#detective baxter x reader

[grxmreaperx]

Hi!!

I just read your Mark Hoffman fic and I loved it!! Would you be willing to write something with Hoffman being a little obsessed with the reader? any further plot is totally up to you, I just need more Hoffman fics. 😩 Angst, fluff, smut (if you’re okay with that of course!)?

God, I love this request!! I’m all for men being obsessed in fics. And there’s no way I can answer this request and NOT write my first Hoffman smut (👀)

Also, you’ve all been so sweet and lovely ahhh I’m so glad I made this blog!!

You Belong to Me

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x reader (reader is AFAB)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+!! Smut!! Kinda went off with this ngl. I had way too much fun with this. Mark being very dominant and obsessed with the reader. Praise and degradation kink. Hair pulling, spanking, cream pie. Mark being very possessive. Oral sex (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), p in v penetration. Every ounce of feminism left my body writing this.

Summary: Upon John’s request, you’ve been working as Mark’s secretary at the precinct in order to keep you off the list of suspects in the search for Jigsaw’s accomplice. Did Mark really expect you to not take this golden opportunity to mess with him? As much as he appreciates the tight pencil skirts you’ve started wearing to work, he does not appreciate the attention it is drawing from his coworkers.

You were driving him absolutely insane. He wasn’t sure whether to bash John’s skull in or worship him like Amanda does for placing you here. He already had a hard enough time focusing on stake outs and working on traps with you, and now you were here. In his place of work, where he was supposed to be professional, supposed to pretend he had never seen you before you had your “interview.”

Mark knew exactly what you were doing. Your first day you walked in here, friendly smile on your pretty face, pencil skirt glued to your legs, staring right at him.

“Good morning, Detective Hoffman.”

God, he was going to kill John.

He hadn’t exactly had time for a sex life since everything went down. His sister’s death, planning Seth Baxter’s fate, joining Jigsaw, all on top of his detective work. And it hadn’t really bothered him; he had more important things to think about.

Until John decided you’d be a perfect addition to the team.

---

You knew your plan was working exactly how you wanted.

John hadn’t tested him yet, so why shouldn’t you? The detective needed to be tested, didn’t he?

You saw how he stared at you when you walked into work each morning, spending the time before your shift picking out the perfect outfit that you knew would drive the man mad.

You had decided months ago that you tired of the tension, the pull you felt towards the man every night you spent working together. And now John, bless his soul, had given you the perfect opportunity to do something about it.

You had seen some of the other men at the station watching you, eyes hovering a bit too long on your legs and ass. It didn’t bother you much, you ignored them for the most part, they weren’t your test subject, they weren’t your detective, so you hardly even noticed.

But, oh, did Mark notice. He noticed every fucking time. And every time was a new test of his willpower. Every single time, all he could think about was what sort of trap he could devise that would be worthy of the pigs who dared look at you.

---

“How you doing today, honey?” You turned around in your chair and saw Henry Miller, one of the cops that was most persistent with you. You were friendly with him; he was nice enough. The only problem was he thought he had a shot with you.

“Morning, Henry. I’m doing alright, how are you today?”

“I’d be a lot better if you finally let me take you out tonight.”

You scoffed. “How many times do I need to tell you I’m not interested before it finally gets through?”

He leaned on your desk, hands resting on the table, staring intently at you from across the surface. “Cmon, baby. Just one dinner, that’s all I ask. I’m very persistent.”

“Miller, isn’t there something you’re supposed to be doing?” You recognized the deep voice instantly and had to stop yourself from grinning. This was perfect.

The smile dropped from Henry’s face when he saw Hoffman staring daggers at him. He looked like a deer in the headlights, a child that had been caught stealing candy.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered, before quickly making his way back to his desk.

“And you,” he started, eyes on you. “In my office.”

You flashed him your best smile. “Of course, Detective.”

----

“Sit down.”

You sat down in the chair across from him, trying to scope out the look on his face. His jaw was tense and shoulders tight. He looked like he was about to explode.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.”

He sucked in a breath. “Bullshit.” He stood up, slowly making his way around the table. “You walk in here every day, in your tight little skirts, giving me that proud little smile, and you’re going to sit here and act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He placed on a hand on each armrest, eyes boring down into you. “Now, let’s try again, shall we? What the fuck was that?”

Bingo.

You smiled up at him. “I just want to look nice for you, Detective.”

He shook his head and gritted his teeth. “Oh, you wanna look pretty for me, is that it?” You nod. “You know what would make you look real pretty? Get on your fucking knees.”

Embarrassingly quick, you sink out of the chair and onto your knees, staring up at the man. He smirks.

“Well? You just gonna stare at me? Don’t act like you don’t know what to do.”

You reach up and slowly get to work on his belt, trying to act like you still have some sort of control. Not that you minded, but it was still nice to pretend.

All resolve left you went he wrapped a hand in your hair, pulling back until your chin was pointed up at him. “Don’t do that. You’ve teased me enough. Now it’s your turn.”

You pulled down his pants just enough to reach his dick. You sucked in a breath. You had some idea of what you were in for, but fuck.

You tried to tease him a bit more, you really did, but as soon as you heard the deep groan when you took him into your mouth, you were done for.

His hand in your hair guided you, bobbing your head on his dick, feeling it hit the back of your throat each time. Each tug on your hair, each time you felt the tip of his dick down your throat, you felt a spark go straight between your legs. You looked up at him through thick eyelashes, eyes slightly teary, spit spilling over your lips.

“God, I knew it. You do look very pretty like this, sweetheart.”

You were slightly disappointed when he finally pulled your head back, dick soaked with your spit. “Get up.”

You shakily got to your feet, suddenly aware of how much of a mess you must be. His eyes roamed over your body, examining you from head to toe.

“Go on, sweetheart. Bend over the desk for me.”

You quickly complied, bending over the front his desk, legs slightly spread. You felt him behind you, placing his hands on your hips before landing a hard smack on your ass. His hands pushed up skirt, pooling it around your waist and exposing you to him. He ran a finger over your underwear, pressing lightly on your clit, before landing another blow.

“Such a little slut, aren’t you? Already soaked for me. Have you enjoyed acting like a brat?” Another smack. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you said softly.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Much better.” He pushed your underwear aside, running a finger through your folds. You felt your hips push back, trying to get more. More of anything, more of him. He pulled his hand away, running it over your thighs. “So desperate, aren’t you? You know exactly what you’ve been doing to me, teasing me, acting like a brat. Why should I touch you?”

“Please, sir, I’m sorry. I just wanted – “

“Wanted what? Wanted me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. You felt him slide one finger in, quickly followed by a second. You bit your lip, suddenly aware of where you were and who was outside this office.

“So, you thought you’d make me jealous, hm?” he asked, fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. You nodded, rolling your hips against his fingers. As soon as he felt your movement, he pulled his fingers away. A whimper left your lips.

“Why should I make you feel good, when you’ve done nothing but tease me for months?”

“Please, sir. I need it.”

“Louder.��

“But- “

“I said louder.”

“Please, sir, please, fuck.”

He slid into you all at once, not giving you any time to adjust to his size. You let out a loud moan, before clamping a hand over your mouth, hoping to God no one heard you.

His hand found its way to your hair, pulling you toward him, back arching. You felt his lips right next to your ear as he finally moved his hips, pulling almost completely out before pounding back in. “No, no, baby. You want to tease me, make me jealous, let these cops flirt with you? You’re gonna let this whole fucking office know who you belong to.”

He set a rapid pace, hips snapping against yours. You felt your eyes roll back in your head, legs unsteady.

Mark groaned in your ear. “God, do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this pussy? How many times I’ve thought about bending you over and ruining you? Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done to me? You’re all I fucking think about anymore.”

You let out a loud moan, no longer caring who heard you two. “God, fuck.”

“Cmon baby, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, sir.”

“Louder.” His long, hard strokes made your legs weak.

“I belong to you, sir! I’m all yours!”

“Good girl.” His other hand reached around your front, fingers quickly finding your clit and drawing quick circles around it. “Now, let everyone out there know that I’m the only one that gets to make you cum.”

Your legs shook and you knew if it weren’t for his arms holding you up, you wouldn’t be able to stand. Your mind was blank, forgetting everything but his words and the feeling of his cock filling you.

Your vision went white as your orgasm washed over you, the room filled with sounds of you moaning his name and his skin slapping against yours. You felt his pace falter slightly, his breath hot on your ear as he emptied himself inside you.

You stayed like that for a moment, both trying to catch your breath, before he finally pulled out of you and slid your skirt down.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that,” he said, breathless, as he pulled his pants back up.

You let out a soft laugh. “Me too.” You start to grab a tissue from the box on his desk to clean yourself up before he grabbed your wrist. He spun you around to face him, face inches from yours.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. And I want to see you try and hold yourself together with my cum dripping down your thighs.” He gave you a smirk before letting go of your wrist, making his way back to his chair, and continuing his work as if nothing had happened.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as you tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

Maybe your plan worked a bit too well.

---

Let me know if you guys like this!! I've been thinking about doing a NSFW alphabet with our lovely detective, let me know if you guys would be interested 👀

[tokoyamisstuff]

Stitches

Mark Hoffman x GN! Reader

A/N: Wtf, I had this basically finished work in my drafts all this time?? Anyways, enjoy.

Summary: After Mark Hoffman's true identity has been revealed, his personal apprentice has to step in.

Warnings: Angst, Blood

Notes: Hurt/Comfort, Takes place in between SAW 6 and 7

Words: 1800

"Almost done..."

You were in the very same warehouse as the participants of the current game, tinkering on some of your mentor's latest inventions.

Mark would never openly admit, but while he was the mastermind behind most traps, it was your finishing touch that made them possible.

Not bad for a basically self-taught engineer, right?

As your eyes wanderes to the timer on the top corner of the livestream, you realized that this test was almost over. To not get distracted you had muted the old TV. However due to the proximity, most of the dampened screams would still dring to your ear.

Gladly, the more you get used to all of this, the more selective your hearing becomes - so you had already fallen deaf to them.

You huffed while trying to lift the heavy tool onto the workbench again, not bothering to wait for Mark to help you. Taking a sip of water, you watched the subject reaching the final part of his test.

Unbelievable that it’s already been one year since you’ve become the next generations Jigsaw’s apprentice, assisting Mark with every game ever since John and Amanda had passed away...

...and in your eyes, the sacrifices you had to make were all worth it.

Grabbing a towel to pat off the sweat from your face and chest, your mind wandered back to the day you had revealed yourself to him. Being a mere admirer of Jigsaw's work and philosophy, having found out Detective Hoffman's double life on your own.

But he was different than John Kramer and Amanda Young. Played by his own rules, which you oddly sympathized with.

Why giving those dangers to society - like Seth Baxter - a second chance? They shouldn't be allowed to roam freely. No, all they deserved was to be put down for good, after experiencing what their victims had.

You remembered Mark's hands on your throat the second you confessed to him. Couldn't blame him, though - last time someone told him "I know who you are", there was a shotgun draped to his neck shortly after.

The mere fact that you had survived this encounter, let alone having been declared his secret accomplice, made your chest swell with pride.

After all, you had gained somewhat trust and respect of basically the most misanthropic person on earth.

After a while of negotiation Mark had been impressed by your skill, both physical and mental. Having figured out his identity when not even the police or FBI couldn't...

...furthermore, your almost obsessively worship of his every action was exactly the kind of ego stroke he just couldn't reject.

And so you ended up his loyal subordinate, working for him from the shadows and taking every wish as your command.

Over time, the two of you had become a lethal combination - complimenting each talents and evening out the other's flaws.

It was pretty obvious that he was a sociopath, unable to sharw any personal bond with anyone. You may have shared a heated fling or a passionate night occasionally, but that was it.

This man was just using you, and you have been equally deranged enough to enjoy this. Addicted to the thrill of adrenaline that came to being associated with him.

You’d follow him blindly - even if it meant your own death.

Speaking of...

You jumped at the sound of a heavy steel door opening, immediately cocking your gun towards the entrance - force of habit...

...yet instead of a threat, something even worse came inside.

"Mark!"

This was certainly not the first time you had seen him covered in that much blood, but this time was different - it was his own, and much to your surprise made you freak out.

The man mutely limped towards your workshop, only a dirty cloth covering his torn cheek. "Shit, you're going to get an infection..."

Rushing to get the first aid kid while he threw the reverse bear trap onto the table, you figured this was not the time to ask about what exactly happened.

Not that he'd be able to answer anyway even if he wanted to, given his current state.

You couldn't help but laugh as he tried to snatch the medical supplies out of your hand. "You know you're allowed to need help sometimes, right?"

He furrowed his brows at you, and while most normal people would be intimidated by his demeanour, you found him almost adoringly stubborn.

"Now come here, would you..." you ordered as he finally let go off of the kit, worry present in your tone.

The man grunted approvingly, making you laugh. “You know, Amanda was right: You really are one of the last cavemen.”

Good thing he wasn’t able to talk right not - otherwise he’d advise you to never take that filthy name into your mouth ever again if you wanted to keep on living.

When he was finally sat, you carefully evaluated the wound - even though on the inside, it was hard to keep it together seeing him that way.

You were amazed at his composure up until now - the pain must be agonizing...

There was no time to lose either, a major blood vessel was torn and he was still actively losing a lot of blood.

Much to his luck, you were prepared for every eventuality. Glad you took those anatomy and first aid lessons back in the day, you just knew with your kind of profession that would pay off someday.

You quickly cleaned both hands from the motor oil, before pouring a whole bottle of your mentor's booze over them and the wound.

