#e cook white

[clueless1995]

i really wish we could show the northern hemisphere how fucking weird it is when every “seasonal” trend is tailored for the opposite season to what you’re experiencing like. even the monthly poetry people post i simply cannot relate. it used to make me really sad as a kid especially stuff like christmas when i had never even seen snow (i still haven’t) and every movie or song about it mentioned snow or the cold or whatever

[semioticapocalypse]

Mariana Cook. Barack and Michelle Obama. 1966

Follow my new AI-related project «Collective memories»

[sheila--e]

I think after PHF Sheila and Fugo became roomies and their meals everyday are like, the saddest things ever you'd expect from a struggling family and not from two gangsters who get more in a year than you'll ever get in your whole life.

[northernexposureonly]

ED: You want us to cut you one?

NORTHERN EXPOSURE 3.10 Seoul Mates

[dreamlogic]

adding to the list of Top Reactions People Have Had Upon Meeting My Cat: housemate brought a boy home and he just keeps staring at bones and saying "oh you are SO white... such a white cat... wow you're just. really really white..." under his breath.

[abramsbooks]

RECIPE: A Pot of Beans (from Colu Cooks by Colu Henry)

I have made beans on a weekly basis for years (mostly on Sundays), so I can use them in meals throughout the week. They are dependable, comforting, and delicious. Not only do they have the ability to serve as a satisfying, delightful meal on their own, they also offer you the flexibility of using them to transform an already existing dish. There isn’t much a bean can’t do.

INGREDIENTS

1 pound (455 g) dried beans

1 tablespoon kosher salt

1 large yellow onion, peeled and halved, or some leek tops, or a few peeled and halved shallots

1 celery stalk with its leaves, cut in half

6 cloves garlic, smashed with the back of a knife, skins discarded

Thyme, rosemary, and parsley sprigs, tied in a bundle with kitchen twine (optional)

Olive oil

SERVES Many TIME Truly depends on the bean, likely about an hour or so, if soaked beforehand

METHOD

In a large Dutch oven or stockpot, add the beans and the salt and cover them by about 2 inches (5 cm) of water and soak overnight or 6 to 8 hours.

When you’re ready to cook the beans, do not drain them. Add the onion, celery, garlic, and herbs (if using) to the pot of beans. Add more water if needed to make sure the beans are still covered by about 2 inches (5 cm) and drizzle with a good glug or two of olive oil.

Bring the pot of beans to a boil and then turn down the heat to barely a simmer. Skim off any grit and cook until the beans are creamy and tender, adding boiling water along the way, if needed, to make sure your beans stay submerged. This can take anywhere from 1 to 2 hours. Taste your beans along the way; some types of beans will take longer than others. When they are creamy and make you sigh with joy when you bite into a small handful, they are done.

Remove the aromatics, salt to taste, and serve. To store, let cool and then refrigerate them in their broth for up to 1 week or freeze them for up to 6 months.

MAKE IT A MEAL

Weekday Cassoulet: Preheat the oven to 400°F (205 °C). Brown some well-seasoned chicken thighs in canola oil over medium-high heat, then brown a few sausages and set aside. Turn the heat down to medium and sauté finely chopped onion, celery, and garlic. If you have it, adding in a few teaspoons of fresh thyme or rosemary would be nice too. Stir in a handful of crushed tomatoes and some white beans and season with salt and pepper. Transfer the mixture to a 9 by 13-inch (23 by 33 cm) pan and nestle the chicken and sausage in the beans. Bake until the chicken is almost cooked through, 15 to 20 minutes. Top with fresh, coarse breadcrumbs and drizzle with plenty of olive oil. Broil until the top is crispy and golden, a few minutes more.

Tomato Confit and White Bean Stew: Sauté a thinly sliced onion, some garlic, and a pinch of red pepper flakes in a good glug of olive oil over medium heat. Add in 4 cups (680 g) beans and about 1 cup (240 ml) of their cooking liquid; smash ½ cup (85 g) or so of the beans to release some of their creaminess. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Stir in 2 to 3 cups (300 to 450 g) tomato confit or other roasted or canned cherry tomatoes and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes. Taste and adjust seasonings accordingly. Ladle into bowls and shower with a handful of roughly chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, lemon zest, some grated pecorino cheese, and a drizzle of olive oil.

Pasta e Fagioli Another Way: Toss 2½ to 3 cups (425 to 510 g) borlotti beans with some mezze rigatoni along with some of the bean cooking water to get it nice and saucy. Drizzle with plenty of olive oil and copious amounts of grated pecorino cheese and top with roughly chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley and basil.

NAMED A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR BY NPR

From New York Times Cooking contributor Colu Henry, a collection of sophisticated recipes for everyday dinners

Colu Henry has been working in food for more than 15 years, and from her time at publications from Bon Appétit to the New York Times, she’s learned that what resonates with her readers is her always unfussy and empowering recipes. In this cookbook—a nod to home cooks who are happy to do everything but pastry—Henry helps readers assemble an amply stocked new-American pantry so that they can perfect (and build upon) classic everyday meals.

With 100 recipes and photographs, Henry offers ideas and solutions to get you out of your weeknight routine, explore new ingredients and techniques, build your confidence, and have a sophisticated dishes on the table in around 45 minutes.

For more information, click here.

[xirae]

Really hope it's not soy bothering me bc it turns out Chef Boyardee has soy in it and I'm back to 0 hours free on that one .-. I would die w/o tofu so I'm praying it's not the culprit, but I really did eat a whole slab recently so I have to test for it

[crystallinestars]

NSFW Alphabet - Jiaoqiu

The 2.5 story quest destroyed me, so I wrote this to cope. This is probably the most detailed and longest alphabet I have written so far. Jiaoqiu ended up being kinkier than intended, but I hope you guys enjoy. These HCs take place some time before 2.5.

Jiaoqiu x fem!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

As a doctor, Jiaoqiu is good at spotting any signs of discomfort in your body and knowing what to do to help you feel better. He usually runs a warm bath with herbs for both of you to soak in to alleviate any soreness or fatigue and clean yourselves up. If a bath is not an option, he’ll wipe you down with a damp cloth at the very least.

Jiaoqiu carefully massages any parts of your body that have been restrained or forced into one position for too long to stimulate blood flow. He's gentle with you, carefully caressing your face and kissing any mark he left on your skin as if saying sorry for being too rough on you. He also makes you drink water to keep yourself hydrated.

He’s very caring toward you but can underestimate or ignore his aches and pains, so he appreciates it when you return the favor and take care of him, too.

If he’s not too tired, Jiaoqiu also whips up a simple but delicious meal for you to enjoy and regain your stamina if either of you has business to attend to afterward.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jiaoqiu likes to joke that he’s perfect all over—from his looks, down to his abilities— but if he were to be serious, the foxian would choose his hands as his favorite body part. Despite the war making him doubt his worth as a healer, the fact remains that his hands saved the lives of many soldiers. Moreover, his hands allow him to cook delicious and nutritious dishes for others to enjoy and seeing their happiness at eating his food brings Jiaoqiu a sense of satisfaction. Being able to touch and caress your body is also a huge plus, so how could he not favor his hands?

On you, he adores your face. More specifically, your facial expressions. Don’t get him wrong, he finds you very pretty from head to toe, but Jiaoqiu simply loves the various expressions you make. Whether it’s the way your face lights up in delight when eating his cooking, or how your brows scrunch and lips purse into a thin line while glaring at him for teasing you, or the way you wince in pain when sampling his super spicy dishes, or the soft way you look at him when saying you love him—Jiaoqiu adores them all. Even if you’re not very expressive, Jiaoqiu will try his best to get a reaction out of you because he likes seeing the different sides of you. Plus, the expressions you make when orgasming or when he pleasures you also fill him with pride. He likes knowing he makes you feel good, and that these cute faces of yours are reserved for his viewing pleasure only.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Jiaoqiu’s semen is an off-white color and has a jelly-like consistency. His cum tastes a bit salty.

Jiaoqiu enjoys filling you with his cum or painting your skin with it (especially your lower belly or back), though he does have a slight preference for ejaculating inside you, be it your pussy or mouth. He also enjoys pouring his cum onto bits of good and feeding them to you (more on that in the kinks section).

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jiaoqiu won’t tell you outright, but he has a keen nose and can smell where you are in your menstrual cycle. Your needy scent during your most fertile period increases his horniness, so he tends to get more handsy with you during that time.

He can also smell when you are about to get your period, and preps for it by cooking dishes infused with herbs meant to alleviate cramping and pain.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before joining the war as a medic, Jiaoqiu did have one partner he was intimate with, though the relationship did not last long. As such, he has a bit of experience. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for Jiaoqiu to know what to do.

Even so, he pays careful attention to your guidance and reactions when having sex. He may have experience, but he knows each person has different preferences, and he wants to learn all the ways you like being touched so he can cater to your needs.

As a doctor, he’s very knowledgeable about the body, so he knows which areas can bring great pleasure when stimulated just right. There’s a good chance he will find an erogenous zone on your body that you didn’t even know you had.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Jiaoqiu really likes positions where you’re on top. Cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, lotus, etc… are all ones he likes because he can sit back and let you do most of the strenuous work. He keeps his hands securely on your hips and helps guide you up and down his cock, admiring the view of your body bouncing on his lap.

Additionally, he is fond of spooning. Laying on your sides with his elbow under one of your knees, hiking your leg up in the air while he leisurely thrusts into you is both comfy and hot for him. It also allows him easy access to kiss and mark your neck or shoulders, and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

Jiaoqiu also enjoys upright doggystyle and pronebone. Regular doggystyle is fine, but he likes to press your back flush against his chest, wrap his arms around your waist, and rest his chin on your shoulder so he can watch how your jaw goes slack and eyes glaze over while he fucks you nice and deep. After all, he loves to watch your expressions of pleasure.

