#officer Juarez

[renegadesstuff]

Photos promo for 6x08, “Punch Card” 🔥

[nerdyfangirlmel]

I will SCREAM if we don’t get a Celina plain clothes day

Like can you imagine the amazing chaos that would cause

I need it

[my-shields-are-down]

The promo really reminds me of The Purge.

Coincidence? (I love horror movies, so I’m excited and terrified for this finale. Are we seeing an army of Rosalind acolytes?)

[karihighman]

Lisseth Chavez on The Rookie 5x03 “Dye Hard” ©️DGE Press / ABC. ❤️🙌 so excited to see her back in uniform on a procedural!

[hope-i-dont-choke]

Cop cuties didn’t get me at first, but it’s stuck in my head now, thanks Celina

[windshield91]

Need I remind you that your professional opinion is still a work in progress?

- Nyla Harper

[precious-little-scoundrel]

IM SORRY DID U SAY YOURE WORKING ON A FIC ABOUT “COP BIG DADDY ELVIS”?!?- please tell us more because this sounds like the greatest thing ever 😭

I did, Mon ami, I did indeed…welcome to the demented 2009, sweaty and non famous cop AU that @eliseinmemphis and myself cooked up in our feral yearnings one night.

Edit: it’s here

Allow me to lay a bit of the setting for us all, and maybe even throw in a few lines from the draft below.

Life is insular when you’ve been born and raised in a trailer park. A little El Paso suburb was never a thriving metropolis, what with its gas stations and dollar stores on the way to nothingness in the desert, but the recession didn’t help none. Your dreams of buying a car that might actually make it above 120 mph and not guzzle your wages in gas is a far off dream when you learn from officer Presley that your entrepreneuring father has been incarnated for racketeering across in Juarez. It’s a shame, a damn shame but it hardly throws a wrench in your life, you were already used to making it however you could. When workin’ at the trucker’s club turns into something a lil more illegal and Elvis has his morning waffle ruined by Joe Esposito yacking about the powers of your pink tongue…he feels a little responsible for leaving you without a father figure. He’s got top notch swamp coolers in his trailer, plenty of food and tiger figurines out front -and he’s got an interest in fast things, just like you.

You could do worse than shack up with such a fella; not that he’s offerin’ but you can tell by the flicker in his eye and the smirk of his lips that he’s as susceptible as the next guy watching you on the pole. Except this sweet, world weary cynic just might screw your gooey insides up worse than any threat or ogle from another man.

Snippet:

“Well, well officer Presley, finally got persnickety about laws, have ya?” you observed to yourself with a grin as you watched the handsome man swagger towards you along the white line in your side mirror, tugging at his pants as he neared, trying to shimmy the article of clothing a little higher but is impeded by his belt, stopped by his sizable belly, his holster and buckle sitting under the bulge of it.

Your mouth watered. It had been a year or two since you saw him last. He was always built, intimidating to all the stupid rascals he keeps in line along the border, but now he had become outright fat and his khaki shirt pulled apart between each button. Yet when he came up to your window, that little boy grin was still gracing one of the most exquisite faces known to man, and his voice was tender and playful when he greeted you, just as you once recalled. You could see his sweaty hair, matted on his chest and belly between the gaps, his underarms had massive pit stains, doubly apparent thanks to the light color of his police uniform.

Your smile had something of the she-wolf in it as you greeted him, sniffing the air in hopes of catching a whiff as he leaned on your window frame, nearly crowding you from outside. “Hey Miss Sweet Cheeks,” he greets, “you know why ya been pulled over?”

“Haven't got a clue, officer.” You stated the truth and enjoyed the way his title rolled off your tongue in a bantering way. It was easy.

Officer, officer. Somebody important and authoritative. No sir, yes sir, Officer.

His left eyebrow quirked and you wondered what he looked like at twenty five, how devastating that expression would have been before his wound and his meds and the water retention. Whatever power it may have once held, it holds nothing to this slightly bemused, slightly cynical world weariness that shows in his every expression now, that had a twitch of an eyebrow making you feel a fool. “You’re goin’ seventy in a forty five, Miss.” his tone was patient even as his face suggested he’d like to tan your hide for being so reckless. “Reckless endangerment of others, and yourself,” he quoted sternly, “it ain’t no small matter and I don’t countenance it on my highway.”

Gosh, you just loved it when he laid claim to government property like highways and interstates. It helped you smile meekly at him and nod.

“Sorry officer, I got lax.” You purred, batting your eyes and you could see the heavy flap of their coal coated weight in your periphery. “I’ve seen you lettin’ me flyby on the interstate. I guess I thought…”

[bronx-bomber87]

Good evening wonderful fandom! SO glad to have a new ep to do some quick thoughts on. I missed our babies. As stated few weeks back the gif library is a turd right after an ep. So quick hand made ones till summer. Off we go.

6x04 Training Day

Lucy saying she’s fine as she consistently does all her fidgety tells screaming she is anything but LOL Tim picking this up too love it. Smart man saying what he does about “being fine.” They cute with her saying 'Does he want her to be upset?' He's so good at making her laugh in this moments. Makes my heart happy. Till John appears.... Way to jump in on their moment Nolan. Of course the man makes it worse…She was laughing before you got there John…Tim's face when she takes off. Like if I could punch you Nolan...

Oh Lucy... Definitely hitting her hard she’s still a patrol officer. Tasks that didn't used to bother her as much are. Ugh my girl. This is rough. You are anything but fine my friend…Poor Lucy last thing she needs is more alone time with her thoughts at a scene that'll take forever to wrap up. Not only that but babysitting puke…I think our girl is headed toward quite spiral that has yet to happen. Tim is gonna do his best to keep her sane but I have a gut feeling we are headed there. I could be wrong but just how I'm feeling.

Lucy killing me softly watching Juarez and Nolan get recognized on Tv. Mmm I am loving Tim coming to pick her up yum yum. Lucy mentioning almost getting that call... Damn nothing going her way today. Or lately... Think her only sanity at this point is that man next to her. Tim of course is picking up on it immediately knowing her mood is linked to Primm. Knows his girl so well. Stating she was hoping could've proved him wrong with catching a call like that.

I love this scene. Lucy telling Tim about her crappy day and Tim giving her perspective. Saying she could be the big hero tomorrow. Not only that but making her smile as well. Look at him building her up like it’s second nature. Cause it is. Damn I love these two. Him basically leaning on her and bumping her shoulder with his telling her not to be too greedy hehe That Lucy smile of his loud and proud. Making her beam as well. She loves this man next to her so much.

Oh my lord this entire scene had my heart racing. What an absolute BAMF our girl is holy hell. Tim would've lost his mind seeing this. Hell I did. I screamed when she got hit and my dog ran from the room LOL The looks on Harper/Lopez's face when she went down oh my goodness. The absolute panic on their faces. Right there with you ladies. This was a huge risk she took to prove herself. One like I said Tim would’ve lost his mind at seeing.

Lucy was definitely being the big hero this entire scene oh my lord my heart was pounding. What a way to impress Harper and Lopez but give me a damn heart attack. That scene in the ally with the brother..... I was worried when he didn’t stop she was gonna have to shoot him. Giving me 5x19 flashbacks. I think she is going to CARRY this with her for a long time. Being an empath is no joke. Our girl one of the finest even at her own detriment.

I was hoping for some insanely worried Tim and they DELIVERED. Like that man couldn't breathe till he set eyes on his girl. Oh my damn lord. The way he ran to get to her. Man on a mission doesn’t even stop to check in with Grey. By-passes them completely. Only wants to get to Lucy. His hand on her head had me reeling everyone. It's the gentle way he caresses her hair I'm squeeing. Also his non stop touching.

Trying to ground her by letting her know he was there emotionally and physically. Rubbing his thumb up and down her her collar bone. The sweet squeezes. I'm a puddle.. The way this man has transformed because of her still blows my mind. The sweet comforting touches. I'm losing my mind. His adorable attempt at a joke telling her she didn’t have to take the hero suggestion literally. Ugh Lucy breaking my heart into million pieces. Saying she doesn’t feel like one.

Melissa you deserve all the awards madam I’m crying. Her little pre cry when he says they'll deal with it my damn heart. Killing me. I love how Tim's hands have not left her for 90 percent of this moment. Protective Tim was very much present in this scene with Wes. Grey was too being like dude let us take the win. Feral Tim having Wes back it off for tomorrow. Wade being the sweet man he is says that's ok. Lucy is going to be anxious about all this. I would be stressed about him succumbing to his injuries now that Wes said that. Read the room Evers lol

Gah Tim telling her let’s go home. Then we get another glorious hug where he encases her in his arms. Protecting her emotionally from this situation. Lucy burying herself in his embrace. Wrapping her arm around him tightly to ground herself again. She needed to fall apart in his arms before they left. THIS IS SOO GOOD. Annnnnnd another head kiss I’m dead I am writing these thoughts from the grave.

