killed the dad gaz visibly flinched like on the edge of the sofa hoping the dad would survive

♰ but boom the bitch killed him :/

♰ felt really bad for the brother (Martin)

♰sympathised with him a lot by saying he’s a good kid and that he’s really strong.

♰ surprised on how you’re not getting scared or anything

♰ thinks that you have watched this film before

♰ gaz got shit scared during the scene where Rebecca and her boyfriend came and Diana creeped around them

♰ the end made him tear up just a lil :(

♰ you ended up comforting him holding him close cuz he felt bad about their mom

♰ thinks it’s adorable how you give lil facts about the movie from time to time though.

♰ cursed Diana for the rest of the day,

♰ if you take any medications, don’t worry you’ll never miss them now cuz gaz will make sure you eat yours on time

♰ keeps the bathroom and living room lights on that night

♰ will search for movies like lights out

♰ will never watch them though

♰ is proud that he got closer to you tho

♰ will definitely hold you the entirety of the movie

♰ will never have a horror movie date again tho

♰ but will watch a horror movie with you if you ask him cuz how can he say no to you :))

[theshinazugawaslut]

can you maybe… do sanemi with a wifey with small tits and a big ass? i know it seems random but i’m curious to see how you’ll write it! /nf

a/n: thank you for sending this! i was not very sure about what you wanted other than small tits and a big ass so that's what I gave — let me introduce sanemi being a lewd bastard, ogling you and trying to control himself, he's also kind of pathetic because when is he not? anyway, here's sanemi being weird. also, for reference, i'm big-chested and with a big ass so it might not be the best? but then again, i've never had sex and i write this shit.

You're pretty — always so pretty that it hurts.

He'd do anything for you to keep looking into his eyes; anything for your shimmering, sweet eyes to stay on his. Even when he's making love to you, little groans of your name leaving his kiss-swollen lips, he's kept a large, broad hand cupping the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair as he keeps your head down so he can see your eyes.

Others might find it strange but he likes watching your eyes, when they roll back into your head as he keeps his hands on your hips to sink him back down onto his length as he sits up in the futon as he swallows your mouth with desperate, wet kisses.

He loves your lips, too, loves it when you open your mouth and let him prod around, even if you find it rather peculiar. He loves your mouth, all bite and sweet and his. Sometimes he likes looming over you just to press a thick finger into your mouth, feeling over your enamel and gums, sometimes pinching your tongue between two fingers just to hear the pretty choke sound you make. Your jaw remains slack though, allowing his fingers to fuck your throat, feel the inside of your soft and chubby cheeks.

"Swallow," he'll say, voice rasping and eyes becoming hazy as he sees the amount of spit gathering in your mouth, saliva begin to drool down your chin.

He'll watch, mesmerised, as your mouth closes around three of his fingers and your throat bobs, momentarily tightening around his knuckles and nails before you open you mouth again. Your pink tongue flattening as he places the pad of his index finger against it, feeling the warm, wet muscles slowly lick across it.

He was filthy for your smell, too — it made him drool like a bitch in heat, and he was always moaning against your hair as he rained kisses like rhinestone eyes across your hairline as he breathed in the scent. His rough hands holding onto your hips, blunt fingernails pressing into your plump skin as he pressed his nose against that precious crook between neck and shoulder, peppering kisses slowly down your arms, your waist, till his nostrils flare till when he reaches your drooling cunt.

"My darling girl," he'll coo, nudging his cheek against your inner thigh. "Pretty, pretty, pretty," he almost sings like a child, placing feverish kisses against your pudgy folds, sucking like a lunatic at your puffy clit till you come all over his face, and he loves being soaked in your honeyed essence, still muttering mean little praises against your cunt.

He'll gasp loudly as his face is covered in the smell of your gushing pussy, moaning like a whore for you as it drips down his chin and sharp jaw, smeared across his lips lewdly, even dripping from his hair, just for him to bury his face against your slit once more, teething against your sex, smacking his jaw against your juiced-up clit, swishing his head side-to-side as if he were a hyena ripping flesh from bone, letting out drawn-out moans and whines.

"You're doing so well, so fuckin' well, baby," he'll moan one day as he keeps his bulging arms wrapped around your neck, squeezing till you see stars as he drags his cock in and out of you on your shared futon.

This is when he likes your voice the most, when you're all strangled whimpers and silent screams as he fucks the air right out of you. "Uh-huh? You want it like this, don't ya? That's right, atta girl, take my cock, take that fat fucking cock."

His grin is lopsided against your neck as he bites hard into the supple flesh but he smacks your cheek lightly as he almost violently thrusts into your spasming cunt, watching how your mind turns to dumb cotton. "Oi, stay with me, 'm bouta cum." But he'll kiss your glittering skin like gold. "Fuckin' bitch... Got me actin' like an animal, love you so damn much."

Though as soon as you cum, he'll be gathering you in his arms, littering kisses across your face and when you reach up to touch his hot skin, he'll grab your hand, kiss each fingertip like god-given twilight.

"My love, my love," he whispers against your forehead, kissing the arch of your brow sweetly, both of you sweaty and sticky, and you're just oozing with his seed. "My sweet girl, are you alright?" His lilac eyes worriedly look at your neck, a little red forming from where he had choked you a little but as you nod, giving him a weak but content smile, he beams right back. "That's my girl..."

"You're happy...?" you'll ask in your sweet, shy voice. He'll grin, and say he's the happiest man in the world.

He loves all of you, if that wasn't obvious, loves all the sweet parts of you. Loves how you stroke the silvery, jagged scars on his chest; loves how you watch random children with tender, soft eyes, and he decides to stuff you again in hope you'll carry his child and he can kiss your plump stomach one day; loves how you forget to take your sword or your shoes with you for missions; loves how you glower at younger slayers for lacking ambition or soul; loves how you stare at flowers or stars like they were calling to you with siren song.

But sometimes he feels like a filthy animal with how much he slobbers at the sight of your small tits and big ass.

He knows all too well how you glare at him when he tries to explain his obsession with your breasts — you weren't flat like tree bark but you weren't very big-chested either so you didn't understand your husband's odd like for them.

"Doesn't stop ye moaning though," he'll hiss into your ear before ducking his red-cheeked face down to suckle on your pert nipple, his other calloused fingers squeezing at the small mounds like a hungry mutt. "Love these pretty tits of yours so damn much...."

And you know he likes your ass, always touching it; sometimes out of genuine, sheer innocence. It's just that natural to him for his large hands to rest on the rather fabulous swell of your ass as he stands next to you, though he'll be a tease and pinch it and grin when you yelp and go hot with embarrassment as he grins like a man man.

Though you've gotten used to him trailing around after you in the estate, sometimes patting your ass like a fucking bongo drum as you cook and he talks to you casually. Sometimes he'll take his chopstick and keep poking at your bum, smiling innocently when you turn around to pinch his nose affectionately.

But right now, he feels kind of bad for salivating.

You're not even dressed up, nor are you doing anything particularly special. Simply wearing a matching slayer uniform with him, haori and all, though he insists that you keep your gakuran shirt all buttoned up so that nobody stares (that's his job anyway) which you do per his request.