The foxian is a bit possessive, particularly when he’s feeling jealous or horny from smelling you during your fertile window. Pronebone is a great position for him because it makes him feel like you’re his and his alone. Trapping you under his weight, fucking you deeply while marking your neck, shoulders, and back in bite marks gives him a primal sense of satisfaction.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Jiaoqiu can be a little goofy or serious depending on your needs, but he’s typically a nice blend of both. He tries to keep the mood lighthearted with an occasional harmless taunt or tease to get a reaction out of you, but he doesn’t overdo it. He approaches sex responsibly, and does his best to relax you and take your feelings seriously. It’s important to him that you enjoy the experience, after all. If a little joke or a whispered reassurance helps you feel more at ease, then he’ll do whatever is necessary to make you comfortable.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has a bush of curly pink hair down there that he keeps neatly trimmed, but it lacks the ombré of the rest of his hair. It’s one solid, dark pink hue.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jiaoqiu isn’t one to wax poetic during sex, but he does bring his version of romance into it. You can feel his love for you mainly through his actions. His touches are always gentle, never rough or bruising. His lips leave kisses all over your skin, covering your face, neck, shoulders, and back in a branding of love.

Jiaoqiu always holds you close to him, desiring the feeling of your bodies pressed flush together as you make love. Whether you’re on top or he is, his hands gravitate toward your body and trace the contours of your figure, admiring how he can call someone as beautiful as you his lover. He didn’t think he would fall in love again after the war left him so numb and afraid of attachment, but you and Feixiao helped to heal his wounded heart, for which he is forever grateful. He holds you in high regard for you made him feel alive with your mere presence and touched his heart deeply where he thought nothing but ashes remained.

Jiaoqiu likes to cup your face when you have sex and trace his thumb along your cheek in a tender gesture. Even if you look like a drooling mess from what he’s doing to you, he gently cradles your face and murmurs how cute you look before leaning in for a sweet kiss. The healer is always loving toward you, even while engaging in kinkier play.

On the occasions where you two have romantic sex, Jiaoqiu lets his guard down and exposes his vulnerable side. He seeks comfort in your closeness, treating your body with gentleness and reverence, and feels overwhelmed in a good way when you treat him just as tenderly in return. Times like these result in slow lovemaking and whispered “I love you”s where he holds your hand and touches his forehead to yours, your gazes meeting. During such moments, Jiaoqiu is more vocal about his feelings, murmuring quiet compliments and praises about how happy he is to be with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jiaoqiu has a healthy sexual appetite, and masturbates about three times a week, mainly as a way to relieve stress. That number went down once he entered a relationship with you since he finds sex more fun than jacking off by his lonesome.

When he wants to masturbate, Jiaoqiu chooses moments when he’s completely alone, though he still muffles his voice just in case. He likes to start slow, leisurely pumping his cock to stoke the flames of desire in his abdomen, before speeding up and gripping his dick tighter. He sometimes uses toys to help him reach release faster, like vibrators or warming lube for the added sensation.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jiaoqiu is a switch. He’s comfortable being dominant and taking the lead in the bedroom, enjoying having you at his mercy. Likewise, he can be submissive and find relief in relinquishing control and being taken care of, but can be a bit bratty as a sub due to his sharp tongue.

As a foodie, it’s no surprise that he enjoys food play. Garnishing your body in tasty morsels and drizzling sauces (not spicy) over your skin makes you look like a delicious treat. Like a hungry cat, he licks his lips before diving in to consume the food off your body, licking up every crumb. He loves your body, and he loves good food, so having both at the same time is like heaven.

Aside from decorating your body with food, he also enjoys the idea of covering food in your or his cum. He likes gathering up some of your slick onto a bite of food, like a strawberry, before consuming it. Similarly, he likes smearing some of his ejaculate onto food and feeding it to you with his cum acting as garnish.

Along with food play, Jiaoqiu is into temperature and sensation play. He likes blindfolding you and watching your reactions to him running feathers, ice cubes, warm towels, his tail, and many other textured items along your skin and erogenous zones. He’s also a fan of receiving this treatment since his other senses become heightened with the loss of his sight, and the stimulation feels novel and exciting. If you stimulate his erogenous zones using this method, he’ll become aroused quite quickly.

Additionally, Jiaoqiu enjoys mirror sex. As much as he loves reverse cowgirl and doggystyle, these positions obscure your pretty face from him, and it’s a pity because he loves your facial expressions. The perfect solution to his dilemma is to have sex in front of a full-length mirror. It allows Jiaoqiu to see how your face slackens with pleasure, how you bite your lip to muffle a moan, or how your eyes roll back when he hits a good spot. He doesn’t want you to miss out on how ravishing you look, so he cups your chin and gently guides your head to make you look in the mirror and see the debauched state you’re in, murmuring for you to watch how well you take his cock.

Another one of his kinks is hair-pulling. He enjoys it when you lightly tug on his hair, whether when he’s got his face buried between your legs or during sex. He sometimes lets out a soft growl when you do that.

Jiaoqiu enjoys a bit of pain. He mainly prefers things like biting, hair pulling, or electric shocks to get that high, but can handle whipping and spanking if you’re gentle with him. Despite his attraction to pain, he doesn’t enjoy rough treatment. He can also enjoy light choking (receiving) provided you can do it safely and build up trust with him.

To add to the long list, Jiaoqiu also likes light bondage with scarves or handcuff (giving and receiving), and if you’re willing, he’s interested in trying shibari on you. Some of his other kinks are biting and marking, edging, blindfolds, and dirty talk.

However, not every session with Jiaoqiu is this kinky. He does enjoy vanilla sex where you can both just relish in the intimacy and romance of the connection, sharing sweet kisses and tender touches.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Jiaoqiu prefers having sex at home where things can be kept private and he has access to all kinds of equipment to spice up your sessions. He wouldn’t risk doing it in other places and potentially getting caught since he has an image to maintain as Feixiao’s retainer.

At home though, almost every room is fair game except the kitchen. Jiaoqiu considers the kitchen his workspace and doesn’t like the idea of having sex where he works to make medicine. Otherwise, places like the couch, office desk, and bathtub are all potential lovemaking spots, though he does prefer the bed since it makes it easy to cuddle and fall asleep afterward.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Usually, when you stroke Jiaoqiu’s ears, he feels a sense of peaceful relaxation, but if you rub the sensitive spot at the base of his ear or run your fingers along the rim of his ears just right, the pleasurable tingles can become arousing for him.

He also gets turned on by your obvious desire for him. Give him a few sensual caresses, whisper a tasteful innuendo in his ear, a lustful look, and his interest is piqued. He finds excitement in a sexually charged game of cat and mouse, regardless of which one of you is chasing or being chased.

Jiaoqiu can smell when you're ovulating. The scent is weak, but his sharp nose can pick up on when you're feeling horny, and it influences his libido. As mentioned previously, he can get more handsy with you during that time.

Another thing that arouses Jiaoqiu are your reactions to his teasing. If his teasing manages to fluster or arouse you, he’ll keep pushing your buttons to make you even more flustered. Something about your flushed cheeks, shallow breaths, and wavering voice makes him want to tease you more and get a greater reaction out of you. You look so cute when flustered, positively adorable, even. Just how much cuter would you look and sound if he touched your chest? Kissed your neck? Made you moan? Why don’t you show him, darling~?

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Absolutely no sharing. Jiaoqiu gets jealous easily, so threesomes get a hard no from him. He is also prideful, and dislikes being humiliated or degraded. It’s an instant turn-off for him.

Although he's okay with being hurt, he won’t do things that might harm you, such as asphyxiation, impact play, or knife play. He’s a healer—he could never bring himself to hurt you that way, even if you begged him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jiaoqiu loves eating not only hotpot but also pussy. He could spend hours between your legs, burying his tongue into your cunt and lapping at your slick. He wants to see you fall apart under his mouth, so he snakes one arm around your hips and pins them down, taking your clit between his lips. He softly sucks on it while deftly flicking his tongue over the bud, ears twitching when he hears you moan.

To truly bring you over the edge, Jiaoqiu slips two fingers into your dripping cunt and curls them to find that roughly textured spot he knows will make you keen for him. The dual assault of his mouth and fingers never fails to make you see stars as you orgasm, and Jiaoqiu opens his eyes to soak in the sight of you unraveling under his touch. It turns him on to see you feel this good because of him, and he can’t get enough of the experience, so he ends up eating you out for a while longer, making you come undone over and over until you’re tugging at his hair to spare you from the overstimulation.

He’s always breathless by the end, face glistening and dripping with your juices, but the look of desire in his golden eyes promises he’s not through with you. Not when you’ve got him so hard and aroused from watching you fall apart on his tongue.

If you want to return the favor, the foxian healer will be more than happy to watch you go down on him. When you blow him, Jiaoqiu tends to be more vocal, unable to fully hold back his soft sighs and strained moans. If you rub the base of his tail while sucking him off, he’ll buck into your mouth with a soft hiss of your name.