Deeply concentrated, you stuck out your tongue as you started patching him up. Hoffman warily eyed your every move, every stitch you so carefully placed to reconstruct his facial features.

This whole time, Mark had one hand firmly placed on your knee, squeezing ever so slightly. You were almost done, admiring his strenght to not even flinch as you patched him back together.

“Too bad for that handsome face, though...” you mumbled to yourself, speaking faster than your mind could catch up on. Not that he’d care about appearance or something like that anyway. “But men with scars are pretty handsome, you know?”

You handed him a mirror, scolding him to not touch the wound as he evaluating your handiwork. "The gentleman is allowed to thank me now” you chuckled as you noticed he wasn’t sure if he could talk again now.

"That bitch is gonna pay for this" he finally spoke, still a little slurred since he'd need to get used to the feeling.

"You're welcome" you rolled your eyes, still cheerful before busying yourself with bandaging his hand as well. “There's not much I can do with a fracture like this, but it'll probably heal itself. Just try not using it too much. Punch with the other hand, maybe? Haha..."

“We need to go” he stated with that gravely voice of his, face contorting in pain as he tried to clench his fist. "Jill tried to kill me. She got away, the police is most likely on their way."

"Ten steps ahead of you." There was enough time to understand the mess Hoffman had gotten himself into later. So for now you quickly threw both your identification papers in the fire barrel that had kept you warm until now, before turning to him.

You softly pushed him down onto the chair again, no words needed to tell him he should rest and let you handle this for a change. Just packing a bag with all the necessities, covering the workshop in gasoline and you were good to go.

“How sad...” you thought, turning around to watch your work go up in flames “I was just done with the tool.”

As if Mark knew what you were thinking, he rubbed some circles on your back before pushing you to walk faster. "We can always make a new one. Let's go."

The future might be uncertain, but one thing you was sure of: Soon, Detective Mark Hoffman would officially be a wanted criminal...

...but as long as you had each other, there was still hope for a good ending to this story.

"It's not over, but I need to stay incognito from now on" he uttered a little out of breath, your old car shaking a little as the heavy man entered the backseat. "You'll need to make the preparations and anything else I can entrust to you."

"Of course" you acknowledged, rummaging in your bag until you found what you were looking for. "Everything you want."

Just when you were getting the srynge into his field of view, Mark would panic, painfully grabbing your wrist to stop you.

"No..." he was so utterly exhausted, yet terrified of the possibility to be forcefully put to sleep like his victims and himself once.

“Mark...calm down” you cooed understandingly, your palm rubbing his cheek. “C’mon, it’s me after all. There's just morphine in there, it's not enough to knock you out. I promise."

Being such a control freak, it was hard for him to be at the mercy of another. Yet he nodded mutely and rolled up his sleeve to inject the pain medication directly into his bloodstream.

After all the fucked up things happening, sometimes he’d forget that there was actually one person he could trust.

"You know" he sighed, sinking deeper into the car seat as the drug showed it's effect, making him slowly but steadily relax. "You're everything I have."

“That’s the morphine speaking” you giggled, trying to keep your eyes on the road and he couldn't think but wonder if you always had such a soothing voice.

...and with you humming so sweetly, the sunset light illuminating your skin like this...have you always been this beautiful, or was he really just high?

“Maybe" he ultimately spoke, deciding he'd have to figure it out after everything was over. "Or it just makes me talk about things I usually keep to myself.”

You cracked a smile at this half-assed answer. Typical - but you admittedly liked even this part about him.

“Only this last game...” he continued stammering, and it was actually cute to see this softer side of this brute of a man. “John Kramer’s work is almost done.”

“And what are you going to do afterwards? Any plans, boss?”

With him being on the backseat, your eyes would only briefly meet through the rearview mirror...

...and what you saw may be the same man you knew for so long already, and yet so different.

Happy, somehow.

Smiling for a change. Genuinely and wholeheartedly, not this fake one he'd put up to fit in with society.

And you knew this one was just for you.

“When this is all over, I want it to be you and me.”

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Shadows Entwined: part 11

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 / Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

A/N: I bet ya all have been waiting for what is about to happen, but it is still not over yeeeeeet💙😉

Warnings: Fighting, breaking of bones, if you have seen the movie you know what happens, just with a little extra.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

Baxter Stockman connected the last few wires, plucking the machine together, the Cloud Seeder making noises as it started to warm up. The scientist turned fly mutant then turned towards the people below him inside of Ace Chemicals’ main building, his arms up in the air as he gave the speech he had been preparing for several weeks now.

“Gentleman!”, he started. “Ninjas all around… murders… I’m pleased to announce that the venom slash ooze hybrid is complete. The Cloud Seeder is ready to launch”.

Shredder turned towards Ra’s al Ghul with his always angry eyes, narrowed in almost spite for the Demon’s Head.

“Then it is done, Ra’s”, Shredder said, his voice muffled by the metal mask that covered his mouth, his distaste for the leader of the League of Assassins thick as he spoke, bubbling over into pure hatred and anger. “The Foot has completed its obligations to you. I will expect no more delays in giving me the Lazarus Pit!”

Ra’s sighed, annoyed with Shredder’s continued demands of the pit, just like he had done at Arkham the other night as they sought out Joker. It was already becoming an old story. Ra’s suddenly understood very well why Kraang wasn’t there to help Shredder out with their plans. Maybe that was why Shredder came to Ra’s in the first place. Or maybe it was his age. Ra’s could really feel the 650 something age difference between the two.

“Over eager as always”, Ra’s sighed, side eyeing the ninja and the blades on his gloves. He then turned his attention back towards Baxter Stockman, giving him a firm command to “activate the machine”, making the fly turn towards him. “It’s time for the city to reward to its primal nature and destroy itself”.

Shredder knew very well what that meant. No Lazarus Pit before Ra’s knew the machine was working.

“Do as the man says”, Shredder growled at Stockman.

“Yes sir!”, Stockman said, turning back towards the Cloud Seeder with a small laugh. Though the fly had several times wondered about his status as a hostage, he could not deny the excitement of trying out his machine. It was fine being a hostage, as long as he got to try out his newest creation. His small wings carried him to the machine, turning it on with a small beep, lights and screens turning on with small sounds as the Cloud Seeder gained life.

“Ah”, Ra’s sighed in delight, watching as the machine woke up from its slumber. “And now nothing can stand in my way”.

But like so many villains often did, Ra’s spoke too soon, the Foot Ninjas and assassins turning to the wall in confusion, at the sound of rapidly approaching motors.

With no hesitation, Leo broke through the wall with the Turtle Van, sending bricks flying everywhere. You, still on the back of Raph’s motorcycle, came flying through the window alongside Batgirl, sending glass shards across the room. The Batmobile broke through the window just above the door, shatting the group of Foot Ninjas that stood in its way. Emerging from your vehicles, you and your Bat family stood alongside the turtles, staring down the big crowd of villains.

“So much for your distraction”, Shredder said to Ra’s, knowing very well that he was beginning to push his buttons.

Donnie’s eyes quickly scanned the machine in front of them, no confusion about what it was that he was looking at.

“That’s it”, he said, referring to the Cloud Seeder. “We have to shut it off before it launches”.

“You’re too late, detective!”, Ra’s called out, smirking at Batman as Foot ninjas and assassins gathered around him. “Gotham will fall and be born anew”.

“We don’t have much time”, Batman said, his eyes never leaving Ra’s. “Let’s take him down”. And as if that had been a call for war, all of you jumped into action, fighting and making your way through ninjas and assassins. Leo swung his katana at whatever enemy came close, followed by Robin that jumped and kicked them so hard that they fell to the ground without a sound. Mikey’s nunchucks sounded loudly whenever they came into contact with his opponents faces, just as loudly as the sound of Batman’s knuckles against jaws. Donnie’s bo staff knocked people out, while Raph jumped an unsuspecting assassin, at the same time as Batgirl’s motorcycle roared as her front wheel connected with a Foot ninja’s face. You too fought the best you could, using everything your father had ever taught you. But you did find yourself unprepared at moments, ducking quickly before a blade was able to grace your skin.

Shredder and Ra’s watched calmly as you all fought. Evenever one of their men fell, several more came to take their place, keeping you all busy. Almost too busy. You had a hard time keeping up. Whenever you dodged one punch, you were soon met by another, keeping you turning, running, jumping and ducking, almost out of breath. You stumbled, the blade of an assassin making its way towards you, and for a moment you thought that it was it. This would be the moment you would die. But before the blade could touch the surface of your skin, another sharp shinny one came into view, deflecting it, followed by a flash of green and blue, a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking your way for a moment, making sure you were okay. Leo.

It was not hard for Leo to emobile the assassin, with Donnie coming to his aid, helping his older brother clear the way, before both of them brought out their grappling hooks. In a swift move, Leo brought his arm around you, pressing you to his side, before letting the grappling hook pull you both to his desired destination. The scaffolding, high above ground, not far from where Shredder and Ra’s were standing. Leo dropped you off behind him, making sure you were covered by his shell, before Donnie came to his side, followed by Batman that took a spot between them, all three staring down the two villains.

“Shut off the Cloud Seeder”, your father commanded the two turtles, almost not acknowledging you behind Leo. But he knew you were there. You knew your father too well. There was no way he hadn’t seen Leo bring you with him. “Shredder is mine”.

“I think you forgot how our last encounter played out”, Shredder said, reminding you of what your father had told you. The things that had happened inside of Wayne Enterprise, while you had stayed outside, watching the turtles and Penguin go at it on another roof. But there was no time for you to tell your father. You wanted him to be careful, and not let Shredder come too close again. But before you could even utter a word, he and Shredder were off, fighting on the scaffolding.

Before you could even fully register your father’s absence in the chaos, Leo turned towards you, his pretty eyes catching yours.

“You wait here, (Y/N)”, he said in a demand, before he and Donnie were off, using their grappling hooks to get past Shredder and Batman, landing not far from the Cloud Seeder. And Ra’s al Ghul.

“Typical”, the Demon’s Head spoke. “Batman sends children to do his work for him. Perhaps another must die to teach him the folly of his ways”. Ra’s pulled off his cape, letting it fall to the ground. Leo and Donnie exchanged glances, before Ra’s came at them with a sudden move, causing both of them to jump back. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands.

On the ground the others continued their fight against the men of Shredder and Ra’s al Ghul, with Robin having turned his attention towards Baxter Stockman, only for Stockman to throw up before Robin even got to him.

You jumped from side to side, unsure what to do. You couldn’t just stay back here and do nothing. There was no way. Especially not with all the narrow misses Ra’s pulled on Leo and Donnie. And it was with the sudden push of Leo, that sent him colliding with the scaffolding that brought you into action, using your grappling hook the same way he and his brother had.

You landed next to Donnie watching Ra’s with narrow eyes, ignoring Donnie’s confused look.

“But you have no weapons”, Donnie said, throwing a quick worried look over his shoulder at Leo who still wasn’t up from the ground.

“Don’t worry about it”, you said, knocking your wrists together, hearing the echo of the metal inside of them.

“It’s almost a pity”, you heard Ra’s snicker as he swung his blade one more time, making you and Donnie jump back. “So many children that must die today”.

You were ready to jump back in, but before you had the chance, Donnie did, still angry from what Ra’s had done to Leo. But Donnie was met with a kick to his plastron, making him fall to his knees for a moment. Ra’s swung his blade at him, but Donnie managed to catch with his bo staff, the point of Ra’s sword poking through the middle of wood. In the short moment Donnie stared at it, still in shock from what had happened, Ra’s grabbed his forearm and threw it over the railing, before bringing his foot down upon it with full force. Donnie yelled out in pain as his bone broke, falling onto his broken arm, between the pieces of his broken staff.

Ra’s looked at his work with a small smile, before pushing Donnie off the scaffolding with his foot, sending the mutant plumaging towards the earth below.

“Donnie!”, Leo called out, making you aware that Leo now sat up. But in the short time you looked away, Ra’s had turned his attention towards you, making you take a few steps back, terror clear in your eyes. “No!”Leo called out again, flashbacks from Arkham Asylum flooding his mind. His brothers laying dead on the floor of the boiler room, and the fear in your eyes.

Ra’s swung his sword at you, and you shield yourself with your gloves, the metal inside of them making the sharp edge bounce off. Ra’s roared in annoyance, before kicking you with his foot, making you fall to the ground. The vision of you on the ground, crying out in fear was very clear in Leo’s head. He could not let it happen.

With a battle roar Leo rose from the ground and jumped at Ra’s. Ra’s turned at the last moment, their blades clashing together.

“Get away from her”, Leo growled as the sky light broke above you, the Cloud Seeder launching with Donnie hanging off of it with his good arm, while Mikey frantically tried to turn it off.

Ra’s laughed when he caught on to what was happening. Young love was never hard to spot. He had seen it from the moment Leo safed you on the floor below and brought you with him, and when you selflessly jumped into action, with nothing but your metal gloves to protect you.

“Then be her hero and make me”, Ra’s laughed pushing Leo off, before swinging his sword at you once more. You ducked and rolled out of the way from two more blows, before Leo was on him once again.

“I have to admit”, Ra’s said through the clashes of blades, clearly very amused. “This is very interesting. A turtle and a human. How did you expect that to work?” Leo did not answer however, but swung at him once more. “You think I’m trying to make a fool of you? Well, I’m not. You seem like a smart child, and therefore you may know how impossible it sounds. But the Cloud Seeder could be your key to be together. It could turn her into anything. A bat, a wolf. Maybe even a turtle”. But Leo did not listen. He knew what Ra’s was trying to do. Make him unsure. Make him question. Make him hesitate. But Leo did none of those things, especially not with you, your family and his brothers’ lives on the line. He felt anger, the same kind of anger he had felt in Arkham, and it was controlling him.