Oh my word this season has delivered in spades both friggin crap. I’m out of breath from this episode in the best way. Also whoever does the music needs a raise I say it time and time again. But that song was perfection against the backdrop of this final scene. Was telling D earlier I already need to change my header to it.

I love this hug SO much it's insane. Sure I'll write a novel on it this summer. Having everything that's going on plus this I think our girl is hurtling toward a breakdown of some sort. Some actual UC/detective feelings coming with it. Cause our girl is anything but fine. I'm so excited to see where we go from here S6 has every bit worth the wait. I cannot wait till next week

~~

Side notes -non Chenford

Yay Aaron progress in therapy. Back to active duty ha his heart rate going up for her too cute.

We finally get Nyla’s new hair style. Loving it

Adore the idea of Tim being one to take Aaron back out. Ain’t no one better.

Mmmh love hard ass TO Tim in metro uniform yummy. Does things to me. Aaron thinking he got this TRAIN but there is panic there.

‘Train is leaving the station officer Thorsen.’ Mmmm He does impress Tim for this first call. Yay Aaron haha

Giving Aaron only 9 minutes before bouncing him back to being a rookie oh my lord Timothy. I love you so much.

I do adore watching Tim watching Aaron do well. I’m sure there is a part of him that misses being a teacher. You can see it in these scenes. The pride and excitement he gets when Aaron is doing well. Aaron doing little fist pump and Tim shaking his head I’m dying.

Also How can Tim make leaning against a chair look so sexy? I want to be the chair he is leaning against in this scene with the wife LOL

Glad he passed Tim's TRAIN test. Glad they took their time getting him back out there. Was realistic

Feel free to comment any and all thoughts. I welcome them. See you all next week!

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 28 January 1917, Carmelita Torres, a 17-year-old Mexican maid who worked in the United States, refused to take the mandatory gasoline bath given to day labourers at the border, and convinced 30 other trolley passengers to join her. Her protest spread in what became known as the bath riots. Torres was one of many workers who crossed the border between Juarez and El Paso each day. In the name of public health, Mexican workers were frequently subjected to degrading and humiliating treatment. They had to strip naked, bathe, undergo a toxic gasoline bath, and have their clothes steamed. The stated aim of the programme was to kill lice, which can spread typhus. However, it was not applied to everyone crossing the border: just working class Mexicans. In addition to gasoline being poisonous, it was also a deadly fire risk. A group of prisoners in El Paso being treated with gasoline were burned to death in an accidental fire. Furthermore, US health workers were secretly photographing naked Mexican women. On January 28, anger at the practice finally exploded, and within a few hours Torres had amassed a crowd of several thousand mostly women protesters. They blocked all traffic and trolleys into El Paso. They pelted immigration officers with rocks and bottles when they try to disperse them, and when US and then Mexican troops arrived they received the same treatment. The riots were eventually suppressed by the soldiers, and Torres herself was arrested. This appeared to have the effect of discouraging future protests. The enforced bathing and fumigation of Mexican workers with toxic chemicals like gasoline, and later DDT and Zyklon B, continued until the 1950s. The use of Zyklon B at the border appealed to scientists in Nazi Germany, who in the late 1930s began using the agent at borders and in concentration camps for delousing. Although notoriously they later used it to exterminate millions of people in the Holocaust. https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.1819457841572691/2196701533848318/?type=3

[kiwisbell]

The Hitman's Guide to Getting the Girl: Chapter 6 [dave york x f!reader]

It's just another job, until Dave York decides to kidnap an enemy’s wiseass daughter. It’s just another job, until he falls in love.

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8

series masterlist

status: complete

chapter 6 summary: Encouraging bad habits.

pairing: dave york x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings for entire fic: kidnapping, murder, violence, the world being horrible to women, reader having a very terrible sense of self-preservation, unprotected piv, oral sex (m and f receiving), dave york finding his second calling as a pussy-eating god, pining, possessive sex, jealousy, daddy issues, (stockholm syndrome?), dirty talk, actually filthy talk, hitmen and politicians, revenge, scary man with a soft spot for his woman, philosophical foreplay, tramp stamp worship (you'll see), a little sprinkle of breeding kink if you look hard enough, obsessive behaviour, anal fingering, anal sex, implied age gap, light dom/sub vibes, light bondage

tags and warnings for this chapter: possessive behaviour, sex while on the phone, dave york is still a munch, protective dave, dirty talk, soft dave, a lot of sex and then a lot of sappiness, light anal play, unprotected piv (seriously do not follow my lead), creampie, biting, sex on a desk, very slight free use kink

word count: ~ 4.7k

chapter 6: fuel the pyre of your enemies

AUGUST

On the top left corner of his desk, scrawled on a pink Post-it note, Dave keeps a list of the men who have kidnapped you. He crosses off their names when they are dead.

He also crosses off their names when they are financially destitute, their families turn on them, and/or they are paranoid for their lives. This is because he does not want anything to be traced back to you. If suspicion turns to him, which it will not, he counts on the cops in his pocket. 

Whether they die or live has little strategic value. It merely depends on Dave’s mood that day. Or, in many cases, how severely they appear to regret their choices. 

Robert Shipman. 

Hansen McCarthy. 

Norman Beretta. 

George Reilly. 

Lawrence Dare. 

Bernard Flint. 

John Fisher. 

Hammond Fisher (no relation). 

Ali Riggs. 

Michael Fredericks. 

Patrick Ulrich. 

Oliver Goodman (irony not lost).

Kendrick Vears. 

Michael Juarez. 

Gregory Cochran. 

Vincent Gallo. 

He's getting close now. By tonight, Cochran will be caught on sixty-eight counts of child pornography. The bastard won’t survive prison. Dave will let the other prisoners take out their frustrations on him. 

He hasn't been able to track down Gallo quite yet. Chances are, he’s fled back to Florence to conduct business from the relative safety of his home. Not that an ocean will be enough to save his life. Dave has Kovac and Ari looking into it. 

As for the final name on the list—

Dave York. 

—he hasn't figured that one out yet. 

For now, it's business as usual. But his fingers flex and his eyes flicker repeatedly toward the door. He’s missing his girl. 

A soft knock on the door heralds your entry, and of course you can read his mind. You’ve been away all day, taking calls from your publicist and your agent and even your stylist, who is already brainstorming for your Met Gala appearance next year. You've been assuaging concerns regarding your need for a security detail, conducting the typical damage control (no, you are not pregnant, and no, you are not on drugs), and talking far too much about your own appearance for one afternoon. 

You step inside Dave’s office and close the door gently behind you, miming bashing your head against the wall. Dave watches you and tries not to laugh while on the line with a client. 

You're a vision in your little skirt and your glimmering diamond ring. Your eyes are tired and heavy, but you smile when you see him and let your shoulders sink a little. He’s got an earpiece in and a pen at his lips, chewing up the end. At least he isn't smoking. 

You hold up a dry-erase board, on which you've scrawled the word: MEETING?

Dave nods, and you pout, padding into the office. He mocks your pout, holding out his hand to invite you into his arms. You settle on his lap, straddling his hips as he leans back and idly caresses your thighs. 

You aren't one to just sit and stay silent. You fondle the buttons of his dress shirt, popping them out from the top down. Dave watches you the whole time, brows lifted in idle warning while he continues to listen to his client drone on. Your eyes trace his hard chest, opening up the planes of his body for you to map. When the last button is undone, you push open the edges of his shirt and curve your body up against his, your lips finding a home beneath his jawline. 

You feel it flex against you as you nibble, rubbing your nose against his strong jaw as if you want to impart your scent to him. Dave’s hand slides to your back, his pinky slipping beneath the hem of your skirt and tracing the shape of your tattoo. 

“Think of it like an exercise in discretion, Sam,” he says, dropping his skull back against the chair’s headrest to give you better access. You take advantage, playfully biting his neck like his own personal vampire. He bares his teeth, slipping his hand down your skirt and pinching your ass in retribution. 

“You ensure everyone is out of the building, my team install the equipment, and you spend the rest of your career spying happily on your employees. Yes, I’ll need your signature and half the payment up-front. No, I won't take twenty-five per cent.” Dave scribbles a number on a piece of paper behind you as he traces your spine with his fingers, up and down and back again. “That's not my concern. I don't make a habit of building relationships with my clients.” Dave gives you a knowing look, and you suppress your laugh in his throat, grazing your teeth along his artery. 

He squeezes your hip hard. “No. We’re done for today. My assistant will send you a copy of the forms. Yes, discreetly.”

He hangs up, practically wrenching out his earpiece, and gives his full attention to you, his hands sliding up your back beneath your sweater. “Hey, baby,” he says, gently tugging your head back by your jaw so he can kiss you properly. “So pretty today.”