But he feels vile right now and he knows he looks madder than usual as you and a few younger slayers investigate a certain village today, waiting till the stars begin to twinkle to hunt down the demon.

You keep staring at him too and you're making it worse. Hell, he keeps blinking slowly as if reality isn't really making sense to him because why the fuck does your uniform look so nice on you? The swell of your ass still incredibly prominent despite the flowing hakama.

He wants to touch you, bend you over wherever, whenever but he can't because he'd never, never do that to you. You're too sweet, too innocent (he supposes) for that.

"Sanemi, are you alright?" you ask him, the back of your hand coming to touch his forehead, knuckles brushing past his brow as you worry about his feverish state, and just the touch of your hand has him reeling. "'Nemi, honey?"

"'m- 'm f-fine," he says through gritted teeth, trying not to moan at just the sensation of you checking his temperature; his eyes are more bloodshot than usual, becoming pinpricks as they look at you. He reaches up so that broad fingertips can light graze your jaw, he repeats with a forced smile, "'m fine, doll..."

You don't look convinced but you walk just a few steps ahead of him, using your sweet voice to guide the younger slayers, and it's like you're doing it on purpose. The audacity. Walking in front of him, where he has perfect view of your ass, why did god give him such a perfect wife?

The mission itself went well, the kakushi cleaning up as always, and after tending to a wounded slayer. You notice your husband hadn't returned from the forest and so, you panic.

Your strong legs running through the thicket of trees, uncaring of the darkness that envelopes the forest, even with the glittering tendrils of moonlight slipping through the foliage, casting an eerie glow.

"Sanemi!" you yell out, adrenaline pumping in your veins at the thought something might have happened to your husband, your uniform occasionally getting stuck in brambles but you truly don't care, simply letting it shred through the fabric. "'Nemi? Sanemi! God, 'Nemi, where are you?! 'Nemi-"

You shriek as you're grabbed as you run past the trunk of a particularly thick tree but a familiar, warm hand covers your mouth, desperately kissing your temple like sin.

"Fuck, 'm sorry," Sanemi sobs against your ear, hand now snaking around your chest to grope at your small tits, other hand reaching down to touch your ass and squeeze. His throat is raw, almost as though it's been ripped apart, voice shredded. "'m sorry, dolly, 'm sorry- I'm filthy, I'm so fuckin' filthy but I wanna touch you so fuckin' bad."

You realise very quickly that your husband had come over here to jack off in the middle of the dark forest, his hakama barely pulled down his thick, muscle-corded thighs. His dick strained against you and he moaned loudly as your clothed body brushed against it, panting into your ear.

"Oh, 'Nemi..." you say softly. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry, 'm sorry, jus' fuck me, please, I beg you, just- Shi-hiit," he whines as you turn around in his arms, looking at him through spotted moonlight.

God, he looks insane: eyes blown wide and bloodshot, jaw going slack as he looks at your pretty eyes, mouth, skin, tits, heart, soul- He surges forward, trying to desperately kiss you, grabbing onto your ass as his dick slaps against his stomach. He looks so fucked.

"Can- can I?" he croaks out and as you nod, allowing him to unbotton your shirt. "All for me?"

You nod and all that's left is for Sanemi to hoist you up against a tree, meaty forearms easily hooking under your thighs and pressing you against it as he slobbers over your tits and trembles against you, he's all but crying and whimpering as his throbbing, heavy cock splits you in two.

The pace he goes at is feral and he's huffing against your neck, letting out wanton moans as his balls clap against your ass, dragging you up and down his cock.

You feel so fucking good and god, it's all for him.

The thought makes him paint your insides white.

[weebsinstash]

In case it wasn't obvious by my complete LACK of screaming, I actually wound up hanging out with family and walking away from the TV before fully completing Hazbin's fourth episode, AKA The One I Know Is Gonna Drive Me Wild 😩❤️ so speaking of poison, time to get drunk again and finish that last episode!

I really gotta say though, as someone who has been chatting with a few other people... laughing howling barking at the amount of people straight up, "yeah Valentino is sexy but now that we know more about him, VOX THOUGH" like the amount of autistic girl pussy this man could pull is WILD

in episode two during the scene introducing VoxTech they make it VERY clear that Vox also straight up has fucking hypnosis powers??? It's when his left eye gets all... woobly? And then when Vox was calming down Val, that same effect was used TWICE, so, lowkey implying Vox tries to "lull" Valentino into a calmer state

"What are you doing, Val"

"You're not going over there."

Also the delivery on that line was hot 😩 imagine Vox saying something to you like "don't leave the studio :)" and he can tell you're not gonna listen to him or you're only half listening and he just repeats himself like THIS, the register of his voice lowers firmly, "You're NOT leaving the studio" and suddenly your head feels kinda fuzzy as he starts telling you all the different reasons it's too crazy outside for you to leave his sight... yeah... guess he's right... better... trust him...

Vox is composed, calculating, cunning, he's the SALESMAN, the sweet-talker, the schemer. Val's yelling and screaming that you ran off and aren't answering his calls and being manic, throwing things, tearing people apart, and meanwhile here's Vox, "calm down Valentino I can just activate the tracker I put on the phone I gave them :)"

remember in the past where I talked about Val getting Reader their first phone down in Hell. I can still see that because Val is fawning over you so much he gives you a phone so he can contact you whenever he wants, like LMAO imagine Val calling texting calling texting and everyone's watching him go fucking crazy "WHY AREN'T THEY RESPONDING fucking BITCH" and here's Angel "Boss they dont even have a phone???? Whose number are you even calling????", BUT I also see Vox doing this because he's the actual one who can do some shit like "oh yeah here's just a little something I threw together, it's the new VPhone 27, it's whatever" and later you find out he gave you the equivalent of like a $3000 iPhone and it has like special features on it that he very clearly put on there just for you but you have no frame of reference so you don't even realize how nice your phone is until someone else comments on it

Also. Valentino snatching Reader's phone and chucking it and completely shattering it and it sends you into a rage, "THAT WAS A GIFT FROM VOX YOU TEMPERAMENTAL PRICK!" and Vox returns from the bathroom or some shit to you yelling and screaming at each other, "You're lucky I don't put something in that smart mouth of yours to teach you some respect you ungrateful whore!!" "well YOU'RE LUCKY I don't sit on your face until you fucking suffocate and die a second time!!" and Vox feels himself getting kinda. Hot watching you two go back and forth, "I should fuckin tie you up until you're begging for me to stop whipping that fat ass of yours RAW!" "Cocky stuck up men like you always cry and whimper the loudest when they get restrained and FUCKED UP THE ASS"

Vox just in shock as you're able to TEAR INTO THIS MAN and walk away completely unscathed, all you guys really do is scream at each other and then 20 minutes later after you've walked away, always YOU to disengage or else he'll just keep going, Val's texting you shortly thereafter, "heeeeeeey baaaaabe, come back 🥺 I miss you ❤️" and then the second you fall for it and come back, "took you long enough, fucking brat" and you're getting pulled into his lap to forcibly cuddle him and be made to brush his chest fur while he makes calls for drug deals and shit

[bisexualiteaa]

Finding out you have an ✨intimate✨ piercing

CW: suggestive themes and light mentions of smut so 18+ content! Reader is written in a more AFAB orient. Also thank you all for such great receptions on my CoD works, it means the world to get my silly little writings and ideas out and that you all like them so much, so a million times thank you. 🥹🫶

John "Soap" MacTavish

- It was a secret you held from him for a while, having spent years in the force together before finally dating, he hadn't known til now that you had nipple piercings.

