#AGENT WHISKEY CORE

[molt3ngold]

a study of the pose

[jedi-hawkins]

Flower Sniping

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

Written for an event with

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Chosen Flower: Lilies, Forever Lily

Word count: 8.1k (don't look at me like that)

Warnings: Brief mentions of war struggles and death, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, frienemies (briefly) to friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, Crosshair is somewhat bad at expressing emotions

Beta-read by @photogirl894

"So, why are you putting me on babysitting duty, Argus?" You grumble, rolling your fingers over a knot in your shoulder. 

"You're one of my best agents, Lieutenant, and this is important. I need your eyes on it." Your commandant says plainly, glancing over a few things on the holotable in front of you. 

You cock an eyebrow. "Seriously? The war has been going on for a year and a half. What's so important that the Republic is taking an interest in Scarif now?" 

Argus rolls his eyes. "Look. I didn't ask. It's some sort of deal that the Prime Minister struck. In exchange for food and medical supplies, he's letting a single squad come and scout Western Sector 14." 

"You've got to be kidding me." You scoff. "Sector 14? There's nothing out there, I would know, it's where I spent most my childhood." 

"Another reason why you're the perfect person for the job." Argus says with a smirk. "You know as well as I do, Scarif has been struggling. The trade routes rarely reach all the way out here to us. If the Republic wants to send some supplies our way for showing a few tourists around, why not?" 

You fold your arms across your chest. "How can I argue with something as logical as that?" 

Argus lets out a chuckle. "Then get ready to play nice, they'll be here soon." 

"When do I ever not play nice?" You tease back. "How long are they staying?" 

"Six weeks." 

A laugh escapes your lips. "The Republic better be sending the good stuff, then." 

"They're some elite team, Squad 99, I think. I've been told they're one of the best." Argus retorts.

Smiling, you roll your eyes. "That's not what I meant. If they don't have a bottle of Corelian whiskey, this won't be worth it."

Argus just shakes his head at you and exits the command center. "Outside. Ten minutes."

The squad's ship touches down gently and you adjust your rifle on your shoulder slightly, sinking your weight into one hip. As much of a front as you put up for Argus, you really didn't mind this assignment. It was pretty cut and dry; serve as an escort for Squad 99 while they sniff around the western sector for a few weeks. It would give you a break from the frequent relief missions you were usually running. 

Scarif hadn't seen any true action from the war so far, but the effects still reached the outer rim. Argus was right, the steady trade that once flowed from the core worlds had weakened to a trickle and now many of Scarif's provinces were riddled with conflict over the little resources the planet had left. That meant you were more often out running supplies, assisting in makeshift medical camps, or dissolving scuffles than anything else. 

Your interest in this squad increases as you realize their ship is a heavily-modified Omicron-Class attack shuttle. The ramp lowers and four men stride down, coming to a stop in front of Argus. The man in front removes his helmet, revealing a mess of long dark hair pulled back by a bandana. He holds his hand out to Argus. "Commandant, I presume?" 

Argus takes the man's hand. "Yes sir. Welcome to Scarif." Your commander turns and waves his spare hand to you. "This is my First Lieutenant, and the one who will be hosting you on your mission." 

"Sir." The soldier acknowledges you with a curt nod. "I'm Sergeant Hunter, Galactic Army of the Republic." He looks to the man on his right, who removes his helmet to reveal striking silver hair. "This is Crosshair, our sharpshooting specialist and my right hand." 

The Sergeant turns to his left, "This is Tech, engineering and data analytics." The soldier with goggles barely glances up when his sergeant claps a hand to his shoulder. "And Wrecker, weapons and demolitions." Hunter finishes, jerking a thumb behind him to the soldier towering over his comrades. 

"Right. Well, good to meet you all. The command center is right this way" Argus says, turning to lead the group deeper into the yard. 

"So, Lieutenant. How are the military operations going here? The Prime Minister easy to work with?" Sergeant Hunter asks you in a husky voice. 

"Hm," You have to stifle a chuckle. "I wouldn't really call us a military, Sergeant. We operate as a Coalition dedicated to the service of Scarif's people. The Prime Minister has his own division of special forces for ‘keeping order.’ We work with him, not for him." 

The soldier in goggles, Tech, takes a few quick steps forward to get level with your shoulder. "You use military ranks, do you not?" 

Argus steps aside to let you lead the group into the Command Center. "Mainly for ease of identifying our hierarchy of command." 

You gesture for the soldiers to circle the main holotable. "Argus is our main point of coordination and connection to the Prime Minister-"

"And the Lieutenant here is my first pair of boots on the ground." Argus says proudly. "You boys are in good hands."

A fond smile crosses your face at Argus' praise as you flip the holotable on, but you could swear the silver-haired sniper muttered something under his breath. Straightening up, a red pin highlights the command yard. 

"Alright. We're here." You say, pointing before motioning for the map to rotate and zoom. "Western Sector 14, where you all have requested to scout, is here. The base camp will be a few hours’ ride."

"We can't just fly in?" Tech asks pointedly.

"If you want to jump out of the ship and drop in with chutes, sure.” you say, shaking your head. “The jungle is too dense to make a landing with anything bigger than a one-man fighter anywhere near where you want to be." 

Sergeant Hunter glances at his men. "Alright then. Thank you, Commandant." He says pointedly at Argus. "The first wave of supply ships will come in tomorrow." 

"Fantastic, thank you." Argus replies. He moves to lead the group out the door and back out into the yard, but falters when he notices the squad's sharpshooter, Crosshair, sizing you up. "Is there a problem?" Argus asks, tentatively.

The soldier smirks, swishing a toothpick between his lips. "I just don't want to have to pull a civvy out of danger. We were told this planet was hostile." 

Argus' brow furrows. "I already told you, the Lieutenant is my best agent, and you'll respect them as such-" 

"No, Argus, it's fine." You cut him off, keeping eye contact with Crosshair. "If the soldier doesn't trust me, he doesn't trust me and nothing you say will change that." You take a few steps around the table to stand in front of the sniper. "By definition, yes, the planet is hostile, but they're bandits, raiders; people that have been driven to desperation. I can assure you, soldier, I've had my fair share of run-ins with them and I'm just fine." A smirk spreads across Crosshair's face and you narrow your eyes. "What?" 

"You called me 'soldier,'" he responds. 

You tilt your head to the side. "That's not what you are? Soldiers of the Galactic Army of the Republic?" 

His comrade with the goggles, Tech steps forward. "Technically, you are correct, but not many refer to us as such." 

"Well, what do they call you?" You ask, curiously. 

Wrecker, the tallest soldier is the one who answers this time. "Eh... Most people just call us 'clone.'"

You run your eyes back over the squad, each of them so different from the others. "You're- you're clones?" 

"You know we're GAR, but you don't know what we are?" Crosshair remarks.

"I didn't want to assume, the GAR does have a few divisions of enlisted nat-borns." You say simply with a shrug. "It’s not like you’re carbon copies of each other. Besides, it doesn’t matter how you came into this galaxy, you’re men, soldiers first before anything else." 

With that, you step past the sniper and back out into the yard. 

"We're packed and ready to go, Sergeant,'' you say to Hunter, gesturing to the group of gorsets standing tied nearby. 

Tech adjusts his goggles. "We're using equine species?" 

You shrug again, moving over to yours and stroking its face. "Only the rich can afford speeders out here. Plus, who can say no to a friend. Get your stuff loaded on the spare cart and we can head out."

Hunter leads his brothers back over to their ship and before you know it, they have their supplies all packed up. 

Argus grasps your forearm just before you mount up. “Be careful, okay?” 

You give him a reassuring smile, “You worry too much, Argus. My job here is easy. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” 

With that you slip your foot into your saddle’s stirrup and throw your leg over your gorset’s back. With a click of your tongue, it moves to the front, Hunter’s following closely behind. 

The first part of the ride goes pretty smoothly. You make small talk with the soldiers, or three of them, at least. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker regale you with stories of their life and training as soldiers of the Republic and in return, you tell them your story as a nat-born. 

About an hour in, you come to a stop at a stream and let your mounts rest. You watch intently as the four brothers, take in their surroundings. You’ve always liked Scarif. You’d certainly seen a few other planets in your line of work, but Scarif and its dense forests always meant home. Crosshair settles on a fallen log while Hunter checks over their gear on the carts and Wrecker begins making friends with the gorsets. Tech, however, is wandering around with his face buried in his datapad. 

“Find anything interesting?” You say, approaching him. 

He looks up at you, his wide inquisitive brown eyes filled with excitement. “All the flora on this planet is fascinating. So many native species are unique to this biome. Of course, I researched them before our arrival, but to get to document them personally is a wonderful opportunity.” 

You smile at his curiosity. The clones’ homeworld, Kamino, probably left much to be desired. “Those ones are my favorite,” you say, motioning your chin towards some striking burgundy-orange blooms nestled in the undergrowth. 

“Ah yes,” Tech remarks. “Liliaceae Lilium Asiata. A fairly ordinary species though, not that remarkable.” 

You smile. “Their common name here is the ‘forever lily’ and while they’re not a rare species, they are special.”

“What makes them so special?” Wrecker asks loudly. 

“Here on Scarif, they’re often given as a sign of admiration or partnership. They bloom in early summer and also represent new beginnings. My father actually gifted my mother one when he asked her to dinner for the first time.” 

“That’s…actually quite romantic,” Tech replies. 

“And obviously it went well,” Hunter adds. 

A laugh escapes your lips. “Oh no, the date apparently went horribly wrong. My father made a complete fool of himself and accidentally tripped, knocking my mother into the fountain in the center of the village. There were probably thirty witnesses to the whole thing. My father’s family never let him live it down. When he asked my mother for a second chance, he brought two lilies. For their third date, he brought three. By the time they got married, he decorated the entire gathering hall with them.”

Crosshair hops up off his perch. “So why are you out here and not with them picking flowers, sweetheart?” He jeers. 

You cock an eyebrow at him. “They’re dead.” 

Crosshair stiffens at your response, but doesn’t retort. His brothers look at you with wide eyes. 

“Bandit raid,” you say plainly. “I was seventeen. Took less than a day for our village to be cleared out. Those who tried to hide food or resist were laid out in the street. A number of us survived and we made our way to the capital for refuge. That’s where I met Argus, and he gave me a chance to do more with my life.” 

Silence settles among you, the brothers unsure of what to say. 

You clear your throat, breaking their stupor. “Ready to move out?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Hunter says, jerking his head at his brothers.

As you swing your leg over and settle into your saddle, Hunter catches your eye. “The color. I like it.” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Thanks. I do too.” 

Once again, you take the lead, but this time your group travels in silence. The next couple hours are uneventful. Occasionally, Tech or Wrecker would point something out and you’d give a few words on it. A couple times, Hunter called for the group to stop, and you reassured him whatever noise he heard was probably just a kybuck. ‘Bandits haven’t been spotted in this sector for years.’

As you round a bend in the trail, your mount slows out of instinct. You can hear Tech mutter under his breath when the old buildings make their appearance. 

“Fascinating… Did you know this was here?” he asks. 

You glance around at the familiar ruins of your past life. “This used to be my home.” 

You pull your mount to a halt outside the largest building. “And it will be our base camp for the duration of your stay here.” 

“Do you come back often?” Wrecker asks hesitantly.

“Mm-hmm,” you answer as you dismount. “Once every few moons. It’s quite peaceful out here.” 

Crosshair’s brow furrows. According to your story, you all are currently standing at the center of the greatest tragedy of your life. He’s drawn to ask about your response, but his twin beats him to it. 

“You said raiders destroyed your village, yet you continue to return. That’s very brave.”

You smile at Tech’s words, pulling your bags off your gorset. “I wouldn’t say brave. It took me a while to be able to come back, but look at this place,” you say, gesturing to the buildings overgrown with flora. “You can’t even see the scars of the raid any more. No people, no conflict, no pain. With a little bit of time, nature came back and healed, same as I did.”  

Your response hits Crosshair in a peculiar way, but if you had asked him to describe it, he wouldn’t have had the words. Instead, he moves over beside you and gently takes a few bags from your shoulders before moving inside. 

The next few weeks pass with little fuss. The boys tend to leave at 0700 to go about their scouting missions and return around 1800 for dinner. Every few days, you’ll go along to lead them to a new part of the sector or provide information on the area. Most days you’re left to your own devices. You spent your first few free days setting a trap line along you r well-known foraging routes. Hunter had protested your hunting and gathering. He tried to explain they had brought enough GAR rations for everyone, but you were happy enough to prepare warm meals for the team. 

It didn’t take them long to crumble to your mouth-watering camp cooking, leaving the rations to be quick dinner solutions after long days. Hunter offered his talents once or twice to help you get a nice score, or Wrecker would help haul firewood back to camp. Tech even provided you with some new recipes you fused with Scarif-style dishes. 

Hunter took quickly to you, as did Tech and Wrecker, but the fourth member of the team always kept his distance. Any words exchanged between the two of you were more often than not snarky comments. Hunter would chastise him for it, tell him to stow the attitude, but you knew Crosshair didn’t mean it. And it’s not like you didn’t dish it back.

On this particular day, you were on your own. Crosshair had been particularly grouchy the last couple rotations, so Hunter had benched him for the day. Crosshair’s excuse had been a migraine, so you left him sleeping at base camp with a blanket gently draped over him and a canteen of water within reach when you started out on your own hike. 

It doesn’t take long to reach your shooting range. Your sniper’s roost is up on the crest of a hill that looks over a small hollow. Wooden targets are scattered from the undergrowth up into the branches of the dense forest around you. 

After taking a few practice shots in a crouched position, you lower yourself down onto your stomach. Just as you shift your weight onto your side to pull an extra mag out of your belt pocket, something catches your ear. A twig snapping, and it was from something much bigger than a kybuck. 

You freeze, waiting. After a couple seconds, you start creeping your hand down your thigh and gently grasp one of the throwing knives strapped there. The wind changes and something hits your nose, a scent - the camp soap. Smirking, you roll back onto your stomach like normal, keeping the knife tucked underneath you. You act like you're checking over your rifle, still intently listening. A couple seconds more and another twig snaps. Fast as lightning you roll over and send the knife flying. It buries itself into a tree - right next to his head. 

“Are you karking crazy?!” 

You sit up, a cheeky smile on your face. “That’s what you get, trying to sneak up on me, soldier.” 

He rolls his eyes. “You did pretty good, sweetheart, but Hunter would’ve noticed sooner.” 

“Hunter has been engineered with enhanced senses, that’s cheating,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off yourself. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “I would’ve noticed sooner.” 

You smirk. “You are also enhanced, that’s still cheating. When do you think I noticed?” 

“Right before you threw the knife, when I snapped that twig on purpose,” he says, crossing his arms. “They’re stashed in your chestplate, you acted on instinct.”

“Wrong. I heard you when you stepped on that first twig, but I knew it was you when I smelled the camp soap. Very distinct,” you say with a wink. 

Crosshair gives you a look, maybe one of awe, but he glosses over the moment, looking out onto the shooting range. “What is this place?” 

“A shooting range. Never seen one of those, Crosshair?” You tease back, bending down to pick up your rifle.. 

He scoffs. 

“My father built it and taught me to shoot here,” you explain. “Part of the reason why I come back every so often. Here the rest of the world just melts away.” 

Crosshair steps closer to the crest of the hill. “Where are the targets?” 

Gently, you heft your rifle up off the ground and hold it out to him. “Have a look.” 

He hesitates. “Oh no, I-” Crosshair knows a sniper’s rifle is sacred. In the similar way as the Jedi and their lightsabers. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I trust you.”

Crosshair’s eyes stay latched to yours as he gingerly lets you place your rifle in his waiting hands. “Not as fancy as your firepuncher, but I've made a few modifications,” you say proudly. 

Crosshair turns your weapon over in his hands with a sense of reverence before taking his stance. His form is perfect, though that’s no surprise. Hunter and the others had told you all about their enhancements. You watch as Crosshair sweeps the scope over the range, taking inventory of the targets camouflaged in the greenery. One particular mark catches his eye. 

“That one down there, how do you get to it?” He asks, pointing to one suspended in a tree and swaying gently in the wind.

You smile, that target in particular is placed at an odd angle relative to the sniper’s nest. “Take the shot and you’ll see.” 

The sniper braces in his standing position and lets a blaster bolt fly. He nearly growls in frustration when the bolt barely hits the edge of the target. “What the-”

“Good shot,” you say, impressed. 

“That’s not the center.” Crosshair sneers, lowering your rifle.

“You still hit it. I don’t think anyone else could have made it at that angle,” you reply. 

“You show me then if you’re so good, sweetheart.” 

Paying no mind to his snappy remark, you take your weapon back from him and lower into your crouched position. You center your sights on the target in question and wait a moment for it to stop bouncing as much. Once you’ve got its steady bouncing rhythm down, you move to focus on a shiny chunk of quartz sticking out of the hillside. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Your shot flies perfectly, hitting the quartz and ricochetting up into the dead center of the target. You look up at the Crosshair, making no effort to try to hide the smug look on your face. 

“Tricky girl,” he says, his eyes narrowing. 

“Got to consider all the angles,” you tease as you straighten back up. 

Crosshair reaches to his belt and holds up a couple shiny discs. “I prefer these.” 

“Smart,” you respond, shifting your weight into one hip. “And yet you still took the straight-on approach.” 

He smirks at you as you stand up. “Thought it’d be best to be direct with you.” 

“Oh yeah, what about?” 

“I don’t get you,” he says plainly. 

Your brow scrunches as you lean your rifle against a nearby tree. “What’s there to get?”

“Everything about you.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his silver hair. “I saw you when those scavengers came up on us scouting last week. You stared down the barrel of their weapons and tried to negotiate our way out. Then when they turned, you didn’t even flinch. You’re a good hunter, you’ve been feeding us this entire trip; yet you cleaned the wound on that kybuck’s flank and let it go instead of taking the easy score. Even with me, I- I can’t figure you out, nothing gets to you.” 