“Mmm. You don't have an assistant.” Grinning against his mouth, you find your way down to his belt, the softness of his stomach and the trail of hair leading down to your destination so enticing you can't wait. 

Dave grunts when you unbuckle his belt, breaking the kiss to nip your chin. “You're bad for business,” he grumbles. 

“I am business,” you point out, sliding the belt out of the loops and draping it around your neck. “And we need to discuss some things, Mr. York.”

“You aren't business,” he says, his mouth curving down in a grumpy pout as he brushes your hair away from your face. “You’re my fucking wife.”

“Not yet,” you tease. 

“Soon enough that it doesn't matter.” Slowly, his thumbs make circles over the place where your hips meet your thighs. He knows it can make you melt. “Tell me.”

You beam, biting down on your lower lip. “I’m your wife, Dave York. God help anyone who says otherwise.”

He hums, apparently satisfied, bringing himself toward you and kissing you deeply. His strong, muscled arm curves around your waist and his palm presses into your lower back. “This colour on you,” he murmurs, his mouth travelling from your mouth to your jaw. “So beautiful.”

“You say that when I wear pink, and green, and blue, and—”

“We both know it's just you.” Dave lifts the hem of your sweater up over your head and helps you out of it. He surges up against you and resumes the kiss, his erection bumping your clit through your underwear. “Too pretty for your own good.”

You gasp, grinding down into him, fumbling with the button on his pants as desire turns your vision hazy. “Dave,” you plead, looking down at him, nearly cross-eyed from how close your noses are to touching. “Please…”

“Want me to make you feel better, sweet girl?” he asks, whisper-soft, the brush of a velvet blanket over your bare skin. “I’ve been neglecting you all day. Like a bad man.”

“I like you bad,” you tell him, nudging your nose against his. “I even like you nice.”

Dave bucks his hips and your eyes flutter shut at the delicious pressure against your clit. “Like when I make you squirm?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I like it a lot.”

“Bend over my desk, baby. You know the drill.”

Business can wait. 

You slide off his lap and turn around, lowering your upper half to his desk and wiggling your ass at him. Dave shucks up the hem of your skirt and teases his thumb over your clothed pussy. “Wet already,” he muses. “You wear blue just for me?”

“Take them off and see for yourself,” you pant. 

“Don't make it easy on me,” he coos, his cool, rough palm scorching your ass even in its gentle path across your backside. “I think I’ll take you just like this.”

You feel his fingers slip under your panties and shift them away from your pussy, baring you to a cool gust of air. “Fuck,” you rasp, your back arching. “Like this?”

“Yeah, pretty girl. Like that.” He keeps your panties askew, two fingers sliding between your wet folds. “Spread your legs.”

You do, shifting your thighs apart. Dave hums in satisfaction. “That's it. She does know how to listen.”

“Oh, you’re so full of it,” you say breathlessly. Beside you, a cell phone begins to trill. 

Dave stops feeling you up to pick up your phone, lifting his brows at the screen. “Full of it, huh? Is that right?” He places the phone next to you, draping his body over yours to whisper in your ear. “Answer it,” he demands. 

You freeze, your body alive with electricity. “Dave?” you squeak, seeing the caller ID on the screen. “What—”

Apparently feeling impatient, Dave presses the Answer button and puts Victor Brock on speakerphone. You crane your head to glare at Dave when your betrothed-to-be says your name. 

“Victor, hi,” you chirp, feeling the weight of Dave’s body leave you. Still, you're pinned down by your hips. “How are you?”

So polite, he thinks. Such a sweet sound from that mouth. He feels pride swell inside him as he sinks to his knees behind you. You'd be such a good wife to Senator Brock, if you obeyed your father’s wishes. 

It's too fucking bad you’re already spoken for. 

You and Victor trade pleasantries, but because he's a complete asshole, Dave waits until the conversation truly begins to spread you wide and put his mouth on your pussy. 

“I was hoping we could discuss the wedding,” says Victor. His tone suggests otherwise. 

“Of course we can,” you say pointedly, a little loudly, as if you're giving Dave one last opportunity to behave. 

Fat chance. 

“My mother wants a fall wedding,” says Brock, “inside a church.”

You slap your hand over your mouth to stifle your helpless whimper when you feel his hot, wet tongue lick between your folds, slathering his saliva on your clit. “Mmmhmm,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, slamming your hand down on the desk and squeezing your eyes shut. “And what… what do you want, Victor?”

“Are you all right? You sound out of breath.”

“Oh, God,” you gasp as Dave sucks your clit between his lips. “God, no. Just got back from a run. I’m fine.”

Oh, you're fine, are you? Dave will have to rectify that. 

“Churches get a little warm,” says Brock. “Maybe we should take it outside.”

“That sounds—mm!” Dave’s tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly, his fingers digging mercilessly into your thighs. “Sorry. I… stubbed my toe.”

The man underneath you continues to eat you out like you're a drink of water and he's been stumbling through the desert for days. Oh, you're going to get him for this. 

“I can call you back,” offers Brock. 

Dave takes that moment to bring his palm down in a passing smack to your ass. “No!” you cry out. “No, it’s fine. We—we should keep going. Please keep going.”

Dave smirks, licking your clit and spreading you open with his rough fingers, his index tucked under the lace of your panties to keep them in place. Your thighs are trembling, your breathing going shallow, and you're trying ever harder to sound like nothing is amiss. 

You and Victor—well, mostly Victor—discuss the merits of an outdoor wedding, piano player or DJ, flowers or candles, while Dave’s face is buried in your pussy. Your wetness mixes with his saliva, his brain buzzing with the feel and taste and smell of you, your thighs slick with sweat and your hands grasping uselessly for a way to hold on. You're going to come apart under his tongue while on the phone with your impending fiancé. 

But not before you dip into your sleeve and find a trick of your own. 

“Victor, have you thought at all about the honeymoon?” you ask coyly. 

Hands squeeze your thighs hard and a faint growling noise emits from the mouth suctioned to your clit. Dave pulls away and stands up, pressing End Call with such ferocity you’d think your cell phone called him a crude name. 

“You think you’re funny?” 

You giggle, pushing your ass against him. You're still needy, after all. “You think you're funny, pulling that stunt. Why shouldn't I have fun, too?” 

“You can have fun all you want, baby.” Dave smacks your ass. “As long as it's with me.”

He reaches into his pants and pulls out his cock, steel-hard and too heavy in his hand. It’ll feel better in your pussy, anyway. When he guides himself to your tight hole, you mewl, burying your face in your elbow. He's not even inside you and you're already weeping for him. 

Your hand snakes down your body to swipe your fingers over your clit, and Dave is surprised to see a spurt of precum bead on your pussy. Something about your desperation has him splitting you open on his dick, wasting no time as he pushes past the tight seal of your cunt and disappears inside you down to his balls. You sob with relief, your fingers leaving your clit to clutch onto Dave’s hip from behind, keeping him fixed to you, unmoving. 

It lights fireworks in his ears. The world crackles around him. You're so fucking warm and wet that his vision whites out. “Jesus. Fucking… fucking dirty girl,” he says through his teeth. “You belong here. Bent over my desk, taking what I give you.”

You squeeze his length tight enough to make him feel like he's choking on air. “Dave.”

He pulls out halfway only to thrust hard, jolting your hips against the edge of the desk. You sob his name again, and Dave wraps a hand around the back of your neck. “Such a pretty sight. I should just keep you here. My beautiful wife spread open for me whenever I need some relief.”

It's so filthy. It burns on your cheeks, tingles at the tips of your fingers. It's so… good. His hand on your neck, his cock buried in your pussy, treating you like a toy that's upset him. Your body flushes with arousal and a loud moan slips from your mouth as Dave begins to fuck you hard, punching his hips against your ass. 

The squelching noises of your coupling send your head spinning. Your chest is slick with sweat, slipping along the desk with every thrust and fleeing farther from him. He does not like that—he scoops his arm under your body and fixes you to him, bending over your body and humping you like an animal. 

You bite down on your own arm to muffle your scream. Your knees give out and your stomach tightens as the hand at the back of your neck slides down to your ass. Dave’s mouth imprints a wet kiss at the junction of your neck and shoulder, his voice like thunder, like blood pounding in your ears. “Tell me,” he says. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Your fingers curl uselessly against the desk as you try to hold on. “I… oh, God, it feels so good.” It’s whiny and pathetic, but he groans into your throat, nipping the skin as if he’s trying to break through—as if he’s trying to possess the whole of you. 

“What else?” he demands.

“You’re so—ngh! You’re so big!” His hips grind hard against your ass and stars burst behind your eyes. You’re so close to coming that your words slur into one another, gasping heaves from your smothered chest. 

Dave isn’t much better off. His back pinches with the pleasure of being inside you, his arousal building past a rolling boil and his teeth sinking into your throat to give himself somewhere to put it. It isn’t sweet. It’s sweaty, animalistic sex, and it’s the gnashing teeth of love that punctures you both.