- He had seen a few of your other piercings when you would wear jewelry outside of work, like your earrings, a nose ring, even having your eyebrow pierced and a belly ring when you were out and about on a day off, none of those things phased him, they were just a part of you.

- It was when you two had finally taken the next step in your relationship to get intimate for the first time that he had found out, this was the first time he'd ever seen you without a bra.

- As soon as you removed the material from your chest, he was excited to see what laid beneath, and soon shocked to see you had your nipples pierced. He gave a whistle at the sight of your titties that had just grown even more alluring to his eyes.

- "When did ya decide to get that done, hen?" He asked with an intruiged grin, making you look down to see what he was referring to. "Oh these? God it was so long ago, I got them on a stupid dare back in high school. My friends at the time said they'd give me fifty bucks to get it done to prove my pain tolerance" you admitted, making him laugh. "Only fifty bucks?" He asked. "Well originally the bet was I'd only get one done, but mama didn't raise a bitch, so I got both done. The piercing itself was only thirty, so I made twenty bucks out of it. Twenty bucks and friends who'd never question my nuts of steel ever again" you replied making him laugh at the response that seemed sounded so completely like you.

- You on the other hand, couldn't help but see the way he was looking at them, oggling at them as if he was admiring them even more, seeing the look on his face that practically read "wonder what it'd feel like to have them in my mouth."

- "You like them?" You asked with honeyed seduction in your tone, a cheeky grin on your face as you made him snap out of hid own thoughts. "I do, like 'em a lot actually" he answered, stepping closer and placing one of his hands to your breast, his thumb brushing over your pebbled nipple, making you give a sigh at the sensitive feeling. "Heard they can make ya more sensitive" He started to say, his accent thicker now as his own voice took on a deeper octave, lascivious intent laced in his tone. "Care to find out?" You asked with a grin, making him loop his other arm around you to pull you close. "You bet I fuckin' would" he answered before leaning down to wrap his lips around the other nipple. You gave a moan, leaning your head back as he started to suck on it, earning a plethora of lovely sounds from you.

- Needless to say, he was definitely a fan of these piercings too, enjoying this new information about you and the things he could do with it, he loved the way they were so sensitive and made you make such beautiful sounds for him.

König

- You knew this little stunt would definitely shock König when he came home from his mission in the next couple of months, giving the jewelry ample time to heal before he was able to catch sight of it in action.

- "got a little surprise for you when you come home~" you'd text him one day, giving him absolutely no context, but reading the message alone was enough to make his mind run rampant. Had you bought a new outfit? Some lingerie to surprise him in when he got home? Did you get him something he told you about? Oh how this poor man's mind was reeling from all the possibilities.

- So when the couple of months passed and he finally made it home, he'd almost forgotten all about it, happy to just see you after going months out in the field without getting to hear from you except for periodically.

- That was, until you were on your knees in front of him, his dick heavy on your tongue as you circled it around his tip before taking him in your mouth, that he felt something a little different.

"Maus? What- Scheiße...what is that?" He asked through moans, making you giggle as he looked down at you. "Your surprise, liebe" you answered sweetly, sticking your tongue out to show him the jewelry before you gave a long lick up the expanse of his cock, teasing the sensitive spot under his tip with your piercing. "You like it?" You asked with a cocky grin, knowing by the way he was moaning and practically melting at your every touch that he did, but you needed to hear him say it.

- "Ja, I like it a lot liebling" he replied, his hand carding through your hair, keeping it away from your face as your lips wrapped around him, taking him in as deep as you could as your hand wrapped around what you couldn't fit.

- He definitely made it clear how much he liked it, from the way he would kiss you with far more tongue now just to feel it against his own, to the way he would get more excited than before when you would get on your knees to please him, or even anytime you'd run your tongue along his skin, he swore it was his new favorite feeling.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

- You were embarrassed when he found out that you had a clit piercing, knowing the reason behind why you had gotten it done, even though he hadn't known yet.

- You had it before meeting Simon, having been in a couple of relationships before meeting him. The jewelry was a need for you after your previous relationships, due to your former partners and their lack of abilities in making you finish.

- You and Simon had sex before, so you knew thankfully, even if you hadn't had the jewelry, he was finally the one to break the cycle. But anytime you knew you were going to get intimate with him, you'd take it out beforehand and pray he wouldn't be too observant of the area so he wouldn't know.

- So when you forgot to take it out one day, caught by surprise by him coming home early from the field without telling you, your anxiety began to get the better of you as things turned intimate.

- It made you incredibly nervous and embarrassed the moment he went down on you and found the jewel peaking from your clit, and had he not been between your legs, you'd have shut them if you could.

- "What's this you've got here?" He asked, knowing damn well what it is, but he enjoyed teasing you too much, especially when you were in a more shy and submissive mood. "A piercing..." You let out, hiding your face as you admitted to it, and by the tone he knew he needed to let up and check on you.

- "What's wrong, love? Do you not want to do this?" He asked, worried that perhaps he had pushed things when you weren't in the mood, or maybe misjudged your signals. "No, no! It's not that at all, I want this I just.." You started to say before giving a sigh and trying to collect your thoughts and courage. "I'm just embarrassed to have it" you admitted, making him come back up to be level with you. "Why?" He asked, genuinely curious as to why you'd get something like that, then be embarrassed of it. "Because...if I'm honest, the people I had been with before you, weren't good" you started, feeling a little more at ease to open up to him. "So I got it when I was single, before I met you, to help me finally have a chance to experience an orgasm for once in my fucking life when I'd have sex, instead of having to fake it and take matters into my own hands later" you admitted, making him chuckle at your admission that he felt was completely valid. Little did you know, you'd just sky rocketed his ego in telling him he's the first person to make you cum.

- "You don't need to be ashamed love, I'd be pissed too if a shit back like that didn't make me cum" he said, making you giggle at his blunt words of reassurance, but that was Simon, and you took comfort in knowing he didn't hate it. "You don't mind it? I can take it out if you'd prefer" you asked. "I think it's a good look on you" he replied honestly, his fingers gently circling your clit, making you moan and clutch at the sheets beside you as you delighted in his touch. "I'd say I feel sorry for the poor bloke you got this for who missed out.." he mused, trailing his lips down your stomach, then all the way down until he was once again situated between your legs, mouth just centimetres from your aching cunt. "But I don't" he finished, placing a light, open mouthed kiss to your clit, making you buck your hips in reaction. "Legs open for me love, let me show you how much I like it, yeah?" He asked, watching you nod your head yes before devouring you like you were his last meal.

- He made damn sure that after that night, you weren't ashamed of it anymore.