Jiaoqiu has a tendency to keep at least one hand on your head while you work your mouth along his cock, guiding your pace or gripping your hair when he feels his orgasm approaching. The closer he is to orgasm, the more he will squirm, running his hands through your hair, gently urging you to take him deeper or bucking his hips into your mouth. Jiaoqiu's usually sly smile gets replaced by a flushed, slack-jawed expression of pure pleasure, tail lashing in excitement behind him. However, he still tries to maintain his composure and murmurs gentle encouragements and praises so you'll keep going, before his words get cut off by a choked moan as he spills down your throat. He also goes weak in the knees when you suck his testicles.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Jiaoqiu likes to take his time with foreplay, prolonging it for as long as possible, but for the actual act, he enjoys a more moderate pace. On a rare occasion, he might play around with the speed of his thrusts, going from moderate, to slow, to fast just to tease you, but overall, he likes to maintain a moderate and steady space. Not too slow to the point it feels teasing, yet not too fast so you won't wear yourselves out too quickly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As mentioned above, Jiaoqiu likes to take his time with foreplay and draw out the session, but he can be convinced to go for a quickie if you show your strong desire for him. Though if either of you are horny enough to want a quick fuck, Jiaoqiu would prefer to settle it with oral sex.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Jiaoqiu is willing to take risks in the bedroom to an extent. He’s eager to try new things to see if there’s something either or both of you can discover you like, but he isn’t willing to have sex in public places or get rough with you. He would much rather be the one treated roughly than hurt you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This foxian healer doesn’t exercise much, so his stamina isn’t high. He lasts an average amount in bed and goes for only one round, but his foreplay is usually drawn out for quite a while, making the session lengthy. Sex is more than just the act of copulation, he says. Foreplay is just as important, if not more so.

If he’s under the effect of an aphrodisiac, then Jiaoqiu lasts another 1-2 rounds, but he becomes dead tired afterward and is likely to pass out quickly once it's over.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jiaoqiu owns a few toys for himself, mainly a bullet vibrator. The vibrating sensations against his cock and other erogenous zones provide a powerful stimulation that gets him going.

For you, he has a whole box of toys he want to try. Blindfolds, handcuffs, vibrators, dildos, anal plugs, electric wands, etc… He’s eager to test them out on you to see how you’ll react. Will introduce toys he thinks you might like into your sessions, though you don’t have to accept them if you don’t want them.

He’s not opposed to you using toys on him, particularly the electric wand, wax candles, and handcuffs. He might put up a fuss, but he does enjoy it when you play with and stimulate his body. Just make sure to properly care for him afterwards.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jiaoqiu loves teasing others, and you are no exception. He enjoys messing with you in your daily life to see your reactions, but he loves teasing you during sex even more. He teases you by tying you up and stimulating your sensitive spots with sex toys or feathers, giving you just enough pleasure to feel good but not enough to make you orgasm, until you’re writhing and begging for more stimulation. While fucking you, Jiaoqiu can also switch up the pace of his thrusts from moderate to slow or completely still just so he can hear your frustrated whines and watch you desperately push your hips back against his, before suddenly pounding into you at a quick pace.

Jiaoqiu is even better at verbal teasing, particularly while edging or fucking you silly. He might say “Oh my, there’s drool running down your chin. Does it feel that good?” Or “You’re dripping wet, dear. Can you feel how easily my fingers slide inside your pretty pussy? Aeons, you’re squeezing them so tightly, do you want me inside you that badly?” and the like.

If you decide to tease him back, it’s best that you’re nice about it. Jiaoqiu might kick up a fuss at first since he’s more used to teasing than being teased, but he can enjoy having you tie him up and run your hands along his body or stimulate him with sex toys. However, he doesn't take kindly to being edged for a long time because he gets impatient and frustrated easily for being denied. The next day, he'll cook a super spicy dish full of foods you dislike and makes you eat it as revenge, or he'll edge you to oblivion the next time you have sex.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jiaoqiu has two modes depending on who is in control. If he’s dominating, he’ll have better control of his voice and will let out grunts and soft moans. He also talks a lot, making teasing comments or talking dirty to rile you up.

If you’re dominating, he’ll be whinier. He lets out choked gasps, quiet hisses, and louder moans. Will also try to shake your control by responding with witty retorts to your teasing, but if you successfully maintain your authority, he’ll reluctantly submit and whine.

In either scenario, when he gets close to orgasm, his voice turns breathless and obtains a raspy quality, and he tends to call out your name.

Jiaoqiu is a huge fan of hearing your voice. Even if you're the quiet type, he does his best to make you moan louder because he loves hearing you feel good. If you moan his name, it riles him up so much that he has to resist the urge to cum on the spot. He really loves hearing you call his name in that wanton voice.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jiaoqiu knows how to make aphrodisiacs. If anyone’s watched The Apothecary Diaries where Maomao made aphrodisiacs, it’s similar to that. Jiaoqiu makes chocolate or chocolate-covered fruit (or another kind of dessert if you’re not a chocolate fan) with aphrodisiac properties. He likes the idea of using aphrodisiacs to occasionally spice up your sex life, but he only gives them to you with your explicit awareness and consent. He would never sneakily give it to you.

Jiaoqiu can adjust the dosage and potency to make the aphrodisiac quick or slow acting, stronger or weaker, etc… depending on the kind of sex you’re looking to have. It’s so much fun to watch how your gaze clouds over and your behavior changes once the aphrodisiac kicks in. He loves seeing you needy for him, it’s a massive turn-on. Whether you pin him down and have your way with him or become a needy, pliant mess for him to do with as he pleases—either outcome is fun. He just loves feeling desired by you and making you crave his touch. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Has a slender cock with a slight upward curve and a couple of prominent veins along the underside. 11.5 cm (4.5 inches) in length and 10 cm (3.9 inches) in girth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jiaoqiu has a healthy sexual appetite and craves sex a few times a week. However, due to his busy life as Feixiao’s retainer and personal healer, he’s sometimes too drained to engage in lovemaking as often as he’d like. Still, he tries to squeeze in some intimate time with you 1-2 times a week. Even if they're not frequent, the sessions last a long time due to his love for foreplay, so it is usually enough to satisfy his needs.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he has nothing to attend to afterward, Jiaoqiu will help you clean up and then cuddle under the sheets. Even when he feels the pull of sleep, he resists it so he can enjoy the afterglow with you. During moments like these, he likes to chat about anything and everything, like how your day went, which dishes he plans to cook for you tomorrow, what hotpot place you should visit during a future date, the silly shenanigans he got up to with Feixiao and Moze that day, etc… it’s just a sweet time to catch up before you both succumb to sleep.

When settling in to sleep, Jiaoqiu likes to spoon. He’s fine with being the big or little spoon, though has a slight preference for big spoon because he likes burying his nose in your hair and smelling your scent. It’s comforting to him. If he senses you're about to fall asleep, he kisses your forehead and wishes you goodnight before hugging you closer and covering you with his tail.

He also lets you gently pet his ears or tail, finding the caresses soothing after a strenuous round of sex. If you’re gentle enough, your touch can relax and lull Jiaoqiu to sleep. Though it might be hard to tell he’s asleep at first glance due to the natural state of his closed eyes, his lack of verbal responses and slow, even breathing will give him away.

[lazycats-stuff]

Please a Clark fic, where reader is a new intern adn Clark is just love struck. And he slowly starts to court (?) the reader, and at some point take him home for a home-cooked meal, where the reader meets Conner and Jon. I think Conner at first doesn't really like reader, but Jon immediately clings to reader. After some time Conner warms up to reader and they all become a happy family

Of course my dear anon. Some superfam sounds good right now. Also, I have decided to make (Y/N) from Gotham... It sounds good, trust me.

Summary: Clark likes (Y/N). Conner is suspicious.

Warnings: I don't think there's any... Fluff mostly.

" Morning Clark. " Lois said to him as she passed him to get some coffee. Clark simply nodded as he booted his computer to start up. He had a piece to write about Lex Luthor scandal which for once wasn't brought to light by the Justice League.

An anonymous whistleblower who contacted Daily Planet with a shit ton of damning evidence. Clark jumped on the said opportunity to expose Lex, both as Superman and Clark Kent.

" Working on the Lex thing? " She asked as she came back, leaning on the edge of his desk, glancing at the computer screen to check the progress. " Yes, it's great to see how he's slowly crumbling. The stock share prices are going down faster than our faith in humanity. " Clark said with a smile, making Lois chuckle.

" Yeah, it's truly satisfying. Also, I have some news for you Smallville. " She said, stopping to sip her warm coffee. Clark raised his brow, fixing his glasses as he leaned back in his chair, smoothing his pants out.

" What those might be Lois? " Clark asked, turning his chair to face her fully.

" We got an intern. Someone from Gotham it seems. His name is (Y/N) and he will work in this department. " Lois stated, lifting her cup of coffee as if she was silently saying finally.

" Oh really? " Clark asked, tilting his head in curiosity. " It seems that Perry has decided to throw us a bone. We could use a courier. " Clark joked and Lois chuckled.

It's nice to have an extra set of hands. " Also, did you say he was from Gotham? " Clark inquired and Lois nodded. Clark whistled quietly. Gotham people are often tougher and more direct and even more blunt.

Clark knew that very well, ahem, read Bruce.

" That will be a nice change of pace. Someone with tough skin. " Clark noted and Lois nodded.

" Now we have someone to take as a bodyguard when we go out. Everyone is afraid of Gotham people. " She joked, sipping more of her coffee before her eyes moved forward, right behind Clark. He turned his chair around to check what she was looking at.

She was looking at the new intern who entered with their boss, Perry White. The room fell silent as Perry stood with a tall guy, (H/C) hair and (E/C) eyes in a suit, standing with a stoic look on his face. And there was a Gotham aura and vibe radiating from (Y/N).

Clark had to stifle a chuckle.

" Everyone, this is our new intern, his name is (Y/N). He transferred from Gotham. Be nice to him. I don't want chaos around here. As for you (Y/N), you'll be working with Kent. He is more than capable to show you the ropes. " Perry said and Clark raised his brow from his seat.

Being a mentor isn't new to him anymore, ever since Conner came as a clone and stepping up ever since then. And since Jon came into the picture, he had no choice but to really step it up as a father. Since the mom left...

Clark rubbed his forehead for a moment, then set his sight back on (Y/N). Clark looked him up and down subtly. He... He is drop dead gorgeous in Clark's eyes. Clark did have a few relationships with men in the past, but he was always more attracted to women.