It takes you a second to realize that’s the most words Crosshair has ever spoken to you, and they didn’t even come with a childish jab. You just shrug. “I learned it's best to make the most you can with what you’ve got. I try to give everyone a chance, no matter how we meet and I don’t take more than what I need. I don’t have time to let things get to me; there are much more important, more worthwhile things to be taken care of. And if I can’t let something go, I bring it here,” you finish, glancing out at your shooting range. 

Crosshair looks you up and down a couple times, then turns his back to you to face the range. Then he speaks, so softly you barely catch it, “Do you mind if I let some things go here?” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Of course. Here.” You reach back over and hold your rifle out to him, which he takes without looking at you. 

You can see his muscles shift as he lowers himself to the ground. Not wanting to intrude, you take a few steps back up the trail. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Oh, uh I was just going to go get some water from the stream, check my snares,” you respond, covering your true intentions. 

“You won’t have your rifle,” Crosshair mutters. 

“I have my side arm, I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. 

A soft sigh drifts from his figure laying on the forest floor. “Please… stay. I can check the snares with you later.” 

You try to hide your smile as you gently lower yourself to the ground, resting your back against a tree as Crosshair brings the scope of your rifle into position. And there you stay. 

At first, Crosshair doesn’t say much. He just takes his shots at your range, adjusting things here and there. After a while, you lean your head against the tree trunk behind you and let your eyes close. The sun is filtering through the trees as it rises higher in the sky, and birds are softly chirping. It’s peaceful, like always, and the rhythmic pattern of Crosshair’s shots roll through the forest like a heartbeat. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear him shift.

“Here.”

Straightening up, you open your eyes and see he’s sitting cross legged, holding your rifle out. 

You take it back from him and move to stand up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, still sitting on the ground. 

You tilt your head at him, for him saying he couldn’t figure you out, he seems to be the odd one. “The snares?”

“It’s your turn to shoot.” 

“Oh it’s fine,” you say, waving your hand.

You shift your weight again to stand, but this time Crosshair reaches out and grasps your bracer. “That’s what you were coming out here to do anyway, right? I interrupted you.” 

His words are so different from the ones that normally pass between the two of you. Not gentle, necessarily, but less defensive. You take a breath before nodding your head, just barely. Crosshair scoots out of your way. If you weren’t so focused on making the space between you a place where he could be open, you might have giggled at the way he moved, still in his cross-legged position. 

You slowly lower yourself onto your belly and bring your scope to your eye. Crosshair had adjusted things slightly, but strangely you didn’t mind. Usually it would irk you if someone had moved things on your rifle, but you had handed him your weapon of your own volition. It was nice to know that he felt so comfortable with you and had handled your rifle with such care and reverence. You take a few shots, aiming at various targets over the range. 

As you sit up to replace the mag, you notice Crosshair is studying you intently. You smile. “What?” 

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re a skilled sharpshooter. You even pace with your breath, impressive.” 

You rock back on your heels. “Took me some time to get it, but practice makes perfect.” 

Crosshair smirks at you, but not unkindly. “And that you are, nearly. Perfect- I mean…” He trails off. Again, You might have giggled at this newfound temperament, but you simply dust off your rifle a bit. 

“Oh yeah? Got any pointers for me?” you reply. 

The sniper moves closer to you. “If you’ll actually listen,” he jabs.

You chuckle. “I’m always listening.”

He gestures for you to take your prone position again and makes a few adjustments to your limbs. The time flies away from you as the two of you pass your rifle back and forth along with small conversation and stories. Crosshair doesn’t exactly soften, but he does open up to you a bit more. 

In giving you some pointers, he’s the most comfortable you’ve seen him the whole mission. Instruction and leadership are clearly his elements. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, continuously checking in that the adjustments he makes feel correct for your body. 

‘Every marksman is different.’ He had said. ‘Even if it’s the ‘correct’ way, if it doesn’t feel natural for you, then you’ll be tense or unstable and then it’s all pointless.’

You learn more than just that. Before you know it, Crosshair is telling you about his brothers, more than even Tech had told you. ‘Hunter’s helmet is specially modified to dampen his senses when needed.’ - ‘Although Tech is the smartest at basically everything, Wrecker beats him with weapons and explosives.’ - ‘Tech and I came from the same tube.’ - ‘Wrecker can tell you every ingredient in a ration pack just by tasting it.’

Some facts surprise you, like the fact that while Hunter has enhanced eyesight across the whole spectrum, Crosshair is actually farsighted and he has his holopad on the biggest text size to avoid wearing the reading glasses Tech made him. Other facts aren’t as much of a surprise, like the scar on Hunter’s chin was a gift from Crosshair when they were roughhousing as cadets. 

Crosshair even tells you what it was like growing up as ‘special’ clones on Kamino. ‘Clones are outsiders among the nat-borns of the galaxy. We were outsiders even among the clones.’ - ‘The advanced growth rate meant that for a few years from bio age 7-18 our joints always hurt. The bumps and bruises from training just blended it all together.’

You had no idea Crosshair could be so much of a talker, and he even chuckles a few times at his own stories or your side remarks. The conversation was far from annoying, though. You sat and listened intently, basking in his sudden willingness to share. Without warning, your chrono beeps, cutting one of his sentences short. You glance down and gasp at the time. 

“Everything okay?” Crosshair asks, his brow furrowing.

“We’ve been here all day.” You say. “We have to hurry if we’re going to walk the traps and get back to camp to meet the others.” 

Crosshair shoots to his feet, his jaw tense. 

Guilt settles in your stomach. “I’m sorry.” You look up at him, but he refuses to meet your eyes. “I was enjoying it here, but-”

“We have to go.” He says in a gruff voice. The walls are back up.

You solemnly gather your gear and the two of you walk your snare lines in silence. You’re tempted to respark the conversation you two had been sharing, but you can tell the moment is lost, and pushing would be futile. 

When you arrive back at base camp, the others are already milling about preparing the dinner rations. Hunter glances between you and Crosshair as you enter the camp, but says nothing. Not even when he notices Crosshair is the one carrying the score from your traps. 

Dinner is served as normal, but Crosshair takes his into the building serving as your bunk house rather than eating around the fire with the rest of you. You try to keep that sinking feeling out of your stomach to no avail. Had you pushed him? He was opening up to you, being receptive. Why did your chrono have to bring you crashing back to reality?

Your thoughts continue to swirl in your head as you wash up after dinner and you barely notice when Hunter appears beside you at the basin. 

“You okay?” He mutters, picking up a dish and swirling it in the water. 

“Mm, yeah,” you mutter. 

A chuckle rumbles deep in Hunter’s chest. “I saw you two today.” 

You can feel the Sergeant’s implication pressing in on you. “Oh yeah, he just got bored and wanted something to do.” 

Hunter shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. He likes you.” 

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you jab back, shoving the memory of your day at the range deep into the back of your mind. 

“He’s just...” Hunter sighs. “Figuring it out on his own terms. He takes patience. You’ve been doing well so far, just hold out a little longer and he’ll open up to you.” 

‘He was…’ You think to yourself. Instead you finish wiping the last dish and flick the water off your hands. “Well I don’t have forever,” you say shortly, turning to walk into the bunks. 

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you turn the corner to your room and your breath catches in your throat. On your bed lies a single item. 

A bright orange and maroon lily.

After that day at your shooting range, little changes in your interactions with Crosshair. His snarky comments return, but his demeanor towards you does begin to shift. His morning jab was now accompanied by a cup of caf complete with a splash of milk, just the way you liked it. His hand was now the first to reach out when unloading gear to lighten your load, though it still came with some iteration of a sly ‘sweetheart’. There was even a time you had fallen asleep by the campfire and you woke with a blanket draped over you. Hunter swore up and down that Crosshair had been the last one to bed that night.

With two weeks left in the squad’s mission, you make your way to the range alone, lost in thought. At 0400, your comm had beeped with a message from Argus: you would be immediately moving on to your next assignment upon your return to the Coalition Command Base. A scuffle on Scarif’s opposite pole needed your attention, and reportedly the territory was still severely hostile. 

Though you didn’t want to admit it, your time hosting Squad 99 had been little short of a vacation. Just last night, Hunter had pulled you aside and offered you a spot on the team as a ‘Civilian Consultant.’ 

‘Even though we’re supposed to be a clone squad, it’s a way of skirting the rules.’ He had said with a wink. ‘It wouldn’t pay much, but you’d be taken care of.’

You had told him you’d think about it, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Scarif. Your people need you. As your thoughts tumble in your head, you nearly step on something as you break the treeline into your sniper’s nest. Not something - someone.

“You’re very observant today,” Crosshair groans as he stands up. 

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head trying to clear it. 

Crosshair looks down at you, his brow furrowed. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “What is it?”

The moment your eyes meet his, the words start tumbling from your mouth. You tell him everything. The comm from Argus that arrived before the boys rose that morning. The stress that’s been on your shoulders as the First Lieutenant of the Coalition. 

You tell him about the pit in your stomach that grows every time you see a starving child, or a family ripped apart by raiders. Even about the pity you feel for the dying light in the eyes of bandits you arrest. How your homeworld was dying and there was little you could do about it. 

You find yourself telling him about Hunter’s offer, and your temptation to take it. How the allure of staying with the squad you’d grown fond of was near irresistible, but the guilt at your eagerness to leave your homeworld behind was clawing at your chest. 

Before you know it your breath is rising in your throat, your pulse quickening, your head beginning to spin, when suddenly your world becomes dark. It takes you a second to realize that you didn’t pass out, but your face is pressed to something… warm. Something solid and stable. 

The scent of the camp soap surrounds you as Crosshair presses you to his chest, one arm curling around you, the other cradling the back of your head. Your breathing begins to steady and your heartbeat slows to match the steady beating of his heart under your cheek. 

After a while you find it in yourself to mutter “Cross-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, ruffling your hair slightly. “Don’t speak, just breathe for a second.” 

Another couple minutes like that and you feel your body begin to relax. Crosshair releases you from his grip and you feel your weight on your own two feet again. Again you try to speak. “I’m so-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” He cuts you off again. “You have a lot going on and a lot to think about. Let the rest of the galaxy melt away for a bit. That’s why you’re here, right?” He says with a smirk. 

You let out a breath. “I suppose.” Then you realize. “Hey, speaking of - what are you doing here?”

Crosshair rubs the back of his neck. “Ehh. Needed some time to think?” 

“You don’t sound so sure.”

He just shrugs. “I’ve never been… good with talking.” 

You smile but take a step back from him. “You don’t have to be. We don’t have to talk at all.” You say, your words gentle.

Crosshair’s deep honey eyes look down at you. “The thing is… I want to. I just don’t…” He sighs, then leans over to pull something from his pack laying nearby. “Here.”

You look down at what he’s trying to hand you. It’s two maroon and orange lilies. Their bright colors stand out against his dark gear. You take them from him, delicately and look back up. His eyes are searching your face for any sign of caution. 

His shoulders relax with relief when you take one of the flowers and tuck it behind your ear. “How’s the practice going?” you ask with a smile.

Crosshair’s face brightens a bit at the mention of sharpshooting. “Good. I was hoping you would be here today. I wanted to show you something new.” 

Gingerly, he takes one of your hands in his and eases your rifle off your shoulder. Rather than handing you your weapon, however, he leans it up against a nearby tree. 

“Cross, what-”

“Shh” He hushes you gently, taking the second lily from your other hand and dropping the stem into the barrel of your rifle. He guides you over to the sniper’s ridge and picks his own weapon up off the ground. “Here.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what his intentions are. He’s giving you his firepuncher.

Ever so carefully, you let him release his prized rifle into your grip. “Hmm,” you hum as your hands dip with its weight. “I assumed it would be heavy but… wow.”

“Start on the ground, then we’ll work you up to standing.” Crosshair says, his voice steady. “Adjust the scope how you need it.”

You get settled and with him crouched beside you, you bring the scope up to your view. The sounds of the forest start to melt away as you zone in on a target. 

A little puff of air hits your ear as Crosshair leans close. "Be prepared for the recoil," he mutters in a low voice. "It’s strong, but don’t fight it. Whenever you’re ready."

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The blaster bolt is nearly silent as it flies home to the center of the target. 

There your day melts away again as you and Crosshair pass a weapon back and forth. Fewer words accompany his rifle, but it feels as though more is said. 

The last two weeks of Squad 99’s mission pass uneventfully, but there is another shift. There’s a shift in how Crosshair treats you. After your first day at the range, he had warmed more to you, but now he’s like a tooka always at your heels. He’s not overbearing, just always present. 

You’re catching yourself smiling at his little quirks more and more. The way he can fall asleep almost anywhere, curled up in a tight ball. The way he claims he drinks his caf black, but you spot him sneaking sugar into it out of the corner of your eye. The way he’s always watching, even if his back is to you. 

He also seems more physically drawn to you. Of course, he never crosses a line, but in subtle ways. He tends to brush against you more when moving about your daily routines. His hands seem to linger on your body when adjusting your sniping form, and you could feel the heat of his palm on your lower back when he steadied you after you stumbled on a trail. His voice seems to drop and soften when he speaks to you, he nearly sounds like Hunter - it’s definitely genetic. 

Of course Hunter noticed too. After your second day with Crosshair at the shooting range, Hunter had pulled you aside again. You expected an ‘older brother talking to’ where he either would grill you about your intentions or warn you to stay away, but the first words out of Hunter’s mouth had shocked you. 

“You’re good for him, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?” You had instinctively said back.

Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew it was a gesture of his affection. “You’re good for him. With you, he can just exist.” 

“You’re imagining things, Hunter.” 

“I promise you I’m not. I know he can be difficult, but it’s not because he’s apathetic. It’s just a challenge for him to put words to what’s going on in that head of his.” 

“There are more ways to understand someone than with words.”

Hunter laughed at your remark. “Like I said, you’re a good match for him. In more ways than one.”

Hunter left the conversation at that. He didn’t push, but he would tease you under his breath about it. You hated to admit it, but Hunter was right, you had grown soft on the sniper and you would come to see the effect you had on him. His shoulders were less tense, his brow furrowed less, he turned his face to the sun more. Maybe there was something growing between you and him, maybe it was something worth exploring.

‘Karking Siths Hells. Collect yourself, woman.’ You scold yourself. You shake your head to clear your thoughts as your gorset moves around a group of trees. 

Here you are. The day had finally come for Clone Force 99 to ship back out. You didn’t want to admit it but it was hitting you harder than you thought it would. You were trying to keep that armor up, but you were sadly failing. 

When you reach the Coalition’s Command Base, the brothers immediately start moving their things back to their ship. Sadly, Argus had been called to the Capital so he wasn’t there to welcome you back. As you helped the brothers repack, each made sure to say their goodbyes.

Tech held his hand out, and you moved to return the handshake. Instead you found him grasping your forearm in a much more meaningful gesture. “It’s a physical form of farewell from our mother culture of Mandalore. It’s a symbol of respect and honor. You have been a wonderful host, and I will miss your company. You do not know how much it means that you not only answered my questions but returned them with some of your own.” 

Wrecker was next. Your hands seemed to dance in the intricate handshake you two had created. “I’ll miss having ya around!” He boomed. “I think you ruined the ration packs for me forever with your camp cooking. And Lieutenant? Thank you, for seeing us as more than clones, it’s been refreshing.”

Hunter pulled you into a tight hug like many times before. “I know I don’t need to say it, but take care of yourself. Keep in touch, I need someone to chat with that hasn’t thrown up on me.” 

This made you laugh for the first time today. “That could be arranged,” you tease back.

Before Hunter replies he looks at something behind you. Turning around you see it’s Crosshair walking towards you. You meet him halfway, searching his face for any sign of what mood he’s in. 

“Where did you disappear off to?” You ask trying to ease into a goodbye.

“Nowhere important.” He curtly replies, shoving his helmet on his head.

You bite your lip. “Okay… Best of luck, Crosshair. Stay safe out there.” 

“You too.” He holds his hand out, but unlike Tech he just gives you a simple, firm handshake. Only he doesn’t let go. 

You want to say something, but what would be the right thing? The two of you always seemed to communicate through actions more than words. There you two stand for a moment, awkwardly holding your handshake, and your eyes drift for a moment. 

When you look back at Crosshair he’s moving. Before you can register what’s happening his helmet is smacking you on the forehead, causing you to cry out and clap a hand to the sore spot.

Did he just headbutt you? Or was he trying to kiss you and forgot his helmet was on?

He lets go of your hand like he was shocked, standing straight as a pole. “I uh… I’ve got to go. Keep practicing, stay alive.”

Without another word he walks, more like runs, away from you and up the Marauder’s ramp. 

Hunter appears at your side obviously trying to contain his laughter. “That was interesting.”

“What exactly just happened?” You grumble, rubbing your forehead. 

“A very Crosshair farewell.” Hunter sighs. “Look, I know that we aren’t exactly built for relationships or even plain friendships outside of the GAR, but… don’t be a stranger. We’ve all come to like you and Crosshair, he won’t say it anytime soon, but he needs you.” 

Hunter squeezes your shoulder and jogs up the Marauder’s ramp, leaving you standing alone in the ship yard. 

Sighing and shaking your head, you turn and walk to the Command Center to gather the intel for your new deployment. After sitting through a painfully redundant briefing meeting with a couple squadron leaders with sticks up their asses, you stop by the cantina for dinner. The food weighs heavy on your tongue like glue. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as beans and rice Scarif stir fry around a campfire with a choice four troopers. 

The supply depot is your next stop to restock your personal supplies and check that your shuttle was loaded correctly. You still have a half hour before your crew is due for deployment, so you head over to the base stables to see a friend. 

Your gorset has his nose on the ground of his stall, snuffling around for remnants of his evening grain, but he raises his head at the sound of your footsteps. 

“Hey there, boy.” You coo softly at him. “What are we gonna do, huh?”

As you scratch behind his ear, your gorset turns his head for you to get to the other side and a gasp leaves your lips when you see his mane. 

Woven into your gorset’s thick locks are three bright orange lilies.

Your back aches as you make the hike from the ruins to your range. Your last assignment had been far from comfortable. The relief mission was supposed to be non combative, just transport of supplies and giving aid to the rebuilding effort in Northern Sector 7, but of course you weren’t that lucky. A band of storms blew through while you were there, sending refugees into the town you were based in. 