[bagofshinyrocks]

Face to Face

Prompt: Reader has vitiligo and is insecure about it. Ghost finds it attractive. [Requested by anonymous]

Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: insecurity about vitiligo; past teasing/bullying/disrespect/etc. regarding vitiligo; no reference to genitalia, but reader uses he/him pronouns; besides the skin condition, no reference to the reader's skin color; no smut, but nudity; two dudes who like dudes making jokes about dudes liking dudes

Note: Vitiligo is an autoimmune disorder wherein patches of skin lose pigment. I totally recommend looking it up if you haven't heard of it.

A/N: Brain shit itself, but hopefully this is still enjoyable to y'all.

You could have kicked yourself. All the years of prods and nicknames (especially in the military), polite and impolite inquiries, stares. You had tried sunscreen, makeup, every medicine available to you either at home or in the clinics. Even did some research on phototherapy.

And you could have just worn a fucking balaclava like this bloke from ‘Manchesta’ (with quite the man-chest). No one even looked at him for very long. You figured wearing a goofy costume mask would get eternal ribbing, but no. None at all. Very relieving to you.

The next time you changed bases you started wearing something to hide your face. Balaclava, facial mask, sunglasses. If it was in regs, you wore it. And it felt a bit better. Not that you couldn’t go outside without something, but the looks or stares didn’t bother you.

You coulda kissed Ghost for having such a genius idea.

Then you actually got to know the bastard. God, he was scary. No wonder no one teased him.

You started working with Ghost on base a few weeks after first seeing him, and the two of you were actually on friendly terms. You were one of the few he seemed to like. If it was it a good thing or a bad thing, you weren’t quite sure yet. 

He would sit with you at meals where you got glimpses underneath that mask. Find you during training and start competitions. Playful nudges and shoves in the hall. Ribbing and teasing. It was really nice.

“Have I started a trend?” he teased, plucking at the cloth of his mask.

“You do realize its like ten degrees outside? Not interested in snot-sickles every time I sneeze.”

A rare chuckle. “Tha’s true. Snot-sickles are prob’ly not in the regs.”

“Definitely not. Distracting. Unprofessional.”

A gloved hand landed on your shoulder and gave you a good shake. “I bet you could pull it off though.”

“Oh, you betcha.”

It hadn’t even occurred to you that Ghost had yet to see your face. He’d seen your hands and forearms, and you figured that he knew what vitiligo was and that odds are it was on your face too. You appreciated the balance. He knew which mask jokes were funny and which were uncomfortable, and you two could shoot back and forth.

Finally, after some disgusting obstacle training, you were in the men’s room together, bitching and stripping in a wholly unsexy manner.

“Fuckin’ God,” you gagged, wringing out socks and shoving them in the laundry bag.

“I’d rather get shot in the arse than do that again.” The heavy thunk of boots on the tile. Then he braced himself on the counter and slipped out of his outermost pants. You whistled, and he told you to fuck off.

You went to the showers and decided it would be most efficient to rinse your clothes and gear at the same time as you washed yourself.

Your helmet, the various plastic pads on your joints and limbs, your vest. The slowest, muddiest strip tease. You’d rinse off your shirt a bit, ruck it off and wring it out like a towel and chuck it to the side. Then your pants, your undershirt. 

A quick glance behind you and you could see Ghost continuing to struggle with twigs and leaves stuck in the straps of his tactical vest.

You shucked off your undergarments and a good round of water and body wash got the mud, dirt, and sweat off. It had been a minute since you showered with someone else there in the group shower rather than the little cubbies. But Ghost wasn’t looking. You thought.

He had told himself that he was only staring at your naked ass and back because he was curious about your skin. He thought it was maybe burns or scarring, but it appeared all over your body. They didn’t look painful or raised. They were fascinating. Sexy.

His head snapped back to the front and he yanked off his vest. Was he being a creep? A sneaky glance back to you. You were none the wiser.

If he wasn’t staring at your vitiligo, did that mean he was staring at your ass? Nah, you were his mate. Wanting to touch your skin was because he wanted to see if the depigmented patches were raised, or felt different. He wanted to see if the same pigmentation was on your front. Symmetric or asymmetric. Not because he wanted to see anything in particular on the front of your body.

The water shut off and his head jerked away.

Whilst distracted, he had stripped down to his undershirt and boxers and rinsed off a bit in the sink. 

You wandered back over with a towel wrapped around you and another in your hand, drying your face and head.

“Mate, I had mud in places I didn’t even know I had.”

Ghost chuckled. “Wash behind your ears?”

You tilted your head and showed him. “Yep. With soap even.”

Finally, his eyes fixed on your face. You were in front of a mirror, but you were distracted with brushing your teeth and checking yourself for cuts and bruises. And he wasn’t being a creep. Right? Fuck, he felt like a freak.

To make himself feel better, he tugged off his balaclava and dropped it with the rest of his discarded clothes. A cursory scrub of his face in the sink.

Oh, good, he wasn’t being a freak. Because your eyes kept darting to his face.

“Alright, 50 minutes.” You patted the washing machine. “Time for a fat nap.”

Simon wrapped an arm around your neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. You grabbed at his bicep and turned to look at him. So close, his nose almost brushed the skin of your cheek.

“Harder, sir.”

He almost laughed but kept it in. A quick movement and you found yourself in the hallway as Simon dragged you backwards to his room.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

You went limp and he finally laughed. 

“That won’t save you, pretty boy.”

Goosebumps. A warm rush of blood under the skin of your face. A funny feeling in your stomach. The hair on the back of your neck stood up. You were not excited to decode why you had that reaction to those words.

The officer’s quarters were nicer than the regular ones, with a private room. Small, but private. So (what felt like) a few seconds later you were in Simon’s room. On his bed. On top of the sheets, but still on the bed.

Then he crammed in next to you.

“It’s fine if it’s back to back,” he teased, pressing up against you and ‘got comfortable’, meaning he was rocking around and bumping into you on purpose.

“Yeah, sure. You like having your ass against my ass L.T.?”

“Fuck we supposed to do? Lay dick to dick? Snuggle arse to dick?”

“I’m wearing socks, L.T.” You flipped around and settled your hands over his shoulder blades. “Want a… back rub, sir?”, you said as sensually as you could while trying not to laugh.

Simon craned his neck. “You will turn back around and make our arses kiss or I’m going to break your arms.”

The bed shook with your laughter.

“We have 47 minutes to nap. Hop to.”

“Yes, sir.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2024 January 7

[cookie-crumblr]

The smell of smoke

Innocent F! Reader x M!Yandere Bully OC

Part 1~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part: 1 2

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, reader in a skirt, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, name calling (bitch, slut, ), BULLYING, non con touching-shoving stuff like that, non con exhibitionism, burning, hand gag, non con oral on m!, severe violence against reader, non con foreign object use in vagina, SA by ml!, sadism

“Ooof!” the wind is all knocked from your lungs as you slam yourself into something solid right outside your dorm room door.

“Want sum bitch!?” A tall, strawberry blonde guy shouts as he shoves you away from him.

Your poor body slams into a wall, you squint at the pain and at the same time a lewd warmth starts to seep between your legs.

A fist punches the wall above your head causing your eyes to shoot open.