But the tides have changed.

Clark has been struck with probably love at first sight. He never really felt like this before... So lovestruck. Oh Bruce would have laughed so hard at him in this situation...

Oh God and he is responsible for (Y/N) too? This won't be good in the slightest. He gulped quietly as Perry led (Y/N) to him and the office started bustling with activity again.

" This is Clark Kent (Y/N). Kent, you'll be making sure he gets the basics down since I'm sure Gotham Daily Planet is not up to standard with us. " Perry joked, making (Y/N) laugh.

Clark's heart did a few flips at the laughter. Oh dear God, (Y/N) is so damn adorable when he laughs. But he looks so damn tough too and it makes it a bit more difficult to read.

Gotham does make you more tough.

" Also, this is Lois. " Perry introduced and (Y/N) shook hands with her. Clark stood up and shook hands with (Y/N), whose hands were so soft. Oddly enough. For a Gothamite especially.

" Clark, nice to meet you. " Clark said with a firm handshake. (Y/N) nodded. " (Y/N), nice to meet you. " He said politely.

" Well, I'll take you around the office to show you around and then you can help Kent or whatever else he needs. " Perry said before he led (Y/N) away, telling him about the Daily Planet and how good the place is.

" You are in love Smallville. " Lois said behind her coffee mug making Clark sigh quietly.

She won't let this go.

" Don't you have some work Lois? " Clark asked her, clearly not in the mood to deal with her teasing. Lois simply snickered and raised her hand and mug in a way to show she surrenders and left to go to her desk, that was, coincidentally, right next to Clark's.

" This is will be fun. " Lois muttered under her breath, knowing fully well that Clark could hear her. Clark simply rolled his eyes. She was right, though, this was going to be fun. Clark listened intently to Perry and (Y/N)'s conversation. His super hearing is something that he can't just turn off anyway.

Might as well use it.

After a few months, Clark decided to start making his moves. He decided to start with bringing some coffee every morning to them both. (Y/N) was suspicious at first, the Gotham nature in him telling him to not trust because, again, Gotham makes you on guard all the time.

Especially when someone is nice to you. Maybe (Y/N) is a bit more cold, but every Gotham native is like that. If you try to be nice to them, they are a bit suspicious. Can you blame (Y/N)? But, Clark's ambition and patience had slowly been paying it off.

It started with small cups of coffee every morning to get the energy going for writing and editing articles. (Y/N)'s editing skills were insanely good and Clark was more than impressed the first time (Y/N) showed him the finished version.

Then, (Y/N) was being sent out on the field with a camera to capture events and what not. Perry justified with the saying, you are from Gotham, you'll be fine.

And that turned out to be true actually.

One day, while dropping off some photos at Perry's office, his face was bloody and it was clear that there was some sort of brawl or a fight. Clark and the rest of the office was concerned, but (Y/N) simply acted casually, as if nothing had happened to him.

The only thing he is said is, 'You should see the other guy.'

It made Clark think of Bruce and his nature. Tough Gotham nature.

But Clark had a lot of experience with that nature. Again, dealing with Bruce's nature made it easier to navigate (Y/N). And although (Y/N) and Bruce are two completely opposite people in every shape and form, it still gave Clark good points what not to do and what to do.

And slowly but surely, he did it.

He asked (Y/N) to come with him to his house, for some dinner. A nice good, old, home cooked meal. A recipe his mom sent him so he could impress (Y/N).

(Y/N) was pleasantly surprised and decided to say yes. As well, (Y/N) knew that Clark is a father. 2 boys, if he could judge from his framed photos on his desk. One younger and one older.

Conner and Jon if (Y/N) remembers correctly. Jon is younger and Conner is the older one. And (Y/N) remembered that Clark was a single parent.

So, (Y/N) decided to accept and say yes to the call, never saying no to a good, nice, homecooked meal. And Clark was a nice guy too so it wasn't a bad thing. He was cute too and (Y/N) slowly started to like him.

So, entering his place, he was greeted by Clark's sons, Jon and Conner. Jon is a bubbly personality, immediately clinging onto him. (Y/N) thought that he was adorable.

But Conner was a whole another story. He was more cold and calculating and clearly suspicious of (Y/N). (Y/N) respected it. Don't trust people that have just entered your life.

All in all, the dinner went well and Clark and (Y/N) went on a few dates and soon enough started dating seriously. Soon enough, after a few years, the two got married.

However, during that time, Conner and (Y/N) got more and more closer. It was a nice feeling and was rather emotional for them both. Clark was happy and soon enough, (Y/N) had two boys to call his sons, despite not being biologically related to them.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

I see asks are open , I'm still kind of new to this app , hope this is within the rules ...

(is Tokyo revengers still open ? )

I want to ask if you can do a Tokyo revengers with that tiktok - you know the one where that guy comes into the kitchen and shouted at his s/o "*bitch what's for dinner*" ...

Specifically with > ran

Hope I was specific enough

: 💐

( xmreader )

Bonten Haitani Ran - Bitch What's For Dinner TikTok With Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

I went with the Bonten version of Ran since you didn't specify, I hope that's okay. I couldn't decide how I wanted the reader to react to Ran's dumbassery, so I ended up making three different scenes that go three different ways. As for my reaction, if my nonexistent boyfriend were to do this, I would cry; I'm a very sensitive soul, you know. —Benny🐰 @acabis

                                                                                                   

🥘•♡•🍛•♡•🥘•♡•🍛•♡•🥘•♡•🍛•♡•🥘•♡•🍛

Ran grinned mischievously as he prepared to record; sending a glance over his shoulder to see [Name] cooking on the stovetop from the kitchen doorway. Pressing Record, he quietly cleared his throat and positioned his phone to where he and they were both in the frame.

"Hey Bitch, what's for dinner?"  

He raised his voice; calling out to them from his place on the sofa.

Scene 1: 

[Name] immediately pauses in his movements; brows raising and eyes blinking rapidly. Slowly he turns his head towards the doorway and stares into the back of Ran's head.

"We WERE having Hawaiian chicken and grilled pineapple on buttery white rice with a side of sweet potato fries and a homemade dipping sauce. And I WAS going to pack the leftovers for your lunch tomorrow."  

He softly says as he continues to stare a hole into his lover's skull.

The Bonten executive raises a brow, smirking a bit at the h/c-ette's somewhat lacking reaction.

"What's with the past tense?"  

He inquired; finally turning his head around to look at the other.

[Name] smiled softly; eyes turning up into crescents. His expression would've been gentle and inviting if it weren't for the rancid aura that seemed to hover around him. Ran let out a nervous chuckle; quickly developing a thin sheen of sweat.

"Ran. Honey. Sweetie. Darling. Do you REALLY think that I'm going to feed you after that?"  

The e/c-eyed man speaks in a honeyed voice; the underlying venom incredibly clear.

The purple-haired man lets out a scoff in exasperation; the still recording phone now limply held in his hand.

"Baby, C'mon, I wasn't being serious. It's just a TikTok trend, that's it. I swear. I can even show it to you."  

Ran explained, gesturing to the phone in his hands.

The smile previously spread on [Name]'s face immediately fades into a blank expression upon hearing his lover's words. He stares a the violet-eyed man in silence for a few seconds.

"You called me a bitch... for TikTok?" 

He pauses for a bit before continuing,

"You know, I WAS only going to make you sleep on the sofa, but now I think you should go to your brother's place instead lest you want to get smothered in your sleep tonight."  

Ran sighed in defeat; ending the recording and tossing his phone onto the cushion beside him. He stood from the sofa and made his way into the kitchen gently wrapping his arms around [Name]'s waist and pressing a sweet kiss to his shoulder. The Bonten executive swayed the two of them back and forth as his presence was ignored by the other.

"Baby... I'm sorry, I should've told you beforehand. Forgive me?"  

Ran purred into his lover's shoulder; rubbing gentle circles into their hips with his thumbs.

[Name] humphed but leaned back into the violet-eyed man's chest in silent forgiveness.

Scene 2: 

[Name] takes a deep breath in and looks into the living room from his place in front of the stove. He spots the phone in Ran's hand almost immediately and understands what's happening. The h/c-ette walks into the living room and stands behind the sofa; leaning on the back of it and resting his forearm on the top of the backrest.

"You recording a video for TikTok, Baby?"  

[Name] asks; running his fingers through the violet-eyed man's parted fringe.

Ran gives him an affirmative hum; readjusting the camera on the other's face. The h/c-ette nods and presses a kiss to his cheek before walking back into the kitchen to continue cooking.

"Oh, by the way, honey; when you're done with that, you can order yourself some take-out; I'm inviting Rindou over to eat your portion."  

[Name] absentmindedly calls from the kitchen; hands preoccupied with folding butter into a bowl of white rice.

"Wha-! Why does HE get MY portion!? That's not fair!"  

Ran whines from the sofa; turning his upper body around to look at his lover and slinging his arm over the backrest.

"Rin gets it because he's not a grown man trying to get attention from strangers by calling me a bitch and on TikTok no less."  

[Name] hums as he turns on the small countertop grill with one hand and dials Rindou's number with the other.

Ran groans and ends the recording; already knowing well that his lover is being serious about giving away his portion. He lets out a resigned sigh and sulkily dials the number for his favorite restaurant.

Scene 3: 

BONK!

"OW! WHAT THE FUCK!?"  

Ran screeches; clutching his head after a pot was hurled at him and smacked into the back of it.

His phone, which he was previously holding, was now across the room as it slid across the floor when he dropped it from the impact. The Bonten executive turns around and looks at a seething [Name] who lifted another pot, ready to beam it off his skull as he did with the first.

"WAIT! WAIT! I'm sorry! Don't throw it!"  

The purple-haired man pleads, only to quickly duck in front of the sofa to avoid the second flying pot.