Ra’s, seemingly too caught up in his own perceived brilliance, did not notice you launch at him, kicking at one of his feet, making him stumble. Leo, still blinded by anger, jumped at him once more, but Ra’s caught him in the last moment, before throwing him off the scaffolding and down towards the floor below. You called out for Leo as he landed on the ground with all the wind blown out of him, dropping one of his katanas on the way down. Ra’s turned his attention towards you, smiling menacingly as gave you a hard kick to your side, causing you to roll up on the ground, whimpering at the pain. He then grabbed a hold of the railing, ready to jump over, sending you one last evil smile.

“Time to get rid of that turtle lover of yours”, he said, before acceding to the floor, where Leo was slowly getting up, resting his weight of the katana he still had in hand, watching as Ra’s landed on his other one. The memories from Arkham still flooded Leo’s head. His brothers, you, all of it. But then he remembered your father’s words.

“Your anger won’t help your brothers, and it won’t save (Y/N). You have to focus”.

Taking in a deep breath, Leo got off the ground as Ra’s came closer, his blade still proudly in his hand. On the scaffolding above, Leo could hear you whimper and see your eyes as you watched them below you. Leo calmed his breath, watching as Ra’s got closer, grabbing firmly around the katana in his hand.

Whatever Ra’s had expected, it wasn’t the sudden newfound speed that Leo came in with, clashing his katana with his sword in several swift moves. Ra’s was taken aback, taking several steps back with each blow, but then struggling to do so when Leo stepped on his foot. You watched in awe as Leo managed to swing Ra’s sword out of his hand, sending it flying up into the air, before it landed into the floor several meters away. But Ra’s wasn’t done, continuing to fight without a weapon, kicking and punching at a dodging Leo.

Leo then jumped, swinging his katana down upon Ra’s. But to your surprise, Ra’s caught Leo’s blade between his hands before breaking it in half. Leo stumbled in shock, before Ra’s sucker punched him in the face, sending him flying backwards, the sight making your insides hurt more than they already did.

Ra’s went to get his sword, before pointing it at Leo, who was still struggling on the ground, all while you watched in fear.

“How?”, Leo asked, still not fully having processed what just had happened. Ra’s chuckled.

“Foolish child”, he chuckled. “I’m hundreds of years old, and have trained with the greatest teachers in history. How could you possibly-”.

Ra’s was suddenly cut off as Leo’s foot kicked up between his legs, hitting him where the sun was not supposed to shine, and definitely no foot either. Ra’s fell to his knees, cupping his manhood while Leo got up with a backflip.

“Oh yeah?”, Leo asked, finding the scene before him very amusing. “Well, I’m 19, and I learned this from a rat”. Leo did a series of small punches and pokes to Ra’s upper body, before the leader of the League of Assassins fell unconscious to the ground, dust flying up around him.

“Leo!”, you called out from above, crawling towards the edge of the scaffolding. “Catch me!” And without question Leo did so, holding arms open for you, catching you as you fell down from above making sure not to touch you where Ra’s had kicked you.

Both you and Leo wanted to ask each other if you were okay, but neither of you did so. You could not help yourselves. As relief rushed over you both, there was nothing that stopped your lips from crashing together in a passionate kiss. For a moment the two of you forgot where you were or what was happening, letting nothing but the feeling of each other's lips play out in your mind. Finally, after so many hours of wondering, Leo was finally able to feel them against his. Soft and warm. It was only his first kiss and his was already feeling himself becoming addicted. He already dreaded the moment he would have to let go of them again.

Leo leaned his head further to the right, deepening the kiss, until both of you had to pull away for air, staring into each other’s eyes, fighting the smiles that was playing at the corners of your lips, and the urges to go for another kiss. Leo’s lips felt cold now, and there was nothing he would rather do, than warm them up with yours one more time. But now was not the time. As much as he wished it was, he could not stand around and continue to kiss you, even if it was very tempting.

“Come on”, Leo said, forcing himself to let you go in order to take your hand, pulling you with him towards the stairs. “Let’s help your father”.

[suggs444]

Snitch Part 2: Mark Hoffman x Reader

Synopsis: You know his secret. He knows you know. Erikson and Perez suspect him. What extent are you willing to go to protect him? Takes place during Saw 6.

TW: swearing, k1lling, guns, blood, violence, sexual themes.

Gif by evilvvithin

..

Strahm wasn’t the only one who had suspected Mark. Erikson and Perez are acting blatantly obvious that they suspect your partner. They were loose ends.

You and Mark were on duty when Erikson interrupted, Perez trailing beside him.

“Detectives.” He greets, nodding.

You hear Mark inhale deeply. He’s treading on thin ice.

“We’ve got news back on the Seth Baxter tape.”

“Oh?” Mark says, his tone low.

“Someone’s descrambling the tape as we speak,” Perez says, hands on her hips. You notice how she’s looking at Mark with caution. They must know.

“They’ve called us in.” She continues, looking to you. You play it cool and nod.

Erikson nods, “This is our smoking gun,” he says enthusiastically, backing up toward the door. You and Mark stand side by side.

“You guys are coming aren’t you?” He says, opening the door.

Mark stiffens. You look at him, then back at Erikson. Don’t look suspicious. You nod,

“Of course.”

..

The tension in the room was unbearable. A lady sat at a large desk trying to descramble the tape. Perez stood by the door, Erikson next to the desk. Mark was pacing. You felt ill. He was acting too obvious.

You walked to the coffee table, pouring him a cup to calm him.

This is it.

You think.

You won’t see him again. You both knew whose voice it was. It was Marks. Your partners. Your lovers.

Your heart sank low in your chest. The anxiety riveting. The thought of seeing him in cuffs. The thought of not holding him again. The idea was unbearable. You could sob if it wasn’t for the current situation.

You exhale, handing Mark the cup of steaming black coffee. No sugars, no milk. Just how he liked it.

“Thanks,” He gruffs.

You nod.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Perez starts. You clench your jaw.

“What’s that?” Mark says.

“Strahm’s motivation. We were partners for five years and he never indicated signs of psychosis.”

Mark is quiet. You can tell he’s trying to figure out what to do or say.

“You never can tell when someone’s sinking on the inside.” You speak up, coming to Marks defence. His gaze whips to you. He seems surprised that you were helping him. But his eyes are acknowledging and grateful. You stare down Perez, feeling defensive of your partner.

She looks visibly irritated.

“There is an alternative,” Erikson perks up, walking to Mark. You were still staring at Perez before you snapped out of it. This was a part of you that you hadn’t realised was there. A careless part. A part that didn’t care for consequence. That would go to extents for Mark. The tension in the room was bearing down on you so strongly that you feel like you could snap.

Perez peered at you suspiciously before side stepping and drawing her attention to Mark and Erikson. You also listened in, crossing your arms. Though you kept a close eye on Perez.

“Say Strahm killed Seth Baxter specifically to set you up as an accomplice to Jigsaw.” Erikson said to Mark, approaching him.

“Okay,” Mark said, turning to place his coffee down. You could tell some weight lifted from him. You couldn’t deny that you signed of relief.

“But there’s a problem with that though.” Erikson finished.

Shit.

You saw all relief slip from Mark’s face.

Perez shifts. Your eyes snap to her, then back to Erikson. Anxiety stirring red hot in your stomach and blazing your face. It felt like an unattended adrenaline ready to burst of you.

“On further analysis of Strahm's fingerprints, it was found that the uric acid levels and the Eccrine gland residue were inconsistent for an individual with an active epidural metabolism.” He remarks and you feel yourself sweating. Your throat runs dry.

“In other words?” Mark replies, turning to pick his coffee up but quickly glancing to meet your eyes before turning back to Erikson. You took that as a heads up.

Your anxiety bubbles to it’s limit.

“In other words, when he left his fingerprints on the latest victims, Strahm was already dead!”

Right now you’re feeling helpless.

Mark’s voice comes through on the computer. Clear as day. You stumble back a bit, mouth dropping as you all turn to stare at the monitor.

“There it is!” The lady at the desk exclaims.

It’s not even a second before Mark drew his pocket knife and sliced it up the side of Erikson’s throat.

Despite being on his side, you still gasped - stumbling backward till your back hit the wall, eyes blown as you watched the scene unfold.

The man you loved was a true killer.

Your head snaps to Perez and she looks to you. She pulls her gun, but Mark turned, lashing his boiling coffee in her face. She exclaimed, stumbling backward into the wall.

Mark then grabs a screwdriver as Erikson topples over to the ground, and he stabs it into the electrical circuit - plunging the room into a deep red hue.

You try to move but the speed of Mark’s rampage stills you. Shocked by his capabilities. It isn’t till you see Perez aim her gun toward Mark that your adrenaline kicks in. You run at her and seize her wrists as you try to steer her aim. You both thrash against each other as she pulls the trigger multiple times. You look at Mark. He was using the other woman as a human fucking shield.

You sneered, eventually managing to overpower Perez as you lifted the butt of the gun to hit her in the face. Once, and then again. This allowing Mark to get close. Perez stumbled back and so did you as Mark seized her, instantly plunging his knife in her stomach.

He stabbed once, retracted the blade and then thrusted it back in with just as much force.

“Who else knows about me?” He presses, quite casually despite the atrocity he had just committed.

Perez pants helplessly. Heroic till the end, you think.

“Who else fucking knows about me?” He repeats, more aggressively and impatiently as he twists the knife causing Perez to whimper.

You can only watch.

Your eyes flickering to Erikson as he still wriggled on the ground.

“Everyone.” Perez manages to say, her voice strained through the pain.

“You lie,” Mark seethes through his teeth,

“You fucking lie.”

He stabs her once more.

You saw the life leave her eyes as she slipped down the wall. Leaving a smear of blood.

The room was silent now.

Only the heavy sounds of Mark’s pants.

You stare at him. Watching how his chest rises and falls with such ferocity. You couldn’t process what you just saw, and the fact that you actually helped. You helped.

Holy fuck. You helped him.

The revelation washes over you enormously like a tidal. So extreme and overwhelming. You lean against the wall for leverage but it’s hopeless as your legs give out beneath you, causing you to slide your back down the wall as you crumble.

Your ears ring, and your face welling with an unbearable heat.

Marks quick to your aid. At your side faster than you can blink. Cradling your face as he pulls your head up to look at him. You feel limp in his hold.

You can only stare at him.

His lips crash into yours in an instant. The blood on his face retracting onto your own skin as he does. He tastes like copper. He’s harsh and firm and it only lasts a second before he pulls away - his grip on your face merciless.

“That’s for having my back.” He gruffs, patting your cheek.

..

[poptod]

Subterfuge (Baxter x Reader)

Description: You’re the new medical examiner. Like most medical examiners, you’re a little... different.

Notes: aghhhh im caught in so many lies with my family and friends that im gonna fucking break down but if i tell anyone the truth im gonna get my ass beat on several different levels WC: 1.7k

+

The latex gloves on your hands did little to stay the cold blood, staining up the skintight material that clung to your sweat. This wasn't the first time you had your hands wrist-deep in organs, but it was the first corpse who had a bullet in his eye, and the first time you were completely alone.

Your years as an assistant were finished, and now you were a full-on doctor––a medical examiner, to be specific. A coroner. The one who deals with the dead. Not a particularly charming profession, but far more interesting, and far more safe than most others.

There was one problem, though––the policemen. You were never a timid person, but some of them just got to you, itched beneath your skin and sped your heart. Why that was hadn't yet been identified, so instead you focused on something you understood; the human body. The stiffness of refrigerated muscle, the stench of uncleaned organs, a mask chafing against your cheeks. The heat of a bright light on your neck.

The man below you was a particularly unfortunate man. Died young, was never quite fully healthy, and had few friends and family. His method of death was what caught the eye of one of the detectives, though it seemed cut-and-dry to you. There were no struggle marks, puncture wounds, bruises, or even scars on his body. Only the bullet hole. He had to have done it himself. Still, it wasn't your job to question the detectives––only to bring them the information you gather.

"How's he lookin'?" Asked a man from behind you, the quiet hinges of the door swinging shut as he entered. You shot up, eyes instantly meeting his.

"Haven't gotten far. About through the small intestine," you said, gesturing to the different jars and plastic boxes categorized with the man's organs. The nearest to you was the lungs. You noted the scrunch in the man's nose with mild amusement.

"Gotten the bullet out yet?"

"Oh, yeah. Already sent it up for ballistics," you said with a curt, polite smile.

He remained silent after that, watching you work from the safe, mostly smell-free area of your desk. With his back leant on the table, he crossed his arms with intent eyes.

"You're the new medical examiner, aren't you?" He asked after a particularly wet squelching sound came from your working fingers.

"Yes sir," you said, nodding. "Started yesterday."

"Oh, this must be new for you then."

"I've done autopsies before, but this is the first time on my own, yes," you admitted with a tinge of embarrassment. It was the truth, that this was new, but he didn't have to mention it.

"Well then, welcome to the team," he chuckled. "My name's Baxter."

"(L/N). Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. I'd shake your hand, but," he trailed off as the both of you turned to your bloodied gloves.

"Don't worry," you said, a grin spreading across your face. "I'll give you a raincheck on that."