“hah, this bitch thinks she’s cute or sumthin’” His other hand roughly pulls your skirt up by the hem, showing your little-white-ribbon-having panties to all his friends.

They laugh and leer at you.

“Oh, what’s this,” His fingers roughly press under your hood, “She’s fucking wet, what a slut. Trynna look all innocent an shit” he spits.

In one blink he’s roughly assaulting you, the next he’s leaving with his friends laughing about you on the way.

You fix your clothes as you stare after them and try to calm your racing heart.

At least you won’t see him again…

You make it to your class only a minute late, and find a seat open in the back.

While you doodle puppies in the margins instead of taking notes, that same guy slams down a book on the table next to you.

You glance up to his chilling smile, “Listen bitch, I know you want this,” He grabs his crotch, “but I’m not fuckin’ interested, gotit? so move.”

“Th-there aren’t a-any seats op-” you peep before being cut off-

“Not my problem.” He sits and leans back, his ankle crossing his knee.

From a pocket somewhere he pulls a pack of cigarettes, and sparks one, his curious and agitated eyes not leaving yours.

The professor walks in at the same moment “Ezra, put it out.” he says without even turning to look.

In that moment his big hand covers your entire mouth forcefully, his lips come close to your ear, “Don’t scream, or else,”

As you grunt out in confusion and reach up to try and pry off his hand, you feel the searing hot pain of him putting out his cig on your thigh.

The pain is white hot, searing and blinding.

Your scream is muffled by his hand, and tears prick at your eyes.

Nobody even turns to look.

You claw at his hand.

His breath tickles your neck, “I said~ Don’t. Fucking. Scream.”

Goosebumps prickle all over your flesh.

“Now yer gonna get it, bitch” he nips at your ear while his finger trails your jaw. A shiver ripples through you.

For just a second too long he gazes into your eyes, your heart beats thunder in your ears.

You’re a frozen deer staring into the headlights of your doom.

Ezra moves a hand to your throat and tightly squeezes. You strain to breathe and fail to notice him opening his pants.

he shoves your face down into his lap.

For a second you can breathe and you gasp, trying to take in any air at all, and instead getting a throat full of dick.

“Mmmf!!!!!” Your throat contracts painfully.

He pushes his hips up and your head down further so that your nose presses against his thigh.

You can’t breathe at all!

He knows it and rotates his hips, grinding into your face harder before he pulls you off of him enough to get some air finally.

That doesn’t last long before you’re shoved back down.

It feels as though he doesn’t even want to come. He’s literally just holding you there to torture you.

You get only the air he allows you.

Tears roll helplessly down your face, mixing with snot and saliva alike.

This lasts the entire class period. Him keeping your puffy lips pressed against his body, and only giving you air when you’re just about to black out.

It didn’t take long for you to just give up the fight entirely.

He finally lifts you off, his still rock hard dick bobs as you leave it, before standing straight back up.

He lets you drop onto your desk.

You let out a shaking groan, while you catch your breath.

“Not gonna give anything t’a bitch like you,” he stands to leave and spits onto your back.

You run from the room, to the relative safety of the laboratories.

In the reflection you inspect your bloodshot eyes, and the red spots on your face from the oxygen deprivation.

Remarkably, you make your next class on time.

Though, your heart pounds, terrified of the possibility that he could just walk through these doors too.

Thankfully, he doesn’t.

The rest off the day passes without incident but the memory stains you. It keeps flashing through your head. you keep sighing deeply, the air you’re getting not feeling like enough.

You’re zoned out while you walk to your dorm room, not even feeling happy to finally be so close to your bed, so close to salvation…

Everything good left in the world is torn from your reality completely, and utterly when your book bound arms slowly bump into the back of someone once again.

You know who it is before you even focus your eyes…

Your body shakes violently as you begin to sob again.

“You just don’ fuckin’ learn, do you, bitch?”

“What’s this chick’s problem?”

“Yeah, she obsessed with you or sumthin’?”

“Dunno. wha’ d’ya say? Ya obsessed with me, slut?” his head tilts as he smirks.

You continue to cry and sob louder and louder.

“The fuck? We’re talkin’ t’ya, bitch,” his smirk morphs into a snarl.

“I-I-I’m s-sorryyyyyy” you stumble over your words as you choke over your tears.

“Did I ask fur a fuckin’ apology?” He grips your hair and slams your head into a cement brick wall.

“Ahh haaaaa!!! Noo!! P-leaseeee!! Nno!” You plead desperately while you try and weakly push your body away from the wall, blood pours from your forehead into your eyes. The blood burns and makes you squint, your vision blurred and crimson.

He pulls you up to his slightly tilted face by your scalp, “Choose your next words carefully, bitch” his breath tickles your lips.

“S-s—sorr-yyyy” you don’t know what you did to deserve this. You don’t know what he wants from you. and you honestly don’t know what is going to happen now.

“This your room?” he uses your jaw to spin your head painfully around, “Get her fucking keys.”

His friends surround you both as hands grope you and fondle areas that definitely don’t have pockets until the jingle of metals can be heard.

You’re still sobbing and his hand is still grasping a fist full of your locks.

The one with the keys unlocks the door, and you all flood into the room, Ezra forcing you forward.

Your roommate wakes up from her nap in shock, “Wh-what’s going on!?”

“Get ‘er out.” He commands his friends, as he throws you onto your bed. “Somebody get this bitch’s clothes off. Now”

“Y/N!!!! Y/N, Oh my gods—Stop!!!!” Your roommate screams as the force the door into her face.

His eyes scan the room as he lights up another cigarette. He finds the first thing he can shove into your vagina, and grabs it.

You’ve been kicking and pleading for them to stop as they stripped you. “hold her down.” he says, and they do.

Whether you’re lucky or unlucky is up to you, as he holds up a wooden handled broom from the corner before snapping it in half.

“N-no!”

He throws the half with the sweeper away and comes at you with the other.

“Which end bitch?” he holds the thing up for you to see.

“ROUND!” Your brain at least works when it desperately needed to.

“Glad you’re finally fucking getting it,” The broom handle still struggles to go in despite how wet you are.

He shoves past where your body wants it to stop.

He shoves it in and out of you while his friends hold your limbs spread apart.

He pinches and slaps your clit, bruising your mound.

Your body convulses as you cum, Ezra shoves it in as hard as he can before backing up and pulling out his phone.

His friends continue to hold you as he snaps a few pictures of your body, with your pussy exposed, and a broken handle sticking out of you.

You twitch in their final grasps, before Ezra flicks his still lit cigarette at you, and they let go.

He practically rips the door off the hinges and he ducks to leave.

Your roommate rushes in after they’re gone and calls an ambulance for you.

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter three: thursday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.4k

summary: you and carmy finally find some time to catch up and carmy begins to realize that you're more similar than he thinks.

a/n: thank you to all who are reading, reblogging, and commenting omg. i'm so grateful that someone wanted to read this story. i wrote it in a week because i couldn't get these two out of my head. they were begging to be put on the page. i also have a companion playlist that i'll release when the story is done because i don't want to spoil anything! comment below if you'd like to be added to this story's taglist. i did presumptuously add a few of you i've interacted with, so please let me know if you'd also like to be taken off of it.

read: part two | masterlist

Thursday

You’re grateful that by day three, you’d been able to smooth over some of the tension between you and Carmy. You even looked forward to catching up with him, if the two of you can swing it. Instead of going home early, you had jumped on the line this evening. Ebra was out for the night and Marcus had asked to fly solo on prep so that you could give him some feedback before lunch service tomorrow morning. 