He gets sloppier the more he fucks you, his mouth leaving wet kisses along your back. You keen underneath him, your back arching and your ass insistently pushing against his hips. To answer your implicit pleas, he presses the pad of his thumb to your puckered asshole. 

“Oh, fuck!” you squeak, trying to close your legs as the pleasure notches up high and threatens to overwhelm your body. He isn’t letting you, keeping them kicked apart with his strong thighs. Tears wet your cheeks and your mascara runs. Dave York will destroy you. And you’re going to let him.

“So tight,” says Dave, massaging your asshole with his thumb as tremors begin to buck your body against him. “Have you ever been taken here? Have you let some other man use what’s mine?”

You choke, swallowing down his words and feeling them clog your throat. “No,” you whimper, the sound sticky between your lips. “Never.”

“Would you let me?” he coos, bumping his nose into your throat. 

You nod your head so vigorously your chin knocks into the mahogany. “Yes,” you gasp, your voice surprisingly clear even as white-hot static envelops your brain. “Yes, I’d let you. I’d let you do anything. You’d be so good to me. I love you, baby. I’m in love with you.”

The gruff sound he makes at your babbling reverberates inside your rib cage, batters against the membrane of your heart. Cavitation. The final flap of wings before the fall begins.

At the very same time, your orgasms wreck your bodies. You hold onto his hip, keeping him inside you as your cunt sucks him deep, pulsing around his length with every wave you ride. Bucking helplessly into him, you cry out, a small spurt of juices splashing onto the wood underneath and the body behind you. 

Dave collapses on top of your body as he comes, his balls pulling up and pumping, pumping, pumping. He bites you again, this time on your shoulder, seizing from the pleasure while he dumps his hot cum inside of you. Instinctively, he tries to push deeper; your sweat and your perfume and your hormones blind him from any reason, any thought besides burying himself in the warmth of your body.

Faintly, he hears his name, and he realises he’s crushing you under his weight. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says, hauling himself upright and squeezing your ass as he readies to pull out. 

“No,” you croak, still grasping his hip. “Stay inside me. Just for a minute.”

He feels his bones settle. He can do that.

“Your back will hurt tomorrow,” you point out. 

He idly caresses your lower back. Muscle memory. Knowing your body better than he knows himself most days. “I promise I won’t blame you.”

You giggle, a pleasant fog descending from the ceiling of your brain. “We have an important date tomorrow, Dave. You gonna need a massage?”

“I wouldn't say no,” he teases, tracing the left wing of your tattoo. “But we have work to do.”

You groan, in the mood to complain now that you've been satiated. Why should you have to work at all when you're so sleepy and comfortable, your man’s cock buried inside you? Dave chuckles at your petulance and gives your ass a playful smack. “C’mon, sweet girl. We’ll sit out by the pool.”

Your ears perk up at that, beaming at him over your shoulder. Dave’s cock gives one last feeble pulse inside you at the sight before he pulls out of you. You immediately buckle, slowly lifting your upper half off the desk and bracing your hands on the edge. Dave kisses his way across your back, blowing cool air onto your neck and making you laugh, ticklish. 

“Is this a good time to tell you that I’d love a summer wedding?” 

Dave hums, grinning against your skin. “I know you would. And pink roses. White daisies. A grand piano and taper candles.” 

You turn in his arms and pin him with a glare, though you're sure it's inoffensive. “You read my binder.”

“Baby, it's a beautiful binder,” says Dave, smoothing your skirt back down over your ass. “I have no notes.”

“Good. Because I’ve already started working with an organiser,” you chirp, threading your fingers through his. “I’m going swimming. You can come outside with me.”

“I’ll be right there,” he says, kissing your forehead. 

Wrong answer. You lead him toward the door and give him a look that makes him feel like following a siren to his demise. “I’m not going to bother with a swimsuit,” you add. 

It’s easy to make him forget about business. Dave follows you happily, the sailor to the song. 

~

By the night of the gala, two problems are becoming apparent. 

One: Dave’s back is killing him. 

Two: Vincent Gallo. 

In the early afternoon, Dave paced inside his office for an hour as he waited for Ari and Kovac to return. It did not help his back problem, but it helped him map fifteen or so backup plans in his head. A man like Gallo would not get one up on Dave York. After the things he has done, a man like Gallo could hardly call himself a man. 

A knock at the door, and Dave barked, “Inside,” not once slowing his pace across the room or removing his fingers from his mouth: a thinking pose you liked to tease him about. 

“Boss, we might have something,” says Kovac. “Tracked those bastards back to their hole. Got pictures.”

Dave would look at the images later. He was itching with anticipation. “Where's Gallo?”

Kovac and Ari were used to Dave’s snippy moods, so neither were particularly disappointed. “Not in Chicago,” said Kovac, which was to be expected. 

“Italy, then?” Dave guessed. He needed a lead. He needed something. 

He did not like a target he could not find. 

“You asked me to keep an eye on the Gallos’ books,” said Ari. 

“I did.”

“More frequent transfers have been going to Florence and fewer coming here. Not only is he in Italy—”

“—He may be getting desperate,” finished Dave. It was good. It was the something he needed. He had finished jobs on far less than a location. “What about the rest of his family?”

“If they know we're snooping, they haven't made it clear. It’s bad business as usual.”

“Which means, if he comes back to Chicago,” said Dave, “it's because he needs his family’s support. I don't want him to get that support. We need to predict their next moves.”

“Already on it,” said Ari. “Bugged a couple of the guards’ vans during a shift change.”

“By next week, we’ll know what times of day they pick their noses,” said Kovac. 

“Good. That’s good.” Dave finally stopped pacing and leaned over his desk. His security system pinged, indicating that another person was on the front doorstep. He looked down and lifted his brows. 

Carrying fifteen huge shopping bags in just two hands, you waved at the camera. “Can I please have some help?” you said sweetly. “Honey, are you home?”

Dave, along with an Ari and Kovac who knew better than to weasel out of helping you, relieved you of the bags. Now, you’re trying to choose between two dresses for tonight’s gala while Dave sits on the edge of the bed and watches you. 

He has a perfect view of your ass from here while you cock your hip and fold your arms over your chest. You're wearing only a pair of black lacy panties to make trying on your options easier. “Do you really think he’s coming back to Chicago?” you ask. 

You've been relatively quiet on the subject until now, but Dave catches the worrying of your bottom lip. “Sweetheart, I’m doubling security tonight, and he wouldn’t try anything even if I weren’t. He has a reputation to keep.”

That word again. Reputation. “That isn't what I’m worried about.”

Dave crosses the room to put his arms around you from behind. “The last thing you need to worry about is me.”

Your head falls back to rest on his shoulder. “I know you’re big and strong,” you begin, twisting his watch around his wrist, “but they’re a family. If one gets hurt, the others will swarm. I don’t want you being the product of someone’s revenge. Not for me.”

He doesn’t quite know how to breach this threshold—to tell you that he will do anything, kill anyone, trudge any path, to keep you. That he has never known selfishness like the press of your body to his. That your brilliant smile justifies each new crime he commits. That remorse cannot fill his heart the way you do. 

“Tell me the promise you want me to make,” he says, “and I’ll make it.”

“Promise me that you'll love me enough to stay alive.”

Dave splays his hand over your belly, his lips meeting your jaw in a soft kiss. “You're wrong if you think there’s anything in this world that will take me from you. If you're alive, I’m alive. And if I’m alive…” He nibbles your earlobe and you laugh breathlessly. 

“That wasn't a promise.”

Dave kisses your neck, his hand sliding up your sternum. “I…” He squeezes your breast. “… promise.”

“That's better,” you whisper, turning your head to the side to kiss him. “Now—sit down on the bed.”

“Mrs. York,” he teases, grabbing a handful of your ass. “Such a dirty girl.”

“Sit down,” you repeat, turning around and giving him a decent shove square in the chest. It turns him on so much that he obliges without any further teasing. 

“Tonight won't be easy on you.” Slipping your panties down your legs, achingly slowly, you peer at him coyly from your corner of the room. Dave instinctively licks his lips. “I think you need to remind yourself who you are.”

Dave eyes your body hungrily. “I know who I am.”

“Is that right?” You approach him slowly, a tiger to its prey.

“Come here.” Dave’s gaze is fixed to your pussy as you prowl closer. He wants to devour you. “Let me show you who I am.”

Your submissive instincts have you folding your hands behind your back, pushing out your chest to give him a good view of your tits, but you manage to stop in your tracks. “Then, I think you should remind yourself who I am.”

Dave lifts his brows, rubbing his fingers over his mouth. “Come. Here.”

You walk toward him as he bunches his sleeves up to his elbows, the lamp’s soft yellow glow rolling over your body with every shift in your movement. “Give me your hand,” he says when you're close enough. You know what he wants; lifting your left hand, you let him put his lips to your diamond ring. 