He hummed, uncrossing his arms and legs as he began to saunter over to you. For the most part, you could easily ignore his eye, stuck between your concentrated expression and steady hands. Having teams of professors and doctors looking over your shoulder for exams had prepared you well.

"Find anything curious?" He finally asked.

"Not really," you mumbled, gently cutting open the flesh of the stomach. "Not yet. There aren't any cuts or contusions of any notable kind. Only wound I could find was the bullet hole and an infected bruise on his toe. I'll be sending blood, stomach, and stool samples up to Peters soon, I'm sure you'll know more then."

As you took the samples out of the victim's stomach, Baxter circled the brightly lit table, stopping when he reached the feet. There he knelt, scanning the pale blue skin.

"How do you suppose he got this?"

"Haven't gotten there yet, but I'd assume he bashed it against some furniture," you said. He eyed you curiously but remained quiet for a moment.

"Looks like a puncture wound," he said slowly, contemplating his words carefully before he spoke.

"Give me a moment, sir," you said with a huff, sealing up the stomach tubes and setting them on the tray beside you.

Since you were the only doctor present, you had to hold the stomach walls open yourself, which kept you busy for a good two minutes before you could look at Baxter's little pointer. To your immense relief he waited patiently for you to finish sewing and setting away your tools, before shuffling to the side to make room for you at the end of the table.

As he noticed, there was a small, dark spot beneath his big toe's nail. Digging into your white coat pocket, you pulled out your magnifier glass and set it up close to the cold skin.

"Could be right," you said softly, focused more on your sight than your tongue. You raised a gloved hand, pulling at the wound, pushing on the bruise till the hole widened.

"Needle mark?"

"That's what I was thinking," you said, shoving your magnifier glass back in your pocket. "Good eye, Baxter. I'll tell Peters to check his blood for any trace drugs."

You circled back around to your spot on the table, sorting through the six tube samples before lifting the case into your arms. Noticing your small stumble over your feet, he rushed over to join you, taking the case from you.

"I can take this up for you," he offered, his wide, grey eyes set strictly upon you. The sudden closeness had your words stammering and stuttering.

"Um – y- yeah, thank you," you said with a smile, your chest tight as he left. Only when the door shut behind him did you breathe again, turning back to the patient beneath you.

Hopefully, when you got the chance to meet the rest of the officers, you wouldn't slip up like that––messing up in front of one person was enough, and Baxter already felt like a very strange person, so probably would mind your oddness the least. The others would be less forgiving, or at least that's what you assumed. Most of the police you'd met in your life had been incredibly straight-cut, diamonds-up-the-ass kind of people.

"What a strange lad," you commented to your patient. "I should bake him some cookies."

The rest of the autopsy took three hours, full of rotting stenches and labelled gizzards. Your thirty-minute break was reduced to ten as the victims of a bar shootout came in, the three bodies riddled with bullet holes, leaving the cause of death obvious to anyone who stopped by. You didn't see Baxter again that day––not until it was done, and you were wrapped back in your personal coat, heading towards the elevator.

He caught the door before it could close in front of you, and as you rushed in with full hands you hurriedly thanked him. A bell dinged and the door shut, leaving the two of you alone in the enclosed space, the buzzing florescent light buffering between you.

"Did you hear about the shootout?" You asked when it became clear to you that this was a slow elevator.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I got a call and stopped by, but... they were already gone, and the, um.. the others were dead."

"Well, if they weren't then, they are now," you said, once again ignoring his questioning eye. "I had to put their brains in some jars."

To your surprise, he chuckled, brushing the hair off his face and readjusting his perfect posture.

"You know, usually it takes some time before new people start making jokes about the dead," he said, grinning as he looked at you out of the side of his eye.

"I'm a fast learner and a natural comedian. Mother always was disappointed in my career choice... wanted me to be a court jester," you teased with your own giggle, heart beating rapidly at the prospect of someone pretty enjoying your company.

"You do well in both careers. Do – do you need some help with that?" He asked, noticing your struggle with the varied bags in your arms.

"I think I can do it," you said, huffing as you tried to hoist the plastic back onto you. Before you could help it two of them slipped, nearly falling but halted when Baxter caught them mid-air.

"What do you have in here?" He asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to glance inside.

"Clothes," you said after a mumble of a 'thank you'. "One of the women here had a lot of clothes to get rid of and, well, I need some. And I'm sure one of my roommates could use them, too."

"Oh. Do you have a car?"

"You could call it that."

"I'll help you carry these there, then," he said, taking another bag off your shoulder. The loss of stress on your muscles left you relieved, and you sighed happily.

"Thank you, sir."

You tried to contain your smile as you led him through the parking lot, slipping between the empty spaces to get to your tiny vehicle. Legally it wasn't even a car––actually, you'd built it from the basis of a golf cart, slowly adding and changing features until it drove and looked essentially like a car. Hard work, but you'd been doing it since you stole it in the 7th grade.

Rarely did you ever get along with people, and so Baxter's politeness had sparked a delight in you that brought a ceaseless smile. When you took the bags from him, you thanked him again, attempting to hold a conversation while shoving the bags into the back of your car. He chuckled at your strained words, but eventually helped you when he got over his amusement.

"It was nice to meet you today, and thank you, again," you said once the backdoor was slammed shut beneath yours and Baxter's combined strength.

"Pleasure to meet you, as well. Drive safe now," he said, shaking your hand with a grin.

"Oh I will," you assured him, laughing. You clambered into the driver's seat, shutting the door but leaning out the open window. "If I don't I'll have you on my ass."

"You know it!" He said as he walked away, his bright laugh echoing in the mostly-empty parking lot.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

A part 2 to Priorities? Make up sex involved?

Well, y’all did it. You summoned my thirst for Detective Cutie Pants, so here’s a Part II for Priorities.

Full smut ahead.

* * * * *

The emotional toil of your conversation sat just beneath your skin, and you knew it was sitting beneath Baxter’s, too. It was in the way he didn’t want to let you go—in the way he kept kissing you, from jawline to earlobe. You scared him, but he had scared you first.

 Fear had a way of making the present seem so . . . present. And suddenly you were filled with an urge to drive him crazy—to make your presence known. So known that he could continue to carry it with him when he left the safety of the home you had built together.

 Your hand ran up the back of his head and you wriggled your fingers into his slick hair, tugging hard enough to free his mouth from your skin.

 With his neck bared, you were the one to press kisses along his sharp jaw, nipping at the bone as you moved from ear to ear.

 Baxter exhaled, noisily, and you pulled his earlobe into your mouth, sucking until he shivered.

 Walking him backward, you released his earlobe as his legs hit the sofa, and with a push of his shoulders, he plopped onto the couch.

 Before he could even look up at you, you were in his lap, tugging on his hair with one hand and pushing his chin up with the other so you could kiss him.

 Your mouth owned his—molding over his lips and sucking, closing your teeth over his full, bottom lip and pulling, thrusting your tongue into his mouth and swirling it around his—and as you ground down into his lap, he was already hard for you.

 With a grunt, you relinquished your assault on his mouth and sat back to loosen his tie. Baxter’s eyes were filled with heat as he watched your face when your fingers moved over the buttons on his dress shirt. You flung it open and ran your hands over the smooth fabric of his undershirt, pinching his nipples and making him tuck that bottom lip of his between his teeth.

 His hands were quiet on your thighs, having already understood that this level of control was what you needed.

 You pulled Bax forward to work the sleeves of his dress shirt off and when you flung it over the back of the couch, the buttons made satisfying pings on your hardwood floor. Needing to touch his skin, you yanked his undershirt out of his dress pants and pulled it over his head, his hair no longer neatly combed.

 Kissing down his neck, you paused when you felt like it to suck, leaving light red marks that would probably fade by dawn. He kept the hair on his torso as neat as the rest of his appearance, so you scratched through the fine smattering of chest hair before sliding off of his lap so you could continue kissing down his body.

 In anticipation, he scooted forward on the couch, his mouth parted as he continued to watch you.

 You mouthed at him over the fabric, teasing his hard cock before you undid his belt and opened his pants. His hips automatically popped up so you could free him, but you pushed him back down, not allowing him to hurry you along.  

 Baxter bit back a groan as you dragged your nails over the tops of his thighs, his arms bent at the elbows as he reached for you, then decided against it.

 With a coy smile, you pulled his cock out of his underwear, then reached up with both hands to lace his fingers with yours. His grip was strong and only intensified as you took him into your mouth, sucking his tip with fervor before sliding your mouth down as far as you could take him.

 “Oh god,” Bax moaned, his palms pressing to yours as your head bobbed between his legs.

 He tasted so good and the way the velvety skin of his cock felt against your tongue almost made you forget the hell he had put you through . . . almost.

 You released him without warning and wriggled your hands free from his grip so you could stand. Baxter’s neck was deepened to a reddish-brown and the color bled down to mottle his chest. He was breathing heavily and the look on his face was one of deprivation—you hadn’t realized how close he was to coming.

 Fixing a haughty expression on your face, you looked down at him as you slowly undressed. When you were naked, you leaned forward to finally free him from his pants and underwear, a task Baxter enthusiastically aided you in.

 You bent your knees and slid back onto the couch, once again straddling his lap.

 “Touch me.”

 Baxter’s hand leapt to your juncture and his index finger easily slid through your wet folds. He sighed at the state of you and slowly eased his middle finger into your body. You clenched around the digit, surprised by how satisfying it felt to have something inside of you.

 It made you long for his cock, but you weren’t ready to give him that much yet. You moved your hips and fucked his finger, watching his eyes as they were trained on your center. When Bax twisted his hand so his thumb could work your clit, you let him, your eyes slipping shut as you rode his hand to an orgasm.

 During the course of getting you off, Baxter’s free hand found its way to his cock and he was pumping himself when you opened your eyes. He pulled his hand away from your center and brought it to his cock, coating the head with your arousal. What remained on his fingers, he slowly licked off as you watched him, half-lidded and aching.

 You took his dick in your hand and guided him into your heat, sinking onto him so swiftly that he bit down on his knuckle to keep from crying out.

 “Baaax,” you exhaled, steadying yourself on his shoulders as you adjusted to his cock.

 “Y/N. Fuck baby. You feel so fucking good.”

 “Wait until I start moving,” you said with a wicked grin, and Baxter reached up to hold on to your hips, but you pushed his hands away.

 Leaning forward, you began to ride him, rotating your hips and grinding on his cock in a way that made his eyes roll back. His hands fumbled in the air before they ghosted over the sides of your breasts.

 Baxter’s hands eventually found their way to your hair, tangling in it as he brought you to his mouth for a sloppy kiss.

 “I love you,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 “I know. I know,” you answered as you straightened up and bounced on him.

 Baxter thrust up to meet your bounces and with the force of his cock entering you, hitting that good, good, spot inside of you over and over, you knew you were going to come again if he could—

 “Gonna come again. I wanna come again,” you panted.

 He shut his eyes tight and concentrated on fucking you, waiting for you to spill over and when you did, you moaned his name and begged him to come inside of you.

 “Y/N,” he groaned as he came, his hips slowing as he filled you up.

 “Baxter,” you murmured, leaning forward to mumble his name over and over as you peppered his face with kisses.

 “Mmm. So do you forgive me?” he asked quietly, his softening cock still inside of you.

 “Yes. I love you too much not to.”

 “Good. I wanna keep it that way.”

 “Me too. And I also wanna get a good night’s sleep.”

 Baxter chuckled, and when he shifted, his cock fell out of you and you both sucked in a breath at the loss of contact.

 “Hey,” he said, taking your face between his hands, his eyes serious. “Thank you.”

 You smiled and leaned down to kiss him, a sweet, loving kiss that he reciprocated, and both of you knew that no matter what, you’d always have what you needed.

[rami-hoe]

Obsessed with the set pics of rami from LT 😍 havent been thinking about anything but reader roleplaying with rami as criminal x cop

Detective Baxter could get it any day

[timepetalscollective]

fan prompts to consider

We’ve gotten these prompts in our inbox from folks in the past few months and we wanna share em with you because as always we’re dying for new creations. Have you got an idea for a fanwork, fan art, or fic you wanna see? Send it our way!

AUs and Prompts for Any Ships

“I woke up this morning and couldn’t wait for the day to be over, I rushed and I pushed but who knew I would be meeting you. Now I never want this day to end, this perfect moment being so close with you”

Accidental couples costumes at a party prompt

High School AU taking care of fake baby AU prompt

I work at a 24 hour store and you’ve just come through my line buying an ungodly amount of tomato juice and smelling so strongly of skunk it’s making my eyes water... I know a recipe that works better than tomato juice, do you need help?