Your forces were already spread thin and the influx of people hadn’t helped. Then of course the raiders came. You were able to deescalate the situation the first time they showed up, but the second time they stormed the town with ballistics. The stockpile was pretty depleted at that point so at the very least the Coalition didn’t lose much. 

Argus had taken pity on you and said you had a week before he’d even think about shipping you out again, so you decided to go home for a few days. You hadn’t been back in months, much longer than usual, not since them.

The peaceful ruins of your village had felt emptier that morning when you’d arrived. You half-expected Wrecker to come barreling through the brush asking about dinner, or for Tech to appear beside you with some obscure question about your home world. 

You had to admit you did miss Hunter, he had his way of knowing what was going on with you without even asking. Though the temptation was there to take his offer and join the squad, you just couldn’t leave Scarif and her people. Hunter didn’t blame you though, he knew the pressure you were under as the Coalition’s First Lieutenant. Who would’ve done the job if you left?

You had exchanged comm frequencies with Hunter, but hadn’t heard anything from them, about anything. Not that you were expecting to. The fourth member of Squad 99 lingered on your mind more than the others, but it’s not like you were pining after him. 

Crosshair had made you no promises, nor had you him. You just wondered where he was, what his missions were. You wondered if he was okay, not just physically, but under the armor he put up around himself. 

The sun is already high in the sky when you reach your range. You take a couple minutes to go over your rifle, then take your standing position.

Your sore muscles shift as you bring your rifle up to your view and set the barrel on the rest you added to your shoulder plate. You sweep the range, checking the status of your targets, but stutter when you notice something nestled in the foliage.

 A bright orange lily.

Shaking your head, you keep sweeping the range, then you spot another lily. Then another, and another. Your mouth drops open as you lower your weapon. It couldn't be, could it?

The undergrowth behind you rustles and you know it’s him before he speaks. "Good to see you're practicing. We need you again. I need you again."

[foli-vora]

congrats on 3k!! Not sure if you're still doing this, but can I request something smutty with agent whiskey with the prompt "can we go home yet?"

Thank you for the request, my sweet! I'm so sorry for the time it took to get around to it, but I hope you enjoy! ❤️

errands

jack daniels x f!reader

word count: 1.7k warnings: i love him sm, sweet husband jack will give you everything, jack being a sexy menace, semi public/parking lot activities, swearing, SMUT 18+ ONLY: what's a domesticity kink called? idk, whatever it is we've got that. fingering, orgasm denial, can't not use this gif lmao

The familiar churning of warmth in the pit of your stomach has followed you relentlessly throughout the day, despite you leaving your shared bed much later than socially acceptable after a long morning lost in Jack’s hold. There’s a gentle ache between your thighs from his dedicated efforts, the feeling never once letting your mind wander from the way he unravelled every part of your body and soul over and over.

And this? This wasn’t helping.

The confidence he oozed striding through the hardware store, knowing exactly what he wanted and where he would get it. The way he would ramble about the house renovation plans; what rooms could be what, where he could build you a little reading nook with a window overlooking the endless rolling green fields, or what materials he would need to make some floor to ceiling built in bookcases for your shared collection of books…

His excitement at dedicating his variety of skills into bringing your dream home to life is palpable, bringing forth such a fond tenderness to your chest that it makes you swear you couldn’t possibly love this man anymore if you tried. It rolls from him in waves now, as he wanders with his full cart of various renovation necessities and voicing his thoughts on what particular paint colours would match your shared vision.

It’s just all so sweet, so domestic.

It’s driving you wild.

Lips wrapping around the straw of your soda cup, you study the broad planes of his back, covered by his ever present leather jacket that thankfully stops just above the soft swell of his ass—bless that man for knowing how to pick his jeans. If it weren’t for the sweet elderly couple flicking through colour swatches at the end of the aisle, you simply would’ve crowded him into the shelves just for a much needed taste of his mouth, and maybe a quick feel—

“You listenin’ to me back there?”

“Not really,” you admit honestly, tongue rolling across your lower lip as he gives you a playful frown of disapproval from over his shoulder. That familiar heat rises and swells in your core, and you shift impatiently on your feet. “Can we go home yet?”

He chuckles, reaching out to pluck a paintbrush from the shelf and feeling the synthetic fibres between his fingers. “You gettin’ bored, darlin’? Is that why you’ve been poutin’ the last two aisles?”

“I haven’t been pouting.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles deeply, lips tugged up into a small smile of amusement as he continues his perusal of the variety of painting accessories. Eventually he lands on the ones he finds somewhat satisfactory, and tosses them into the cart before beckoning you closer with an open hand reached out behind him.

You take it and press up into his side easily, sighing softly at the heavy arm that wraps around your shoulders and the lips that press gently against your temple. The heat from his body seeps into yours while a wash of his familiar cologne assaults your nostrils, and it takes every bit of strength to not tilt your head and catch his lips in a searing kiss that would go scaring away any and everyone within range.

God, he just smells so damn good. 

“Okay, so I may have been pouting—but it’s all your fault.”

He chuckles, the deep throaty timbre of it twisting pleasantly in your core, and what really kills you is that he has no idea the actual effect he has on you. Everything about him either sends you into a sweet and dizzying lovesick spiral, or hurtling straight into the fiery depths of hell with the thoughts that turn in your mind.

“Is that right? How so, sugar?”

You sigh, turning in his hold and raking a finger down his chest, winding around the buttons of his shirt as it goes. “All I can think about is fucking you right in the middle of this aisle, Jack.”

He blinks in surprise, taken off guard and rendered slightly bewildered by your admittance. “Come again?”

“Yes—I’m planning on it actually, again and again.”

A grin quickly tugs at his lips and his eyes flicker to the passersby going about their days as he tugs you closer, his thick drawl oozing into your ears, “You’re gonna get us thrown out if you keep that talk up, sugar.”

“Good, then we could go home and waste the afternoon away.”

He sighs, trying to appear vexed by your apparent disinterest in your errands, but the smile still tugging insistently at his lips gives him away. You see the playful sparkle in his eyes, the desperate want to give you everything you need and more, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Come on, Jack,” you coo, dragging him in for another kiss with just a taste of everything you’re feeling that leaves him chasing your lips when you eventually pull away, “let’s go home. Let me have you.”

“You’ll be the end of me, you know that?” He grumbles quietly before shaking his head, winding a hand down to grab teasingly at your ass cheek and giving it a firm tap that sends a rocket of heat hurtling straight to your core. “Fine. Registers—now. And no dawdlin’, go on now.”

It takes an agonisingly long time to pay, and you’re sure he does it on purpose. Jack lingers, happily chatting away to the older man serving you, and he has to know how impatient it’s making you because you swear you spy a smirk lingering at the edge of his lips as you start to shift from foot to foot. 

You pounce as soon as he slides into the driver's seat, curling a hand around his neck and bringing his mouth greedily to yours. He responds quickly, unable to pull away from the lure of your kiss, lips parting and tongue meeting yours in a tangle of need. You groan into the heat of his mouth, relishing in the burn of his moustache as the kiss deepens. It does nothing to douse the fire wreaking havoc on your body, and you shift restlessly in your seat, thighs rubbing as you search for something to aid in your distress.

He chuckles, the force of his kiss moving you back into your seat as he crowds into you over the middle console, a hot hand splaying on the skin of your thigh to calm your agitation. 

The words rumble against your lips softly, “You want it right here, sugar?”

Public indecency be damned—you need something. It’s not like you’re close to the store where people mill about, with Jack always preferring to park a ways away so there’s minimal risk of someone scratching the sleek and shiny paint of the Bronco. There’s no one around, it’s just you two… just you two, in your own little piece of bliss. 

You pant softly into his mouth while nodding, fire growing up and along your spine as his rough fingers start to push up beneath the hem of your sundress. You’re already squirming from the familiar feel of them, system wired tightly in keen anticipation to feel them brush against you.

“You’re a greedy little thing today,” he murmurs, fingers coaxing your thighs to widen as they begin to dip their way beneath the waistband of your underwear.

A groan reverberates from his chest when he gently glides them along your slit to feel the heavy build up of arousal, taking a painfully long moment to simply feel you, before zoning in on your clit with the lightest of pressures. He circles softly over it, darkened eyes bouncing over your features as you relish in the hazy roll of pleasure taking over your body.

He ducks to press a series of open mouthed kisses to the side of your throat, teeth teasingly nipping at the sensitive skin and tongue soothing the brief pinch of pain away before the curve of his nose traces the shell of your ear. His honeyed drawl brings a shiver across your skin, and it really should be fucking illegal with the things it makes you feel.

“You been walkin’ around like this all morning, honey? You poor thing.”

Finally—God, finally—he allows his fingers to dip down and tease at your entrance, swirling two thick digits shamelessly through your arousal before sliding and curling them deep against the walls of your cunt. He’s quick to swallow the broken sounds that fall from your throat, his lips quirking up into a self satisfied smirk against yours as your hips squirm needily against the pressure of his hand.

“Go on, sugar. Take what you need, I’ve got you.”

You begin a somewhat messy rock of your hips, unashamedly beginning to fuck yourself on his fingers and ensuring to keep the calloused heel of his hand pressed up hard against your swollen clit. It provides the friction you need, you crave, with every back and forth roll against the rough surface of it causing the overwhelming heat in your core to build.

It’s just what you need. It’s just—it’s perfect. The feel of his thick digits dragging against your hot, slick walls; the relentless pressure against your clit; the perfect harmony of both working in tandem to bring a wash of electricity across your nerves, to bring you closer to that blissful edge you feel coming with every tense second—

“G-god, Jack—”

“I know, baby. I know.”

And… fuck. It’s right there, you’re right there—

—only for it to be just out of reach.

The feeling heightens, lingers, and then horrifically melts away into a throbbing ache as Jack retracts his fingers completely, the thick digits glistening from your flood of arousal in the sunlight filled cab.

He ignores your agonised cry of denial from the sudden loss and emptiness, and sucks them into his mouth, before reaching and turning the keys in the ignition, the truck rumbling to life loudly beneath you while you’re left trembling against the leather, thighs spread and cunt weeping.

“That’s what you get for bein’ impatient,” he drawls, a wicked shine to those warm honey eyes. “Now you sit pretty for the ride home, and I may be nicer when I get that sweet ass of yours inside.”

[yeollie-plz]

Swans A Swimming

Day 7 of Pedromas! | Masterlist

Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

Synopsis: Agent Whiskey takes you for a swim.

Genre: smut

Warnings: exhibitionist, p in v sex, pool sex, unprotected sex, kissing, fingering, daddy kink, mentions of spanking, almost getting caught

Gif credits to owners!

The minute you have slipped your cover off, his eyes were on you. The lacking material of your bikini left little to the imagination. And damn was he imagining.

All he wanted to do was rip it right off of your body. But he was going to take his time. Especially if he had you in such a compromising place. The pool wasn’t exactly private and Whiskey wasn’t exactly complaining.

“Well, sweetness, what do we have here.” He says as you wade over to where he is lounging at the shallow end of the pool.

Of course, you feign innocence, “I’m not sure what you mean.” As you speak you let your hand run across his chest. The water helping you easily slide your legs over his, straddling him.

“Wearing almost nothing.” He whispers, taking the sight of your breasts in fully, now that they were right in front of him.

“Thought you’d like it.” Your hands make their way around his neck.

He lets out a mix between a laugh and a groan at your statement. Hands now finding your waist as he pulls your body into his crotch. You feel him already getting hard.

“Whoa, cowboy, this turned on already?” Now it’s your turn to laugh. You bite your lip.

“Got me all excited.” He says, simply.

His hand leaves your hip to make its way to your core. He slips his fingers past your bikini bottoms and finds your clit quickly, massaging it. You whimper at the sudden feeling.

"That's it, baby, feel it. Let me pleasure you." You're whimpering again at his words. His index finger dips past your folds, quirking them a bit to hit your g spot.

"Jack-" You whimper.

"Words." Is all he says back, not needing to say more.

"Need you, quickly. We are so exposed here."

"Really? Thought my little exhibitionist would like it out here. What with the way you teased me at dinner the other night." His other hand has now made contact with your clit, rubbing it in time with his fingers.

"That was-that was different."

He tsks at you, "Not sure it was, pretty girl. I mean you're putty in my hands right now, I think you like it."

Instead of responding you just moan at his words and reconnect your lips to his. Biting down on his bottom lip with his fingers hit extra deep inside of you.

Now he's moaning into your lips as your hips buck into his hand, trying to get yourself off. You can tell he wants you as much as you want him. He's enjoying the fact that the two of you could be caught at any minute just as much as you are. You can especially tell by how easily he reacts to your touch when you decide to tease him back.

Your hands have found their way to his hardened dick, teasing him through the fabric of his swim trunks. He is once again left moaning, as his hips are now the ones bucking up. You giggle slightly at how much he reacts to you.

"Think teasing me is funny?" He says simply. The words are laced with subtle annoyance, more from a place of dominance than anger.

"Just want you so bad, daddy." The nickname makes him pause for a second. You smile to yourself, knowing what it does to him.

"You won't be laughing when I've spanked you more times than you can count later. When I bring you to your edge over and over again, but don't allow you to cum." Although the words are talking about punishment, they still make you wetter at the thought. A little whimper slips past your lips at his words.

Now he's laughing, before slipping his fingers out of you. You let out a whine at the loss, but he just tsks again. Pulling his trunks down just enough to let his dick out, he grabs your hips and lets the water help guide you down on it. You moan instantly at the stretch. Not giving you much time to adjust, he starts to lift you off of his dick before pushing you back on it. His hips move upwards to press his member even deeper into you.

He continues this rough motion, keeping the pace fast, trying to bring you both to orgasm quickly. You aren't sure if its because you teased him so much, that you are out in public, or because he can't wait to get your back to the bedroom. But whatever the reason you aren't complaining. Especially when his dick hits your g spot, causing you to fall forward slightly, loosing your balance.

He's laughing at you again, "See, putty." The words are matched with his thumb finding your clit again, working it in circles. His lips find yours and kiss you, hard. Slipping his tongue past your lips when you gasp at the mixture of feelings.

The water moves with his thrusts, splashing up around you two. But you are too busy to notice the chlorine in your eyes, not with the beginnings of your orgasm starting. Your walls clench around his dick, signaling your impending peak.

"Cum with me." Is all you need to hear before your walls are spasming over his dick, drawing his orgasm also out of him.

As your walls continue to milk him of his cum, his thrusts become slower and so does his thumb on your clit. When he has figured, you two are fully down from your highs, he pecks your lips before leaning his forehead against yours.

"Well, that was fun, but we might wanna calm down and get out of here. I think some people are coming." He says before tilting his head towards the sound of people yelling and laughing coming closer.

Quickly you lift yourself off of him, causing him to hiss at the speed you did it at. You fix your bikini bottoms as you walk up the steps and out of the pool.

Winking back at him as you purposefully show your ass to him before slipping your cover over yourself. More specifically your ass that he was eyeing like he had never seen anything like it. As his view is covered he looks up to your eyes, your eyes spark with play.

You bend down, face inches from his, "Come on, daddy. Why don't we try out the sauna?"

Your lips brush his, before pulling away right before he can kiss you. He falls forward a bit, expecting to meet you instead of air. You stand and saunter off towards the sauna. Swaying your hips, knowing that his eyes are bearing into you as you walk away.

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Taglist:

@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley @amyispxnk

[abbyromanoff]

Can you do G!P Dom Maria Hill x Sun Reader

I don't really mind what it's about I just need some Dom Maria Hill 🙏

Caught

Pairings: Maria Hill x reader

Word count: 1599

Warnings: jealousy, smut, Maria has a dick, breeding kink, daddy kink, begging, praise, degrading, no protection, possessiveness, marking, masturbating, exhibition kink, voyeriusm kink, fluff, small angst

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

Maria watched with arms crossed and eyes filled with rage as one of the new recruits shamelessly flirted with you. She had told you to give her a minute so she could pack up her things before you would both head home but the woman had stopped you, pulling you aside and leaving your girlfriend to notice when she returned.

You knew Maria was a jealous, nearly possessive type but you truly didn’t realize she had been flirting with you. She hated how oblivious you were, how someone could go up to you and tell you they’re in love with you but you’d still believe they were just being friendly.

Maria was done watching as she subtly brushed her hand against your waist and looked down at you biting her lip, clearly taking advantage of your innocent nature.

“You ready to go, babe?” You turned your attention to the woman behind you, cowering down almost instantly when seeing the look you knew all too well. The agent looked between the two of you before widening her eyes in shock. She said a rushed goodbye before speed-walking away in embarrassment.

“What was that?”

“Maria, all she did was ask for some tips on how to do the correct form you were teaching today. Nothing was going on between us, okay?”

“Yeah, sure didn’t look like nothing.” You sighed and followed her out the door, smiling at the receptionist who waved your way.

The car ride was filled with an awkward silence, Maria gripping the steering wheel with a deadly hold that made you gulp in fear. You knew what was to come, and you were ready by the time you got home.

“When I go upstairs I expect to see you bent over and naked waiting for me, got that?” You nodded and entered your bedroom quickly. She went to the kitchen, grabbing the jar of whiskey and taking a whisk, feeling the strong liquid burn her throat as it went down.

Back in the room you had already done what she said and sat impatiently as you waited for her arrival. The thought of what was to come had taken over your mind since she dragged you out of there. You knew she wasn’t mad at you but at the trainee for putting their hands on you. Was it not obvious to everyone that you were hers? She was always touching you and kissing you, it got to the point where Fury scolded her for her actions, but that never stopped her.

You clenched your thighs together at the memories. Whenever she had placed her hands on your bottom at work, teasing you while so many others could’ve seen. When she had you sit under the desk and suck her off until she was satisfied, not even stopping when someone had entered, you hoped they never knew of your existence after that.

Slowly, your wandering hands found their way down your thighs and to your wet core that was begging to be touched. You let out a shaky breath as you circled your clit gently, picturing it was Maria’s fingers instead of yours. You knew of her no-touching rule, but you couldn’t stop now, it felt too good.

“Fuck, Maria- please!”