“Tell me what this means,” he demands. 

“It means I’m yours.” Clear and resounding. It rolls off your tongue. It's true and assured. “It means only you get to touch me.”

“That's right.” His hand splays over your stomach. “Now tell me who I am.”

“You’re Dave York,” you tell him, whisper-soft now, pressing closer into his space. He ghosts his lips over your belly, a silent encouragement to keep going. “You’re a bad man… and a good one. You’re going to be my husband.” Another hand finds your hip, squeezing, relishing. “You’re Dave. And you’re mine.” 

For a moment, when his hands wrap around your thighs and tug your body snug to his, you see blood on his fingers. A faint crimson veneer, sticky and wet, pooling in his lifelines, dribbling down his wrists. But the blood is cool. It does not burn or sting. It soothes. It is a promise. The blood will save you because it will destroy everything else.

“I love you,” says Dave, looking up at you with wide eyes, letting the rareness of the sound peter to a soft echo. “Nothing in this world means shit. Nothing amounts to anything. Everyone just lives and then they die. But you’re my purpose. You’re my meaning. You’re living. I’ve got no use for a world that doesn’t have you.”

You can unpack his nihilistic tendencies later. Now, you beam, threading your fingers through his. You let the blood soak. You let it cleanse.

“Who are you?” you ask softly. His eyes are dark and his lashes spread shadows over his cheekbones.

“I’m Dave York,” he says, resting his chin on your belly, “and I’m yours. ‘Til the fucking stars fall down.”

[ralfmaximus]

Here's the complete list of DHS flagged search terms. Don't use any of these on social media to avoid having the 3-letter agencies express interest in your activities!

DHS & Other Agencies

Department of Homeland Security (DHS)

Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA)

Coast Guard (USCG)

Customs and Border Protection (CBP)

Border Patrol

Secret Service (USSS)

National Operations Center (NOC)

Homeland Defense

Immigration Customs Enforcement (ICE)

Agent

Task Force

Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)

Fusion Center

Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA)

Secure Border Initiative (SBI)

Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI)

Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms (ATF)

U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (CIS)

Federal Air Marshal Service (FAMS)

Transportation Security Administration (TSA)

Air Marshal

Federal Aviation Administration (FAA)

National Guard

Red Cross

United Nations (UN)

Domestic Security

Assassination

Attack

Domestic security

Drill

Exercise

Cops

Law enforcement

Authorities

Disaster assistance

Disaster management

DNDO (Domestic Nuclear Detection Office)

National preparedness

Mitigation

Prevention

Response

Recovery

Dirty Bomb

Domestic nuclear detection

Emergency management

Emergency response

First responder

Homeland security

Maritime domain awareness (MDA)

National preparedness initiative

Militia

Shooting

Shots fired

Evacuation

Deaths

Hostage

Explosion (explosive)

Police

Disaster medical assistance team (DMAT)

Organized crime

Gangs

National security

State of emergency

Security

Breach

Threat

Standoff

SWAT

Screening

Lockdown

Bomb (squad or threat)

Crash

Looting

Riot

Emergency Landing

Pipe bomb

Incident

Facility

HAZMAT & Nuclear

Hazmat

Nuclear

Chemical Spill

Suspicious package/device

Toxic

National laboratory

Nuclear facility

Nuclear threat

Cloud

Plume

Radiation

Radioactive

Leak

Biological infection (or event)

Chemical

Chemical burn

Biological

Epidemic

Hazardous

Hazardous material incident

Industrial spill

Infection

Powder (white)

Gas

Spillover

Anthrax

Blister agent

Exposure

Burn

Nerve agent

Ricin

Sarin

North Korea

Health Concern + H1N1

Outbreak

Contamination

Exposure

Virus

Evacuation

Bacteria

Recall

Ebola

Food Poisoning

Foot and Mouth (FMD)

H5N1

Avian

Flu

Salmonella

Small Pox

Plague

Human to human

Human to ANIMAL

Influenza

Center for Disease Control (CDC)

Drug Administration (FDA)

Public Health

Toxic

Agro Terror

Tuberculosis (TB)

Agriculture

Listeria

Symptoms

Mutation

Resistant

Antiviral

Wave

Pandemic

Infection

Water/air borne

Sick

Swine

Pork

Strain

Quarantine

H1N1

Vaccine

Tamiflu

Norvo Virus

Epidemic

World Health Organization (WHO and components)

Viral Hemorrhagic Fever

E. Coli

Infrastructure Security

Infrastructure security

Airport

CIKR (Critical Infrastructure & Key Resources)

AMTRAK

Collapse

Computer infrastructure

Communications infrastructure

Telecommunications

Critical infrastructure

National infrastructure

Metro

WMATA

Airplane (and derivatives)

Chemical fire

Subway

BART

MARTA

Port Authority

NBIC (National Biosurveillance Integration Center)

Transportation security

Grid

Power

Smart

Body scanner

Electric

Failure or outage

Black out

Brown out

Port

Dock

Bridge

Canceled

Delays

Service disruption

Power lines

Southwest Border Violence

Drug cartel

Violence

Gang

Drug

Narcotics

Cocaine

Marijuana

Heroin

Border

Mexico

Cartel

Southwest

Juarez

Sinaloa

Tijuana

Torreon

Yuma

Tucson

Decapitated

U.S. Consulate

Consular

El Paso

Fort Hancock

San Diego

Ciudad Juarez

Nogales

Sonora

Colombia

Mara salvatrucha

MS13 or MS-13

Drug war

Mexican army

Methamphetamine

Cartel de Golfo

Gulf Cartel

La Familia

Reynose

Nuevo Leon

Narcos

Narco banners (Spanish equivalents)

Los Zetas

Shootout

Execution

Gunfight

Trafficking

Kidnap

Calderon

Reyosa

Bust

Tamaulipas

Meth Lab

Drug trade

Illegal immigrants

Smuggling (smugglers)

Matamoros

Michoacana

Guzman

Arellano-Felix

Beltran-Leyva

Barrio Azteca

Artistics Assassins

Mexicles

New Federation

Terrorism

Terrorism

Al Queda (all spellings)

Terror

Attack

Iraq

Afghanistan

Iran

Pakistan

Agro

Environmental terrorist

Eco terrorism

Conventional weapon

Target

Weapons grade

Dirty bomb

Enriched

Nuclear

Chemical weapon

Biological weapon

Ammonium nitrate

Improvised explosive device

IED (Improvised Explosive Device)

Abu Sayyaf

Hamas

FARC (Armed Revolutionary Forces Colombia)

IRA (Irish Republican Army)

ETA (Euskadi ta Askatasuna)

Basque Separatists

Hezbollah

Tamil Tiger

PLF (Palestine Liberation Front)

PLO (Palestine Libration Organization)

Car bomb

Jihad

Taliban

Weapons cache

Suicide bomber

Suicide attack

Suspicious substance

AQAP (Al Qaeda Arabian Peninsula)

AQIM (Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb)

TTP (Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan)

Yemen

Pirates

Extremism

Somalia

Nigeria

Radicals

Al-Shabaab

Home grown

Plot

Nationalist

Recruitment

Fundamentalism

Islamist

Weather/Disaster/Emergency

Emergency

Hurricane

Tornado

Twister

Tsunami

Earthquake

Tremor

Flood

Storm

Crest

Temblor

Extreme weather

Forest fire

Brush fire

Ice

Stranded/Stuck

Help

Hail

Wildfire

Tsunami Warning Center

Magnitude

Avalanche

Typhoon

Shelter-in-place

Disaster

Snow

Blizzard

Sleet

Mud slide or Mudslide

Erosion

Power outage

Brown out

Warning

Watch

Lightening

Aid

Relief

Closure

Interstate

Burst

Emergency Broadcast System

Cyber Security

Cyber security

Botnet

DDOS (dedicated denial of service)

Denial of service

Malware

Virus

Trojan

Keylogger

Cyber Command

2600

Spammer

Phishing

Rootkit

Phreaking

Cain and abel

Brute forcing

Mysql injection

Cyber attack

Cyber terror

Hacker

China

Conficker

Worm

Scammers

Social media

SOCIAL MEDIA?!

[b0ng05]

Celina Juarez x fem reader

——————————————————

—————————————————————————

Word Count: 1090

Prompt:

“God. I missed that.”

“Missed what?”

“Your aura. I- it um- it sounds kinda dorky, but your aura lights up the room.”

Summary: What happens when John Nolan and Lucy Chen notice some similarities between their rookies? What if they decided to play match maker?

Master list/ Request list

Part 2.

————————————————————

John walked into the bullpen, Celina in tow. Celina has been staying with John and Bailey on and off for a few weeks now.

“-I’m just saying, you should consider burning sage in your house.” Celina rambled as John tuned her out.