It was an easy decision, to fill in and jump on the line. After all, you had checked your bag on the plane so that you could bring your knife roll with you, just in case. There was something about this kitchen – the energy and the people – that you wanted to stick around for. And it didn’t hurt that you got to spend a little extra time with Carmy. When he was in his element, expediting and leading this kitchen… he was… breathtaking. 

“Damn, nice knife, Jeff” Tina comments, checking out the santoku you’re running through some parsley. She can hear the crisp, clean cuts you're making, which is what caught her attention in the first place.

“Jeff?” you question, shooting her a look. 

“Long story, but trust me. It’s a term of endearment,” Sydney interjects, from her side of the prep station. 

You chuckle, “She’s a beauty alright. My first fully Japanese knife. Though the steel is a bitch to take care of. That’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?” Tina questions further. 

“Well, it’s just a kind of metal alloy that’s super prone to-,” you start, completing your sentence at the same time as Sydney chimes in.

“Rusting,” you both say in unison, sharing a look. 

“Huh,” Tina sounds, suddenly losing interest. “I don’t get it. It’s more work to take care of? Our shit’s part-plastic and does the job just fine.”

“Oh but she’s so smooth,” you playfully swoon, referring to how beautifully the knife performs for you. 

“It’s all about the performance, T,” Sydney adds. 

Tina hums in response, still unconvinced by you and Sydney’s admiration for the fancy tools. 

“So you and Carmy. How’d you meet Jeff?” Tina inquires further geturing her knife towards Carmy’s expediting station, and eliciting another laugh from you and Sydney.

“Uhhhh… we both worked at the same restaurant in New York. I came in to stage and the competitive jerk tried to smoke me. Thought he could show me it was his territory.”

“Like a little bitch,” Tina teases, the shade evident in her voice.

“And you kicked his ass obviously,” Sydney suggests, hopefully. 

“Mhm,” Tina adds in agreement.

“Oh absolutely,” you answer, deviously. “I walked out with a job that night. Carmy and I are the classic kitchen staff case of… enemies turned good friends.” 

You look up from your station, noticing an exchanged look between Sydney and Tina. 

It’s the kind of look that says, Just friends, huh?

“Alright, alright. Enough with the girl talk, gossip girls. News flash: no one gives a shit about fuckin’ Tom Colicchio and Padma Whatserface over here,” Richie interrupts, referring to the you and Carmy, as he passes by with a few empty storage containers on the way to the dishwashing station. 

“Asshole / Fuck off, Richie,” Sydney and Tina shout back at the same time. 

“Hey! Listen up, everyone! Fire two spaghettis, two short ribs, one chicken,” Carmy calls out to the kitchen. You listen attentively, hearing the chorus of the entire kitchen repeat the order back to him, punctuating the order with a ‘heard.’ 

You smile to yourself, as you enjoy the feeling of falling into such a familiar rhythm. 

You’ve missed working in the kitchen, and you’ve missed working in the kitchen with Carmy. This was so different than any of the bullshit you’ve been through together – even when he is arguing or yelling at someone. It’s not some sterile environment that looks more like a science lab or an operation room than it does a kitchen.

No, this place has soul. 

Between the crass kitchen banter, the less than flattering nicknames, and its wild cast of characters, it’s only day three and you feel right at home. Dinner service flies by and you’re eager to check in with Marcus by the end of the shift. Before taking your apron off, you head over to his corner of the kitchen. 

“Hey, how’s everything going, chef?” you ask, curiously. 

“Good, chef,” he answers proudly. “I got the brioche covered and ready to rise overnight and I prepped the cake donuts so we’re ready to roll tomorrow morning. I went with a blueberry cake donut this time around.” 

“Sounds great. I can’t wait to try it, chef,” you reply. “Need anything from me before I head out for the night?”

“Oh no, uh, I’m almost done here,” Marcus answers, inspiring confidence in his ability. “Just workin’ on a curd for the filling, chef. Just like you taught me.”

“Alright,” you chuckle, tickled by how excited he is. “Have a good night, chef.” You pause, wondering if your words will be totally lost on him. “And make sure you get some rest tonight, okay?” 

He responds with a nod, as you leave his station.

You make your way to the locker area, hanging your apron up, and slipping off your kitchen sneakers, before taking a seat on the bench. It looks like most of the kitchen staff got a head start on you and have already left, or are out of their kitchen clothes and ready to head home. There’s a strange feeling in your heart. You haven’t felt this kind of… community… in a professional kitchen in a long time and you try your best to name what it is you’ve felt was missing. 

“Hey,” you hear a voice say, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Hey,” you say to Carmy. 

He removes his apron, folding it over his forearm. It sits further down his arm, right near his tattooed hand, you notice, as he leans his side against the lockers. 

“Thanks for jumpin’ in… you know… on the line tonight,” he starts his gaze practically piercing through your soul. 

“Yeah, it’s uh, no problem,” you reply, placing your knife roll and kitchen shoes back into your locker. “I had fun.”

“You uh, you still want to go for that drink?” he asks, shyly. 

You smile. 

“Yeah.”

*

“It’s fucked up,” Carmy shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Oh please. What?” you groan, shooting him a look.

“You’ve been in my city for… what three days now and you already have a hookup at one of the hardest to get into bars here,” Carmy replies, eliciting a laugh from you. 

“Oh my god,” you sigh with a playful eye roll. “I’m a New Yorker, asshole. You know that’s how we do it.” 

He shakes his head again, before locking eyes with you, “You were always better at it than me.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you, Carmen Berzatto, finally admitting that I’m better at something than you? Can you say it again, and I’m just going to-.” you tease, playfully, pulling out your phone as if you’re going to film him saying it. 

“Oh shut up…” he shoots back, gently pushing your phone away from his face. 

“I mean, you could always make friends with anyone. The bodega guy downstairs. The fuckin’ bodega cat. Our favorite butcher? ‘S why we always got the good cuts of meat when we cooked together on our days off.” 

“Which is exactly why I do it,” you point out. 

You had always been so magnetic to him. It’s something that he’s always admired about you – something that always reminded him of Mikey. 

“No, I-, I used to be a regular at this bar when I was working at Gramercy Tavern – actually, I think it closed right before you came to New York. Anyways, found out my favorite bartender moved to Chicago and I sent him a message letting him know I’d be in town. Said he’d get us in even if they were booked up, and,” you gesture towards where the two of you are sitting together, “Et voila!” 

Carmy takes a look around. He hasn’t been in a fine dining establishment since he left New York. It’s as if all the fancy awards and all the dues he’s paid cooking in the best restaurants in the entire world don’t matter anymore. He feels so out of place: the people, the over-the-top cocktails, the overpriced bowls of food called something fancy to justify the high price point. 

“From the kitchen” your bartender had said curtly, a mere few minutes ago. He had placed a few plates in front of the two of you to share that you most certainly didn’t order.