“Please what, love?” Your hand quickly retracted back as your eyes went wide, your mind trying to come up with something to say but falling short.

“Oh, now you’re all shy? What about when you were just fucking yourself for me to watch, hm?” She moved closer to you, towering over your fragile frame and placing her hands on your sides, rubbing up and down and biting her lip as she took in your body. You were completely bare for her, just like she had asked.

“Come on, Y/N, don’t stop now, I know you want it.” She grasped your hand in hers, moving yours back to its original place. You looked down where she was guiding your fingers in the right spot. You could hear her shudder as you let out a whimper, eyeing her down with a loopy, pleading look that drove her crazy.

“That’s it, right there. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it feels so fucking good, daddy.” Her hips thrusted into nothing as her hard-on grew. She sat behind you on the bed and pressed her bulge against you, letting you rub yourself onto her as you continued playing with yourself. Her head rested on your shoulder, smelling the perfume that adorned your body and smiling into you when she realized it was hers. It wasn’t that other girls, it was hers. You were hers.

You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching as you increased your pace. Maria noticed this.

“Stop it.” She said, the words falling deaf on your ear as you continued.

“I said stop it!” She grasped your arm tightly which made you stop and look up at her.

“But-” She cut you off before you could finish with her fingers in your mouth. You gagged as it hit the back of your throat, she was mesmerized. Her hips didn’t stop its movements against you, she chased that high that you were restricted of.

“Daddy, you feel so good.” Came a weak and slurred moan from your mouth. You mumbled around her fingers, she wished so greatly that it was her cock you were choking on instead. She forced you to bend over, your arms going to hold yourself up as you were on all fours now. Her hand made contact with your bottom, a harsh slap causing your skin to tingle in a sting. She continued this multiple times until she thought you had enough. Tears trickled down your face, she wouldn’t deny how badly it turned her on.

“You’re so beautiful with my marks all over you. Maybe that little bitch needs to see you like this, covered by me on every inch of this perfect body.”

Her pants found their way to the floor as did her boxers, her tip prodding at your hole and begging for entrance. She whined, pre-cum leaking from her cock and painting your folds. Her fingers that fucked your mouth so carelessly had ended up on your pulsing clit, rubbing tight circles and chuckling as you fought to not release right then and there.

“Please, please, please, please! ‘Need it so bad.”

“What do you need, baby? Tell daddy what you need.” She stroked herself slowly, trying her best to hold back and not take you right then and there. She knew she would fail, but she just wanted to see you beg for her.

“Need you inside me.” You mumbled in a weak moan. You were already so close, but it just wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed her.

“Just, fuck me, please!” The moment you finished speaking you could feel her filling you up. Her tip slowly entered you, the stretch being so painfully good.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear another sound from your slutty mouth.” Even with her harsh nature, she refused to hurt you. She let you adjust to her length before moving. But, God, did it feel amazing. She was so close to her breaking point, but she wasn’t done with you just yet.

“Ah! You’re so fucking warm, could be in you forever.” She started a slow yet hard pace and watched as your mouth opened, creating an oval shape. No noise escaped you though, but your eyes shut tightly and a small grin started to form.

“Yeah? That feels good, hm?” You nodded, remembering her words from earlier and keeping your mouth shut. She didn’t complain, instead choosing to quicken her thrusts. Her fingers still continued to toy with your clit, bringing you into an immense amount of pleasure.

“I’m gonna fill this tight little hole, baby. You want that? You want my cum?” You nodded once again, clenching around her at the thought alone.

“That’s it, clench around my cock, baby. Gonna fill you up so well, I’ll leave you fucking dripping.” She already had you dripping onto her hands with how wet you were.

“Daddy- I’m gonna cum!” She couldn’t stop you and she didn’t want to, she wanted you to collapse around her.

“Cum with me, love.” You complied, biting your lip harshly and almost drawing blood as felt her cum filling you up. Some dripped onto your thighs and traveled down slowly. Your orgasm came crashing over you at nearly the same time. It had all been too much, the pleasure, the way she thrusted into you without care.

“Fuck, you’re milking me dry.” She moaned out, feeling you clench around her once more. She took it all in, admiring the way her marks painted your body so nicely for anyone to see. Your ass was nearly bruised from her slaps and your face was stained as your makeup ran down it and left streaks behind.

“I’m sorry for being so rough, my love. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just hated seeing that girl flirt with you like that.” You were both sprawled out on your bed at this point, Maria’s arms being wrapped around your body as her body heat kept you warm. You didn’t bother putting on pajamas and neither did she.

“It’s okay, I understand. And besides, I like it when you’re rough, it’s fucking hot.” She giggled to which you returned. And with that, her worries slipped away as if they were never there to begin with. You always knew how to calm her down, in more ways than not.

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART THIRTEEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: it's Wyatt's birthday and you and Jack are on your way to become a beautiful family

(This is the thirteenth chapter of my HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE TO TWELVE ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, sexual tension, mentions of smut, angst and more fluff and some jealousy too

A/N: ay besties, I don't know what to tell you guys, I love our cowboy so much and he is trying so hard, and at the same time I'm so horny for him, but aren't we all? Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, there's enough fluff and some drama too ❤️

3.6k words

You had knocked on Jack's door three times already and he hadn't opened it. You could tell yourself it was just impatience as you really wanted to wake Wyatt up to wish him a happy birthday along with his daddy, now that three of you were an actual family - for the weekend at least, so you two could figure things out and see if you could give each other a real chance, giggling at the realization that yes, you probably would give each other a chance.

You knocked once more and there was still no sign of Jack and you rolled your eyes a little, as several scenarios ran through your mind: what if Jack was busy doing something? Maybe he was in a meeting with Statesman, or another agency like the Kingsman, or instead of working in the middle of the night, what if Jack was doing something else? Like maybe touching himself.

You felt a shiver down your spine to picture that scene, one you'd witnessed several times, the way Jack pumped his cock, how his heavy balls quivered whenever he was nearing his orgasm and how he just shot his thick load - very often on your face or directly into your mouth. At the sinful images you pictured in your mind, you felt a warm going down your core and pressed your legs together. All you needed to do was to get into his room and crawl into his bed, he often lay on his back, so you could surprise him by straddling and moving your hips softly against his until Jack opened his eyes and found you ready for his cock.

You immediately shook your head and snapped those thoughts away, you needed to focus, you had a family tradition to introduce to Jack, and yet, you were standing outside his door, having dirty thoughts about his body.

Your hand was tired of holding the small cake while you knocked with your free one, Helen's words echoing in your mind as she told you about the evening he'd washed down sleeping pills with whiskey and again the feeling of sadness hitting you. He wouldn't do that now that things were falling into place, would he? You really hoped he wouldn't, so without any more waiting, you opened the door to his room, as quiet as you could and placed the cake on the dressers, seeing how the cowboy slept peacefully in bed.

Funny how out of all the absurd thoughts that ran through your mind, not once you considered he could've just been sleeping.

You smiled at yourself, as you tiptoed around his bed, seeing Jack and Wyatt were so similar even when they both slept. Whiskey always looked a lot younger when he was asleep, perhaps it was how relaxed he got, without a care in the world, or maybe how messy his hair looked, giving him a boyish appearance.

"Jack?" You whispered, approaching the edge of the bed, wanting to wake him up without startling him. You didn't want him to go into his full secret agent mode, thinking you were an intruder. Technically you were intruding his bedroom, but you figured he wouldn't actually complain about that.

"Jack?" You asked again, your hand touching his face gently, he was so warm you could just lie right next to him there and go back to sleep without trying too hard.

About the third time you called his name, Whiskey finally opened his eyes, startled as he immediately sat up and watched around the room, looking for some imminent danger or threat; and then his eyes fell on you. At first he thought he was dreaming, why were you in his room? And wearing that goddamn beautiful nightgown. Jack was a classic man, he enjoyed women who wore nightgowns because not many of them were able to look beautiful, elegant and painfully sexy in those, but you checked all the boxes. You would be the death of him, especially with those beautiful eyes, staring into his own in the puzzling silence you two shared. He didn't hesitate before wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you to him and kissing your lips without a warning. He wanted to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that any of what happened the day before wasn't just a sweet trick from his imagination. He'd lost track of how many times he'd fantasized about you joining him in that bed, so he needed to assure himself you were real.

You were.

He could state by the warmth he felt the moment your soft breasts touched his naked chest, how your body weight felt just right on top of his and your hungry lips never gave him any sign of wanting to stop. The way he felt your fingers running through his scalp and tugging at his curls, being obvious you wanted that just as much as he did. You realized all you would have to do was place a leg on each side of his body and lower yourself a little so you could ride that cowboy until sunrise and for a few seconds you were seriously tempted in doing it. At that moment you deeply regretted asking him to be patient as you didn't want to jump into his bed, because the moment that devilish cowboy touched you, you wanted nothing but to jump into his bed and let him fuck you raw, the way only Jack Daniels was able to do it.

As tempting as that was, you remembered the whole reason why you were in his bedroom in the first place, so you took the hard task of breaking the kiss, nibbling his lower lip softly as your finger traced his sharp jawline "I'm sorry to wake you up and startle you, but it's past midnight Jack…" you whispered and you could see how his brows furrowed in confusion; of course he didn't know what you were talking about, it was his first time being part of the family and he still had a few things to get used to.

"Come on…" you said, taking him by the hand and pulling him out of the bed, he was curious as you didn't say a lot, he just put on his sweatpants over his black boxers and his stetson on, making you chuckle. No shirt on, but couldn't miss his cowboy hat.

You went to his dresser and grabbed the small cake you'd baked while everyone else went to bed. "It's past midnight, it's officially our son's birthday and we both have this tradition. I wake him up to be the first one to wish him happy birthday and we share a cupcake or something… but now you're part of it too, Jack, come on" you smiled at him and headed towards Wyatt's bedroom.

He couldn't help but feel his heart flutter in his chest, so thrilled to have his dream coming true, he followed you, beautifully marching with your gown, making an ethereal image in his mind, his tired eyes couldn't help but watching every step you took, you were mesmerizing, effortlessly gorgeous with the nicest smile he'd ever seen, the smile that had disappeared whenever he was around, and now it was reserved for him again, he was worthy of it once more.

Jack felt he couldn't help himself and wrapped his arms around your waist, having his own back to the wall, as you pulled you closer and chuckled at how worried you were about the cake

"Jack, what are you doing? We need to wake Wyatt up and sing happy birthday to him" you told him, but you weren't convinced you couldn't fight his touch "Honey please" you pouted "come on cowboy, I know you have other plans in mind, but our little cowboy really loves this tradition, you'll see it for the first time, you'll love it, I can assure you" you negotiated with him, feeling him loosening the grip around your waist, as you had convinced him, of course being with you was important but he couldn't wait to see his son's little face lighting up in happiness. He gently took the cake into his hands but not without stealing a peck from your lips.

You bit your lips, holding back your giggle and finally opened Wyatt's bedroom door.

The toddler immediately rushed back to bed, being caught red handed way after his bedtime. He knew his mommy didn't like when he didn't sleep, but he was so excited about playing with the little wood horses his daddy gave him.

He didn't have time to carefully place them into the box, so he got under the blankets and hoped his mommy wouldn't be angry, he noticed his daddy was also there and swallowed thinking he would be in trouble.

However, you smiled at him as you turned the lights on "you don't have to hide baby, mommy and daddy aren't angry you were playing, we both know you're a cowboy like daddy who loves your horses" you stroked your son's soft curls and watched as he sighed in relief "we're here because it's past midnight and we want to wish you a happy birthday" you chanted at the same time Jack lowered himself, showing Wyatt the small and very cute cake you'd baked and he had the proof you were not wrong when you said he would love to see Wyatt's happiness, because that little cowboy was all over the place, squealing happily and clapping his chubby small hands. He hugged you and Jack, pulling you two even closer, and you kissed his forehead.

You started singing a happy birthday song and Jack followed you, the way his son's smile was wide and beautiful - like yours - pierced right through that cowboy's heart, making him think of all the horrible things he did to you and Wyatt. You heard his voice break in the middle of the song, and turning to him, you saw he couldn't hide the tears that insisted on rolling down his cheek. Wyatt, at the same time he was thrilled about the tradition he shared with his mommy and now with his daddy too, got distracted by his father's tears, not understanding why he was sad. He took his eyes off the delicious cake his mommy had made and climbed his daddy's lap

"It's okay, don't cwy dada" he took his small hand to Jack's face, wiping away his tears just like his mommy did whenever Wyatt had an owwie. The cowboy on the other hand, couldn't take the amount of love he was receiving, the amount of love he craved but didn't deserve. His gorgeous son, looking at him with the most sympathetic eyes he'd ever seen, with nothing but love and purity inside, and Jack was taken back to the night he'd told you to get rid of the baby, at that moment he didn't see what a vile, horrible thing that was, but now that Jack his son in his arms, he saw what a monster he'd been. He didn't understand why you had decided to give him a second chance, he knew you were too good for him.

Wyatt snuggled against his daddy's chest once he felt his large arms around his small frame, smiling up at you, as Wyatt reached for your hand, holding it gently, in a way to feel close to his entire family.

Then Jack shot you the saddest eyes you'd ever seen, they were reddish with tears, in a silent apology you knew it didn't come from his mouth, but from his heart and you nodded at him, wanting to relieve some of the pain he felt. He couldn't escape it as it was just a punishment and consequence of the actions he'd done in the past, but perhaps you could soothe his heart a little. You wrapped your arms around his waist and the three of you remained in each other's embrace in a very comfortable silence.

When Wyatt asked for a slice of cake, Jack finally wiped his tears, nodding and picking him up, taking him downstairs where you could get them plates so the toddler wouldn't make a mess. You watched as both father and son helped themselves to the full slices, and smiled big at them.

"Jack… I was hoping to stay with Wyatt for a few more days on the ranch, if it's okay with you?" You suggested the cowboy, who widened his eyes in surprise and barely swallowed the cake he was chewing on, before immediately agreeing. Wyatt was over the moon, to know he'd stay with his parents at that amazing place and the love of his little life: his beautiful pony Silver Star.

After the cake session was over, Jack took him upstairs, Wyatt nearly falling asleep, with his face resting against his daddy's shoulders and small hands gripping him, never wanting to let go. He tucked him in and smiled sadly at the sight of his old wood horses, glad to know his son liked it so much, but still upset with the time he'd spent apart. He couldn't help himself but picture what life would be like if you two got back together for real and tried for another baby, he knew you would never trust him with that, but he would like to think he would take his chance to be a great husband and even better dad to Wyatt and the little girl you two you would - because he was sure in his heart the next member of the Daniels family would be a little princess - and he chuckled thinking to himself he would spend all the money he had on ponies if that meant he would please his wife, his son and his baby daughter.

He went downstairs as quick as he could and found you in the kitchen, washing the plates you three had used and wrapped his arms around your waist once more. That old cowboy couldn't help himself and loved touching you whenever he could, a part of him worried you would fall back into your senses and reject him, so he felt he should take all his chances to have his hand on you. And another part of that cowboy just longed for your touch, as much as you longed for his during the years.

You quickly turned around and smiled, hugging his waist as he pressed you against the sink.

You two remained in a comfortable silence until Jack looked down licking his lips and then back at you again. There it was, the hurt in them again. You stroked his cheek and before he could say anything, you nodded.

"I know Jack… I really do…" you said in a low voice "we both know how bad it was, at some point, I hated you Jack, I really did, and it took me a while to believe you have good intentions, you know that… but now we are working on it, right?" He nodded with the sweetest look in his face and your heart tightened in your chest "I wanna stay with Wyatt, not permanently, not for now at least, but I think it'll be a nice thing" you smiled and pecked his lips, taking his hat off and placing it on your head

"Just play your cards right… I'm breaking the cowboy hat rule for the second time, and you know what happens in the third strike… Earn that strike" you winked at home and walked out the kitchen.

•••

The night was agonizing for you, as you couldn't help yourself but think of Jack the entire time, every single touch he'd left on your body burned your skin and you kept thinking of him the entire time, you tossed and turned in bed, and you cursed yourself for giving him that speech about earning you because it could take time, when in reality you wanted to ride that cowboy literally to the sunrise - which would happen in a few hours - time enough for you to go to his room and…

You stopped yourself right there, you still hadn't even talked to Frankie, he needed to know your relationship was over, you didn't know if he would accept it, but even if he didn't, he wouldn't actually have a say in it, it wasn't like he could force you to be with him, besides, you wanted to be with Jack, you would give it a try, and for that neither of you couldn't have anyone holding you back. You completely forgot to tell Jack you had invited Frankie, but you hoped it wouldn't be a problem, after all, it was your boy's big day.

However, as much as you tried rationalizing, all you could think of was that cowboy. He was definitely driving you insane and you couldn't wait to get your hands on him. Or rather have his hands on you. Or both.

You grabbed your phone with a devilish idea and opened your Tinder app, knowing that if Jack still had his, his profile would show. You suffocated a squeal when you quickly found him, you laughed out loud, seeing his profile was corny and kinda ridiculous, just like Jack could be at times and you absolutely loved it. You immediately swiped him to the right and hoped he would see the notification popping up on his phone.

Jack on the other hand couldn't sleep at all, after you'd woken him up, he had too many thoughts, emotions and ideas going on and he simply couldn't calm down. He was anxious and excited about Wyatt's party but your words also puzzled him. How could he earn his strike? Of course he wanted to take you to bed but it was not only that, he wanted to have you in his bed every single night for the rest of his life, he wanted to make you his wife, and sometimes he just didn't believe himself you were actually giving him a chance to do it, it just felt too good to be real.

He frowned when he heard his phone buzz, that was his personal phone and well, he didn't have many friends who would reach for him, let alone in the middle of the night. He'd convinced himself he would just ignore it but then he thought of his mom and worried something might have happened. Ever since he started losing her to dementia he knew it was going to be a long road, so he had his aunt living with her full time and best care, but luckily, when he lit up his screen he saw a Tinder notification.