John just let out a small ‘maybe’, before sitting next to Lucy. As he sat, he let out a heavy sigh in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What’s got you all grumpy?” Lucy teasingly asked, a playful smile itching to show.

“I think I need to set Celina up with someone.” John stated before glancing up at Lucy.

“And why exactly do you need to do that?” Nyla piped in while taking a seat on his left.

“Celina is an amazing girl, but Bailey and I haven’t been alone in weeks. Reminds me of when Henry was little.” John admitted while raising his hand to toy with the brim of his coffee cup.

“Just tell her that you need space.” Bradford suggested as he made his presence behind Lucy known.

“What are we talking about?” Angela asked as she took a seat on the edge of the table.

“Celina, John wants to set her up with someone.” Nyla replied while giving Angela a small smile.

Angela instantly perked up, “Isn’t there supposed to be a new officer transferring today? Set her up with the newbie.”

“Wait, is that her?” Lucy inquired while looking through the window of the pen to see Sergeant Grey and a woman.

The others followed Lucy’s sightline to a short woman chuckling at something Grey said.

“More importantly, is that Grey smiling?” John retorted, his eyes squinting in confusion as his head tilted.

Grey started walking to the bullpen door, the woman following closely behind.

When the woman walked in, Celina’s brain turned to mush. A bright pink, violet, and green aura followed the woman. Celina could feel her heart racing in her chest, something about this woman was different.

As Grey starts his debriefing, he pausing looking at you with a grin,

“This is officer Y/l/n, transferring from SDPD.” Grey introduced before continuing his speech.

The whole meeting, Celina’s face grew red. Her eyes kept stealing glances at Y/n. She was awestruck by this beautiful woman. Y/n was ethereal to Celina.

After a few minutes after the meeting ended, Celina still sat there. Her mind trying to rationalize how a woman could be that gorgeous and have such a sweet aura.

“Celina!” John called out, drawing her away from her daydream.

“Oh! I- uh, haha, hey!” Celina stuttered out, her eyes widen after seeing Bradford, Lopez, Chen, and Harper watching their interaction.

“You doin’ okay?” Concern coating John’s tone like honey.

“I- I um- Yeah, I’ll go get the war bag.” Celina said, her eyes focused on her shoes to hide her reddening cheeks from the nosy officers.

Celina quickly walked off, having felt embarrassed. The four other officers call John back over to them.

“Okay, you can definitely set Y/n and Celina up.” Lucy stated with a goofy grin on her lips.

“What?” John asked, confusion overtaking his features.

“Did you not see how Celina looked at her?” Nyla deadpanned, her hand falling to the table dumbfounded.

John shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing. His cluelessness even has Bradford dumbstruck.

“It’s obvious that Celina finds Y/n attractive. She was practically drooling when she saw her.” Bradford explained before shaking his head and walking off to his desk.

Angela laughed teasingly at John.

“Geez, aren’t you supposed to be an insightful cop?” Nyla harped with a playful smile.

“I was paying attention to Grey, not my rookie’s crush.” He defended with a small smile, his hands raised in surrender.

“The real question is how do we get them together?” Nyla inquired with a raised brow, she lifted her coffee to her lips taking a long sip.

“I could try to talk Y/n today. Get some intel and then we can text and try to plan things from there,” Angela suggested with a mischievous smile.

With that, they all started going their separate ways to start their jobs.

———————-----------------------------------

“Okay! So maybe I think she’s pretty.” Celina confessed after being grilled by Aaron and Lucy all lunch.

“See! I knew it!” Lucy cheered while holding out her hand towards Aaron.

Aaron scoffed and grabbed his wallet from his pocket, dropping a crisp bill into Lucy’s awaiting hand.

“I’m sorry, did you place a bet on that?” Celina’s eyes widen and she bites back an annoyed scoff. But secretly loving that they could see just how much of an affect you had on her.

“Oh absolutely. After I saw you gawking at her in the bullpen, I bet Aaron 10 bucks that you like her.” Lucy explained while flexing the bill between her fingers.

“Uh- I- I wasn’t gawking!” Celina defended, her cheeks glowing red at the embarrassment of being caught.

“Oh I saw it, you were totally gawking.” Lucy stated with a cheeky grin.

“I- whatever.” Celina turned away from them, trying to hide her red cheeks.

“Hey is that her?” Aaron teased while glancing over Celina’s shoulder.

Celina whips her head around trying to see what he saw. Only to hear the two laughing at her oblivion.

“This is why I normally sit with Nolan.” Celina mumbles as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Lucy and Aaron laugh at her words, Aaron nudges Celina’s shoulder.

“C’mon, you know you love us.” Aaron teases with a grin.

Celina shakes her head as her brown eyes wander their surroundings. Eyes catching on Y/n eating lunch with Angela and Nyla. The women laugh and crack jokes, but Celina can only focus on how radiant Y/n looks. Celina finds herself admiring the soft look on the new officer’s face. The way her hair sits so perfectly, the soft slope of her nose, and her smiling lips. Imagining how sweet they would feel against hers, how delicate the woman’s touch would feel. God, Celina was swooning for the woman and she hadn’t even talked to her yet.

“Earth to Celina- Finally!” Lucy laughs as she finally catches the woman’s attention.

“We’re about to head out, we’ll see you later.” Lucy smiles as she and Aaron get up from the table to get back to work.

Celina nods and sits at the table waiting for Nolan to finish his lunch. But she notices that Angela and Nyla are leaving their table, leaving you at the table by yourself….

————————————————————

[prettiestlovergirl]

❝ REQUESTS !

" late night devil, put your hands on me "

disclaimers ༊彡⬭ 𓈒  I

✪ please check my rules before you request anything! and please read these disclaimers, if you are in violation of any rules, you will be deleted and/or blocked.

✪ please make sure you have your age in your bio/ pinned on your account! i do not interact with minors!!

✪ there is no guarantee that i will write what you've requested! i do not always have inspiration for things, so please bear with me and PLEASE do not message me/harass me about whether or not i saw your message.

✪ smut is my preferred genre but i am definitely open to writing/responding to other genres! i'm a whore but i love fluff as much as the next girl!

✪ if you want a part two of something, you MUST give me an idea for it!! could be small, could be fully thought out, doesn't matter to me, but there MUST be something i can go off of.

✪ below i have a loooooong list of characters i'll write for, if you see a character you like but is not on the list, please feel free to reach out! i will let you know whether or not i will add them to the list xx

characters i'm willing to write for 𖼐꒱࿐ ִ I

✦ luke castellan ✦ coriolanus snow ✦ sejanus plinth ✦ finnick odair ✦ peeta mellark ✦ anakin skywalker ✦ peter parker ✦ jj maybank ✦ rafe cameron ✦ tim bradford ✦ wesley evers ✦ john nolan ✦ jake peralta ✦ barry allen ✦ james potter ✦ remus lupin ✦ sirius black ✦ tom riddle ✦ mattheo riddle ✦ theodore nott ✦ ares (from pjo) ✦ spencer reid ✦ aaron hotchner ✦ matt simmons ✦ luke alvez ✦ will lamontagne jr ✦ tony stark ✦ miguel o'hara ✦ steve rogers ✦ peter quill ✦ scott lang ✦ harry potter ✦ ron weasley ✦ fred weasley ✦ bill weasley ✦ charlie weasley ✦ percy weasley ✦ george weasley ✦ aaron thorsen ✦ anthony bridgerton ☆ benedict bridgerton ☆ harry hook (ouat) ✦ alex claremont diaz ✦ cardan greenbriar ✦ manny (abbott elementary) ✦ sally jackson ✦ lucy chen ✦ celina juarez ✦ hermione granger ✦ katniss everdeen ✦ johanna mason ✦ padme amidala ✦ sarah cameron ✦ angela lopez ✦ nyla harper ✦ amy santiago ✦ rosa diaz ✦ lily evans ✦ marlene mckinnon ✦ luna lovegood ✦ ginny weasley ✦ fleur delacour ✦ emily prentiss ✦ jennifer jareau ✦ elle greenaway ✦ emma swan ✦ natasha romanoff ✦ yelena belova ✦ kate bishop ✦ carol danvers ✦ wanda maximoff ✦ jude duarte ✦ prettiestlovergirl (fantasize about me, baby <3)