🍛•♡•🥘•♡•🍛•♡•🥘•♡•🍛•♡•🥘•♡•🍛•♡•🥘

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[nolita-fairytale]

give you my wild, give you a child | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x pregnant fem!reader oneshot

summary: your second trimester while pregnant with baby bear is way sexier than you expected.

warnings: smut, breeding kink, language, 18+ only, barely proofread.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: hi it's me with the second trimester sexapalooza smut i promised @starbritestarlite and @carmensberzattos. and with this new season, let me know if you want to be added to my carmy taglist!! i wrote this as a companion piece to the 'make my heart heart surrender' universe, specifically for the 'carmy as your baby daddy' headcanon/social media au series. anyways, i've been thoroughly enjoying season 2 and am sitting into the fact that i've created my own universe inside of their universe. god we love fanfic. anyways... this is nsfw so 18+ only.

Today 2:21 pm

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: On the way home for lunch. 

You: Hurry, baby. 

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: You good, sweet girl?

Your reply is almost instant, and Carmy wonders what could possibly come next as he sees the three dots appear below your message, indicating that you’re still typing. 

It’s a link, his eyes widening as soon as it appears in his iMessage history with you. 

You: Hottest Sex Positions For Pregnant Women | Cosmopolitan 

Before he can notice that it feels ten degrees hotter in the room, that his face has turned cherry red, that his pants are beginning to feel unbearably tighter, he’s interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. 

“You good, chef?” Marcus asks, as he passes by, noticing the red tones that have risen to Carmy’s cheeks. 

“Wh-, oh yeah!” Carmy answers, almost too quickly, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

Marcus shoots him a strange look, examining his boss’ face. 

“Just uh… gotta go home for lunch.”

*

3:03 pm

“What took you so long?” you practically growl as soon as Carmy gets through the door. 

He hasn’t even had a chance to close it properly before you’re on him like a moth to a flame. Dressed in the cutest pair of white shortalls, you’ve been working from home all day – or rather, mindlessly clicking through your e-mail while waiting for Carmy to come home all day, your mind preoccupied with the fact that Carmy hasn’t been home to give you exactly what you want. 

What you need, may be the better description. 

It’s as if the spirit of Eros himself has taken you over, unable to focus properly as your rapidly changing body needs is practically screaming out for one thing and one thing only: 

To be properly and thoroughly fucked by the man that got you here in the first place. 

“I-,” he begins, attempting to explain that he was running a little behind and got caught up giving feedback to one of his new line cooks before your mouth is on his in an all-consuming kiss. 

Now that he’s here, you regret even asking him, careless for the why when it feels this good to have him pressed up against your body. Your lips are desperate, hungry, intense, as you tangle yourself into him. It’s as if you can finally relax, like you can finally take a breath, now that your husband is finally here. 

He lets out a little groan of surprise against your mouth, as if you’ve charged towards him like the sexual equivalent of a tasmanian devil. 

And in his defense, you have.

“Baby,” he whispers against your lips. “Should we-, can we even-, shouldn’t you be working?”

He’s not wrong. 

You should be working. 

But the unbelievable and insatiable need for sex – for sex with Carmy – is the only thing driving you these days, holding you hostage to its unbelievable and all-encompassing power. You’re like a woman possessed as you reluctantly pull away from him to put his mind at ease. Your lust-filled eyes look him over, his curls already wild from a long day at the restaurant, as you shake your head ‘no.’

“I finished all my work for the day and signed off early. Perks of being a start-up sellout,” your well-kissed lips inform him. 

Carmy’s head spins in response to your answer.

Maybe it’s the prospect of the sex. 

Maybe it’s the way it’s the way your mouth feels against him as you kiss down his jawline and his neck.

“Okay, but I gotta be back at the restaurant at 4:15,” he smiles in agreement, more than happy to oblige.

“That’s plenty of time,” you coo, nibbling on his earlobe.

This time it’s Carmy who initiates, using both of his hands to cradle your face before his mouth is over yours again. The kiss starts slowly this time as he inhales deeply, taking you in. You shift closer, pressing your slightly-rounder-these-days belly against his body once more. He moans, his hands immediately traveling down your body, to your hips as he breathes you in again, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with you forever. His touch ignites something in you and you allow yourself to surrender, lost in the feel of his hands against you. His hands are everywhere – your hips, traveling up your belly, dancing across your fuller-than-normal breasts – and finally the drawn-out unrest of your mind can finally find peace.

He’s starting to get used to this. 

And he’ll admit that he really, really likes it. 

Carmy changes positions with you so that he can press you up against the front door as you continue your passionate makeout. 

Your first trimester had been hell – mornings spent on the bathroom floor together while you hurled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, days where you barely had the energy to get out of bed, nights where you were too hot to sleep that all you could do was lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, frustrated tears pouring out of the corners of your eyes – your body undergoing the hardest reset of your life. 

So when the fog and tumultuousness of your first trimester subsided, it was a more than welcomed change – and in so many ways. You’ve traded mornings of flat ginger ale, saltines, and sympathetic back rubs, with mornings spent tugging on Carmy’s perfect curls while you cried out his name.

“You smell like sandwiches,” you giggle in between kisses. 

“Ah shit. I should shower,” he sighs, reluctantly. 

He knows your sense of smell has been heightened lately, and he can’t imagine that smelling like a spicy Italian sandwich would be much of a turn on for you. He begins to pull away, but there’s now way in hell you’re letting him go as you grab his hands in yours. 

"No, Carmy, I can't wait,” you whine, the sound of your voice the most needy, beautiful thing Carmy’s ever heard in his life. 

“You could join me,” he offers with a raise of an eyebrow, presenting a solution you can absolutely get behind. 

“Uh huh. Yes please,” you nod eagerly, a girlishness to the way you answer him. 

Please.

Your usage of the word’s got him harder than a rock and he loves this side of you. Your sex life had been great before the pregnancy, but there’s something different about it now. Something about how needy you’ve been – the only thing that can possibly quell the fire inside of you being him – has him unraveling at the seams. 

How could he possibly say no when he’s more than eager to give you exactly (and then some, if it’s up to him) what you want? 

Your fingers are still tangled in his, licking your lips as you add, “My baby daddy thinks of everything.”

Carmy shakes his head, tugging at your hands as he leads you towards the bathroom, mentioning that he still can’t get over the fact that you’ve chosen to call him that in front of everyone you’ve ever known. You remind him that it’s cute, and though he’s not sure he gets it, he lets you do it anyway because it makes you happy.

As you both reach the bathroom, you patiently wait as Carmy turns on the shower, running a hand through the stream of water to check the temperature. One minute he’s focused on the cool water coming down from the showerhead, and then next he’s caging you in between his body and the bathroom sink. 

“You miss me this much, pretty girl?” he murmurs dreamily, his hand trailing up your inner thigh. 

You nod, taking note of how perfectly his top lip fits in between yours. 

“Yes, baby. Thanks for coming home for lunch,” you manage to get out, in between desperate kisses. 

“No need to thank me,” he smirks, a newly-found confidence in his voice. 

His hands are tugging at the hem of your shorts, as if he could slide the overalls down your body this way, a small pang of frustration welling deep in his stomach as he realizes that’s not going to happen. He kisses you with a fervor that makes you dizzy, as Carmy fumbles with the straps of your overalls. Trying his best to unclasp one side, he tosses the strap over your back, a clang sounding out within the four walls of the small room as the metal of the claps hits the porcelain of the sink. 

Carmy lets out a groan as he tugs at the second strap, causing you to giggle. 

“These stupid things,” he huffs, a look of embarrassment running through his brilliant blues. 

“Here, baby,” you say, slipping one of your arms out of the tangled strap. 

He groans as soon as his eyes meet yours again, more than happy to help you out of these damn things.

He pulls the overalls down with a rigor that stops right as the overalls drop to your waist, revealing your white tank top – one that you’re not wearing a bra underneath. 

“Sweetheart,” he groans, his hands ghosting over where your nipples stand erect against the fullness of your breasts. 

“You been like this all day?” he mutters against your skin, leaning down to drag his mouth over your still-clothed breasts. 

“Mmmmhm. Needed you,” you moan, your eyes closing as you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you. 

He’s so incredibly hard right now it’s not even funny. 

“Yeah?”

By the time you open your eyes again, Carmy’s on his knees, so gentle, so tender with the way he slides the rest of the piece of clothing over the bump that’s been growing inside of your belly.

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

You shimmy out of your overalls as Carmy jumps back to his feet, removing your tank so that the only thing you have left is the pair of panties you’re still wearing. Before he can kiss you again, you’re tugging off his shirt, a sacrifice, an offering to the bathroom floor. 

“Should be warm enough, yeah?” you ask, gesturing towards the shower. 

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, removing his shorts. 

You feel all the blood in your body rush south as you see how hard he is already, swallowing hard. Carmy helps you into the shower, like the gentlemen he is, and you hope that’s where the gentleness ends. 

Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you towards him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist as the warm water begins to wash over the both of you. 

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl,” he hums as his nimble fingers slip between your legs. He groans as soon as he feels how goddamn wet you are. 

“Fuck, honey.”

“See? I told you I needed you, Carm,” you pant, letting out a high keening moan as he draws lazy circles around your clit. You’re already bucking your hips into his hand and he’s barely started touching you. 

"You're so sensitive. So responsive, sweet girl,” he teases you, as he drags his fingers through your folds. You are so unbelievably wet that he’s not sure how he managed to get so damn lucky. 

"I just want you to fuck me, Carm. I’ve needed it all day. I need you to make me feel good," you beg, completely lost in the way his fingers feel as he slides two into you already. 

It’s like his touch sets fireworks off in your brain, setting your nerves on fire as you cry out. 

"Yeah?” he taunts you, an almost amused tone in his voice as he sets the slowest rhythm. “Think that’s how we got here in the first place, pretty girl.”