Jack frowned, confused at it, he hadn't even opened his profile since the disastrous date he attempted to have, but someone had liked him? Well, too bad, he wasn't interested in it anymore. He had a family, a son and a future wife he intended to win back, but he was a southern gentleman and he wouldn't just expose himself anymore, as he wanted to make things right with you, so he decided to delete his account. However, when he opened the app, he gasped and squinted his eyes to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. It was you! Your profile, you had matched him and sent him a cowboy emoji. He couldn't believe that. What game were you playing? He was both confused and amused, and he would be lying if he said a part of him worried someone was using a fake profile of yourself to catfish him again, but that couldn't happen, could it? He knew the only way to make things clear would be texting you back.

But that was dumb. Of course, it was kind of sweet, a nice symbolism, but he wanted to see you in person, he wanted to talk to you, there was no reason to be locked in the room and texting like a couple of teenagers if you were just a few feet away, so Jack got out of the room and walked to yours, knocking on your door and watching as you opened it with a smug expression on your face.

For the second time that night, Jack Daniels stood in his half naked glory, only sweatpants hanging so low on his hips and a cowboy hat on his head covered his sinful body. If you weren't pinning like a love sick puppy you'd find his combination of clothes at least…peculiar.

"What is it cowboy?" You asked but was immediately caught by his strong arms, dragging you inside and placing you against the mattress. He pinned you down, trapping you with his weight and making you moan louder than you intended, but the way his hands gripped your body just made you wrap your legs around his waist. The way you hungrily kissed each other, his hat getting lost in your sheets as his lips moved to your neck, the way his mustache tickled your skin and made you feel hungrier for him.

"You know, I wanted to go on a date with you before all that, Jack…"

"Consider done sugar, you'll go on a date with me first thing after Wyatt's birthday, and I can assure you I can stop this whenever you want.."

The problem was, you didn't want it to stop, it felt too good to be in your man's arms, so close to surrender to him when your own phone buzzed, making the two of you distracted. Jack was able to find it among your blankets and suddenly, he stopped completely, his weight lifting off your body, as he went serious staring into your phone screen. He clenched his jaw and you could see a vein popping in his neck.

"What's wrong, Jack?" You asked in a frown, but he swallowed it and scoffed handing you your phone.

"Nothing, sugar… it just seems Frankie's got his third strike…"

You were confused at his words until you went pale at Frankie's open conversation

"Miss you babe, thinking of you 😉"

That's what it read right under the dick picture he'd sent you.

_____

A/N: I love that Jack spent this chapter literally in nothing but sweatpants and a cowboy hat and he was wearing already too much in my opinion... And now Frankie ruins it? Can you imagine when he shows up at the party? Let's hope Jack doesn't turn into an asshole again 😢

[nerdieforpedro]

Whip it out Whiskey

Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x plus size female reader

Fanfiction 18+ MDNI

Masterlist

Agent Whiskey & Jack Daniels Masterlist

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Your life with Jack Daniels has been quite a journey and you've been by his side for all the twists and turns. Your cowboy has another surprise in store for you, are you gonna hop on?

Warnings: Established relationship, unprotected P in V (stay safe everyone!), semi-public sex, impact play, biting, aftercare

Notes: Horny hours for Casa de Nerdie are between 10:30pm - 5am. It was just going to be the first few paragraphs but then I thought more on Whiskey and horses. I also re-read @morallyinept post on different Pedro characters kinks. I highly recommend it. This is for the moodboard challenge lead by @iamasaddie ✏️ Thank you to @ramblers-let's-get-ramblin and Mrs. Daniels @ladybess-a03 for beta-ing for me.

Large hands lifted the hem of your sundress as you washed dishes in the kitchen. A slow drawl in your ear, “Hey Darlin’. How’s my sweet wife?” His mustache tickles your neck as he kisses it gently, your hand reaches back and runs through his trim chocolate brown hair. His hips sway with yours but for a moment as a zipper is heard and his buckle jingles. Your palms are placed on opposite sides of the sink and he lines his wet heat with yours. “Look at ya, did like I asked and didn’t wear any panties. You’re so good to me.” He coos before pushing inside of you, he waits a moment. Always before starting to revel in just being inside of you. His hands found their way back to your hips and began, not bothering with beginning slow and went with a faster thrust. 

You leaned your torso forward to stick your ass back towards him, now able to pump himself deeper into your wet cunt. Your moans increase the faster he goes and the two fingers he often uses to stir your core while cuddling on the couch find their way into your mouth, pressing on your tongue. It only dampens your sounds for a short time, his other hand lifts up your right leg and he nearly bends you over into the sink as he keeps bottoming out inside of you. He doesn’t speak, only grunting now as he’s close, you feel him throbbing, your lips wrapping his fingers and coating them in your saliva. Your cunt quivers from the dual stimulation, your thighs coated with arousal and soon your husband’s spend after he climaxes. His fingers slip from your mouth and his forehead rests on your shoulder, panting while you lean over the sink, barely standing still as he pulls out of you slowly. Turning slowly and cupping his face, you kiss his nose and smile. 

“Welcome home Jack.”

The rest of the week was spent cuddling, cooking, taking care of chores on the ranch and indulging in each other’s bodies. Jack reminded you as he had the last few months to not go to his workshop. You’d normally straighten it up and refill the water and beer in the fridge, but he wouldn’t even allow that. It was odd, but in your marriage, Jack’s never given you reason to suspect him of doing anything harmful, so you’d kept to your word and not gone in.

He left for another two week trip, to his brewery to check on things, but he’d be back in for a special surprise he’d said. The last time Jack Daniels told you that, he used the handle of his whip on your clit while he fucked you in the stables. 

Jack had made it clear early on in your relationship that he had particular tastes. He enjoyed your large thighs and stomach that he could lay his head on at night and bury himself in to soak his mustache. He also appreciated that you knew when to ask questions and left some things dormant until he’d mention them again. Jack also enjoyed his whips. When he first brought you over to his ranch two months in, he made sure to show his office to you where he had the majority of them. You were skeptical, but open to their use. He started slow with increased frequencies of when he spanked you and added a crop. The crop you giggled at because it was pink like his cock and that made him use it a little extra to form some additional marks on your ass. 

Three months ago, when he started utilizing the whip, you were nervous, but he talked you through it. Telling you how good you were doing and how beautiful you looked with your marks, soon when he would crack his whip, you'd start to moisten. Whatever was in his workshop did worry you, because what could it be? You’d gone down a google rabbit hole and looked at the restraints. That might be a hard line for you. 

A call came in from Jack.

“Darlin’ I’m gonna be back in two days and we’ll enjoy the surprise together. You haven’t gone to my workshop have you?”

“No honey I haven’t. It just…It isn’t something to tie me up or anything right? I don’t think I can do that Jack.”

“Oh sweetheart, no. Nothin’ like that. You’ll like it, I promise. I love you.”

“Okay, I trust you jack. I love you too.”

Even after the call, you wondered what was in that damn workshop, but you promised. He also asked you to wear some particular attire. You had half of it and the other half came in two parts which you were able to track down before he came home. 

On Jack’s day of arrival, he gave you a time to be ready by and to wait. As Mrs. Daniels, you’re aware that Jack can run late, and it was already an hour after he said to be. Turns out it was a good choice, because he came home twenty minutes after that so you wouldn’t be too cold. After all, you’re only wearing a black garter belt with matching black stockings and cowboy nipple pasties that barely cover your areolas. The strangest thing was that Jack had told you to wait in the bedroom with the door closed. He usually liked to watch you and take your form in while he took up the entire door frame. You heard some scratching of the floor like he was dragging something, his boots being removed and his belt, then nothing. The anticipation was getting to you as you tapped your feet on the hardwood floor of your bedroom. Jack’s steps were heard coming toward the bedroom. He stood in the doorway naked, cock hardening as he gazed at you with whip in hand. He cracked the whip once and your thighs pressed together, is he going to start now?

“Darlin, look at you looking pretty for me. Damn you’re sexy woman. Come out into the living room with me. I gotta show you.” Whiskey grinned, he extended his hand and you stood to walk toward it, taking hold of it as you walked with him into the living room. 

You weren’t sure what you were looking at. Rather, you weren’t sure how exactly both of you were supposed to use it. Whiskey noted the look on your face but his grin never left his face. “Jack….how… this is what was in the workshop?” You asked, never taking your eyes off it. You saw how you might get on it, but was curious how it would benefit the two of you. “I’m not understanding…Is it safe?” You walked around it once, looking at it from all angles. Jack appeared to be amused.

“I built it myself, carved it and sanded it Darlin’. You’ll be safe. You’re always safe with me.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed your cheek, lessening your fears somewhat. You’d always been willing to try for Jack, what was one more thing? Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to the wooden piece. “My adventurous wife. You always spoil me sweetheart.”

Before you was a wooden horse that Jack had carved, it had some modifications though. There were two indents with pillows attached for you to set your knees after you got on it. The horse’s neck was at a forty-five degree angle so you could lean on it and under the horse's chin, there were two handles for you to hold onto. The back of the horse where you would be sitting had a space that dipped directly below your core and ass so that there was space between the wood and your body. Once you were on and felt comfortable, you nodded and told Jack you were ready. His whip cracked behind you with excitement as you felt the rush of air behind your back. “Hot damn you look like a dream perched up there Darlin’!” Your husband yelled and ran his hands up and down your arms and licked your shoulder, nibbling on it. Wiggling on the horse, your grip slacked a bit to lean back into his embrace, but he pushed you forward gently. “Don’t let go, you’re going to need to hold on. I’m gonna start.” 

The next crack was to the same spot on your shoulder where he had just bit you. You never felt it at first, Jack knew to wait to see a mark start to form and the delicious sting would spread across the area. The cowboy made two more marks in quick succession, one for each shoulder blade, those made you shift your hips forward bucking against the air between the horse and your core. You looked back at Jack, licking your lips to signal that more was alright, but he folded his whip and slid behind you, pressing his dripping heat against your ass, sliding it under you so it rubbed along your folds. “Now look here Darlin’,” Jack’s free hand cupped your breast as he packed your lips, “you know you gotta give me words now.” His hips slowly grinded in place as you tried to push yours back to have more friction. He pulled back and waved his finger to mean ‘no, not yet.’ When you finally told him he could continue, he let two more cracks fly, this time across your right thigh, ripping the stocking you had on. The smile on his face told you that’s what he wanted to see it rip. Taking three steps to his left, he did the same to your left thigh and followed with one whiplash to each cheek of your ass. 

The sharp cries that came from you fueled Jack to give you just two more, one on each hip. He wanted to stop the throbbing he was feeling, bury himself in your pussy and drill you into the mattress, but not yet. Whiskey made a quick trip to the bedroom, laying out a cooling blanket on the bed and grabbing the tube of aloe. Despite what he wanted he knew that the only reason you agreed to do any of this, was that you trusted him. You trusted Jack Daniels to take care of you when sick, sad, or after another round of whip play. When he returned, you’d been able to get one leg down, but not the other. You were dangling awkwardly off the horse and he snickered making his way over to help you down. Jack supported your upper body as you wiggled your leg out and you pinched his soft stomach.

“Sorry Darlin’ you looked so cute hangin’ in there.” He continued to chuckle as he circled his two fingers for you to turn to face the horse and lean on it. 

“Alright Jack, just stop laughing. That wasn’t funny.” Damn Jack always made you laugh even if it was at your expense, your giggles became hums as he applied the cool aloe to your shoulder first, then worked his way down your bilateral arms. Daniels applied more directly to your skin and spread it across your back, pressing into your skin shoulder blades. “Press deeper into my skin honey.” You requested, you didn’t see his eyebrow arch upward but he added more aloe to his fingers and pressed them into your right thigh, making your press against the horse more with a moan. As he rubbed, his fingers slipped under the black stocking and ripped it more, removing it completely. He did the same with your left thigh as his nose ran down your spine. You whined his name while he squeezed the last of the aloe out of the tube and rubbed his hands together. Placing one large hand on each of your buttocks, he palmed slow circles as he stood back up and left love bites on the back of your neck. 

“How do you feel Darlin’?” Whiskey asked, his tongue flicking your earlobe as he spoke. You reached behind, your hand finding his hard length. He released a deep groan, starting to suck on your ear.

“I feel like I want you buried inside me love. Don’t make me wait anymore.” Jack took a step back as you released him from your light grip and he followed you to the bedroom. He expected you to get on all fours since your back was still pretty raw. The aloe calmed it, but he knew it still hurt. Instead, when you climbed on the bed, you flipped over on your back onto the cooling blanket and held out your arms for him to come to you. “Come on Jack, I’m seeing your face as you come inside.” He hesitated, normally, you asked him to use his tongue and fingers to make you climax before he entered you. Frowning, you opened your legs and put yourself on display for your husband. Despite being married, it was a little embarrassing, but you wanted him to know how much you wanted him right now. 

Jack relished times like these when you were especially direct about what you wanted from him. His face lit up like you’d told him he was getting another 1970 Ford Bronco. The bed dipped under his weight as he climbed on it and covered your body with his. Hands roamed your body, squeezing you everywhere he could as he shifted between your legs and had his cock sliding against your entrance again. His lips claimed yours, as your hands grabbed his shoulders pulling him closer. He broke the kiss along enough to whispered, “You’re too fuckin’ good to me sweetheart.” Jack’s tip slipped inside of you when he moved to kiss you again, you closed your legs and wrapped them around his waist so he couldn’t pull out. “You’re a wiley vixen Darlin’,” he grinned into another kiss with you before moving his hands finally to your hips. He still didn't move until you pressed your nails into his skin, letting him know you’d go deeper if he kept that up. 

In contrast to when he came to you around the house and outside on the ranch, he began slowly, ensuring you felt every ridge, vein and thrust. He had to make it count, he’s been so close to covering your drenched mound with his climax. The sharp mewls from your puffy lips spurred him to move faster, he was trying to resist his own high while his hips became flush with yours with each drag and slide. Your nails were digging into his skin as you held onto Jack as tight as you could, your walls starting to quiver to try and catch his dick and keep it inside of you. Lifting your hips repeatedly had your husband simultaneously calling your name and cursing that you’ll be the death of him. “Give it to me Jack, I know you’re holding out. You don’t need to.” At your words, the cowboy knew he couldn’t resist and thick ropes of his come coated yout walls, his thrusts slowed significantly as he churned his seed inside of your cunt. The overwhelming fullness enabled your climax where your core clamped down on his cock that was still within you. “Stir me more Jack, don’t take it out yet.” You whined as Jack remained within you during your high as well. 

When both orgasms passed, Jack carefully slid out of you as your body was now limp. You tried to move, but he gently set your raised hand down as he made his way to the bathroom, cleaned himself up and came back with one washcloth and one towel. The warm cloth was welcome to your skin as he wiped off your sweat and then used the towel to dry you off. He then asked you to move your legs, once he was sure you wouldn't topple over with him supporting you, off to the bathroom you went as well. 

Once he got you back in bed, he said he was going to clean up the living room, but you told him that could wait until tomorrow morning. “Please stay with me. The bed’s lonely without you Jack.” With you asking like that, how could he say no? Jack slipped under the covers with you and wrapped his arms around you, cradling your head on his chest.

“Of course Darlin’. Anything you want.”

Riders of Jack's horse and whips: 🤠🐴 @megamindsecretlair @i-own-loki @pamasaur @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @guelyury @daddy-dins-girl @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @musings-of-a-rose @magpiepills @wannab-urs @drawingdroid @sin-djarin @legendary-pink-dot @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @trulybetty @perotovar @pedroshotwifey @pascalsanctuary @fhatbhabie @pedritapascal @theywhowriteandknowthings @clawdee @missladym1981 @alltheglitterandtheroar @yorksgirl @intoanotherworld23 @titlee78 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @sp00kymulderr @ilovepedro

[arklaytears]

Liquid Courage (Javier Peña x F!Reader Drabble)

t/w: drunk javi, sexual tension/sexual descriptions, needy/desperate javi a/n: i got very drunk last night and wrote this, i hope you like it!  any ideas for some drabbles send them to my asks and i might try to write them!  thanks!  sorry it’s not more, i was really drunk and kept losing myself while writing LOL ·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥

You were quickly shaken from the peaceful slumber you had found yourself in.  Work was definitely a bit of a handful, what with all of the files you needed to pull for anyone that asked.  Yet, today seemed even more incessant than the others as you had to rush up and down and up down every staircase in the building.  Your hands doing the best they could to hold each file as close to your body as you could, holding it tight against your chest as you kept running to and fro.

The knocking was loud.  Incessant.  You blinked away the sleep that held itself behind your eyes.  Not even fully comprehending that you had fallen asleep on your couch as soon as you stepped in the door.  Not even out of your shoes, as the black heels hung loosely off of your toes from the end of the couch.

But you did your best to kick them back onto your feet as you slowly rose from the dark black leather, rubbing your eyes as you gazed across to the clock that hung itself in your kitchen.

2:36 AM.

No matter what was on the other side of that door, it had to either be extremely important, or some sort of ace murderer.  

Yet thank whoever is above for small favors as you did your best to clack over to your front door, peeking through your small peep hole to see an all too familiar face.

Javier Peña.

A long sigh pushed itself from your lips as you knew that not unlocking the door would result in more trouble tomorrow.  Your hand gently moved to the deadbolt, clicking it undone and no sooner than you had opened the door did you feel the agents hands running along your hips and pulling you close.

No sooner than you had laid eyes on him, were his lips devouring yours.  Pushing himself past the threshold of your front door as he gave a soft whine against your lips.

Absolutely unexpected.

Though, you could not say you were upset, feeling yourself melt against the agent slowly.  Your hands moved to grip onto the leather of his jacket, pushing him back slightly, as the taste of whiskey on his lips was unmistakable.

"Mmn, Peña.." You whispered, feeling his lips crash against yours again, teeth clashing together as it was fueled by desperation.

You pushed back one more time, your eyes peering over his own.  Half lidded and clouded in a haze you'd never seen before.

"You're drunk.." you whispered, questioning even yourself at the way you wanted to just taste him again.  But, it just didn't feel completely right.

A whine.. A WHINE, escaped Javier's throat as he looked to you, his chocolate depths peering into b what felt like your core, "Not that drunk... Please..."

Peña's hands tightened on your hips as he rolled his own against you.  The strain in his always too tight jeans evident as you felt him grind against your thigh.