definitely into ༊彡⬭ 𓈒  I

☆ oral fixation ☆ infidelity kink ☆ size kink ☆ brat/brat taming kink ☆ face fucking ☆ tit fucking ☆ thigh riding ☆ daddy/mommy content ☆ domination ☆ sadism ☆ breeding kink ☆ masochism ☆ exhibitionism ☆ squirting ☆ degrading ☆ dirty talk ☆ cum swapping ☆ dacryphilia ☆ overstimulation ☆ gagging ☆ praise edging ☆ biting ☆ marking ☆ cne ☆ dubcon ☆ coercion ☆ breath play ☆ impact play ☆ anal play ☆ legal age gap ☆ threesomes ☆ brother's best friend ☆ best friend's brother ☆ daddy x princess ☆ step-cest ☆ legal age gap ☆ dom x sub ☆ gangbang ☆ bareback/ cream pies ☆ being shared ☆ free use ☆ orgasm denial ☆ brat x brat tamer ☆ knife play ☆ corruption virgin! reader ☆ bimbo! reader ☆ office sex ☆ mean! reader ☆ hair pulling ☆ dark content ☆ fratboy! character ☆ hand kink ☆ dumbification ☆ nicknames: mami, mamas, mama, ma, pretty girl, babe, baby, sweetheart, angel ☆

sometimes into ༊彡⬭ 𓈒  I

☆ somnophilia ☆ olfactophilia ☆ piss kink ☆ arm kink ☆ dry humping ☆ virgin! character ☆ best friend! character ☆ kidnapping kink ☆ thigh fucking ☆ sub! character ☆ sex toys ☆ period sex ☆ orgy ☆ drunk sex ☆ angst ☆ fluff ☆ sex pollen ☆ under the table ☆ noncon play ☆ polyamory ☆ predator/prey kink ☆ bondage ☆ sensory deprivation ☆ fake relationship ☆ cuckhold ☆ pet play ☆ cockwarming ☆ nicknames: babydoll, doll, honey, hon ☆

not into ༊彡⬭ 𓈒  I

☆ tentacles ☆ age regression ☆ professor x student ☆ childhood bedroom ☆ self-harm ☆ suicide ☆ ai ☆ pedophilia ☆ incest ☆ underage characters ☆ race play ☆ race exclusive features ☆ eating disorders ☆ depression ☆ getting caught masturbating and moaning out a name ☆ financial domination ☆ scat ☆ gay for pay ☆ age play ☆ wax play ☆ pegging ☆ feet content ☆ food play ☆ male! reader ☆

[karihighman]

Welcome to The Rookie, Lisseth Chavez! 🤩 SO EXCITED to see you wear a badge again!! ⬇️

Reasons #1&2 this is my fave episode: Meleric interaction w/Lisseth aka: Tim scene w/celina and Lucy scene w/Celina 😍🙌⬇️⬇️

LucyCelina bffs era is upon us I can feel it!! ⬇️

sneak peek on The Rookie IG & Twitter page! (Idk why tumblr’s not letting me post it here🙃)

[lawlessfm]

INTRODUCING WHAT’S DONE IN THE DARK,   010 /,       

( PROCESS ONE, )            IT WAS A GHOST STORY,      wasn’t it?     It’s like hearing scratching inside the walls when you’re home alone.      If you give it attention then you have to give it details.    Like:   what colour was the wallpaper when your father left?     What colour is your father’s hair?      Do you have a father? ( PROCESS TWO, )       A FILE IS SENT TO THE FBI’S HEAD OFFICE,     MOST NOTABLY UNIT CHIEF VINCENT NOLAN,       IT’S ENCRYPTED AND TAKES FIVE DAYS TO TRANSLATE.      This is the part of the story where you can stop reading at any time.     This is the rabbit hole,    remember?    It takes all those youthful souls and twists their necks until they’re misshapen husks.        If you want to know what the files entail,   continue.      If you want to leave the game:    press ESC.  ( PROCESS THREE, )       RED EYE OPERATIONS,     THEY CALL THEMSELVES,    WERE ORIGINALLY THOUGHT TO BE HALLUCINATED,         no witnesses,    no solid accounts of being involved with the organization.      Until now,   of course.      The file includes fourteen titles  :///    

A. CHIEN, ACTIVE. A. BREMOVYCH, INACTIVE. A. SYVASTOSLAV,    ACTIVE.     C. HUMMEL, INACTIVE. G. LAURIER,    INACTIVE.    M. LUO,     ACTIVE.      N. EL-KHOURY,     ACTIVE.    N. BYEON,   ACTIVE.     R. KOWALSKI,   INACTIVE.    R. ROCKWELL,    ACTIVE.     S. JUAREZ,   INACTIVE.      T. BORGES,     ACTIVE.     V. SILVA, ACTIVE. X. ALCARAZ,     ACTIVE.

( PROCESS FOUR, )       EASIER SAID THAN DONE,    AS IS ANYTHING,         the rules reads as follows:      for each name revealed   (   difficult to do without help as none of these shadows hold records or paper trails )    this FBI reaper must give up one of his own.      A name for a name!      Red Eye’s capture  ( or evasion of capture )    is at your fingertips!    How willing are you to have something to trade?    Our guess?     Highly willing.     After all,    if it’s not one of your own,    it’ll be one of your citizens.     Those vigilantes can replace any wriggling worm of a member of government any day!    The time to decide isn’t yours to take,   either.    This file will mutate within forty eight hours until it’s completely unmanageable and then we'll just take all names to the grave. Agents, intelligent officers, operatives, detectives, attorneys, and vigilantes alike.   Happy picking!  

SUMMARY :           THE SNAKE DEN’S   first play on the board.       This will take both the government’s decision in dealing with the Snake Den   or  Red Eye.     Which one is the bigger fish to fry?    The Executioners will also be in the know due to a few media sources covering this update on the Snake Den,   coupled with a few tarot cards being left around city hall.     All with bloody smiley faces drawn on the backs of them.         As for who gave the Snake Den this information?     It was an anonymous source.   Donated quite generously    —     mentioned something about cashing in a favour in a few weeks time in return. As usual, please react to this post once read.

[silverskull]

Shades & Hues

Part 1: Shades of Sorrow

Tim and Lucy often have happy kisses, but sad hugs on-screen. What if we flipped that idea and wrote a two-shot? * She kisses him, pressing her face hard against his, memorising the scuff of his stubble; the bump of his nose; the brush of his eyebrows; the soft twitch of his eyelashes against her own; and, finally, his lips. Warm and soft and giving way under hers as they always do; as they always have, since the very first time that she kissed him.

(Full fic below the cut, or click here to read and bookmark on AO3)

Someone offers her a wet wipe, and she bats it away like a dandelion seed. It flaps in the corner of her vision, sweeping against her cheek and she sees florid stripes, the red lines harsh in the sunlight reflecting off the white gauze. They wave it at her again and she shrugs her way out from under their arm, irritated, and letting herself be led instead by the deathgrip her hands have on the front of his uniform.

No.

No - not death. Not. Death.

“Lucy, we have to get him on the stretcher.”

It’s Bailey, and she’s calm, steady, level. Everything Lucy suddenly is not.

Her breath is too hot; too tight in her throat. Breathing is too much to think about - how to get enough air - and she knows she’s doing something wrong, gasping the way she is, grinding her teeth so hard she can feel the entirety of her lower jaw all the way in the backs of her ears, but she’s fighting against something much bigger. A monster in her lungs, clawing at her windpipe and scraping its way towards her lips. A pain that’s constricting her muscles and fettering her to this one single point on the tarmac. A fear too big to name.

“Shit, I’m showing cardiac arrest.”

Arrest.

Arrest.

They’d only stopped to assist Nolan with an arrest. A simple thing. Standard procedure. Celina simply wasn’t strong enough to restrain the suspect, and Nolan needed more boots on the ground. Across the console, in the driver’s seat, she’d seen Tim tip his head, and he flipped the sirens at the exact same moment as she lifted the radio. Always in sync. They weren’t even on call, just close by. Convenient.

“Ma’am, I need you to let go!”

“John, just get her away from him!”

Strong hands surround her, pulling her inexorably backwards, and Celina’s dark bun bobs into her line of sight, her small fingers unlatching Lucy’s, one by one, from the clamp they have on the placket of his open shirt. She stumbles, tripping over her own knees, and the sun flashes at her through the palm trees, momentarily blinding her.

***

“You got this?” he asks, lazily, but with just enough arrogance that her first response is to scoff at him.

“I got this.” She throws Tim a withering look as she hops out of the passenger’s seat, keeping her ears open to the garbled declarations of Nolan’s suspect. The man is red-faced, sweaty. His hair hangs in greasy strings around his ears, and (though it wasn’t something she’d ever say aloud) he definitely has crazy eyes.

Juarez approaches her as she rounds the hood of the shop, limping almost imperceptibly, her right hand clenched, white-knuckled, around the butt of her gun. She nods once at Lucy, her chin low and her mouth wide open, quietly gulping down deep breaths.

“You good here?” Lucy asks, reaching a steadying arm towards Juarez’s shoulder.

“Yes ma’am,” Celina says, nodding rigidly. “Officer Nolan got the situation in hand.” She shakes her head quickly, straightening her spine. “I should have taken Detective Harper up on those extra sparring sessions.”

“Well, lesson learned this time.” Lucy couldn’t fault the rookie for something she’d had to figure out the hard way herself. She looks away, raising a hand to her eyebrows and squinting across the dusty sidewalk at Nolan. “You want us to take this guy for you?”