Doctor Who Prompts

Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen building a dimension cannon prompt

Ten x Rose Hang the DJ (Black Mirror) AU prompt

Tentoo’s accent is different w/out the TARDIS

Nine/Ten:  “Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again”

The Cure lyrics + Ten x Rose prompt

Rose in Pete’s World meets Hannah Baxter prompt

Rose becomes Brona/Lily after a weeping angel gets to her prompt

Rose keeps eating pears prompt

Doctor and Rose living each day like it’s their last prompt

Request for asexual!Doctor fics <--- Looking for readers? Consider this one, as we’ve gotten this prompt a few times :)

Doctor x Rose medical examiner and detective style AU prompt

The Greatest Showman AU prompt

Doctor x Rose Altered Carbon AU

Thirteen running into post-JE Donna prompt

Eight as the War Doctor

Eight meeting Rose post Night of the Doctor prompt

War Doctor ideas

Twelve x Rose Star Trek AU prompt

Bored Tentoo writing a scientific study on Rose’s sexiness prompt

Twelve suspicious of holidays prompt

GITF fix-it w/Reinette prompt

Are the Doctor and Tentoo identical in every way ;) prompt

Ten x Rose futuristic AU where Rose is a house AI prompt

Reinette x Mickey prompt  <--- Looking for readers? Consider this one, as we’ve gotten this prompt a few times :)

Sapphic Prompts

Thirteen’s pet glit prompt

Thirteen x Rose as a forest guardian prompt

Request for sapphic!Tosh fics

Teninch Fic, Torchwood, and other Whoniverse Prompts

Hannah/Rose meet Alec Hardy on tinder prompt

DT character oil wrestling prompt

Broadchurch in the snow prompt

Teninch Fic: Tennant working for a Piper prompt

[porlockstompf]

READING DE NACHT READING 2017

                                                            my favourite books of the year

my overall favourite book of the year:

     david keenan “this is memorial device” [faber & faber] (2017)

POST-CYBERPUNKSTOMPF:

01 nick harkaway "gnomon" (2017) 02 kim stanley robinson "new york 2140" (2017) 03 m john harrison "you should come with me" (2017) 04 gardner dozois (ed) "the year's best science fiction: thirty-fourth annual collection" (2017) 05 james morrow "the asylum of dr. caligari" (2017)

06 annalee newitz "autonomous" (2017) 07 cory doctorow "walkaway" (2017) 08 dave hutchinson "acadia" (2017)   + dave hutchinson "slow companions" (2017) 09 ed finn (ed) visions, ventures, escape velocities: a collection of space futures" (2017) 10 bryan thomas schmidt (ed) "infinite stars" (2017)

11 allan kaster "the year's top hard science fiction stories" (2017) 12 nina allen "the rift" (2017) 13 charles stross "the delirium brief" (2017) 14 simon morden "at the speed of light" (2017) 15 ada palmer "seven surrenders" (2017) & "the will to battle" (2017)

16 yoon ha lee "raven stratagem" (2017) 17 john joseph adams (ed) "cosmic powers" (2017) 18 mur lafferty "six wakes" (2017) 19 taiyo fujii "orbital cloud" (2017) 20 andrew bannister "creation machine" (2016)     + andrew bannister "iron gods" (2017)

21 gareth l powell "entropic angel & other stories" (2017) 22 ann leckie "provenance" (2017) 23 monica louzon (ed) "catalysts, explorers & secret keepers: women of sf" 24 ian mconald "wolf moon" (2017) 25 neal stephenson & nicole galland "the rise & fall of d.o.d.o." (2017)

26 adam roberts "the real-town murders" (2017) 27 tim pratt "the wrong stars" (2017) 28 jim c. hines "terminal alliance" (2017) 29 charles stross "the empire games" (2017) 30 james s.a. corey "persepolis rising" (2017)     + james s.a. corey "strange dogs" (2017)

31 allen steele "avengers of the moon (captain future)" (2017) 32 neal asher "infinity engine [transformation III]" (2017) 33 jason m. hough "injection burn" (2017)   + jason m. hough "escape velocity" (2017) 34 donna scott (ed) "best of british science fiction 2016"/una mccormack "star of the sea" (2016) 35 david marusek "upon this rock"/john scalzi "collapsing empire" (2017)

& a couple of re-readings: richard k. morgan "takeshi kovacs trilogy" in view of the coming netflix series and colin harvey "damage time" (2010) ... no further reason needed!

STOMPF KLASSIK:

01 matthew mcintosh "the mystery.doc" (2017)

02 sébastien roger "les désordres du monde. walter benjamin à port-bou" (2017) 03 laurent binet "hhhh" (2012) 04 + laurent binet "the 7th function of language" (2017) 05 jean echenoz "special envoy" (2017)

06 paul stanbridge "forbidden line" (2016) 07 ryu murakami "tokyo decadence (2016) 08 aifric campbell "the semantics of murder" (2008) 09 mark vernon "darker with the day" (2017) 10 magnus mills "the forensic records society" (2017)

GEDÄCHTNISSTOMPF:

01 mckenzie wark "general intellects: 25 thinkers for the 21st century" (2017) 02 claude lefort "wat is politiek?" (2016) 03 ger groot & sam ijsseling "dankbaar en aandachtig" (2013) 04 martin heidegger "beiträge zur philosophie (vom ereignis)" (2003) 05 hannah arendt "totalitarisme" (2014)

06 daniel birnbaum & kim west "life on sirius: the situationist international & the exhibition of art" (2016) 07 ger groot "de geest is uit de fles" (2017) 08 sean gaston "the impossible mourning of jacques derrida" (2006) 09 bas heijne "onbehagen: nieuw licht op de beschaafde mens" (2016) 10 giorgio colli "ecrits sur nietzsche" (2017)

11 frédéric neyrat "échapper à l'horreur" (2017) 12 slavoj zizek "against the double blackmail, refugees, terror & other troubles with the neighbours" (2017) 13 henning mankell "quicksand" (2016) 14 jacques rancière "en quel temps vivons-nous? conversations avec eric hazan" (2017) 15 alain badiou "je vous sais si nombreux... " (2017)

16 alain badou & jean-luc nancy "la tradition allemande dans la philosophie" (2017) 17 tom mccarthy "typewriters bombs jellyfish [essays]" (2017) 18 valeria luiselli "tell me how it ends: an essay in 40 questions" (2017) 19 fredric jameson "raymond chandler: the detections of totality" (2016) 20 umberto eco "chronicles of a liquid society" (2017)

POLARSTOMPF:

01 chris petit "pale horse riding" (2017)   + chris petit "the butchers of berlin" (2016)   + chris petit "the human pool" (2002)   + chris petit "the psalm killer" (1996)

02 john le carré "a legacy of spies" (2017) 03 david hewson "sleep baby sleep" (2017) 04 mick herron "slow horses" (2010)   + mick herron "dead lions" (2013)   + mick herron "the list" (2015)   + mick herron "real tigers" (2016)   + mick herron "spook street" (2017) 05 jussi adler-olsen "the scarred woman" (2017)

06 jo nesbo "the thirst" (2017) 07 ben fergusson "the spring of kasper meier" (2014) 08 e.o. chirovici "the book of mirrors" (2017) 09 toni coppers "de zaak magritte" (2017) 10 james r. tuck "mama tried (crime fiction inspired by outlaw country music)" (2016)

YOUNGADULTSTOMPF:

01 philip pullman "la belle sauvage" (2017)

PLATTERSTOMPF:

01 cosey fanni tutti "art sex music" (2017) 02 david keenan "this is memorial device" (2017) 03 joanne demers "drone and apocalypse" (2015) 04 + joanne demers "listening through the noise" (2010) 05 robert barry "the music of the future" (2017)

06 richard cabut & andrew gallix (eds) "punk is dead: modernity killed every night" (2017) 07 butt gavin, kodwo eshun, & mark fisher (eds) "post punk then and now" (2016)" 08 sandra garrido "why are we attracted to sad music" (2016) 09 tomas serrien "klank: een filsofie van de muzikale ervaring" (2017) 10 marlies de munck "waarom chopin de regen niet wilde horen" (2017)

11 daniel warner "live wires" (2017) 12 will carruthers "playing the bass with three left hands" (2016) 13 steve hanley "the big midweek-life inside the fall (2016) 14 tex perkins "tex" (2017) 15 mark lanegan "i am the wolf" (2017)

17 simon reynolds "shock & awe" (2016) 18 andrew o'neill "a history of heavy metal" (2017) 19 bryan ray turcotte "the fucked up reader" (2007) 10 bob batchelor (ed) "literary cash" (2017) 20 simon webb "a 1970s teenager. from bell-bottoms to disco dancing" (2013)

         both bell-bottoms and disco dancing can be had @ muntpunt !

POESISSTOMPF:

01 jonty tiplady "zam bonk dip" (2010) 02 murray lachlan young "how freakin' zeitgeist are you?" (2017)

BILDERSTOMPF:

01 peter-andré bloch "sils-maria - "l'île bienheureuse" pour nietzsche" (2017)

02 willem vanhuyse "atlas van de imaginaire verklaringen: het complete handboek vor de 'patafysicus'" (2017) 03 reinhard kleist "nick cave: mercy on me" (2017) 04 william gibson "archangel (a graphic novel)" (2017) 05 a. uderzo, didier conrad & jean-yves ferri "astérix et la transitalique" (2017)

WISSENSCHAFTSTOMPF:

01 thibault damour & mathieu burniat "mysteries of the quantum universe" (2017) 02 brian cox & jeff forshaw "universal: a journey through the cosmos" (2017)

HUMOURSTOMPF:

01 james acaster "james acaster's classic scrapes" (2017)

02 chris wade “the story of derek and clive” (2017)

CYCLOSTOMPF:

01 frederik bakelandt "grinta! de bergen: 10 legendarsche wielercols" (2017)

02 lucien van impe & filip osselaer "de dag dat ik de tour verloor" (2017) 03 jonas heyerick & jelle vermeersch "bahamontes #17-#20" (2017) 04 frank strack "the hardmen: legends of the cycling gods" (2017) 05 matthias m. r. declercq "de val" (2017)

… tsundoku !

may your home be safe from tigers, leroy, x HNY!

the TBR pile grew with...

lászló krasznahorkai "the world goes on" (2017) samanta schweblin "fever dream" (2017)

peter mark, peter helman & penny snyder (eds) "the mountains in art history" (2017)

alvin lucier (ed) "eight lectures on experimental music" (2017) rhian e jones & eli davies "under my thumb: songs that hate women and the women who love them" (2017)

arne dahl "watching you" (2017) philip kerr "prussian blue" (2017) antti tuomainen "the man who died" (2017) jon michelet "the frozen women" (2017) nicolás obregón "blue light yokohama" (2017)

alex lamb "exodus" (2017) c robert cargill "sea of rust" (2017) chris brookmyre "places in the darkness" (2017) d nolan clark "forgotten worlds" & "forbidden suns" (2017) dan moren "the caledonian gambit" (2017) elizabeth moon "cold welcome" (2017) ferrett steinmetz "the uploaded" (2017) greg egan "dichronauts" (2017) ian whates "the ion raider" (2017) jaine fenn "the martian job" (2017) jamie sawyer "pariah" (2017)

jeff noon "a man of shadows" (2017) joe m mcdermott "the fortress at the end of time" (2017) joe zieja "communication failure" (2017) john kessel "the moon and the other" (2017) john meaney "destructor function" (2017) jonathan strahan (ed) "best sf &f of the year vol 11" & "infinity wars" (2017) kameron hurley "the stars are legion" (2017) kay kenyon "at the table of wolves" (2017) malka older "null states" (2017) marina j. lostetter "noumenon" (2017)

martha wells "all systems red" (2017) neil clark (ed) "galactic empires" & "more human than human" (2017) paul mcauley "austral" (2017) r.e. stearns "barbary station" (2017) robert kroese "last iota" (2017) sage walker "the man in a tree" (2017) stephen baxter "obelisk" (2017) + stephen baxter "the massacre of mankind" (2017) sulari gentill "crossing the lines" (2017) the justified ancients of mu mu “2023 a trilogy” (2017) wendy n. wagner "an oath of dogs" (2017)

[grxmreaperx]

MARK HOFFMAN LITERALLY ANYTHING PLS

You literally have no idea how happy I am that my first request is for Hoffman!! I’ve been rewatching the Saw series and I’m SO obsessed with this man

Untested

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: not many, slight angst. Mentions of blood and a couple of the traps. mentions of sex, but nothing explicit (this time

Summary: you and Mark are the only two Jigsaws left standing. John and Amanda were killed in Jeff’s game and Mark has made it clear that Jill is no longer welcome. You and the detective have grown close, working together to set up John’s so-called games and making sure Hoffman’s name stays out of the FBI’s mouths. You always warned him that Jigsaw lets no one go untested. He didn’t believe you until Jill received a box.

Takes place around Saw V/Saw VI. This might end up being a part of a longer piece, I’ve had a story in my head for a while, so if you guys like this I’ll start working on the longer work!!

“When’s your test, Detective?”

“I don’t need one.”

○

“You know John is going to test you at some point, right?”

Hoffman smirks. “And what makes you think that?”

You toss the screwdriver on the table, admiring, as John has coined it, “The Rack.”

“Amanda is right, John doesn’t let anyone go untested. She’s been tested. I’ve been tested. That leaves you, Detective.” You don’t allow yourself to look at him, instead admiring your handiwork in front of you.

He pulls his gloves off, shoving them into his pockets as he watches you. He knows you’re right. He hasn’t taken his life for granted, but neither had you. But here you were, a survivor of the game and one of the few people John trusts with his work.

“I just wish you’d let me help you. I can help you prepare, for whatever your test will be.” You finally look over, staring at him, examining his face for any sort of confirmation, confirmation that he’ll give in and let you do something for him.

He scoffs. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. What, you worried about me or something?”

You cross your arms and stay silent. Normally you’re fine with the teasing, the back and forth, but not when his life could be at stake. Even if neither of you would say it aloud, but you cared for one another. You both had given into the tension months ago, developing a relationship that you both agreed, at the time, was nothing more than sex. But with every broken nose snapped back into place, every cut bandaged, and every casual touch, you both became more and more aware that this wasn’t true.

Your silence stabs at his chest. Softening ever so slightly, he says “Don’t worry, I can handle whatever the old man throws at me. I’ll be okay. I’ve set up enough of these things to know what I’m doing.”

Your sigh fills the room. “Whatever you say, Hoffman.”