How was this the same agent you saw so confident and snarky each and every day?

"Please..." He repeated, his hips still moving on their own, moving in a small rhythm as he continued to push his hardening length against the plush of your thighs.

"Need you.." He plead, pulling you in again, this time kissing along your jaw as he kicked the door closed behind him.

You wanted so desperately to give in.  Every nerve ending in your body alight with a need for him.

"Mmn, I will.. If you take it slow and come down a bit first.." You had whispered against the shell of his ear, having to pull yourself back from his nips and bites along your soft jaw.

Another whine, this one frustrated and quiet as his fingers pushed tighter into the plush of your hips.  Having found his way under the hem of your work shirt as he went.

"I promise.." You whispered, rutting your hips forward to meet his own.  Giving him some acknowledgement of your own of how badly you wanted to let go of that control and just let him.  Let him do as he wished to your body.

But, you couldn't.  Not right now.

It was the beginnings of what was looking to be a long evening.

[symbologic]

Luffy vs. Zoro at Whiskey Peak

Unpopular opinion maybe, but the Luffy vs. Zoro clash in Whiskey Peak made sense for their characters. You could even argue that it was bound to happen, given their personalities.

Luffy likes the people who feed him. In the the face of their suffering, no matter who's responsible, he's too angry to concern himself with the reasons behind it. Zoro, on the other hand, prefers to handle things independently without saying much about it, especially if it means his crew gets to enjoy themselves a little longer

So it's not really surprising that Luffy would be blindsided by finding their hosts cut up by his swordsman, and that this would send him flying into a fit of rage. If he's never paused to listen to context or backstories before now, why would he start here? And of course, Zoro is not the type to back down from a challenge. He will match Luffy's energy and respond in kind

"But if Luffy were a good captain, he would have stopped to listen to Zoro's side of the story." Vivi tells him he's a bad captain two arcs later, precisely because of this kind of behavior. It clearly leaves an impression on Luffy, and we see he's grown into a better leader by the time he reaches Amazon Lily. (Almost as if Oda set all this development up on purpose with Whiskey Peak. HMM...)

"But Luffy refused to believe that Nami had killed Usopp in Arlong Park." This argument is like comparing apples to oranges. Nami did not actually do the murder that Johnny and Yosaku claim they saw, nor is she capable of killing people in cold blood. Of course Luffy isn't going to believe Nami killed Usopp based on hearsay. But in Whiskey Peak, Zoro did cut those bounty hunters. Luffy sees the evidence for himself, and he knows the carnage Zoro is capable of inflicting once he puts his mind to it. There is no denying what happened. Nothing other than Zoro saying "someone else did this" (or Nami knocking the soul out of him) was going to stop Luffy from going ballistic

"Why would Luffy fight so hard to recruit Zoro into his crew, firmly believing that he wasn't a bad person, only to later attack him because he believed Zoro was capable of harming 'innocent' people?" Because the fight was never about whether their hosts were "innocent" or not, not really. Their fight was about what Zoro did (assaulting the ones who fed them), and how those actions made Luffy feel (mad as hell, because these people FED THEM) For Luffy, context did not actually matter at that moment in time because, for him, "they fed me" unequivocally means "they're my friend", full stop This is even shown again in Mocktown! Both when Luffy unquestioningly eats an apple from Doc Q, and when Bellamy buys Luffy a drink in Mocktown. In the first case, Luffy only lived because he was lucky. And in the second case, he assumes Bellamy is a good person despite all evidence to the contrary, only to have his face brutally smashed into the bartop by Bellamy. Luffy is shockingly bad at reading people who try to feed him.

Luffy has interpersonal conflicts with all the core members from East Blue at different times. The fight with Zoro is the only one instigated by Luffy. But surprisingly, their fight highlights their similarities instead of their differences. They still fight equally and work together against BW agents who try to interfere with their fight.

I think that's what Oda wanted to showcase with this scene.

In short, Luffy's initial anger stemmed from his protectiveness towards those who have fed him, while Zoro's actions were driven by his dedication to the crew and subsequent refusal to back down from Luffy's challenge. It was a clash resulting from miscommunication and misunderstanding, something that is not typically a problem for them — until it suddenly becomes one When all is said and done, they're both quick to forgive and forget. This, too, is fitting for both their characters. From that point onward, Zoro continues to demonstrate that Luffy's trust is not misplaced. And Luffy never, ever doubts Zoro again after this

[whiskeynwriting]

also this is me requesting another daddy whiskey fic with spanking

Ask and you shall receive, my love. Especially when it comes to Daddy Whiskey.

Good for You

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) 

Dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, spit kink, degradation, spanking, brief hair pulling, rimming, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, rough sex 

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A/N: Basically porn without plot. This is filthy. You’re welcome. 

Also, this occurs promptly after the end of "What They See".

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Daddycember Masterlist

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It’s the shove on your back that sets the mood, the force he gives causing you to stumble into the room. It’s harsh, your feet scraping across the floor, heels shuffling on the ground to kick off your flimsy shoes. He doesn’t let you turn; his hand is only off your back for two seconds so he can lock the door. And then it returns, holding firmly on your shoulder from behind, leading you forward with his strength and weight, until you’re forced over the side of the bed. 

“Don’t cover yourself up now.” He mutters, hand tugging and tearing your cover-up off your body. The limp fabric of it falls to the floor, the material of your swimsuit quickly tugged down, too. “You let everyone else see - you gonna let me see?”

He’s already spreading you open from behind, the sting of it prompting the dull ache in your core, the intense throb he can so clearly see between your cheeks. Within seconds, he’s groping you, massaging the sweet flesh of your backside while he groans. Thick and heavy, his breaths waft into the air, alongside an array of words that are so mockingly sweet.

“You’re my slutty little girl, aren’t you?” Pushing your curves together, he sighs, shuffling out of his shorts. The only reason his hands leave you is to then lift his shirt, removing every last piece of his clothing. “You let everyone see what daddy has, didn’t you, baby?” 

“Daddy,” It’s already muffled, your desperate words spoken directly into the duvet. And then he spanks you, watching your ass jiggle softly. Gripping it harshly in his hand, it makes you whine, your own fingers clawing at the bedspread. 

“Stings, don’t it?” He murmurs lowly from behind, looking up when he hears your shrill moan. Leaning down, he sucks a mark into your lower back, biting into your flesh while grumbling, “I know you like it.” 

Jack loves showing you off; it’s nothing new for the two of you. This time, though, there wasn’t someone up close to gawk at you like Frankie did at the party. No, these people didn’t get to see the real treat - the special spaces between your legs. 

Bending over your smaller frame, he fists the plump flesh of your ass with both hands, spanking you harshly again. He slaps your right cheek with his dominant hand, wanting it to sting. And it does, the quick pressure of it lighting your skin on fire and stoking the flames of your rapidly building arousal. He’s building himself up, mouth and teeth and tongue roaming your body the more he smacks your soft skin. Bruises blossom along your shoulder and neck, your sweet cries swirling in the air around him. He’s biting you, marking you, growling, “Don’t cover it up, sweet thing. Let them see how well I treat you.” 

Already, you’re breathless, from his attention and love and overwhelming affection. And it’s for you, it’s all for you. Always for you. 

“I wanna spoil you, angel.” Soft lips and bated breaths ghost over the splotches on your neck and upper back, Jack’s naked pelvis grinding into you from behind. And then he smacks you again, forcing you further up on the bed. “Wanna play with your body ‘till you’re shaking, baby.” 

Already, your skin is red and pulsing from him. Pushing back into his body, you sigh, grunting slightly. “I want that, daddy.”

Reaching forward, he grabs your hair, using it as leverage to yank your head back. “I fuckin’ know you do.” Tossing your head forward and releasing his grip on your hair, you gasp, feeling him drop to his knees behind you. 

Pulling you apart, he watches you pulse again, moaning as he witnesses the arousal twitching its way through your muscles. “Look at you flutter…” 

His pointer finger is already sliding up and down your thin, sensitive lips, pink and wet and ready for him. Left hand on your cheek, he squeezes it, blunt nails digging into the skin. It makes you wince, the painful ache soothed by the pleasurable drag of his finger sliding over your slick. The tip of it penetrates you from behind, quickly pulling it into his mouth to get a quick taste before he truly begins. 

“You know…” Your husband sighs, heavily, deeply. “I spoil this pretty little hole quite often, don’t I, honey?” Tilting his head, those dark eyes wander up your exposed crevice to land on the tight ring of muscles he’s left empty for, in his opinion, far too long. 

“Yes, daddy.” Nodding, you lift your head to take a deep breath. “Always, you always do.” 

“Hm…” Your words make him compliant. So submissive, so sweet. “Maybe I’ll pay a little more attention to this neglected one then, hm?” He offers, tongue sliding across his lower lip. 

Before you can even wonder what he’s referencing, the finger he just removed from your sex begins circling your tightest hole, your jaw dropping from the sensation of it. He’s right, he hasn’t played with you back here in weeks; it has been neglected. 

“What do you think, baby?” He hums quietly, leaning in to kiss your soft cheek. “You want daddy to satisfy you back here? Want me to play with your pretty little hole?” 

“Baby,” Your core clenches from his words coupled with the absence of him, wanting to be filled in whatever way he deems fit. “Yes, yes please. Play with me…” 

Jack fingered you back here almost every time you had sex, but when it came to licking it, he didn’t do it nearly as often as you liked. It wasn’t because he didn’t like to, it’s because he just paid attention to your pussy more. But now that the urge has hit him, it’s hit him hard. Licking your ass made him feel so desperate for you, absolutely feral for you. 

Leaning in, he lays his tongue out, licking a long, flat stripe up the valley between your cheeks. Turning his head, he bites into your plump flesh, only stopping when he hears you squeak. And then he’s grabbing your hips, pushing you forward so you’re fully resting on the bed. He situates himself on his stomach, and you stay on yours, too. He’s laying between your legs, moaning pleasurably as you spread them further, welcoming him in. 

He can’t keep himself from your pussy, though. Sucking two fingers inside his mouth, they then quickly prod at your entrance, sliding in to their last knuckle. It makes you gasp, pushing your hips back against him. And just like that, he’s shuffling forward, tongue lapping at your upper hole. He shoves his fingers into you, forcing them down to search for that beautifully sensitive spot. The hand not pulsating its fingers into you keeps you spread, kneading the beautiful flesh of your ass. 

“D-Daddy, please.” You can feel yourself shaking, lungs gasping and hips rotating into his grasp. 

“What is it, babycakes? What do you need?” His voice is thick, dripping in lust and scraping against his throat whenever he speaks. 

“Don’t stop - k-keep going. Please.” 

A guttural groan vibrates from his chest, giving your ass a quick slap with his free hand. The tip of his tongue prods at the center of your taut muscles, dipping it in as he attempts to open you up for him. 

“Don’t you love it, honey?” Your husband gasps, his humid breath hitting your skin. “Don’t you love being nasty with daddy?” 

He can barely help himself, it’s like he’s devouring you from behind, pursing his lips to suck on your hole before shoving that skillful wet muscle inside. And you feel like you can hardly move at this point, drunk off the talent of his tongue. 

“I love, I love when you lick me.” Eyes closed, you enjoy his attention, smiling breathlessly. “I love it…” 

It’s lewd, the way he puts his mouth on you, the way he uses it against you. Removing himself to take a breath, he purses his lips again, this time dripping a cool trail of spit onto your skin. And then he’s pulling his fingers out of you, rubbing your hole with the combination of his saliva and your slick. Shoving his face into the space between your cheeks, he licks into you deep, moaning wildly. 

Wiggling from the pleasure of it, your mouth hangs open, your saliva beginning to pool on the sheets. And when you writhe beneath his body, he growls, briefly baring his teeth and hauling you closer to his face. 

“Let me spread you wide, babycakes.” Sucking in a quiet huff of air, he says, “Let daddy tongue fuck your dirty little hole.” 

The tip of his tongue lines your rim as he moans, whining quietly every now and then. His fingers press into your muscles, keeping you spread so wide that it stings. 

“Sweetheart,” Swallowing thickly, he begs, “Can I finger it, baby?”

“Oh my god,” It comes out as a groan, your eyes rolling back. “Yes.” 

Not even a second passes by before he’s spitting on your crease, watching it slide down over your puckered skin. 

“Look at you,” He grunts, dragging his pointer finger along the valley between your cheeks. “Your pretty fuckin’ ass.” And then he slaps it, leaving the red aftershocks of his hand on you. 

Just barely, he pushes his finger in, only to the first knuckle. A pleasurable wave washes through your limbs, your body shivering as it releases a contented breath. And when he hears that, he smiles, your happy sound giving him all the consent he needs to push his finger the rest of the way in. 

“Daddy,” The title you’ve moaned a thousand times comes out once again, fingers digging into the blankets, eyes pinching shut as you feel the first hint of that pleasurable burn. “F-Fuck.”

“You’re doing so good, baby.” It comes out immediately, his genuine praise. Twisting it, he pulls out halfway before sliding back in. “So good for daddy, baby…” 

After a handful of pumps, he keeps his finger seated inside, dripping another long drop of saliva onto it. He watches it squeeze into your hole around the intrusion of his fingers, groaning when you clamp down on his finger.

“I know daddy doesn’t have lube, baby. I’m so sorry, angel.” Those deep, warm eyes still haven’t left your throbbing hole, not since he licked it. 

“It’s okay, daddy. It’s okay… you know I… I like when you spit.”

And that’s just what he loves to hear. 

His lips crack a half-grin, giving his head a quick shake alongside his breathlessness. The fact that Jack can do absolutely anything he wants to you astounds him. Through the good and the bad, you’ve been so loving and trusting of him, nothing has broken that and nothing ever will. Not only are you the person he’s been searching for his entire life, you’re also the person he can explore every corner of his mind with. Genuinely, what could be better? You’re a gift to him. 

“Baby - daddy, please give me your tongue again.”

“You don’t want my fingers, honey? You don’t want me to open you up?” 

“I do, I do, I just… it feels so good…”

He hesitates. Does he do what you ask of him, or does he force you to give into his own desires? 

“Please,” You whine in the silence, shoving your hips back against him. “Lick me.”

And how could he not give you what you want? How could he not give you every single damn thing you need? 

With an ardent and exaggerated sigh, he’s spreading you open again, diving between your crease. The way he’s licking you now is the exact same way he licks your pussy. His breaths are heated, his groans passionate, his movements quick and firm and fuck, you wish you could see him. His face shoved into your ass, mouthing at your crease, thrusting his tongue as deep as it’s able to go. He’s hungry, repeatedly stuffing the wet muscle into your tightest channel while grunting against your skin. 

“Love this, love tasting you like this.” And when his tongue returns, you moan, muscles tightening before him. Removing himself, he gives you a disciplinary smack, digging his teeth into your bruising flesh. “You naughty fuckin’ thing… I can feel you clenchin’ around me.” 

“W-Will you fuck me?” It’s not necessarily a beg, just a simple question. But if he asked you to beg right now, you’d do so without hesitation. 

“You want me to?” Placing a sloppy kiss on the curve of your backside, he adds, “You want daddy’s dick in your ass?”

“Fuck me.” Rolling your eyes back, you sigh, a fresh wave of euphoria rocking through your body merely from your husband’s words. 

Jack’s strong body shuffles up behind you, lifting himself to his knees. With both hands, he hauls your hips into the air, his toned chest puffing out with each intense breath. You let him move you as he pleases, practically going limp beneath him. And honestly, he likes you best this way. 

“Okay, honey…” He says, trying to calm his breaths as he talks to you. Jack wants to remain relaxed, wants to be your rock - especially during times like this. He knows this might be a bit painful for you. 

Placing his left hand on your lower back, he rubs your skin with tender swipes while lining himself up with your rear entrance. It feels so much different than the sensitive space between your legs; it’s quite a bit tighter and at times, warmer, too. He can’t wait for this. 

“Open up, pretty girl…” And his words prompt you to do just that, your body listening to him subconsciously. 

Sliding forward, his tip pushes past your relaxing muscles, jaw dropping as he watches. You keep still for him, knuckles turning white from clutching the bedsheets for so long. 

“There you go…” Jack coos, watching himself disappear inside of you. “There you go, honey, that’s so good.” 

Even when your husband let his passion and desire fuel the fire inside his body, he made sure to care for you. No matter how rough or feral he was feeling, he knows how he wants to treat you. You’re his little angel, his pretty, perfect thing. And you deserve to know it, no matter what you’re doing. 

“Beautiful…” Comes his breath of amazement, of absolute awe. 

Gritting your teeth, you take the sting, having done it so many times before. It’s easier than it used to be, but with the size of your husband… it takes a minute to accommodate him, regardless of where he is.

Quite suddenly, his chest forces out two intense breaths. Your eyes fly open, head turning back slightly as you call out to him. “Baby?”

“It’s so… tight.” He’s groaning, head dropping back. “You’re so tight back here.”

“Daddy,” Sliding your hand further up on the bed, you whine desperately, begging for him to continue. “I want it.”

“I know you do, daddy knows it, honey.” Dropping his head forward again, he keeps his hands on your ass, squeezing your flesh. “Daddy’s giving it to you.” 

Pushing forward, Jack’s eyes don’t leave you. He forces himself to watch the entirety of it, of his length sliding into you. You’re pulsing around him, muscles stretching from the intrusion. But after a minute of gentle pressure, he’s in, the curves of your ass surrounding him. 

“Jesus.” Without thinking, he slaps his hand down on your right cheek, listening to your high, surprised whine. It shoves you forward, your muscles squeezing around him from the impact. 

Leaning over your bent body, he spits, watching it drip down slowly. He does this twice, letting it coat his base and your delicate crease. Retracting himself halfway, he listens to the soft squelch his spit gives, aiding in his re-entry. Gradually, he sets his pace, listening to your little whimpers and whines. 

“Don’t hide them, baby.” Shaking his head, he gives your ass a small tap. “Don’t hide those noises from me.”

His words allow you to let go, your lungs releasing the breath you’d been holding. “Daddy.”

“There she is, there’s my girl.” He’s speaking to you so softly, so lovingly. 