"I know,” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers for any kind of friction. For something more. For something faster. For something deeper. But at this rate, with how much he seems to enjoy teasing you, with how horny you are, you’ll take anything. 

“But nothing feels as good as you, Carm.”

Your words go straight to his dick and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to leave you alone ever again – might as well quit his day job in exchange for this all-day never-ending second trimester sexapalooza you both seem to be caught inside of. 

He’s practically choking on his words as he manages to ask you:

"What’s that, baby? Did you touch yourself while I was gone?" 

You nod pathetically, moaning as he buries his thick fingers deep inside of you. He pauses, feeling the way your walls pulse around him as he stays inside of you, wanting to memorize this moment forever. 

In any other circumstance, he’d make you fall apart on his fingers, and then his tongue before you even went there, but with your recent admission, he’s decided that he has to have you now. In one swift motion, Carmy pulls his fingers from you, releasing his grip on your leg, eliciting a whine at the loss of him. 

Before you can even protest, he’s turning you around in the shower, and you can feel his hard-on pressing against your backside as he pulls you close.

“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like this,” he taunts you, playfully, as he drags his cock through your folds a few times. 

“Carm,” you whimper, bracing your hands against the shower wall. “Don’t tease.”

“What’s that?” he coos, pressing his thick tip against your clit. 

“I don’t think I can take it. Please, baby,” you whine, so desperate for him to be inside of you. You push your ass back against him, offering your body to him for the taking. 

“Fuck!” he grunts out, because he just can’t resist you like this. 

You let out a sharp cry, as Carmy pushes himself inside of you, finally giving the thing you’ve wanted all day long. 

Carmy sets a slow pace at first, burying himself all the way to the hilt, so that you can feel all of him – every single ridge, every single vein of his cock with each thrust – and with how sensitive, how turned on you are, you’re already seeing stars. His hands hold onto your waist, controlling the speed of your lovemaking, as you press your hands against the shower wall, bracing yourself. You want him everywhere, all around you, consuming you with every fiber of his being, as if all you can do is hold yourself up and let him know how good he’s making you feel. 

Carmy’s lips are on your neck, leaving love bites across your shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings about how well you take him and how good you feel. And then he’s speeding up the pace of each thrust, pulling you back towards him. His hands are all over you: pressing you back against his chest, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples as he takes care of you. 

His wife. 

The mother of his child. 

The love of his life. 

You turn your head just enough so that you can kiss him as Carmy’s hand reaches up to cup your face, making sure that he can kiss you properly too. This time you’re standing up taller, grinding against him, wanting to touch your husband more than you need to hold yourself up against the wall. Your hand slips behind you, grabbing at whatever parts of him that you can, bracing yourself against him, as if you could get Carmy even closer to you, while the other is guiding his across your body, your fingers tangled together. 

He’s perfect. 

This is perfect. 

It’s what you’ve been aching for all damn day. 

“I need you, Carm,” you moan into his mouth, as the consistent feel of him thrusting in and out of you has you delirious. 

"You have all of me, baby,” he reassures you in the tenderest tone of voice he can muster, his other hand resting just underneath your breasts as he fucks you. 

"More." 

"More?" 

He’s not sure what ‘more’ could mean at this moment, but the dirty talk is so hot that he’s more than willing to find out. He slows down his pace, dragging his cock in and out of you and the most delicious pace. 

"Yes,” you pant, pulling away from the searing kiss, your head hanging low. Your hands return to the shower wall as you arch your back, bending at the hips so that you can take him deeper as you add:

“I want to make you a daddy." 

His hips stutter for a second, caught off guard by what you’ve just said. 

"You-you are, sweetheart,” he chuckles, slowing his pace down for a moment as he watches himself disappear inside of you over and over again. 

“Carmy,” you groan, in response to his change pace. 

You’re grinding your ass against him, begging him to speed up, but his hands return to your hips, stopping you. 

The sight alone, and what you’ve just said, he thinks to himself, might kill him. 

You whine as Carmy brings his movements to a halt, trying to get him to fuck you again. But he can’t let what you’ve just said go unrecognized as he stills your hips. 

"What was that? You like walking around like this, hmm? Everyone knowing what I've done to you?" he asks you, holding your hips so that you can’t move.

You’ll give him anything to get what you want. 

Even if it means saying it again. 

“Yes, baby,” you sigh, and Carmy lets out another moan as you squeeze around him. 

“I want to make you a daddy. Just fuck me. Please.”

“Oh fuck,” Carmy mutters, knowing he’s not going to last much longer if you keep that up. 

He pulls out of you, and before you can protest, he’s slamming back into you in a way that makes you sob. He sets a brilliant pace this time, and you're arching your back, pressing your hands against the wall even harder – and all you can do, all you want to do, is take it. Hearing you chant his name over and over takes over him. He’s a man determined, with a single-minded focus on giving you exactly what you want. 

He’s reduced you to a moaning, mumbling mess, as you chase both of your orgasms. 

“Touch me, Carmy,” escapes your lips, and he’s more than happy to oblige, his fingers immediately coming to your clit. 

He’s so goddamn talented, using his cock and his hands to make you fall apart. 

You feel a familiar coil in your belly, and with the way you’re squeezing around him, Carmy can tell your close. 

“Come on, sweet girl. Go ahead and let go for me,” his voice sturdy, confident, strong. 

And seconds later, your eyes slam shut as you’re crying out his name, falling over the edge as your husband pulls the most delicious orgasm from your body. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.”

He’s right behind you – literally and figuratively – as Carmy’s thrusts become more erratic, finally letting go after exercising an impossible level of self control. He spills inside of you with a grunt, holding you against him as he pauses. 

Breathless, you throw your head back, grateful that his shoulder is there to catch you. With the slightest turn of your head, you’re able to kiss him, placing the gentlest kiss against the corner of his mouth before Carmy’s hand comes up to lift your chin towards him again, so that he can kiss you properly. 

“Holy shit, Bear,” you sigh, a sense of relief washing over you. 

“Yeah,” he pants, trying to catch his breath with you. 

You both take a beat, a moment to let your brains catch up with your bodies, just holding onto each other – savoring the way it feels to be in each others’ arms. 

“I should uh… I should probably still shower,” Carmy starts, beginning to come back down to earth. 

You turn back towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, entertaining him with slow, lazy kisses in between words. 

“But why don’t you dry off and get into bed?” Carmy suggests, using a quiet yet direct tone, almost as if it’s an order. 

It’s as if he knows that, though the last orgasm he’d just given you had been world-rocking, there’s no way in hell you’ll be satiated today with just one. 

“Really?” you ask, hopefully with a giggle. 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

“Heard, chef,” you tease him, eliciting a playful eye roll from him. 

He releases you, giving you the time and space to wring out your hair and step out of the shower. 

And as you do what he says, he rewards you for it, spending the rest of the afternoon with his face buried between your legs until he’s ready to go again. 

*

“And we’ve got a special tonight. Lemon chicken piccata. We’re talkin’ major Berzatto family recipe, ok? So let’s make sure we’re talkin’ up, alright?” Richie announces, following it up with a reminder to all of his servers of the main talking point during tonight’s pre-shift meeting. 

Carmy thinks he’s been stealthy as he attempts to sneak back into the restaurant, considering he’s thirty minutes late. He feels lucky that since everyone is preoccupied with the pre-shift meeting that they couldn’t possibly notice him slipping in this late. He hears the meeting end, making a mental note that tonight’s mise has been done right, praying that tonight’s service goes smoothly. 

He has, afterall, been using up a lot of extra energy lately…. 

“Hey, Jeffrey. We were wondering when you’d be in tonight,” Tina comments, as she returns to the kitchen, ready to lead service tonight. 

“Oh uh, yeah. Sorry, got caught up with some stuff,” he mumbles, avoiding her gaze as he doesn’t have an excuse or a cover story. 

“Mmmhhhmmmm,” she sounds, passing him by, because it’s no secret what Carmen Berzatto’s been up to lately. 

“Yo, cousin!” Carmy calls out, in search of Richie. 

Carmy makes his way into the dining room, and as soon as Richie sees him, knowing what time it is – knowing that Carmy’s running late – he smirks. A blush runs over Carmy’s cheeks as Richie shakes his head with a laugh. 

It’s as if Richie can see right through him, and suddenly, Carmy’s feeling incredibly exposed.

Richie wags a finger at his cousin, his laugh beginning to build. 

“Ahhhh man, cousin,” he sighs, an amused look on his face as he continues. “No one warned ya, huh?”

“I-,” Carmy starts, searching for any and all excuses he could make up on the spot, to no avail. 

“Men can’t resist a pregnant woman. Sheesh. Enjoy it while you can, jagoff.”

[eldritchravens]

Welcome Home - The Homewarming Update : A compilation of the secrets I could find

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD!⚠️

This post is simply a compilation of all the things I could find during my exploration of the website. I'm not going to delve too much into theories. Enjoy the read!

1- Statics

Every background is now filled with statics. I tried zooming out but I couldn't find anything. Not really a secret, but still interesting to note.

2- It's a dog! Oh, and a pea!

Found in the "Official Welcome Home Cook Book" in the merchandise page. I am... A little worried about Barnaby. For those who are aware, the pea is foreshadowing for a much bigger secret.

3- Audio distortion

Surprisingly, I was only able to find one instance where the audio distorts. In the "Homewarming Storybook Record", when Wally speaks here (timestamp is 18:16), the audio gets distorted. Please let me know if you found more audio glitches on the main website!

4- The page is breathing

I was able to capture something that made my skin crawl. Look very closely at this illustration. It's... breathing. I'm unsure if any other image in the website does that too. Very troubling.