○

“I’ll be right there.” He shuts his phone, jaw tense.

“Everything alright?” you ask from your seat in front of the monitors. You had both been watching as William Easton made his way through his game, blood in his wake.

“Yeah. Erikson says they have the Seth Baxter tape. Some specialist is analyzing the thing and they want me there.”

You feel your shoulders tense. After a moment of silence, all you can ask is “You need any backup?”

He smiles. “No, no. You stay here and run the game. Make sure everything goes smoothly. I’ll be alright. Be back as soon as I can.”

“Alright.”

He run a hand over your arm as he makes his way towards the door. You fix your eyes on the screen, steadying your breathing.

“Mark,” you say, as he steps over the threshold.

He looks back at you, eyes still on the screen.

“Be careful.”

You see his reflection on the screen nod, before closing the door behind him.

○

The third shot on the carousel went off when one of your security cameras went black. You sit up in the desk chair, poking at the keyboard, trying to get the feed back. Groaning, you hoist yourself up, grabbing a tool kit and your gun, and heading to the broken camera on the back of the building.

Your phone rings as you tinker with the faulty camera.

Hoffman.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, where are you? I’m back.”

“I’m out back, one of the cameras cut. All good?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll tell you about it when you get back in. But I’m fine. You good?”

A weight is lifted off of you. “Yeah, all good. Be in soon.”

○

He didn’t notice the note on the keyboard until his phone was flipped shut, trying to slow his heart rate. You didn’t put this here, did you? Where would you have gotten it? You knew about it, of course, but why would you put it here? You didn’t even know when he was coming back. You had been there when he had written it.

“Are you sure about this? Amanda is good at what she does, even if she is a bit hot headed. Just like someone else.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. This is our game, not hers. Once she’s out of the picture, it’ll just be you and me.”

His eyes darted around, trying to think of some explanation. He’d have to ask you when you came back in. He thought about going out to “help” you, even if he knew you didn’t need it, just to calm his nerves. He hated the idea of you out there by yourself, focused so intently on what you were doing that you wouldn’t notice someone coming up behind you through the darkness. Even though he would never admit it, he couldn’t wait for you to get back inside. His nerves were fried after the fire, and he needed to see you.

He was so lost in thought that, before he could react, he felt an electric shock pulse through his body.

○

As soon as you got the red light on the camera blinking again, your phone buzzes.

Hoffman.

Impatient, you thought, flipping the phone open.

“Hello, Detective.”

Nothing. Dial tone.

Your eyebrows furrow and you feel your breath hitch. You quickly dial him back, pressing the phone to your ear.

No answer.

Fuck. You leave the toolbox on the concrete, pulling your gun from the holster around your waist, and slowly make your way back inside.

You slink through the hallways back to the command center, listening for anything that tells you where he is, that he’s okay. That he’s alive.

Then you hear glass shatter.

You could’ve sworn you heard a car door slam shut outside, an engine starting, but you don’t care. You quickly make your way to the room, the window in the door shattered and –

The bear trap falling from the bars.

You throw the door open, and you suddenly forget how to breathe. Mark is one the floor, alive and bleeding, the side of his face torn to shreds.

You holster your gun, rushing over to him.

“What the fuck happened? Stay here, I have a kit in my car. Don’t move, and that’s not a suggestion.”

He nods slightly, breathing heavily through his nose.

You rush outside, hands fumbling with your car keys, pulling the door open and searching the glove box for your first aid kit.

When you get back inside, Mark has moved against the wall, head leaning back against the stone. You crouch down beside him, pulling out a clean needle and thread.

“I can do it,” he says through gritted teeth, reaching for the supplies.

You slap his hand away. “Shut up. You’re not doing this.” He sees your tense jaw, your eyes wide, and decides to listen.

Once you’ve stopped the bleeding and have at least half of his cheek sewn back up, your heart has stopped trying to escape from your chest and your hands have gotten steady again.

“Who did this?” you ask him, his face finally whole again.

“Jill Tuck.”

“What? Are you serious?”

The rage in his eyes gives you you’re answer. All you can do is nod. Jill motherfucking Tuck.

You start applying an antiseptic to his face, ignoring his insistence that he’s fine.

“So,” you start, breaking the silence. “Do you want me to say it now or later?”

His eyes meet yours, and he lets out an annoyed laugh. “Later, thank you.”

You can’t help but laugh, relieved and angry and fearful all at once.

I told you so, Hoffman.

“Cmon,” you say, grabbing his hand as he forces himself to stand. “Let’s get you home.”

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1185

Monday, October 30, 2017

 Today's a perfect day to sit inside and read what with all the rain we're having here in Ottawa. I hope it lets up by tomorrow evening for the trick or treaters.

 I numbered last week's off the rack #1186 and skipped one by mistake. Keen eyed reader Tom noticed and let me know, so this here is #1185. I've got to say that I was very impressed with the art in all of the comic books that I read for this column.

 Hulk #11 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Bachan (art) Frederico Blee (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). The cartoony art suits this cartoony story where Jen breaks the fourth wall and talks directly to the reader. It's kind of a neat feature that John Byrne used to do back in the day but I hope Mariko doesn't use it too often. This issue was fun for having it in there though. It also hints at a new threat to Jennifer and her gray alter ego. I love the LBD and pearls that artist John Tyler Christopher put Jen in on the cover.

 Punisher: The Platoon #2 - Garth Ennis (writer) Goran Parlov (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Rob Steen (letters). I can't imagine what it would be like to fight in a war. This comic book showed me in explicit detail. I know we can all be reduced to our baser instincts when our lives are threatened. I hope my life or the lives of the ones I love are never threatened.

 Wonder Woman #33 - James Robinson (writer) Emanuela Lupacchino (pencils) Ray McCarthy (inks) Romulo Fajardo Jr. (colours). I don't know who lettered this issue. They sure had a lot of work with 'Lil Darkseid getting older and ordering his murderous daughter Grail around. Wonder Woman only appears in this issue as images on a TV screen. I suppose that was to let fans know that they are actually reading a Wonder Woman comic book. That's a low opinion of the intelligence of their fan base. I feel a little insulted. If it wasn't for Ema's art, I'd consider benching this book.

 Saga #48 - Brian K. Vaughn (writer) Fiona Staples (art & colours) Fonografiks (letters). Hazel and Sir Robot's son are much older now. This is the issue before their regularly scheduled hiatus. I'm glad it didn't end in a cliffhanger but I still can't wait until February when the next issue hits the racks.

 Amazing Spider-Man #790 - Dan Slott & Christos Gage (writers) Stuart Immonen (pencils) Wade von Grawbadger (inks) Marte Gracia (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Sometimes the hardest thing to do is the right thing. Peter is trying his best but when the fall of Parker Industries threatens to fell the Baxter Building it's up to an unlikely team up to prevent disaster. This issue spells out the plight of Peter Parker very well.

 Batman: The Merciless #1 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Francis Manapul (art & colours) Tom Napolitano (letters). It's Wonder Woman's turn to get mashed up with Batman. There is a neat twist about the death of the Earth-12 Diana that created the Merciless. That made this comic book worth reading.

 Wild Storm #8 - Warren Ellis (writer) John Davis-Hunt (art) Steve Buccellato (colours) Simon Bowland (letters). Brace yourself to meet a whole new slew of characters as this story expands. It was cool for me to see these familiar names re-imagined by Warren and John.

 All-New Wolverine #26 - Tom Taylor (writer) Juann Cabal (art) Nolan Woodard (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). All you folks not reading this book, you don't know what you're missing. Laura and Daken meet face to face and the mystery of why Daken was being tortured is revealed. Juann's art is so nice to look at.

 Action Comics #990 - Dan Jurgens (writer & breakdown art) Viktor Bogdanovic (pencils) Viktor Bogdanovic, Trevor Scott & Scott Hanna (inks) Mike Spicer (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). It looks like grandpa Jor-El has brainwashed young Jon in part 4 of "The Oz Effect". I keep wondering what the big threat is that's coming.

 Weapon X #10 - Greg Pak & Fred Van Lente (writer) Marc Borstel & Ibraim Roberson (art) Frank D'Armata (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Hulkverine meets his step-mom and she is one nasty witch. I saw some hope there for the big gray galoot when he didn't kill on command but Doctor Alba figured out a workaround. It means it's uh-oh time for the good guys again. The art in this issue is wonderful.

 Detective Comics #967 - James Tynion IV (writer) Alvaro Martinez (pencils) Raul Fernandez (inks) Tomeu Morey & Jean Francois Beaulieu (colours) Sal Cipriano (letters). Part 3 of "A Lonely Place of Living" features the return of young Tim Drake/Red Robin. I'm more interested in what old Tim Drake/Batman is going to do in this timeline.

[poptod]

Hi again! Umm, I don’t know if you write for our hardass detective but here’s my two cents of an hc: You’ve been trying to purposely keep something from him all day and he tries something different. After you take a shower, he switches out your regular panties with vibrating ones and keeps the remote. So when he interrogates you he has a sinister/smutty edge to it. (I understand if this request is too weird or you don’t write for this character 👍🏾)

Notes: oooff this was a hard one for me, i hope i did alright. had to make it a female reader but pronouns aren't mentioned! WC: 992

+

"You're a little off this morning," he says in that low voice, rough with sleep. You bite the inside of your cheek.

"How so?"

"You're just... off," he says. You should've expected him to notice something––he knows you far too well, and beyond that, figuring out when people are lying is literally his job.

"Is something wrong?" He asks.

"No," you lie, pretending to look nonchalant. Well, it's not a total lie. Nothing's really wrong. There's just something he can't know.

He glares at you from across the table but says nothing. Already you can tell ideas are stewing in his head, figuring out how he can draw the truth from you. You know the drill by heart; every time you try to throw him a surprise party, he's figured out what you're planning days before the actual party. It's irritating––very irritating––but there's nothing like the sly light in his eye as he watches you, his glare burning right through your skin. He sits in his cushioned chair, legs spread wide as he toys with the collar of his shirt.

Today is no different from all the last times, feeling him watch your every move. You're in the kitchen cleaning out your cake pans, and the moment you set down the last one, he's trapping you against the counter. You jolt forward in surprise, sucking in a breath. There's one hand on either side of you, his chest pressed right up against your back.

"C'mon," he mumbles softly, his voice rumbling and low against the skin of your neck. "I'll get it one way or another... might as well end the torture now."

"Before it starts?" You ask with a giggle, but he's clearly not in the mood for it. He pushes you harder against the counter till you can barely move your hips.

"Don't play games," he says, right up against your ear. His heat turns the tips of your ears a brighter red, the blush spreading into your cheeks.

"There's nothing wrong," you insist. He hums.

"We'll see."

Two more times he tries, using a variety of different techniques. Kindness, intimidation, bargaining––none of it works, and his head insists that means The Secret is more important. The harder you fight against him the harder he wants to play, until the mail comes and you're in the shower.

A week or so ago he'd ordered (online, as always) a special toy for you. Something he forgot to tell you about. A mischievous grin crosses him as an idea comes––an idea to get The Secret out of you. And this time, it'll work.

He has to be quick in order to make it to the bathroom and sneak in without you finishing your shower. You're humming to yourself, so he allows himself a little elbow room, discreetly replacing your panties with the new ones. When he shuts the door behind him, a relieved sigh leaves him. Now to wait.

It doesn't take long for the rush of water behind the walls stops, alerting him to you stepping out of the shower. He sits in the living room, eagerly awaiting for you, his legs splayed wide as usual.

You enter dressed in a large shirt about twenty minutes later, eyeing him suspiciously as you head to the kitchen. He's got a remote in his fingers, twiddling between his middle finger and forefinger, and the fact that you don't recognize it already has you suspicious.

"Last chance," he warns.

"I told you there's nothing wrong. You get way too suspicious of me sometimes," you say, paying little attention to the fact that he's creeping up behind you.

This secret you're keeping from him––it's not something you need to tell him. Not yet. You don't want to tell him, and as much as you enjoy this game he's ever so eager to play, you can't help but feel irritation at the lack of trust he has in you.

All of it goes mute when he presses his body against yours, moving foward till you're trapped against the wall. As he does a sudden, prolonged vibration hits right on your clit, pulling a long, sudden moan from your lips. Several questions go through your head, namely how the hell he managed to get a toy down there without you knowing. The second question is how the hell does this still excite you? How many times has he trapped you beneath him, put sin into his every touch and always draw the sweetest, softest moans from you, and it still burns when his lips touch your bare skin.

You gasp lightly when the sensation stops, replaced by wandering hands all up your torso and thighs.

"You seem anxious, darlin’," he says, the rumbling vibrations spreading from his chest to yours. "So I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to do."

Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses down your neck. Hands still explore your body––one he's known for long enough to recognize you in pitch black darkness, one he still reveres with every touch.

"I am going to detain you," he says with a soft grunt, and he pulls at your arms, locking a metal cuff around one of your wrists before moving onto the next one, "and I am going to get the truth from you," he tugs on the lock to ensure its' secure, "and you are going to do every little thing I say."

"I told you I'm not –"

You're cut off by yourself, a long, sweet moan tumbling out of you as vibrations bloom between your heated thighs, rubbing up perfectly against you. His hand goes up to your hair and tugs harsh on your locks.

"What did I just say?"

"I'm going to tell the truth," you push out through gritted teeth, blissful pressure building all over your body. He kicks them up a notch––speeds it up, shifts against you so it hits just perfect.

"And?"

"I'm going to do what you say," you say through a keening moan you can't hold back.