Before he’s even ready for it, you start bouncing back against him. It prompts the sound of your slapping skin to fill the room, Jack’s soft attitude quickly fading. 

“You’re such a whore for it, aren’t you?”

This makes you groan, the sound airy and needy. Cementing his hands to your hips, he leans over you just a bit, now diving into you at a quicker pace. 

“I asked you a fucking question.” Reaching for your hair, he fists it, yanking your head back.

“Yes,” Gulping, you lick your lower lip, trying to look at him. “Yes, daddy.”

“Yes, what?”

“I’m a whore for it.”

“Ugh.” Tossing your head down, he releases an ungodly groan. Swatting your ass again, he then places his hand on your upper back, pushing you down on the bed. “You’re so good to me.” 

His hips are slamming against you, your compliance only riling him up. He’s throbbing inside, feeling the tight squeeze of your pulsating walls. And at this point, any and all pain has dissipated into something new, something great.

“Daddy, you feel s-so, so good.” You’re stuttering, the breath leaving your body. 

“Yeah baby,” He nods, brow beginning to sweat. “Just take it, angel. Let daddy fuck you open on his cock.”

The way he sways his hips against you makes your eyes roll back, forcing a melody of moans to leave alongside your rapid breaths.

“D-Daddy, oh my god. Fuck.” 

“Oh, I know; daddy’s fuckin’ you, oh god, he’s fuckin’ you so good, isn’t he?” 

Jack doesn’t mean to boast, but it’s like he can’t even help it. He knows the sex is good for you, knows it’s fucking amazing because it feels the exact same way for him. Christ, he’s never felt anything as good as you. And you’ve never felt anything as good as your daddy. 

“I can’t wait, sugar. I can’t wait to fuck you like this when we get home.” Your mouth hangs open as he repeatedly stuffs himself inside, feeling your ass swallow him whole. “Bend you over and lick you again, lube you up for it. I should’ve fingered you more, should’ve made you take it.” 

The fact that Jack wants to do these things to you makes your head spin. The fantasies he has about you are endlessly erotic, filthy, and quite often… extremely taboo. And everything about that excites you.

“Daddy, fuck, fuck me…” The way he’s handling you becomes rough, his fingers digging into your sides, his chest rumbling from his grunts. 

“Oh baby, I already am.” He teases, smiling breathlessly. “But that’s not what you mean, is it? You want daddy to wreck you, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Baby, p-please.” It makes you delirious when he talks to you like this, when he mocks you for the way you react to him.

Jack’s body is so strong, so sturdy behind you as he repeatedly thrusts himself into you. And with every thrust forward, he’s also guiding you back, diving in as deep as he can. 

“You’re so good, angel, so good for me. Letting daddy play with you like this…” 

“Daddy, oh my god… it feels so good…” It really shocks you how fantastic this can feel, your husband stretching and filling whatever hole he wants.

“I’ll always make it good for you, honey. Always, always.”

He’s panting behind you, bottoming out in your ass every time he fills it. And ever so slightly, you feel his forearms begin to shake, hear his grunts begin to grow heavy and ragged. 

“Are you gonna cum, daddy?” You sound so innocent, so sweet. 

He chuckles, shaking his head quickly. “You know me.” 

Using your grip on the blankets as leverage, you move to bounce back against him once again. Audibly, he becomes flustered, dropping his head. It hangs over his chest, eyes pinching shut as he reaches up to grab the back of your neck.

“H-Honey,”

“I know, daddy.” Comes your sweet coo, hips grinding back into him. “Cum for me.” 

He doesn’t know how the tables turned so easily, but all at once, he’s crumbling for you. His body weight pushes you down until your stomach and chest are pressed against the bed. His pelvis rolls into you, his body jerking from the tiny pulsations in his cock. 

It blooms warmly inside you, the feeling of him. His spend is thick, coating your insides as he breathes heavily against your skin. Jack’s mouth finds your upper back, shoulder, and neck, covering you in passionate kisses. He’s thanking you, you know it. 

By the time he’s cleaned you up, it’s the early afternoon. You could go back to the beach, but neither of you really want to. After having you like this, it’s reminded Jack of his internal possession over you. He’s not sure if he wants anyone else to see you naked ever again. 

“You okay, baby?” You’re laying on your stomach again, covered in one of Jack’s clean shirts and a pair of your panties. 

“Mhm,” Closing your eyes, you sigh contentedly. 

Jack chuckles, walking over to you now that he’s all clean. Bending over the bed, he kisses your shoulder again, murmuring, “That good, huh?” 

“Oh my god,” You groan, moaning quietly when you feel his teeth. “Yes, daddy.”

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑷𝑨𝑪𝑰𝑭𝒀 𝑯𝑬𝑹

pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, smut, minors dni

word count: 3k

summary: the loneliness you feel settles in to your very core, unfeeling and feeling too much at the same time constantly. At nights like this there's only one man that can help you, and that man is Javier Pena.

warnings: dea agent!reader, sub!reader, reader suffering from signs of depression due to loneliness, reader as long hair but the type of it is not specified, impact play (slapping cheek, ass, thighs), choking, hair pulling, nails digging into skin but not enough to break the skin, dom/sub relationship, bd.sm scene, fingering, vaginal s.ex, cumming on body, aftercare

You’re nestled right next to the window, watching as the city of Medellin lights up with unexpected lights, fire reaching all the way to the top of the buildings. There’s an untouched glass of whiskey sitting in front of you, ice clicking together as it melts away. A candle, half melted, flickering next to the glass. You remain silent and motionless as the small flame dances. The light re-shapes your face, your eyes hollowed out and cheek bones prominent than usual. You gaze upon your distorted reflection in the glass. You remind yourself of a deteriorating corpse. 

The loneliness settles into your very core, bone marrow replaced with the loathing and anger your desperation causes. You feel empty but at the same time you feel too much. Your brain swirls and swirls, causing you to break down every night and curse at where you found yourself after so many years. The hunt for Pablo Escabor makes you feel worse. Everyday you’re left empty handed and everynight you pray to an unknown god to take the pain away. 

The worst part of all of this is that you never know what to do to ease the hurt. Your heart clenches, you can’t breathe and after mere minutes of being trapped within your own body, you resume your regular life. You go to work, chat with fellow DEA agents and return home. You muse and find similarities between yourself and Sisyphus. The man pushes up the boulder only to see it fall again and again. You’re the same, maybe even worse. He suffers in his afterlife, you’re suffering when you should be living. 

At nights like this, when the need to feel anything other than this soul crushing emotional pain proves to be too strong, you don’t turn to the god you pray to normally. Instead you turn to Javier Pena, the man who makes you feel. 

Unlike the god you pray to on nights more bearable, Javier actually responds to you. He breaks you down and reconstructs you. When you’re with him, you can feel your body being molded into something else, you can feel something else, and in those brief moments you experience joy. 

He’s aware of this. At least you think he is. He never questions why you call him in the darkest hours of the night, he only asks one thing. It’s always the same. 

“Do you need me to pick anything up?” 

“No,” 

Despite your answer he always comes bearing food and a couple of beers. 

Today is no different. 

With a knock on the door, your gaze is finally broken away from your reflection. The floors creak with your steps and you open the door to see Javier with bags full of food and beer. It’s a routine at this point. He greets you by lowering his head and passes the threshold of the door without saying anything else. You place both hands against each side of his face and crash your lips together, the food along with the beer is left forgotten on top of the counter. It hurts. You need him and you need him now. 

Javier doesn’t question. He answers your movements with the same amount of eagerness, his strong hands trailing down your body and squeezing your ass. Your teeth clash together, lips pressed against one another in an almost painful way. He licks the inside of your mouth, forcing you to let go, forcing you to submit. You’re more than eager to do so. Moaning into his mouth, you part away and slowly get on your knees. His fingers find themselves latched into your hair, blunt nails gently scratching the scalp as you press your forehead against his clothed thigh. Your heart swells up, you can already feel the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. His thumb trails the frame of your face, lifting your downcast gaze up to meet his own. 

Your lips part with a gasp and a tear rolls down your cheek. 

His brows are knitted together, face laced with concern as he looks down at you. You hate making him worry. You hate the fact that he sees you only in your absolute worst. With a swipe of his thumb he wipes the tear away, a wet streak now glistening under the candle light. 

“What do you want?” 

Javier is clear-cut. He never wastes time with idle chatter and you love that about him. He understands you better than anyone else, he knows your needs and your suffering. Your chest feels a little bit lighter now, your skin tingles with anticipation. You want to feel his brute force against your body, every nerve electrified by the mere thought of it. Breath hitching, you close your eyes, feeling the warmth of his palm against your cheek. It soothes you. Makes it easier to tell him what you want, what you need in order to feel better. 

You swallow before you speak. 

“I want you to hurt me,” 

“You sure?” 

He brushes his thumb against your eyelid, a wordless plea for you to open your eyes when you ask for what you want. When the feather-like sensation of his fingers moves back to your cheek, you open them and meet his glance. 

“Yes,” 

The journey to the bedroom passes you by in a blur. You feel Javier’s hands, fingers squeezing everything you have to offer. He drags his nails across your bare skin, the sharp sensation of his nails making you purr in delight. Javier’s lips are on your lips, neck, shoulder– He rips your clothes off of you, stripping you bare as he pushes you to the bed. The bed creaks. Without so much as shredding his jacket he takes his place between your legs, staring down at you as he assesses your most sensitive parts. 

Before your night meetings had become a routine, you thought Javier hated this. He always looked so sad, his mood dropping significantly after the deed was done. He would take care of you in absolute silence, it used to break your heart. You thought that he did this only to ease your pain and that he took no pleasure out of this. But after the fourth time you realized that you couldn’t be further away from the truth. It was the little things he did that made you realize this. The way his pupils dilated after every hit, the way he would take in short, sharp breaths when you moaned at the pain. He needed this as much as you did, but for different reasons. 

Javier pushes your legs open, his eyes glued to your glistening core. His gaze traveled up to your face, hands sliding up your body and cupping your breasts. Squeezing them, he keens at the way your back arches at his touch. He inches closer, thick thighs forcibly spreading your legs wider, jolts of pain cascades across your tendons. Javier’s one hand lays on your throat, nails shallowly digging into your skin without outright choking you. The two of you exchange glances. 

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” 

There’s no emotion in his voice, there rarely is during activities like this. It had become somewhat of a game, him asking you what’s wrong and you never telling him. You never found the right words, you also felt foolish. Your pain was nothing compared to the people of Medellin, to those who had lost their families. Bearing your teeth, you extend your neck forward, the curve of his hand pressing further into your windpipe. 

Javier leans in, you feel his alcohol scented breath ghosting over your countenance. Dragging his lips against your burning skin, he continues to speak. 

“You need to tell me what’s bothering you so I can help,” 

“You help me enough as it is, Javi,” 

He lets out a deep sigh, pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth. You know that he’s not satisfied with your answer but it’s the only answer that you can currently give– 

It only takes you a moment to realize his hand is no longer on your neck. Pain shoots throughout the skin of your cheek, throbbing as the voice echoes right after. Your chest heaves, eyes tearing up as your face contorted with pain. The next one you manage to notice. His hand slices through the air and his open palm clashes with your cheek once more. This time you gasp. Your thighs tremble as you attempt to close your legs but Javier’s body blocks you from doing so. Your cheek continues to throb painfully, pain blossoming across your face while you claw at the sheets. 

Javier grabs your chin and forces your jaw open as he shoves his tongue between your lips. Slick drips down your throbbing cunt, a patch of wetness growing against the sheets. He licks the inside of your mouth and as he parts away he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, pulling painfully. Your heart stutters, hips starting to move on their own while the hurricane of voices in your mind become nothing but faint murmurs. While his one hand rests against your chin, his other hand pulls your nipple, pinching it as he does so. A moan rips from your throat, his teeth now nipping at the side of your chin. Javier continues to abuse the sensitive nub, twisting and pinching it until you’re nothing but a babbling mess. 

“More,” you blurt out. “I want to feel your more,” 

He pulls away, a whine making its way through your parched lips. The fact that he’s fully clothed exhilarates you, a wave of arousal washing over your tired out nerves. His brown eyes travel across your body, stopping at your pussy. Reaching out, he drags two fingers between your folds, you grit your teeth. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you’ve become. 

“Fuck,” 

He’s entranced by how wet you are. Pulling back his fingers, Javier darts out his tongue and tastes you. The sight alone makes your insides ache with want. 

Javier’s eyes lock onto yours right before he winds up his hand and smacks your thigh– You choke on air, the pain rippling across your body like an earthquake while your eyes close shut. Another one follows, harsher compared to the one before. You cry out his name, tears flowing down the apples of your cheeks. Without a care in the world Javier shoves his spit drenched fingers into your core, watching you in an almost borderline bored fashion while your body arches with the pressure. He keeps his hand still, only watching while you grit your teeth. You want to feel him, want to cum around his fingers. You expectantly stare at him, a silent beg for him to move, but he doesn’t. He only stares, waiting for you to take what you want for yourself. 

With a broken sigh you slowly begin to move your hips. Immediately a sense of pleasure washes over you, your lips part with a sheer moan, slowly, you impale yourself on his fingers again and again, grinding as you chase your relief. You whimper his name. Clit throbbing painfully as you try to angle yourself so the shaft of his fingers would graze against it, but all your attempts are futile. Javier’s eyes are glued to your core, watching as your juices make his fingers glisten. Slowly you feel yourself starting to let go, body unwinding as the coil within your stomach tightens. 

“Javier,” you whisper, drawing his attention away from your heat to your face. “Please, I need you,” 

That’s all it takes to make him snap. 

Javier aggressively pulls his fingers out and flips you onto your stomach, you whine as you lift up your hips, eager to feel him deep inside. The familiar sound of a zipper echoes across the room and soon you feel the blunt tip of his cock, the fabric of his jeans scraping against the back of your thighs. Every sensation you feel is enough to have you trembling for him. 

Javier slides his hands up and down your back, nails dragging across your damp skin. The wait is unbearable, you want to feel the delicious stretch of his cock, want to feel those same nails digging into the flesh of your hips– 

But instead you jolt with a smack against your right ass cheek. 

You whimper at the pain blossoming, upper body falling into the pillows while your ass inevitably raises up. Javier smacks you again, the delicious sensation of his palm making you spasm and moan. Thrusting forward, he drags the length of his cock between your folds, slick coating his cock. He rests his hand against your scorched skin, feeling the way it throbs and burns as he kneads the flesh. 

“I don’t want you thinkin’,” he murmurs. “I want you to only focus on me, is that clear?” 

Inaudible whimpers fall from your lips, it’s not the answer he wishes to hear. With a growl rippling through his chest, he winds his hand back a third time and hits you again. 

This time you revel in the pain, eyes rolling back as spit dribbles from the corners of your lips. The constant abuse of the same patch of skin makes you see stars, pleasure mixing with the sharp pain. 

“Is. That. Clear?” 

“Yes!” 

You almost black out at the way he shoves his cock in one swift motion, stuffing you to the brim, heavy balls resting against your still burning flesh. On days less emotionally charged, Javier would wait. He would caress your back until he felt your pussy loosening around him but that wasn’t the case today. He pulls out almost entirely, only the tip resting within you, then he snaps his hips forward, moaning as you scream. Every time he thrusts his hips you feel the air leaving your lungs, your insides squeezes around him, cock stretching you in a delicious way. Javier’s pacing is brutal, rough. Just what you need. You feel every inch of him, every curve and suddenly you find yourself being pulled up, his fingers tangled in your hair as jolts of pain vibrate through your scalp. 

Your naked back is flushed against his clothed chest, hips moving relentlessly as he pounds into you again and again. His breathing is ragged against your skin, teeth nibbling your neck while his grip on your hair tightens. His other hand brushes against the front of your torso and roughly grabs your breast, squeezing it painfully. You see a flash of white everytime he fucks deeper into you, the force of his pelvis enough to bruise. His teeth digs into your skin, tongue lapping over the deep dents he’s making. 

You’re about to shatter into a million pieces, you feel it in your very gut, this is how Javier makes you feel whole again. This is how he loves you and you love him, even if the two of you are still unaware of this fact. 

Your hand reaches up and grabs his wrist, you can feel the veins curving along under his skin, tendons moving violently as he ruts into you like an animal in heat. 

“You ‘bout to come?” he groans, hips slowing down into a grinding motion. You nod. “Come for me then, prove to me how good I make you feel,” 

His hand drops to your aching clit, fingers drawing quick, small circles around the sensitive nub. Your throat hurts as you moan so you moan louder. Your insides flutter around him, you feel the pressure building and building. While he continues to play with your clit, his nails dig into your hips, leaving deep crescent shape marks across your skin. The pain pushes you over the edge. 

You cry out his name, eyes squeezed shut and mouth parted wide. You gush all around him, slick dripping down his length and staining the sheets. Javier doesn’t slow down, both his fingers and cock relentless as another orgasm shatters you into a million pieces. You’re sobbing, tears streaming down your face as you babble how much you love him and how grateful you are for his presence. Some part of your muddled up brain signals to you that this is the first time you’ve confessed, but you seem to miss it, his cock still sliding in and out as you cry. 

When you’re left trembling, Javier pulls out with a groan, you fall like a lifeless puppet, breathing heavily as you whimper. He begins to fist his cock, moaning between gritted teeth at the sight of your naked, ruined body. Soon you feel the hot strings of his cum hitting your back and ass, hissing at the way it burns. Javier’s chest heaves as he looks down at you. He breathes heavily as stuffs himself back into his jeans and heads to the bathroom. You stock the supplies in the same place so it’s easy to find, when he returns to the bedroom you have managed to move to your side, eyes glossy with tears. 

While he wipes you clean and murmurs words of praise, it goes into one ear and out the other but you manage to thank him anyway. 

“Don’t mention it,” there’s a tremble in his voice, but with how tired you are, you fail to notice the cause. “I– Did you mean what you said?” 

You try to collect the remainders of your scattered mind, your heart throbs painfully, tears pricking the corners of your eyes once more. In that moment muttering those words felt cathartic, even if it was a fleeting moment you wanted for him to know. You wanted to forget about your loneliness. 