“Nope, I got it!” 

Nolan is almost as sweaty as the angry man, wrestling the cuffs onto his lean, knotted arms. Lucy can see track marks amongst the veins; bruises and torn flesh score his skin all the way up into the grubby shirt wreathed above his elbows.

“You sure about that?” Tim is almost languid, resting his arm along the window ledge and watching them from the shade of the driver’s seat. “You’re looking a little… dewy.” 

A laugh bubbles up under Lucy’s tongue, and she turns to give Tim another look of wry reproach. She can already hear his fingers tapping lightly against the car door, see the small crease between his eye and his nose that let her know he’s mocking them, his eyes darting to her for acknowledgement. She knows him so well, she can picture his moves before he even makes them.

What she doesn’t see is the prisoner’s wife. 

Small, meth-skinny, with ragged, dull hair. She’s a blur through the collapsed screen door of the dilapidated house, a stain the same colour as the chipped beige clapboard sagging into the burnt lawn.

Juarez moves first, dropping to a squat and pulling out her holstered weapon.

Time slows. Congeals. The heat from the asphalt rises in waves before Lucy’s eyes, and her head feels too heavy to turn.

One black flash against the beige house.

One deafening bang, echoing clangorously around her.

She sees Tim, his lips parting - the start of a smile or a yell, she can’t be sure - and his eyes fix on her.

Blue, blue sky. Blue, blue eyes.

Feathered red.

Shattered red.

Blossoming red.

He lurches back into his seat, and, with all the violence of a smashed record, time catches back up to her.

Juarez is yelling at the woman, Nolan is yelling at the radio, the suspect is yelling at the ground, and Lucy is yelling at Tim.

She can’t see him - just red. Red where there should be blue. Red where there should be Tim. Nothing but red.

“Officer Chen!” Nolan’s voice cuts through her concentration like a blade, and she swings around, her arms on autopilot and reaching for her gun. Nolan is hauling the man off the ground, grunting with the effort, and he growls something else at her. There’s something she’s supposed to do. Somewhere she should be. She looks towards Celina, who is already grappling with the small woman, and with a swift kick, knocks her to the ground. The gun drops and glints black in the dry earth, feet away from where the woman falls. 

How do guns glint? How does black flash?

“Lucy!” Celina’s voice is high, and it pierces her rumination, drawing her back into the present. Juarez has the woman handcuffed beneath her, but her worried eyes are set on Lucy. “Lucy, I’ve got this. Go check on him.”

Him? Tim.

Tim… Tim!

She whirls around, her feet starting to run before her mind catches up with them, and she stumbles in the rough lawn before she moves forward. She’s aware of Nolan manhandling his prisoner into the back of his shop, aware of the shrill sound of distant sirens spiralling in an eerie vortex as they draw closer, but all she sees is red. Red on the windshield. Red on the white painted window frame. Red dripping relentlessly onto the road below their shop. She hears a scream as she crashes against the driver’s door, her hands reaching for his head and tipping it - easily, far too easily - towards her.

A bubble of blood bursts in the corner of his lips and his eyelids flicker. His shoulder is wet, and sticky below her hands. A dark bloom billowing across the navy of his uniform shirt.

His lips twitch and the screaming changes, and she suddenly recognises her own voice, pinched with horror, stretching his name into a thin wire of fear in the air between them. She gasps and swallows, grasping clumsily at the door handle and almost knocking herself out as she hauls it out of her way. He droops limply in his seat, only the belt and her hands keeping him upright, and she can hear herself calling him again, again, again, but he’s not answering.

***

She falls backwards into Nolan’s arms, the fight draining out of her like water through sand, and all she can do is watch helplessly as Bailey and her team cut away the last of Tim’s white vest and prep the AED. His skin is smeared with blood, and she finds herself looking at her own hands, finally recognising the need for a wipe - she’s covered in red. Her hands, her sleeves, the beds of her fingernails. Even, she realises, under the full glare of the sun, all across the arch of her cheekbones. Bright sparks of his blood flashing red beside the streaks of her own tears. She almost reaches to rub her eyes, but then Celina is there, calmly restraining her wrists and running a cool cloth over her stained fingers.

“Let me help you just clean these off. It won’t take a second.”

“Three, two, one… clear!”

Bailey’s command and Celina’s appeal mix and blend with the background noise in a discordant chorus of voices, and Lucy lets her hands be held and wiped, her shoulders still supported (or restrained) by Nolan. She sees Tim’s body buck starkly, spasming in a viciously sharp arc as the AED shocks him, and she gasps, reaching out as if to stop his pain.

“Still no rhythm. Run it again!”

“There now, this hand is done. Let’s have the other…”

Celina releases one of her hands, and it hovers in mid air, her own index finger blocking Tim’s arm from view. His head has rolled to the side, and his eyes are closed. He could be sleeping, turning his head towards her in his dreams, releasing a soft breath into her ear. 

Sometimes he murmurs. Rarely, and completely unintelligibly, but she can’t help herself from drawing closer, stroking his cheek and bumping his nose with hers, encouraging him to repeat himself to her. He doesn’t, and she still can’t tell what he’s said, but she holds those moments like a gift, precious and irreplaceable and just for her; something he only started doing a few months into their relationship; something he still gruffly denies in the broad light of day.

His body arcs again, and she sees his eyes spring open, crystal bright where they catch in a beam of sunlight, and his mouth expands in a silent scream.

Bailey’s team seems to exhale as one, shifting and reforming around one another with practised ease, changing positions and equipment in a confident dance of precision, like the gears of a well-tuned clock clicking seamlessly into place. Lucy rises out of Nolan’s grasp, and this time he lets her go, Celina hovering in her periphery like a concerned hummingbird. She crawls the few steps to Tim’s side, black pebbles from the asphalt sticking to her fingers, but she hardly notices. All she can see is his chest rising and falling; rising and falling fitfully, as if he’s struggling to make his lungs work the way they should. His hands are at his sides, trapped in the torn fabric of his shirt and tapping a spasmodic rhythm against his thighs.

She’s hooked her fingers into his before she even realises she’s reached him, and his head jerks unsteadily towards her. His eyes lock onto hers, and for a second he seems to catch his breath, inhaling slowly, fully, as his fingers wrap around hers.

“Lucy…”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s okay sweetheart, we’ve got you.”

She feels herself finally crashland back into her body, the cacophony around her instantly transforming into the familiar cadence of emergency calls and orders, the uniform colours and vehicle shapes once again making sense.

He’s been shot.

Tim. Her love. Her heart. Her world.

He’s been shot, and she can tell it’s not good.

There’s so much blood, still, all over him, and his clothes, and the ground; and his eyes are too wide and too scared. She can hear the words ‘pneumothorax’ and ‘pulmonary edema’ from the medical team, and she knows they have to get him to the hospital, right now, or … Her mind blanks it out and she shakes her head, ridding herself of the thought, of the tears that have squeezed themselves out onto her lower lashes.

“We’ve got you, love. It’s going to be okay.”

She runs a hand through his hair, ruining his carefully arranged ‘do, and stroking her fingers along the edge of his cheekbone. His eyelids flutter closed at the touch of her thumb, but his breath catches in his throat, and he coughs wetly and jerks back to wakefulness with a fright, his eyes searching restively for hers.

“Lucy, we have to go.” Bailey is opposite her, an oxygen mask in hand, already hissing with air and Lucy nods, once, and then again, more firmly. She squeezes his fingers tight and brushes her thumb across his lips.

“I’ll see you soon.”

And she kisses him, pressing her face hard against his, memorising the scuff of his stubble; the bump of his nose; the brush of his eyebrows; the soft twitch of his eyelashes against her own; and, finally, his lips. Warm and soft and giving way under hers as they always do; as they always have, since the very first time that she kissed him. He breathes against her, and she inhales him, stifling a sob and holding his face close, lingering against him for a long moment; savouring the beat of his heart pulsing warm and quick under her fingers at his jaw and temples.

And then Nolan is behind her again, drawing her away, and Bailey is covering Tim’s face with the oxygen mask. The EMTs load his stretcher onto a gurney and rush him towards the back of the ambulance. She watches, feeling as if she’s been completely hollowed out; as if anything stronger than a light gust of wind could blow her away.

“Lucy. Go on, we’ve got your shop.”

Instead of pulling her, this time Nolan shoves her gently, and she almost trips again, looking back at him and wondering why he looks so strange. He nods, and Lucy automatically imitates the gesture, and tears fall from her eyes, clearing her vision, and Nolan looks like himself again, tilting his head urgently towards the ambulance.

She takes a breath, turning from him, from their shops, from the dark blotch of blood on the ground where the stretcher lay, and she hurries after Bailey, hoisting herself up and inside the closing ambulance doors. AO3 link💖

On to Part 2!