"Good little pet."

[poptod]

The Game (Baxter x Reader)

Description: You’re either a weirdo or a psychopath. Or both.

Notes: so this is um. kind of weird. but i guess thats kind of my thing at this point WC: 1.7k

+

"Didn't think this was how it'd go, did'ja?"

"I would really like it if you took these handcuffs off."

"Why? Cause they're yours?"

You stepped closer to his chair, dragging your gaze over every knot you tied around his body. The rope around his ankles and chest, the metal handcuffs behind the back, the gag unceremoniously hung round his neck ever since he wrestled it off.

"Does that bother you?" You asked as you bent in front of him, a wide, toothy grin spreading across your lips. "Being tied up by your own tools?"

"Shut. The fuck. Up," he hissed out beneath his breath, staring straight forward with a glare that could kill. As usual he completely avoided your own eyes.

"Aww, tiny cop is a little testy today, isn't he?"

Shooting up from your position on the floor, you wandered into a darker corner of the room, where the fluorescent light shining over Baxter couldn't quite reach. There you kept your bookcase stocked full of a variety of your tools. Mostly books, but several of the shelves held cases for knives and bug specimens, two of the most beautiful things you imagined one could have. The white light reflected off the glass case and into the detective's eyes.

"I think you need to calm down," you said as you dug into one of the bookcase drawers, feeling around for a lighter and cigarette. "You smoke, right?"

He remained quiet, that glare still piercing the wall in front of him.

"Doesn't matter. I've seen you smoke. I watch you a lot, you know," you spoke through the cig, clicking on the lighter in your hands before a flame burst.

The steps you took towards him were small, calculated, and gentle with your tapping shoes on the cement floor. This room didn't have the best sound quality, and every little noise was magnified by the stone walls. The minimum amount of furniture had made way for the same echo.

"You're very interesting to watch. You're the only cop that's actually interesting. Did you know that?"

With how low his seat was on the ground his face was right in front of your hips, and you spared him no mercy. Instead you stepped even closer, till he was forced to lean back with uneven breath, ire lacing his stare that had nowhere else to rest but you now.

"I've met a lot of cops in a lot of different countries," you admitted thoughtlessly, taking a long drag from your cigarette. "But you're fun. And so fuckin' pretty."

You knelt once more, this time nearly sat between his legs, and blew smoke into his face. His nose scrunched up as his eyes shut, annoyance clear on his pursed lips.

"What the hell do you want from me?" He said in a low, quiet voice that you had already come to know quite well. The moment you recognized it another smile spread across your face, big and unsettlingly happy.

"A good time, hopefully," you said, raising your hand to his face. At first he flinched, twitching away from you, but your need was relentless. Your palm landed on his cheek, allowing you to stroke the small cut along his cheekbone.

When at last he raised his eye to meet yours, the first thing you noted was fear. Fear permeates every emotion––it raises itself above all else, tells on itself before any other emotion can. There were other things beneath that, of course; anger, contempt, the usual when someone is forcefully tied to a chair in the middle of a nondescript room with no windows.

"Don't worry," you chirped. "I won't hurt you. Much. I just... I have these cravings."

Before turning back to your bookcase, you took another slow drag from your cig, watching the end burn till it nearly touched your lips. The smoke you blew out was half in his face and half not, though by his expression it might as well have been all of it.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out the key to one of your glass cases. It wasn't a terribly secure location for the contents, but that little bit of danger was always thrilling––never knowing if your prey will manage to reach those knives. 

Your largest was closer to a sword than a dagger, and though it did its' job of intimidation, the easier tool was the small silver knife engraved with cuneiform. The most painful was the jagged-toothed blade, who tore at skin instead of slicing it. That was for another time.

With the silver knife in hand you turned back around, a knowing smirk on your face as you once more approached the detective.

"Jim Baxter. James. Jimmy-boy. How ya feeling? Good?"

No reaction from him. Perfect.

"You want to know something? Little tid-bit of information. Little fun fact about me," you said with a sigh as you knelt. "I don't like your line of work. Not just because you guys are always tryin' to bust my ass and ruin the fun, but I don't like the government in general. The perfect society is an anarchal society. It's probably too much to ask what your leaning on this is, right? I think I know anyway."

You fiddled with the knife in your hands, toying with the handle and picking at the blade.

"White-picket fence boy," you added.

"The hell does that mean?"

"You know exactly what it means. It's just––I think it's a little funny. All around you're such a law-abiding person, so nice, so plain, and you've got all this flavor on your face."

By the way his eyes widened, you could tell what came to his mind. It was what came to most people's minds when you tried to explain the essence of flavor in human personality; cannibalism.

"I'm not going to eat you," you clarified, chuckling when his breathing returned to normal. "I could, though. I have no qualms against it. Peel off the skin of your face, fillet that shit... probably taste like chips."

"Why are you doing this? What – what even are you doing?" He finally asked, succumbing to the confusion and curiosity that had plagued him ever since he woke up here.

"Intimidation. Kidnapping. Those are still illegal, right?"

"Yes."

"Right. Well, anyway, those are just some crimes that I by no means on purpose committed. It was just the only way to get what I really want," you said as the tip of your knife pressed into his clothed knee, running down the fabric and leaving a small scratch mark in his pant leg. He jerked away, but you only pressed harder, keeping him in place with a tight hand around his ankle.

"Don't be shy now," you grinned.

"You think you're hot shit –"

"I am."

"– but I'll find you, and –"

"It seems to me you already have."

"Would you shut the fuck up?!"

"Sorry. Go on."

"I'm gonna put you in jail, where creeps like you belong," he said through gritted teeth, his jaw set as he met your awaiting eyes.

"You think I'm a creep? I'm the most sane out of all my friends. Though, I do suppose we live in two different worlds," you said with a shrug.

His type lived in the light. Sunny-day type people, warm homes to come to at the end of the day, dark green grass and clean highways. Yours is more in the style of broken down street lamps––burning rubber from car wheels and the warmth of a lighter. At least that's the way you liked to put it, romanticized into the sweetest fashion so it's easier to swallow.

Honestly, most of your friends are coke dealers. There's one that sells guns to minors, but he's not a friend of yours. Just someone you know. All of them are good people, you can't deny that, but it's not a gentle environment.

Not that you're any bit unlike them. You do, after all, kidnap people and taunt them for fun.

"Alright. Question for you. Ever had sex?"

Nothing. You giggled, crossing your arms on his knees.

"Ever kissed someone? You don't seem like the person who would like any of that stuff. I'll still be surprised if you haven't, though. The idea that no one tried to jump your bones? Yeesh. I don’t think that's possible," you rambled on, making a few vague hand gestures as his glare never faded.

The surly twist in his face reached a high point, ending with him spitting onto your face with a deep irritation in his expression. It took a second or two before you quite processed what had just happened, but when you did you had no hesitation in your response; licking the flat of your tongue up from his jaw to his temple.

"You like that? Into that kinda thing?" You asked in a booming laugh as he spluttered, desperately trying to worm away from you. "That was on you, buddy. Come on. Admit it."

"I'm not going to –"

"Come on, say it! You deserved that. Right?"

You grabbed his chin in a tight grip, forcing him to look at you.

"You get everything that's coming to you. You deserve everything you'll receive within the next... hmm, let's say, three months? Depends on when I get bored of you," you hummed, glancing to the side as you thought.

"The next three months? What are you gonna do in that time?" He asked almost softly, brow furrowed in the same consternation as his eyes.

"Have a little bit of fun, for once. I hope you prove to be more entertaining than the last girl," you said with a grunt, pushing yourself to your feet. "In the meantime... you can't be missing for too long, baby."

"Wh –"

With the butt of your dagger in hand, you whirled back around, hitting him right in his temple. The hit of the massive gem on his skull knocked him out, muscles untensing as he fell limp in his restraints.

You smiled and breathed a sigh of happy relief, as though you had finished swimming in the brisk water of a lake.

"Ah... he seems nice."

Thirty minutes and he's waking up, waves of pain throbbing from his cranium. He hissed as he tried to sit up, realizing with much comfort that he was back in the linen sheets of his bed, the comforter all tangled and mussed beneath him. By the look of the clock, it was the morning of his first shift of the week.

And the first thing he has to tell his boss is that there's another psycho on the loose.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

"I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that." with Detective Cutie Pants

You blinked sleepily, the soft light coming from beneath the door of your walk-in closet letting you know your husband was home for the night. His partner had been out sick, so he was stuck doing double-duty. The overtime money was great, but you were thankful these long hours were only temporary.

You must have drifted back to sleep because the next thing that awoke you was the feeling of Baxter’s hand snaking around your waist as his nose pressed into the back of your neck.

Emitting a hum of appreciation, you backed into him, enjoying the feel of his warm body against yours.

Baxter took your movement as an invitation and he slid his hand inside of your nightshirt, rubbing gently across your stomach.

Instinctively, you wiggled your bum into his crotch and he placed his leg between yours, bringing his thigh up so you could rock into him.

His lips began to kiss over your nightshirt, his hand finding its way to your breast. He worked your nipple into a peak and you sighed with pleasure before rolling over onto your back.

Bax wasted no time in moving on top of you, his hands working your nightshirt over your head. He kissed you, the scruff on his face scratching against your chin.

With a final press of lips against lips, Baxter sat up to work off your panties, then his boxers. He returned to his place between your legs and you guided him inside of you. Even though you were tired, you craved the intimacy of the moment, letting him fuck you slowly and sweetly.

“You feel so good,” Baxter moaned in your ear, the deepness of his voice sending another shiver of pleasure through your body.  

You responded by scratching your nails across his back and opening your legs a little wider.

“Missed you so much,” he said, peppering kisses across your cheeks and nose.

“Mmhmm,” you agreed as you slowed the movements of your hips and just let him fuck into you.

Your eyes slipped shut and while it was dark in the room, Baxter was one of the finest detectives the LAPD had and was capable of putting two and two together.

“Hey,” he said, stilling his hips. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” you said, opening your eyes, slightly annoyed that he had stopped your lazy, late-night sex.

"Well, I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than this. Do you want me to stop?"

“Of course not!”

But Baxter wasn’t convinced and he pulled out of you, sitting back on his haunches. You could just make out the way his cock twitched against his stomach as he yanked at the sheets and blanket and pushed them all toward the end of the bed.

You were really awake now and sat up on your elbows to look at him.

“What the hell, Bax?”

“I repeat. I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

“We were just . . . being intimate,” you countered.

“So you had no intention of coming?”

“I—I didn’t need to. I don’t always need to,” you said, your brow furrowed, a little concerned about the dark look that crossed Baxter’s features.

“You are my wife, Y/N. I want to hear how it feels when I’m inside of you. Or maybe you don’t spend your free time thinking about me like I spend mine thinking about you?”

“That’s not fair, Bax. You know I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then let me hear you,” Baxter said as he moved off the bed and grabbed your legs, pulling you so your ass was almost dangling over the edge of the mattress.

He dropped to his knees and plunged his face into your pussy, his hot tongue diving into your center and making you moan.

“Better,” he mumbled before returning to fucking you with his tongue, curling it inside of you and making you grind your hips into his face.

“Bax,” you breathed, reaching up to clutch at the sheets.

“Even better.”

He began lapping at your perineum before he took a long lick, ass to clit and repeated the motion several times, your body shuddering with pleasure at his enthusiasm and your clit beginning to throb with need.

“Bax. Please,” you begged.

“Louder.”

“Fucking please, Baxter!”

He chuckled and moved to your clit, his tongue flicking over the swollen flesh vigorously before he pulled it into his mouth and sucked gently, teasingly.

“Oh, yes!” you cried, your hands moving to your breasts to knead them, your fingers working your nipples, pulling on them to create just the right kind of compliment to the intense feeling of Baxter’s mouth on your clit.

“What was that? Can’t hear you, darling.”

“Fucking yes! Yes! Bax!” you cried out as he returned to not only working your clit but sliding two of his fingers into your pussy to rub along your inner wall, seeking out the spot that would send you over the edge.

You were writhing, bucking into his face and fucking yourself against his fingers as he pounded them into you, the slick sounds of his arousal-coated digits sliding in and out of your hot pussy barely reaching your ears over your own vocalizations of pleasure.

And when you came, you screamed his name.

Gasping for breath, you ran your shaky hands over your body, your eyes wide and your lips parted.

Baxter stood as he wiped at the arousal coating his face, his lips pulled up in a ridiculous smirk as he looked down at you.

“Turn over. We’re not done yet.”  

You scrambled to get in position, desperate to feel his cum inside of you, mixing with yours as he groaned out his climax.

“Fuck me!” you demanded, loud and clear.

“That’s my girl,” Baxter said as he slammed into you, giving your ass a smack, that ridiculous smirk still planted on his face.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

I don’t know if you’re still doing these but: “I got drunk and ordered some copporn” and “You mean pop corn” Detective Baxter + Drunk reader + Smut Love your work!!!!!

❤️ YOU--I love this request! Tweaked the dialogue to fit, but I hope you like it.

Warning: Dirty talk + drunk sex (18+ please) 

* * * * *

When the clock struck double digits, you mixed up your first drink. Really, what was the difference between your usual breakfast smoothie and a strawberry margarita?

As you quickly finished the first glass, you decided there really wasn’t much of a difference at all. Except that margaritas were muuuch, muuch, much better.

Dancing through the kitchen, still in your sleepshirt, you mixed up your second batch of margaritas as Baxter sleepily emerged from your bedroom.