You both had thanked the bartender, before digging into the large bowl of soup, stracciatella, and focaccia bread on the plate. You rip off pieces of bread, dipping them into the salty broth, popping them into your mouth. Carmy’s much more of a gentleman about it, using his spoon to try the soup first. You had only planned on drinking here, but your friend at The Aviary had really come through. You’re sure it doesn’t hurt that you’re here with Carmy, and that these guys definitely know who Carmy is. 

“So…” you start, taking a sip of whatever fizzy strawberry gin thing you’d ordered earlier. “I feel like there are a lot of long stories I’d like to hear.” 

Carmy makes a sound in agreement before taking a sip of his drink. It’s just bourbon on the rocks, and you wonder when he started drinking bourbon like this.

“I mean… we could start here. How the hell are ya?” you ask. 

“I…” he starts, before trailing off. He buries his face in his hands, dragging his fingertips across his forehead. “It’s uh, it’s been a long couple of months. Christ. The restaurant was a goddamn mess, everyone hated my fuckin’ guts. And then Syd showed up and, well, she’s been a big help.” 

You wait a beat before saying, “As much as I want to hear about the restaurant, Carm, I mean how are you doing?”

Your words stop him, and he looks up at you with those baby blue eyes. He takes his time thinking about it, shrugging before muttering something along the lines of, “I’m okay, I guess.”

He’s searching for the right words to explain how the hell he’s even supposed to answer that question.

“I don’t know. Guess I thought if I fixed the restaurant, if I could fix it-. Maybe I could fix him,” he drags out. 

He waits a few beats before finally admitting:

“I miss him. Mikey. And I found out all kinds of shit about him that I-, well, shit I didn’t know. I think-, I think it’s why he kept me away. Why he shut me out.”

You listen as he begins to fill you in: about Mikey, the drugs, the debt he inherited that he now owes to Cicero, how hard it was to win over the kitchen staff that, come hell or high water, weren’t interested in changing their ways. And then he tells you about the meetings he's been going to -- the al-anon meetings. And you begin to understand. While he’s the same old Carmy, this isn’t the exact same Carmy that you knew in New York. The Carmy you knew in New York never would’ve gone to those meetings. He would’ve brushed it off and pretended there wasn’t a problem and taken as much punishment as he could in the kitchen instead of dealing with what he was feeling.

Mikey’s death, and coming home, and this restaurant, it’s all changed him. 

And maybe, just maybe, it’s part of the reason why, after months of no contact, he reached out to you now, but he’s not sure if he should tell you that yet.

You’ve got to give it to him. If anything, he’s exceptionally talented at cutting people out of his life. It’s his M.O – the only thing that’s been consistent in his life – even when those people didn’t deserve it. It’s what he knows to do. It’s something he’s learned… from Mikey, from his dad… 

But this… what he’s telling you, these are stories of connection and community. 

“And Syd’s really helped me pull this shit together. She's kinda like... the glue, y'know? I- I don’t know where we’d be without her,” Carmy concludes.

You agree. Syd is brilliant. You can see just from having been in that kitchen that she’s been the biggest catalyst for the changes — even his.

“I know you only asked me to come for pastry but I’m glad you let me jump in on the line tonight,” you say. “It’s cool to see what you’re doing now and… I don’t know. I know it was a rocky start, but you’ve got something here. Something that could be really, really good, Carm. You’re making real fucking food. Like your mom’s chicken. I haven’t forgotten about that.” 

“How can you remember that?” Carmy asks, a little surprised, his eyes lighting up. He’d almost forgotten that he’d once made it for you while you were both still in New York.

You nod, “Best chicken piccata I’ve had in my life.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hands down.”

“You know,” you start, a mischievous tone in your voice. “If I recall correctly, you made me some pretty bomb meals back in New York. And didn’t I say something along the lines of you really shining when-?”

“Oh no,” he groans. “Not this again.”

“I’m just saying!” you justify, innocently. “When you cook the food you grew up with, Carm, you’re at your very best. And don’t get me wrong. You’re an exceptional chef, regardless of what you do but-.”

“So what? You’re gonna say ‘I told you so?’” he questions, shooting you a look. 

You shrug, playfully, “I can’t help it if I’m right all the time,” earning an eye roll from him. 

“Especially when it comes to you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, because you do know him. You’ve seen sides of him he’s barely let anyone else see. It feels good and terrifying all at once to be seen this clearly.

“Yeah, well, you always were a little more Mozza than French Laundry, huh?” he shoots back, referencing your difference in preference. While Mozza was more family style, The French Laundry, a restaurant Carmy had worked at once upon a time, was anything but. 

“Yeah. Who knew one day we’d switch places?” you reply, a sadness in your voice. Were you… envious of what Carmy had? Was this what you were looking for?

“So uh, you gonna tell me what the hell happened with the restaurant?” Carmy asked, changing the subject – changing the subject to you. 

You sigh, you raise your drink to your lips, finishing the rest of what’s in the glass in one go. 

“That bad, huh?”

“No!” you’re quick to reply. “Well, yes. But no. But yeah….” 

Carmy flags the bartender down, ordering another round for the two of you. 

You’re not even sure where to begin in regards to the existential crisis of sorts that you’ve been having, so you just tell him what happened. 

“I was juicing blood oranges one day. And-, you know we were going to take the juice and do all that fancy gastronomy shit with it… turn it into like, the same consistency of ‘dew in the early morning’…” you began to explain, quoting what your head pastry chef had said that day.  

“And I’m sitting there thinking… what the hell am I doing? I mean, who eats food like this?! Who wants to eat a drop of blood orange juice that’s been turned into the consistency of dew in the early mornings? Like, why the fuck can’t I just make the best blood orange olive oil cake anyone’s ever had, and that be enough, you know?”

“And. I don’t know. It got me thinking a lot about the kind of food I want to make, and what that would mean, and what does any of this shit even mean? Fast forward to a week later, and I don’t feel like I have a fuckin’ clue about what I want to do with my life and I’m quitting the restaurant.”

You pause, noticing that he’s just been listening attentively this whole time.

“I’m tired, Carm,” you admit. “I mean. I’m burnt the hell out. I just. I don’t want to work this hard for something that- something that I’m not even sure I believe in anymore.”

Another beat. 

“I know it sounds totally insane but-.”

“No! No, it doesn’t,” Carmy interrupts, quick to reassure you, as he reaches for your hand. Your eyes flicker from his hand on yours, the small tattoo above his wrist, then back to him, feeling the loss of body heat as he pulls his hand back only a moment later. 

“I feel like I’ve been thinkin’ about a lot of the same shit,” he admits, empathizing with you. 

“I just feel… kind of lost,” you say, and it’s the first time you’ve said it out loud. “I do. I-, I’ve been feeling really lost lately.”

In all the time he’s known you, never could he have expected you to feel lost. He wondered if he’d just put you on a pedestal. You had always been this stunningly charismatic, charming person that could walk into any room and in minutes, have everyone wrapped around your finger. For so long he denied any feelings for you because he knew you were unattainable – that someone like you could ever want someone like him felt impossible. Wouldn’t you be better off with one of those Wall Street assholes that came into the restaurant all the time – wining and dining their clients with their expensive wristwatches and fancy town cars?