5- Lost track of time

Uh-oh! Looks like our beloved writer is losing their perception of time itself. An effect of the black substance maybe? You can find this on the News page.

6- Pixels? Smudges? Oh, and a new friend!

In The Neighboorhood page, Home now has little white pixels around him? I'm unsure if this was intentional or not. Interestingly, the secret link under Home dissapeared along with every other traces of Wally.

The logo on certain pages looks... dirty? Look closely, there are brownish stains on some letters. This doesn't appear everywhere.

And! New friend! Hello new friend!

7- Symbols!

Okay, now onto the main course. Something I think we've all noticed straight away! There's a ton of tiny little doodles splattered around the website. The doodles are all named after a letter. Here is every letter translated from their respective symbol you can find on the website :

Home : M I O A Merchandise : P Y E R Media : Y G About us : A R Stickers : E News : T Neighboorhood : S F N E Wally : W Exhibition : N Ghestbook : W W W Transcript : Y

"www" huh? Interesting, like a web link. At first, all of this doesn't really mean anything, until we stumble upon this!

Fascinating, it's a code! Eddie here is giving us the translation to every single doodle. Next, if we solve the question here "What does Home wear at parties?", it gives us the next clue we need. The answer is "ADDRESS". Address? Now, remember the "www" thing? That's right! We need to assemble the letters we found to make a link!

8- Away from Prying Eyes

After assembling a link, you will be able to visit a secret page. In it is by far the biggest secret in this update : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/

When I tell you I lost my marbles when I discovered this. There is a lot to say here! Firstly, one thing to note is that unlike any other secrets we had found in previous updates, Wally didn't put this here. Instead, it was this mysterious "W". Go read the whole thing! It's PACKED with information!

"W" purposely put this here for US to find. W is in distress, confused and scared; this looks like a call for help.

Might or might not be important, but the word "Paranoid" here starts with a capital. It did catch my eye, so maybe it is noteworthy.

This entire phone call is absolutely fascinating and gives us answers about the lore. I highly recommend people to give it a listen : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/phone

AND THIS??? OH MY GOODNESS!!! Clown is spoiling us with gifts for this Homewarming! Truly, thank you Clown and the whole WH team, you're doing such a marvelous job. Watch the whole thing here : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/commercials

And what's this hidden among the commercials? Eddie! Remember how I said the pea was foreshadowing? Eddie can hear Home's heartbeat. Well, our dearest mailman doesn't look too well :( Thankfully Frank seems to be looking out for him!

_________________________

Important things to note: This update is almost completely void of any trace of Wally infesting the website. The symbols were placed by the website manager here. Wally is not there anymore. Also, Eddie is purposely left out of the main update, only to be the center of attention in the commercial compilation.

Well! That's all I managed to find for now! Please let me know in the replies if I've missed anything. Thank you for reading, and Happy Homewarming! <3

Edit : Added some new things I just noticed!

[greenandhazy]

here is my adulting advice: find a recipe that includes a small amount of wine (French and Italian recipes are especially good for this ime but there are plenty of options). DO NOT buy "cooking wine." buy a good wine, by which I mean a wine in your price range that is appropriate to the recipe--sweet red, dry white, w/e--and sounds good to you. if it's $8 and you like it, that counts. measure out however much you will need for your recipe at the start. then pour yourself a glass of the wine. drink it as you cook. play some music--NOT through your headphones. let your music mix with the ambient noise of the place where you live. dance a little while you move through your kitchen--flick your wrist with dramatic flair as you add your ingredients. make sure you preserve at least one full glass of your wine to enjoy with your dinner when it's done.

seriously, my friends, the amount of joy this adds to the cooking process cannot be overstated.

[servingrobin]

U ALREADY KNOW. sanji.. nsfw alphabet 🙏 please

Yes ma’am 🫡 tbf I already had this written because I find Sanji so easy to write - I adore this perverted man

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

will clean you up with a warm towel if you’re tired, or run you a hot bubble bath if you desire, has snacks and water ready, warm pajamas folded to the side - honestly an aftercare king

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sanji knows the effect his hands have on you, how you stare at them whilst he’s cooking, how a simple bend of a finger makes you squeal, so he too adores his hands

On others this man is OBSESSED with breasts, like no question he is a boob guy, would suffocate in your cleavage and die happy

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When you’re first dating he’ll cum inside or in protection, not wanting to dirty your perfect innocent body any more than needed

Once you get to know each other better and egg him on a little, his favourite place becomes your face - the sight of your eyelashes fluttering, lips coated in pearls of white, sends him straight into a nosebleed every time

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Steals your underwear for long trips and will carry it around in his pocket - though this has become less frequent after he brushed them in his pocket and the feel of the lace sent his nose bleeding - Zoro didn’t let him live it down for weeks

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

This man loves women so much, but I truly believe he has very little actual experience with them - not a problem though, Sanji is a fast learner and very committed to making you scream in pleasure. Also very willing to experiment and find new things you like.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press, Sanji wants your foreheads touching, eyes staring intently as his hips grind down on you, cum flowing as deep as possible to paint your insides

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Unintentionally hilarious, so eager to please that he fumbles a lot especially in the beginning. So earnest about it that you have to try not to giggle though.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Immaculate shaven, likes to feel clean - will obey your every preference though

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sanji is possibly the most romantic man on the planet, will hold your hand throughout (though especially when he’s being rough), will shower you with praise (good girl, that’s it just for me) and compliments, kisses you with intense love and passion

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Used to be all the damn time, we all know this man is horny as hell. When he found you though, Sanji lost most interest in it - how could his hand ever compare to the glorious heaven that is your pussy? (He still does it on occasion, most often in your room or with your clothes as assistance)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

For him he adores you pulling his hair, especially when he’s eating you. He also loves hearing you beg for him, telling him how good he makes you feel, begging him to do all sorts of dirty things to you.

Mostly it comes down to Sanji loving the idea of you wanting! To be his

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere any time, there is no shame here, the rest of the crew know to just mind their business at this point.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally anything you do has potential - you’ve seen how he behaves. But in particular, your hair brushing him, your underwear, tan lines, particularly phallic

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Pain or blood, Sanji has no interest in hurting you. He doesn’t mind the odd spank or hair pull, but could not bring himself to go any further than that, could think of nothing worse than hurting such an angel.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man is a GIVER, makes eating you out a competitive sport, has you seeing stars and possibly even squirting.

Not to say he doesn’t like receiving though, he’s had a nosebleed more than once from just looking down at you with his dick in your mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sensual is Sanji’s word, sometimes fast sometimes slow but always passionate - speed is really just down to your preference.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t like them as he doesn’t get enough time to worship you, but needs must on such a busy ship and he’s mastered getting you to cum in minutes

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Always up for experimenting with different kinks and ideas, just generally a really fun experience for you both

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Right I’ll be real here - Sanji does not always last long once he’s inside you, the man is just too obsessed with you. However he knows this and will play with you for hours first.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Happy to try toys on you, will bring back anything he finds while exploring, anything that gives you pleasure is okay in his book

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

King of teasing - soft touches and whispers through the day, eating you until your clawing begging to just fuck you, fingering in the pantry, dirty talk whilst he’s cooking

Sanji knows how to get you riled up for sure

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Out of the whole ship, the loudest person is Sanji - he will moan and shout and let the whole world know how good you feel around him

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Cannot ever fuck you in the kitchen - you thought it would be fun one time but Sanji kind of lost it, ranting about cleanliness and his work station - you were in fits of laughter by the end of it.

It took months for him to even come near you in the pantry away from the work surfaces.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Around 7-8 inches, definitely a long boy, but on the thinner side, pale with blue veins and a rosy pink head

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

All. The. Time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sanji will not even think about sleep until you’ve been properly cared for, but once everything is done and he’s snuggled into the crook of your neck, limbs curled around you, he’s out for the count

[hotchscoffeecup]

banana pancakes

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: E

Category: Fluff (tooth-rotting)

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: On a Sunday morning, you wake to find Aaron making breakfast in the kitchen. He surprises you with slow dancing to old country music, Jack is cute as all get out, and of course, banana pancakes.

“Jack?” you ask groggily. You prop yourself up on your elbows and note Aaron isn’t in bed beside you. “Hey buddy, is everything ok?” You glance at your phone plugged in on the nightstand where the numbers blink back 8:37AM aka too early on a Sunday.

Jack giggles quietly. “Daddy is being silly in the kitchen.”

Knowing that could mean anything to a six year old, naturally, your brow furrows. Your lips quirk into a half smile as you regard his own happy face. “What do you mean, silly?”

Jack’s little hands fly to his mouth as he stifles another laugh. “I’m going to go play in my room!” And just like that he bounces off of the bad and darts out the door into the hallway.

Now curious, you push the sheets back and slide out of bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as a chill passes through you. Before leaving the room, you pull on the gray cotton robe that falls to your mid-calf and tie it loosely over your sleep shirt and shorts set. As you step into the hallway, the smell of coffee and something baking fills your nostrils. Your stomach rumbles gently in response to the sweet aroma.

Quietly, you make sure way down the hall. When you’re close enough to peer into the kitchen, you lean against the doorway and watch. The stove is along the far wall, so if you’re cooking, you’re turned away from the doorway. He doesn’t see you, not at first.

Dressed only in a white t-shirt and boxers, the apron decorated with images of wine glasses on it contrasts sharply with the plaid pattern of his undergarments. George Strait is playing on the stereo. He gently shakes his hips back and forth as he quietly sings along to the country ballad. As he flips the pancakes over, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You bite your thumbnail as you watch him and when he turns around, the stunned look on his face causes you to smile even wider.

“Now how am I supposed to bring you breakfast in bed if you’re not in bed?” he questions, the dark slash of his brow arching as he regards you with warm, brown eyes.

“You can blame the little man,” you reply cheekily. “He woke me up to tell me daddy was being silly in the kitchen.”