His hair was a mess and there was still some purple under his eyes. Working overtime was taking its toll on him, and honestly, on you, too. It seemed like all the two of you had been doing for the past few weeks was telling each other goodbye as you headed off to your respective jobs, and as you looked at him from over the rim of your drink, you thought about how much you missed him.

Lowering your glass, you enthusiastically asked, “Wanna watch a movie?”

Baxter flinched since your voice was about three times higher than its normal octave, but he grinned and muttered, “Sure.”

You followed him, watching as he attempted to smooth down his hair as he staggered toward the den.

Giggling, you slunk up behind him and hugged him before he could sit down.

“Ooof,” he uttered as you squeezed him, his hands coming up to cover yours.

“I’m drunk,” you announced to the back of his neck.

“I can tell,” he replied with a soft chuckle, patting your hands patiently as they remained clutched around his waist.

“Sit! I’m gonna make some copporn!”

“You mean pop corn?” Baxter said warily as he loosened your hold on him and turned around, his eyebrows raised.

You blinked, realizing that what you said sounded an awful lot like cop … porn.

“Oh … oh,” you said, your voice taking on a sinister edge. “You’d like that wouldn’t ya, Mister Officer?”

Despite the fact that he knew you were drunk off your ass, Baxter cleared his throat, a slight blush tinging his cheeks as he thought that yes, he’d like that very much.

“I’ll, uh, pick a movie,” he said, sitting down on the couch and pulling one of the throw pillows over his lap.

You took one long look at him, his sleep-disheveled curls, the slight stubble darkening his cheeks and jaw, the way his white t-shirt clung to his lean body, and the black sweatpants that you loved on him, now half-obscured by a pillow, and you dashed out of the room, a wicked grin spreading across your face.

Baxter was just about ready to get up and see where you went when you appeared in the doorway of the den and his mouth dropped open.

Laughing, a little more maniacally than seductively, you adjusted the hat from his dress blues before running your hands down the already opened front of the uniform’s matching button-down shirt. Baxter’s badge was haphazardly pinned to the left breast pocket, actually, it was pinned upside-down, but you neither noticed nor cared.

You had forgone pants and had switched out your comfy underwear for a dark blue pair of lacey panties that matched the color of his uniform.

Baxter sucked in a breath, watching as you sauntered to him, and his eyes worked their way slowly up your body as you came to a stop right in front of him.

When he looked up at you, his eyes were wide, all signs of sleepiness gone. His lips were still parted, and you watched as his tongue came out to wet them.  

“Wanna make some cop . . . porn,” you said slowly, a smile spreading across your face.

Baxter’s hands twitched on top of the throw pillow, clearly eager to reach for you.

“Wha--what’s gotten . . . into you?” he stammered out, his eyes sliding down your body this time.

“I miss you,” you said slowly and clearly.

Baxter’s eyes shot up to your face and he growled as he tossed the pillow aside and pulled you onto his lap, both of you groaning when your hips made contact. He flung open his shirt so he could palm your tits as you began to rock into him, your eyes rolling back at the friction.

“Fuck me, Bax,” you begged. “Ready for you.”  

Wary of your claim, he slipped his fingers into your panties but you were, indeed, ready for him. You hadn’t been lying—you really had missed him.

He ran his fingers through your lips, spreading your arousal and pulling more uninhibited moans from your throat. One of the best things about a good drunk fuck with your loving partner was the feeling of freedom to just let your body do what it wanted.  

That, and you found yourself able to let all of your filthiest thoughts fall from your lips.

“I love the way you finger my pussy,” you breathed, rocking into his touch as Baxter’s already hard dick began to throb with need. “Only thing that feels better is your big fucking cock.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Baxter said, tossing you off his lap and standing to yank down his sweatpants and his boxers, kicking them away as he reached over his head to grasp the collar of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You giggled and wriggled out of your panties, stopping to plunge your fingers into your body, but Baxter’s hand shot out and pulled them away.

He lifted them to his mouth as he crawled between your legs and swirled his tongue around your index and middle finger until every last remnant of your arousal was licked off.

“You like that, Bax? The taste of my pussy on your tongue?”

He dropped your hand and aligned himself with your opening. As he bent to kiss you, he thrust inside of you and you cried out, your eyes rolling back from the force of your pleasure as he filled you up.

You moaned with every thrust, but this wasn’t what you wanted.

You wanted it hotter . . . dirtier.

“Fuck me from behind,” you said, biting at Baxter’s lower lip.

He closed his eyes, willing himself not to come too soon but you were making it really, really difficult.

He pulled out and stood up, letting you decide how you wanted to position yourself. Tossing off the remaining pillows, you put one leg up on the armrest of the couch and leaned forward into the back of it, bracing yourself. Baxter rested his knee near your leg on the couch and ran his hands over your ass, sliding up your back and under his shirt.

“Smack my ass and fuck me like you mean it, Officer.”

He groaned, long and low as he plunged his dick into your waiting pussy.

Both of Baxter’s strong hands came down on your ass cheeks and you cried out, a wave of white-hot pleasure bursting behind your eyes.

“Yes!”

He brought his hand down on your right cheek, then your left, alternating his smacks between his thrusts.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” you begged, your orgasm growing close as he slowly thrust against your g-spot, his cock at the perfect angle.

“Alright, Ms. Officer,” he hissed in your ear, and that alone was almost, almost enough to send you over the edge.

Baxter picked up his pace, slamming into your soaking pussy, his hat finally bouncing off your head and onto the floor with the force of his thrusts as you began to scream for him, a chorus of yeses and his name that sent him shooting his cum into you immediately after the first contraction of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” Baxter groaned when he found his breath.

He bent to press light kisses to your backside after he pulled out of you, the sight of your swollen pussy leaking with his cum threatening to make him hard again.

When he plopped onto the couch, you finally moved, rolling down onto him so you were sprawled across his lap. He looked down at you and started laughing.

“My badge is upside-down.”

“Did you say . . . you’d like to turn my vadge upside-down?” you tried to say seductively but broke, a bubble of laughter following your statement as Baxter began to laugh even harder, too.

“Stop,” he said, swiping at the corner of his eye. “You’re bad—is it the margaritas? Do I need to start making them, like, every fucking day?”

“I mean, the margaritas make this a little more fun, but trust me . . . it’s all you, officer cutie pants. It’s alllll you.”

Baxter leaned down to kiss you, both of you grinning like the lovesick idiots you were.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

49. You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out — Baxter please darlin 💕

Angst, full steam ahead! 

* * * * *

Your cellphone was clutched so tightly in your hand that your fingers had gone numb. Your leg was bouncing up and down, and your eyes were glued to the television.

“The fugitive was apprehended in the area of the Flier Truck Stop on Midway Boulevard by U.S. Marshals, LAPD detectives, and LAPD SWAT. The apprehension of Michael Manchoone ends a five-day, cross-state manhunt. Manchoone is linked to three murders and was considered to be armed and dangerous. While it is confirmed that gunfire was exchanged between Manchoone and Officers, it is unknown if there are any injuries.”

Your thumbnail was worn away by the time the news anchor finished his update and you yanked your hand away from your mouth as you checked your phone again.

Any word from Baxter? your best friend, Anna, who was also married to a detective on the force, texted.

No. Anything from Vin?

No 😔

With a growl of frustration, you made your way to the kitchen. You set your phone on the island, double checking to make sure the volume was on and maxed. Flexing your fingers, you walked to the cupboard and pulled down a glass, but before you made your way to the fridge, your eyes settled on Baxter’s coffee cup in the sink.

Your lip trembled and you turned away from the cup and looked up at the ceiling, willing yourself not to lose it. Worrying about him never got any easier, and you had no idea he was even in on this bust until Anna had texted you a few hours ago—Vin had told her that morning he had been pulled to assist.

Sometimes, you wondered just how much longer you could do this. Just how much longer you could play the empathetic wife when Baxter was so into his job that he either forgot completely about you or that he pushed you to the bottom of his priority list.  

Blinking away your tears, you pushed your glass into the water dispenser. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until you drained your glass and filled it up again.

As you were drinking your second glass, your phone trilled. Nearly choking, you hurriedly swallowed and rushed to the end of the island, grabbing your phone.

We got him! Should be home by midnight. Love you!

The wave of relief that swept over you was almost enough to make you dizzy, but that relief was quickly swallowed by anger. You sent a quick text to Anna, then went upstairs to finally change out of your work clothes.

True to his word, at 11:50 pm, Baxter’s key sounded in the front door.

You listened as he kicked off his shoes and opened the hallway closet to put them neatly inside.

He must’ve noticed the light on in the living room, because he quickly appeared, his eyes instantly connecting with yours.

Bax looked good, showered and in his dress clothes, his hair neatly slicked back, his eyes wide and a slight smile on his face. It was clear he was still running on the adrenaline from the apprehension, which made you feel even worse than you had before you’d seen him walk through the door.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice quiet with its usual melodic depth.

You didn’t reply for fear of what might come out of your mouth. Instead, you shifted in the chair, tucking your legs under your body as your hands twisted together. Your thumb that had escaped your earlier gnawing rubbed over the worn edge of its mate, giving your eyes a reason not to look back up at your husband.  

“Everything okay?”

You couldn’t stop the derisive snort as you shook your head, a wild grin spreading across your face.

“I know—” he began, reading your mood.

“You don’t know any fucking thing, Baxter!” you snapped, your eyes shooting up to his face. “You sure as hell think you do but you don’t.”

Baxter took a deep breath as he clearly tried to stop the adrenaline that had given him a happy high from turning into a much, much darker energy.

“Why don’t you help me understand?” he said as he moved to the sofa and sat down, catty-corner from you.

“What’s there to understand? If you don’t know what this shit does to me by now, you’ll never fucking get it.”

“That shit is my job. Something you said you could handle when I asked you to marry me.”

“There’s a difference between me handling the everyday dangers that come with your job and me finding out you were exchanging gunfire with a murderer from the fucking television!”

As quickly as Baxter had sat down, he stood back up, “Oh! Okay, Y/N. Let me just—” Baxter pulled his phone from his pants pocket and held it up to his ear. “Yeah, murdering fugitive? Hold on a fucking second. I didn’t clear your pursuit with my wife. Don’t be fucking ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? I’m being ridiculous because I didn’t know anything about this! YOU didn’t think to tell me anything about this?”

“Again, what am I supposed to do?”

“Vin made time to tell Anna.”

“Oh, I get it,” Baxter said, his face now twisting into a wild smirk. “This is about Anna knowing something you didn’t. This is so typical of you—so singularly minded!”

Baxter paced to the back of the sofa, crossing back and forth behind its length twice before he stopped and leaned forward, resting both of his hands on the frame.

“What do you want from me, Y/N?”

You didn’t answer. You were so upset you weren’t even sure you could form words, especially the words needed to describe the intensely complicated feelings whirling through your mind.

“Answer me!” Baxter yelled, his voice booming loud enough to make you jump.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you blurted out, Baxter’s anger provoking a gut response.  

“That’s not an answer.”

“I—I think it is. I can’t be the lowest priority on your list, Baxter,” you said slowly as you unfolded your legs, your bare feet settling on the hardwood floor.

Baxter’s fingers flexed over the frame of the couch as he bowed his head.

“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? I am sorry I made you worry. I am sorry you have to sit back and just … wait. But I’m not sorry I take my job seriously, even if that means compartmentalizing my personal life.”

Baxter’s words hurt. Not just because they contained a truth you didn’t want to hear but because it was a truth you could understand. He needed to be able to push you aside to do his job, to save lives. He needed to be able to prioritize the safety of others and of himself over your feelings.

Maybe that was just what you couldn’t take anymore.

Maybe what you needed was someone who could love you, really love you, all the time.

“I’m going to my sister’s.”

Baxter’s features changed from angry to frightened in an instant. In another situation, it would have been comical how his eyes widened and his mouth fell open, how his brow softened and the way his fingers let go of the couch as if it had suddenly become too hot to touch.

“I’m sorry I yelled—I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

“You’re still not sorry for any of the right things,” you said as you stood. “And I don’t know if you’ll ever be, or ever even should be. I just need some time to think.”

Baxter rushed from behind the couch to stand in front of you, his hands grasping your shoulders until you looked into his eyes. He moved his hands to cup your face, his thumbs twitching nervously across your cheekbones.

“Don’t go.”

“I need to.”

“No—you don’t. I fucked up. I see that now. If Vinny found time to text Anna, I could’ve found time to text you. I just … I just want to keep you here. Here in this space where it’s safe, where I’m safe. I hate thinking of you when I’m surrounded by …” Baxter trailed off and his eyes slipped shut. You watched him, your own eyes filling with tears.

“When I’m surrounded by death and violence and danger. When I walk through that door, our door, and I see your face, this face,” Baxter said as he ran one of his thumbs over your brow and the other over your lips, his eyes pooling with tears in a mirror of yours, “I leave all of it out there.”

When you blinked, a tear rolled down your cheek and along Baxter’s warm hand.

“Your love is a privilege, Y/N. And I carry it with me in such a sacred place that sometimes I push it too far away because I’m so scared of losing it—of coming home and seeing you look at me the way you did tonight.”

Baxter’s eyes roamed over your face and you reached up and grasped his hands. As you pulled them away, you kissed his palms before you threw yourself into his body, hugging him tight.

He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed, almost enough to hurt but you didn’t care.

He was home.

He was safe.

And at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered. Those other things, the little things … well, they could wait.

You pushed back and this time, you took his face in your hands as you angled to kiss him, deep and full of the love he needed.

He kissed you back, deep and full of the love you needed.