“Javi–” 

“You don’t need to tell me anything if you’re not ready,” he throws the towel to the side and lays down next to you, pulling you close. “Just know that I’ll always be here for you. Whatever you need, I’ll provide. Just… promise me you’ll let me in, even if it’s just a little,” 

Your lips crack into a tired smile, you’re still slightly dazed but understand where he’s coming from. You move closer to meet his lips, you wince a bit from the pain but manage to brush your lips against his. 

“Only if you promise the same,” 

“I promise,” 

“I promise too.” 

[anabdaniels]

Cowboytober Day 16- Fingering

Paring: Agent Whiskey x AFAB!Reader

Word counting: 800

Rating: 18+

Warning: Outside sex, squirt.

Masterlist

Moving to the countryside when you got married to Jack was possibly one of the best choices you've ever made, living on the ranch was even more relaxing than you thought it would be, not to mention the little late-night tours you and Jack used to do a lot.

That was one of those nights. Neither of you could sleep, then decided to get out of bed, and get on the Bronco, talking about a lot of random things while Jack drove to nowhere.

Once at the glade next to the river, you two settled on the back of the Bronco close to each other, more exactly, you sat on Jack's lap and rested your back on his chest, enjoying the fresh air of that spring night.

"I wonder if we'll make it to the summer without ending up falling asleep outside." You said while looking at the starry sky.

"Considering our history, I'm sure we'll not." He answered while leaning his hands on your thighs and caressing them, looking in the same direction as you.

"Daniels." You complained in a soft voice, making Jack raise an eyebrow and look at you.

"What's the matter, sugar?" He asked confused.

"We're under this night sky on a really enjoyable night and you really think you can grab my thighs without turning me the hell on?" You didn't beat around the bush to tell him the truth, making him chuckle and grop your thighs.

"Am I that irresistible to you, my love?" He teased on that cocky tone and kissed the curve of your neck.

"You know damn well you are." You sighed and turned on his lap, mounting on his thighs, now facing him.

“Let’s face the fact that your decision to come here in this nightgown ain’t helping.” Jack said with his eyes glued on your cleavage.

“This coming from the man that thought would be of good tone to get out of home in grey sweatpants with no underwear.” You said raising one eyebrow, caressing his shoulders.

“There’s a reason why we got married.” Jack chuckled and kissed you, grabbing your waist with both hands and making you relax on his lap. You sighed as his hands moved on your body, resting back on your thighs and moving to the inner part of them.

Pulling his hair, you let out a moan when his fingers reached your core, circling your entrance and moving up to your clit, caressing it slowly, making you contort slightly and pull his hair harder. His other hand caressed your thigh and moved up to your belly, massaging it gently.

The most you were enjoying kissing him, your breath was getting harder to catch, so you had to break the kiss and lay your head on his shoulder while feeling his touch between your legs. You couldn’t hold a loud whimper when he moved two fingers inside you, keeping his thumb on the task of rubbing your clit.

Pleased about how messed up you were starting to get, Jack observed you, still caressing your belly and kissing your shoulder while his fingers worked on you. Safe to say that Jack’s practicableness to make you lose your rational thought just using his fingers was something else, even that you’d prefer to die without knowing how he had learned such a thing.

Somehow you were managing to keep your self-control, Jack noticed that and decided to difficult things for you, moving his fingers faster, curling the two that were inside you so precisely that your hips involuntarily moved against his hand while you moaned loudly. He kept his face on the curve of your neck, kissing and nibbling it while caressing your lower stomach, making you squirm a lot on his lap, feeling your body sinking in on the pleasure.

Jack’s continuous rhythm was working amazingly, pushing you to your climax so easily as when you were the one touching yourself. Your hands squeezed his shoulders at the same time you clenched around his fingers, feeling your rationality fading away. You leaned your head back, moaning louder once more as your hips involuntary movements got faster, then finally you felt the release taking over your body, aware that you had made a mess on Jack’s sweatpants. When you couldn’t handle it anymore, you collapsed on his lap with an irregular breath, feeling your body pulsing around his fingers, sighing softly when he pulled them out of you carefully. He kissed the top of your head while caressing your back as you recovered from the moment.

“We should go back home.” You said quietly after a moment.

“Why, honeybee?” he questioned with a smirk, imagining your answer.

“I just realized what we could do to entertain ourselves ‘till we fall asleep.”  

Cowboytober Masterlist

A/N: Following GIF contains the honest thoughts on my mind while writing this.

[vacantgodling]

hey! this is chance & here’s week 3’s prompt. share an excerpt that you’re very proud of from any of your wips.

thank you!! since i’m actually working on cage (for once) have my favorite funny little scene from chapter 11 — it’s not done yet but i’m just terribly amused by it.

tagging @valeffelees bc cage content lol

##

“Cole Cassidy, do you copy?”

“Kind of not tha time, Hanzo.” Cassidy tried to keep the growl out of his voice, but given the present circumstances he just couldn’t. There went all the hard work he’d put into he and Hanzo’s relationship down the drain— the man was more skittish than a crotchety old chihuahua. He was ushering along the civilians with him as quickly as he could. One omnic with bright blue synthetic hair and a sparking core had an arm slung over his shoulder, and even if he didn’t have their metal body to contend with, he could hear the footsteps of Talon agents fast approaching. It felt like they were fucking everywhere. Roaches, infesting every inch of King’s Row.

Undeterred, Hanzo continued. “You will do exactly as I say.”

“An jus’ who made you captain?” Cassidy snorted. “There’s a dead end over here!” Someone towards the front of the pack called. Fuck, goddamn, shit, fuck. He didn’t have time for this, for Hanzo’s bullshit, Talon, none of it. This is why he never joined the frontlines. In Blackwatch he never had to be concerned about the safety of civilians when he could be doing what he did best: taking down the enemy head on. But he came back to do good, to fix what Reyes and Blackwatch broke, to ease his own goddamn consciousness before he inevitably kicked the bucket. This is what he got for caring.

“There are thirty agents tailing you, and there are no exits in the way you’re heading.” Cassidy stopped cold in his tracks, jerking the sparking omnic roughly without meaning to. He touched his free hand to his comm. “What?” He kept his voice low, to smooth the panic out of his voice so it wouldn’t raise civilian alarm. “How—”

“I can see them, and your position.” The adrenaline coursing through his body was a petrol fire, making every hair on his arm stand on end.

“Is everything okay?” The sparking omnic asked. Their tinny voice was laced with worry, and Cassidy couldn’t meet their eyes. He looked over his shoulder, towards the sound of heavy armored feet growing louder.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Cole Cassidy. You will do exactly as I say.”

If they weren’t in the middle of a life or death situation, Cassidy would swear that Hanzo’s voice was practically a purr. If his heart wasn’t thundering in his throat, and if he was more than two-thirds of a whiskey bottle deep, maybe he’d even admit to himself that Hanzo sounded hot.

Presently he ignored it. Tried to. “What d’ya say?” Cassidy found himself breathing out.

“On my count,” He could practically feel Hanzo wetting his lips. “You will tell the civilians to duck. You will also duck.”

“Duck- Huh?” The rest of the civilians he was leading by now had stopped in their tracks and were giving him quizzical, maybe even panicked looks. So maybe he wasn’t as good at keeping the panic out of his own voice as he thought. Cassidy looked over his shoulder once more as the first of Talon’s soldiers burst into the alley.

“Oh my god!” Someone shrieked.

“Don’t move!” Cassidy’s voice was rough.

“One,” Hanzo counted in his ear.

The Talon agent at the end of the alley didn’t stop though. He made his own sounding call to the men that must’ve been looking for them down other nooks and alleys to come this way. The sound of more boots racing towards them was thundering. The Talon agent trained his gun at them. The red dot sight on the barrel of his gun zeroed in directly on Cassidy’s chest.

“Two,” Hanzo’s voice was steady in his ear and heaven’s above, he was going to be the death of them. Cassidy was going to die listening to him because the deranged part of his mind that listened to his dick told him to listen to the man purring in his ear over all the good, hard-earned sense in his own head, that was screaming at him to at least pull out Peacekeeper and shoot. Behind the first goon, more and more Talon soldiers swarmed around the bend, guns drawn and aimed— if not at him, then one of the cowering civilians behind him.

“Mommy!” One of the little girls was sobbing now and Cassidy still stood frozen, bated, waiting. “Do something!” Another woman cried, grabbing his serape tightly in her fists. The Talon soldiers continued to file into the alley like ants descending upon an unfortunate slug and Cassidy’s idiot brain was clutching onto Hanzo’s words like a goddamn lifeline. He was barely breathing, but against his ear, Hanzo’s breath remained terrifyingly steady.

“Three.”

“Duck!” Cassidy roared.

Thankfully, everyone in his small group listened and dropped to the ground like sacks of dead weight. And though Cassidy could hear the rip of dozens of triggers being pulled at the same time, none of the bullets met them. A different roar sounded above them, so deafening that Cassidy felt his ears pop. His eyes that squeezed shut in reflex flew open.

Dragons. Bonafide, blue, snarling dragons flew over them directly into the panicked crowd of Talon soldiers. Some tried to shoot, some tried to run— none of them were any match for the terrifying size, speed and precision of the beasts’s gaping maws. Their cries of anguish were nearly as loud as the dragons themselves. They cut through the men like a butcher cut through mincemeat, their blood smattering across the too-close buildings of the alley, raining down on them and probably staining all their clothes to hell. The dragons only dissipated when the last soldier fell, sweeping clean back from whence they came then disappearing into the building that they rocketed from in the first place. When they swept back overhead, Cassidy distinctly noticed that the air around them smelled charged with ozone.

He stood up on wobbly legs— hell, Bambi probably could walk smoother than he did. None of the civilians were faring any better, and as quickly as he could manage, he helped everyone to their feet. The little girl who was crying before was clean passed out.

“You’re welcome.”

Cassidy heard the comm line click before he could say anything else.

[typinggently]

since you’ve been mentioning John lately…how about some alpha!John(/Dean) thoughts?👀💖

Ahhhh sweetheart ♥️♥️! Hi!

Small disclaimer: I have to confess that the John I’m currently infatuated with is, in fact, a different John (much dumber and with fawnier eyes), but that aside, I do have Alpha!John thoughts.

John tries so hard to be rational, but he's still definitely driven by his emotions - sharpening that conflict through the Alpha-lens is so fun! Him trying to protect his kids and raise hunters for his cause, mourn the loss of his wife and teach himself about monsters - all while navigating his new life within the confines of his status on multiple levels. For one, yes, of course, him juggling all that and ruts on top of it is impressive to say the least. But the social implications too? People might respect an Alpha agent, but do they trust an Alpha who asks to invade their home and "protect" them from something he can't or won't explain? Plus, I do wonder how people would react to an alpha roadtripping around the US Humbert Humbert style with two kids in tow :/ — especially once Dean presents, tbh.

Which brings me to some more thoughts...

The fun thing about omegaverse to me is how the line blurs between inappropriate behaviour and instincts. Who’s to say what’s too much, too close, too deep? And my suspicion is that John on his own could be completely fine (except for some whiskey-drenched moments where memories of Mary and realities of Dean get a bit blurry), but he’s very gently and relentlessly being pushed. The eyes, the scent, the possessiveness (Dean already hates the idea of John having a sex life in canon, imagine how bad it would be if the aspect of "there's an unfamiliar scent on you" came into play), but most of all the desperate need for approval. I do like the idea that omegaverse courting relies heavily on impressing your partner — in very basic, ridiculous, instinctual ways. Omegas subconsciously finding creative ways to prove how good they can follow rules or how needy they are of help while Alphas puff up their chests and prove how good they are at providing…whatever comes in handy right now. I think there’s definitely some mild embarrassment involved whenever someone gets a tad self aware of just how knotbrained they’re acting, but, damn.

Dean is so, so desperate to be a good soldier. White knuckled and scarred and armed to his teeth, but there’s that sticky-sweet core that gets harder and harder to ignore. He’s sweaty and bruised but his eyes have that shimmer to them and his “Yes Sir” has such sticky connotations. The erotic implications of authority, the sensuality of submission, that's where we're going with this. And sure, John might not have meant it like that, but he's an Alpha after all and he can't help the fact that this shit still works on him. He's giving his orders and now he's got this pretty, pretty omega on his hands who's doing everything in his power to show just how good he's being, how very good he is at being brutal and ruthless and did you see how good I am? Did you like it, Alpha? How's he supposed to deal with that, huh?

[To summarise: John cooks up a new exercise regimen and Dean ends up doubled over in the dirt with a blood-dripping nose, shirt sticking to his spine and dust and sweat clumping in his hair but he's gasping and whining and he's being so good, so grossly sweet it's hard and harder to bear. rock hard. throbbing.]

[thirstworldproblemss]

There are so many works I would want to recommend from the brilliant @jazzelsaur whorelist cough cough, I mean masterlist.

There is the utterly emotionally devastating yet cathartic and profoundly life changing Between the Raindrops that had me truly feel and process grief in a way that few pieces of media has managed.

And I could spend hours breaking down why Stay on the Screenplay (whose acrononyms, me a senile person can never mange to get right) breaks down the glitz and glamour that is Hollywood and subverts it but at its core it's a beautiful love story about two people who find their way back to each other.

But I am going to pick to put the spotlight on Stars Hit the Ceiling  for the simple nostalgic reason that that is the first work I have read of yours. It is the story that I read, DIED, resurrected then died again, and as a ghost I decided to float into your DMs and haunt you with my friendship and rumours have it you can still hear me haunting the hallways of your tumblr and DMs. I am so grateful that this absolute gem of a story brought us together and that I get to call you my friend.

You have brought me such joy, reassurance and comfort in the past year when I have felt lost and not myself, and like the most beautiful compass always pointing north, you have been there steadfast to point me in the right direction when I went astray. You are an absolute gem of a human being, I love you and adore you and am eternally grateful that I had you as a friend in this time. I appreciate you so much.

Favorite Fanworks Fic & Author Rec:

Fanfic by @jazzelsaur: - Between the Raindrops [Triple Frontier: Frankie x ofc!reader, complete] - Stay on Screenplay [The Bubble: Dieter Bravo x f reader, complete] - Stars Hit the Ceiling [Frankie Morales x f reader x Agent Whiskey, oneshot]

(Last chance to send in a rec for twp’s “Show Me the Fanworks!” Celebration)

Omg, YES!!!  Jess is so immensely talented, and all three of these fics are gorgeously well written!  BtR in particular is one of my favorite stories ever, published or not.  And even beyond that, Jess herself is just so lovely—she is unapologetically herself in a way I wish I could emulate, and she's consistently, almost aggressively kind and supportive in a space where it’s so easy to be envious or dismissive of other people’s efforts.

Thank you for the lovely recs for a lovely person 💕

🧡 twp

[Edited to Add: All recs now compiled on the Fav Fanworks Rec List]

[unhinged-summer-fun]

Danktober Week 2 Roundup

Day 08: scene 02. [joel miller x f!reader] waxplay / match / national motorcycle ride day

Day 09: foreplay (long time) [marcus moreno x f!reader] praise kink / nest / international beer and pizza day

Day 10: in sickness and health [frankie morales x f!reader] pregnancy / crabby / world mental health day

Day 11: hiccup [agent whiskey x f!reader] sensory deprivation / bluff / national face your fears day

Day 12: scene 03. [joel miller x f!reader] humiliation / forget / national farmers day

Day 13: masquerade [marcus pike x gn!reader] public + scent / kind / world sight day

Day 14: waiting for the sun [din djarin x f!reader] role reversal / empty / national i love you day

[link to week 1 roundup]

[full danktober list here]

End of week recap under the cut!

Nearly halfway through the month already?! Compared to last year's Flunktober, I found myself more inspired and comfortable with starting (and stopping!) these prompts as I pleased. Some of them don't quite come across that way in the context of the work (seven thousand words of Marcus Moreno later) but after 35k later (SHEESH) I am basking in that light of inspiration like never before. I have no pressure or expectation of myself to make every fic a series, or every series complete.

It makes me wonder if the fervor I experienced is in any way going to carry on through November and beyond.

How in the fucking christ did I post 25k in just one week yall. HOW. Literally the posted word count for both weeks is 34.9k right now. The sum of all 31 days right now is over 65k and is only looking like it's gonna grow even more.

What went well? The week as a whole went exceptionally smooth, as I'd had all seven of these in first-draft before October 1st was even close to getting here. I've started getting a pattern down to posting the morning of. I uploaded the fics into the queue and waited for the time to come for them to be posted, and with that ready to go I was able to backtrack and re-distribute links across my masterlist. The first week was definitely way more difficult, but I found my stride!

What didn't go well? Farmer Joel Day 08 didn't do nearly as well as I thought it would. Compared to the snip I posted on Day 02, this one just shat the bed in terms of attention/sharing. While I don't do this kinda stuff for numerical validation, I do get fairly discouraged when all I see are a few likes and no feedback. There were a few points this week where I wondered glumly if anyone would fucking care if I stopped posting for the challenge.

What surprised you? Honestly, how affected I would be by the downtick in engagement. I credit that a lot with my therapy homework though, honestly - I've been ruminating on a negative core belief of mine from my childhood that I don't need or deserve praise or positive attention. I need to do some work to distance my codependency on notes/feedback, because it had me questioning whether I even continued.

What didn't surprise you? The same goddamn thing happened three separate times where I went to edit down a work and ended up lengthening it by several score greater than I started. On one hand, it proves that setting something down for a while and picking it back up is a great way to reintroduce yourself to your creativity without the pressure of finishing something.

Which work did you like writing the most? Farmer Joel on Day 08. It was the first thing I ever wrote for Joel, and while it's atmospheric as all hell, I truly love the cohesion of the story - even if it lacks a ton of context divulged later on!

What are you excited for about next week? Primal Play with Joel Miller and the fun crossover of two of my AUs: Mesh Network and Puppy Marcus. The reader in that coming Puppy Marcus next week will be an F!Reader instead of the typical GN!Reader that's with Marcus, but the Reader in this instance is the one in Mesh Network.

Thanks for reading! if you want to be notified when these roundups come up, go to the danktober masterlist and read the taglist information at the bottom. <3 besitos