But hearing you say it – that you feel lost – it reminds him that you’re only human too. 

He waits another beat, guilt filling up his throat, before he speaks again. 

“I should’ve been there for you. I’m sorry.”

There’s an earnestness in his voice that makes you want to trust him. Sure, it seems like he’s been apologizing to you for three days straight, but you want to listen. 

You take another sip of your drink. 

“I started volunteering at a Brooklyn community garden so I could like, pull my head out of my ass,” you share with him. 

“Did it help?”

You shrug, “Yeah, a little bit.”

It helped, but it hadn’t fixed anything. You feel like you can confide in him, especially since he told you that he was going to meetings.

“My therapist actually encouraged me to come here,” you confess, gauging his reaction as the words flow from your mouth. “Get out of dodge. Get a change of scenery… give myself some time to think.”

“We both know you do a little too much of that,” he teases gently, and you chuckle. 

Between Carmy’s avoidance, and your neuroses, you’re quite the pairing. 

“Yeah.”

Carmy pauses, not sure if he has the words to give you the explanation you deserve, but he’s going to try. 

“I had… a lot goin’ on. When I got back. And I didn’t know….” He pauses before continuing. “I didn’t know how to do it all at once. How to handle, you know… everything at the same time.”

And it’s just easier to avoid everything – to avoid you, to avoid the way I feel about you, he thinks to himself.

And it’s exactly what he did, he pushed you away, and pushed any and all feelings or thoughts about you into a dark hole, never to be acknowledged ever again. 

Until you quit your job. Until his phone call with Tim. Until his phone call with you. 

“I know, Carm. I know you’re sorry and I appreciate the apology,” you start, taking a breath. “It’s just that-.  I need you to know...” 

You pause, suddenly feeling like you’re in the middle of an anxiety dream where you realize you’re not wearing any pants.

“I need you to know that it hurt. It… it really hurt. Not hearing from you. Being cut out like that.”

“I know,” he admits, remorsefully. “I’m gonna be better. At least I’m trying to be.” 

“I really want to believe that,” you say, softly. 

But I don’t want to get hurt again, you think to yourself.

He looks at you, a soft, shy smile on his face, and it makes you want to take a chance on him. 

Who are you kidding? You’d jump off of a bridge with him if he asked, even if it meant getting hurt all over again.

“Okay?” he asks, hopefully. 

You’re not sure if he’s asking if it’s okay, if you’re okay, if everything is okay between the two of you, and you wonder if he means all three.

“Okay,” you answer, quietly. 

“Okay.”

read: part four

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether

[ersatz-ostrich]

Obvious

Gavin Reed x gn!Detective!reader

Hank isn't looking forward to working with you and Detective Reed on the scene of a murder. However, when he arrives, he notices something rather obvious going on between you and Gavin.

[A/N]: Hey everyone! We interrupt your regular Jason Todd programming to bring you...Gavin Reed? If you've read my other Detroit oneshot, you'll probably notice that this is the same concept, except with Gavin Reed instead of RK900. I love them both and I think they deserve some attention. The reader is gender-neutral but Hank (playing the role of Sherlock here) does mention that Gavin is wearing men's deodorant and so is the reader, which Hank uses to imply that they've been ~together~.

warnings: implied sexual references, glaring absence of beta reading

read here on ao3

Parked on the side of a residential street, Hank Anderson stepped out of the passenger seat of his squad car, too drunk to drive but too sober to turn down a new homicide case. The second his shoe hit the pavement, another squad car barreled past. Its wheels kicked up a wall of muddy water from last night’s storm, leaving Hank drenched. 

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” Asked Connor as he exited from the driver’s side. 

“Yeah,” Hank grumbled, shaking himself off and following Connor to the yellow holographic tape surrounding the crime scene. “Guess that’s one way to get sobered up.”

“Ah, there they are. Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic prick of a partner.” Drawled Gavin Reed from behind the yellow tape. 

“I’m here to see Detective L/N,” Said Hank, unfazed by yet another showing of Gavin’s barbed tongue.

“Why?” Gavin replied petulantly.

“He was invited,” Connor supplied. “I think Captain Fowler wants us to help analyze the crime scene. 

“Well, you know what I think, don’t you?” Gavin fired back. Hank shot Connor a glare. Not helping, Connor. 

“No shit, Gavin, of course I do.” Hank pushed past the holographic tape, but paused just as he brushed past Gavin. 

“What?”

“You didn’t make it home last night, did you?” Hank muttered, side-eyeing the belligerent detective. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin spat. Sighing forcefully and muttering a string of curses under his breath, he stormed away. “Hank and the fuckin android’re here, bringing ‘em in,” he announced into his radio. Hank and Connor crossed the front yard to the porch, where you were just exiting the house where the victim lay in congealed blood. 

“Hello, Lieutenant, Connor.” You greeted the pair in your most cordial voice. “As always, this is a crime scene.” You leaned subtly closer to Hank, whispering in a threatening tone, “Try not to contaminate it.” 

“L/N, good to see you again,” Hank chuckled. “Don’t worry, Connor’ll have my hide if I so much as breathe on a sensitive piece of evidence.” His eyes twinkled as he looked you over. “Your landlady outta town?” 

“Uh…why are you asking?” You frowned, puzzled.

“Hey hey hey, what’s the hold up over here? We’re on an active crime scene and we’re running on borrowed time!” Gavin complained loudly as he approached the detectives.

“And you, Reed,” Hank’s zeroed in on the feisty detective. “Didn’t make it home last night? At least get someone to feed your cats for you.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“And your deodorant,” Hank pressed on.

“What about it?” Gavin was growing increasingly combative.

“It’s men’s deodorant,” Hank continued. 

“Obviously—”

“Detective L/N’s also wearing it,” Clearly amused, Hank raised his brows at the two of you. “Coincidence?” You opened your mouth to say something, but the lieutenant cut you off. “And don’t think nobody noticed that thing on your neck.” Gavin was incensed.

“You son of a bitch—”

“Listen, Hank,” You caught Gavin’s forearm before he could lunge at the man. “Now’s not the time for this discussion. Can we please save this for later?”

“Oh, come on. I don’t care what you two are doing off the clock, but if Fowler finds out, I’m not covering your asses.” You sighed in defeat. 

“You know what, I’ll take it. Thanks, Hank.”

“Anytime. Come on, Connor, let’s go check out this mess.” Connor, who had been silently observing the exchange and concealing his amusement with the skill of Cyberlife’s most advanced investigator prototype, followed Hank into the house without further question.

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

~~~~~~~~PLEASE HELP ME I NEED A BETTER DIVIDER~~~~~~~~~~

[A/N]: So what do we think, folks? Does Gavin wear something generic like Old Spice? Or is he the type of guy who wears cologne? Now that I've written that down, that question sounds hella creepy ("hmm what does this fictional male character smell like?"). But I really do wanna know if he makes enough money as a police detective to wear Dior Sauvage on the regular or something like that bc I feel like if he could he totally would.

Hope you guys enjoyed! Until next time x

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