Hotch smiles, revealing the left dimple in his cheek. “Oh yeah?” he says, tone playful as he saunters toward you. Stretching his hands out toward the ties on your robe, he takes hold of them and pulls you in toward him. Looping one arm around your waist, he uses the other to swipe at the dial on the stereo. The volume cranks up and he takes your hand in his. Turning in a slow circle, he sways to the music, pulling you along with him.

He presses a kiss to your temple and holds you close as he dances you in small circles around the kitchen. Putting a deep country vibrato into his voice, he begins to hum and sing along against your cheek.

“I cross my heart,” he sings, “and promise to, give all I’ve got to give to make your dreams come true.”

You drop your head back and laugh as he whirls you around in a dramatic arc. “Aaron!” you cry giddily.

He continues to sing. “In all the world, you’ll never find a love as true as mine.”

The acrid smell of something burning starts to singe your nostrils. “Aaron, the pancakes!”

“Oh, let them burn!” he croons.

You playfully slap at his chest before breaking free from his hold. In turn, he slaps you on the ass. You shriek gleefully and he laughs as you dash over to the stove and pull the quickly blackening pancakes off the pan. Fortunately, he has a bowl half full of batter still off to the side alongside a plate of about half a dozen perfectly golden brown pancakes.

“Daddy! Daddy!” The pitter patter of small feet slapping against the linoleum echoes as Jack tumbles into the room. Aaron grabs him around the middle and swoops him into the air.

“Hey buddy!” he greets as he kisses him on the cheek.

“Daddy, it’s our song!”

Aaron quiets for a moment as he listens to the stereo and Jack is right. The track had changed over to another George Straight song, Love Without End, Amen.

As Aaron dances Jack around the kitchen, swinging him high and low and singing lyrics fractured with laughter, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with joy.

“Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then, it’s a love without end, amen.”

You couldn’t begin to imagine a more perfect Sunday morning than this.

“It’s a love without end, amen!” Jack sing-shouts as the song comes to a close.

Aaron sets Jack down on the floor and you start to clap and cheer. “What a show!” you exclaim. “Jack, that was amazing!”

He grins sheepishly, “Thank you.” He tacks your name to the end of his thanks as he runs to the kitchen table to climb into his chair and you can’t help but feel all the more grateful in return for how much Jack has welcomed you into his little family with him and his dad.

“I’ll get the pancakes,” Aaron says with a quick peck on your cheek as he scoots past you to pick up the plate.

“I’ll get the coffee!” you say in turn and pull two mugs down from the cabinet. As you fix yours and Aaron’s (black for you and splash of milk and two sugars for him), you make sure to grab a third mug from the cabinet to make Jack a glass of chocolate milk. Drinking out of a mug while you two drank your coffee made him feel like one of the grown ups, after all.

You carefully pile all three mugs into your hands and make your way to your seat at the table. Aaron sets a plate in front of you and Jack and you serve yourself and him two pancakes each.

“Oh! Do we have any—” you start and stop as Aaron places a small bowl of sliced bananas beside your plate.

He eyes you knowingly. “You think after all this time, I’d forget your favorite?”

You cup his cheek in your hand and press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Yuck!” cries Jack as she shoves a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

“I do love banana pancakes,” you say as you scoop a spoonful onto the fluffy rounds in front of you.

Aaron hugs you from behind before taking his seat at the head of the table. “And I love you more than you love banana pancakes.”

[wardenparker]

American as Apple Pie

Jack Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12k Warnings: Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mention of shooting/guns but the context is carnival games, cheesy flirting, Jack being Jack. Fingering, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Going to a Fourth of July party with your girlfriends turns out to be an unexpected whirlwind. Notes: It wouldn't be a holiday without a little fic to celebrate. Independence Day seemed best acknowledged with a heavy dose of Jack's good natured charm. 🎆🎇💗🤍💙

The Statesman Fourth of July celebration in Louisville, Kentucky is one of the biggest and loudest in the area. It was an excuse to drape everything in red, white and blue, perfect your Uncle Sam costume, and play Lee Greenwood’s ‘Proud to be an American’ on repeat. There is a special whiskey barrel that is opened every year since its founding in 1919. Huge grills are rolled out to cook hamburger and hotdogs by the thousands as it’s an open party for everyone. Ending in a spectacular fireworks show that lights up the sky.

Some friends wanted to go. Girls from the office who were looking for a more festive holiday celebration than watching their siblings' kids play in the pool and playing cornhole while their aunts bitched about grocery prices. Not having anything better to do, you had thrown on the only red, white, and blue clothes you had in your closet and punctuated the look with red lipstick just for fun. Maybe you'll have one too many and flirt with a cowboy. That wouldn't be too bad.

The bolero he normally wears around his neck with the button down and sports coat had been traded for an open collared shirt, a print of U.S flags on them. His normally painted on jeans exchanged for white shorts and cowboy boots changed out with boat shoes. Still, the black Stetson is firmly on his head, although the mustache was still impeccably groomed and no one would mistake him for anything but a cowboy as he drinks from a long neck bottle to beat the mid afternoon heat.

The music filtering through speakers all over the Statesman Distillery property is obviously country, but the actual number of Stetsons in the sea of guests is staggering even to a Louisville resident. It's that time of the year, you suppose, making your way toward one of the many drink carts with your friends as you scope out the crowd.

“Weeeeeellllll, holy shit.” Tequila whistles, twisting his neck as he looks over at the margarita cart, smirking at the choice of drink. “Get a good look at the shorts on those legs.” He nods, making Jack follow his gaze to the group of women who obviously just arrived.

"God bless the USA." Rum pronounces solemnly, only lifting his Stetson from his head to place it over his heart in salute to the group of four ladies in the tiniest shorts he's ever seen that are now getting their drinks.

“Goddamn I love the summer.” Jack whistles, winking at the one in the red top when she looks over at them. “Happy fourth ladies!” He calls out, lifting his beer towards them.

"Happy Fourth!" You call back, raising the frozen margarita you've just been served in their direction as you friends giggle mercilessly around you. The three men who are not bothering to censor their ogling are dressed in some of the worst outfits here. Tiny white booty shorts on one, a stars and stripes Kiss the Cook apron on the tallest, and the third wearing neon red shorts and a muscle tank depicting a bald eagle wearing sunglasses that says You Free Tonight? underneath.

"Rocks Paper Scissors for the tall one?" You friend Madi proposes to the group, eyeing the youngest and buffest of the men like he's the snack she didn't know she was craving.

“No, you can have him.” Tina snorts. “I’ve got my eye on the one with the eagle on his shirt.” She admits, drooling herself at the virile display of man, who can also enjoy themselves.

“Have fun,” you snort, shaking your head and focusing on your drink. “I came here to drink and to line dance very poorly, not to get picked up.”

“Why can’t we have it all?” Madi asks, giggling when the one in the apron motions the group over when no one has looked away.

“I’m not sure white shorts is the guy to break my dry spell,” you mumble to them with an amused grin as the four of you strut over to the men who were watching you. “And you two already called dibs on the others.”

“If you don’t want him, I’ll ride his mustache.” Sandra snorts, smirking slightly at the group of men. “I’m sure my fiancé wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure.” Tina giggles. “We’ll just call Brad up and let him know you’ll be late for dinner because you found a cowboy at a party.”

“He’ll understand.” All of you laugh, knowing that he definitely would not understand. He loved her completely and was lucky enough that she was just as crazy about him. Their wedding is only three months away.

“Ladies.” Kiss the Cook tips his hat gallantly and lets his eyes sweep over every single one of you. “A very happy Independence Day to you beauties.”

All three men clock the ring on the statuesque brunette’s hand and immediately understands that she is off limits. The other two tip their hats as well and Jack grins. “Can we offer you something to eat?”

There is a split second before you look over to fully take in the third man of the group that you’re apparently now hanging out with, and instantly regret the snap judgement made from yards away just a minute or two before. He’s only smaller by comparison, broad shoulders and a strikingly cut jaw accented by the aviator sunglasses he’s wearing and leading down to biceps as thick as his neck and hands that — fuck, if you’d seen his hands beforehand you wouldn’t have said a damn thing, he makes that beer bottle look like a doll accessory. “Ah—We—um, sure,” you manage to blurt out, nodding self-consciously and absolutely aware that your friends are never going to let you live down getting flustered in front of the cowboy.

Madi grins at the way you are suddenly tripping over yourself to accept the offer of a burger. “If we’re gonna eat, maybe we can know who is offering us a plate?” She asks, smiling flirtatiously at the taller man holding the spatula. The three men chuckle. “We go by our work nicknames.” Jack offers, pointing at Rum to start. “Ryan, also known as Rum. Because he can get any party started.” He introduces him with a grin. “Next, we have our ‘kiss the cook’, Luke, who we call Tequila. He thinks he can make clothes come off.” Tequila rolls his eyes and shoves Jack slightly as the older man tips his hat towards you girls. “And I’m Jack, otherwise known as Whiskey.” Tina grins. “Why do they call you that?” She asks, making Jack chuckle. “Because I go down as smooth as the finest whiskey.” He boasts, tipping his aviators down so his eyes find you again and he shoots you a confident wink.

“So you work here then, I assume?” Guys who work for a distillery having boozy nicknames it’s so far off base, but Jack’s declaration that he ‘goes down like the finest whiskey’ has you thinking mustache ride thoughts all over again and if you could do it you might just slap yourself for something so obvious. On the other hand? No man should be able to make a wink look as smooth as he just did.

“Only if you want us to.” Rum smirks at Tina and tips his hat back slightly. “Otherwise we can be whatever you want. Spies, cowboys, hell, maybe all three.” Tequila huffs a cough and slaps Rum on the back. “Are you ladies burger or hot dog kind of women?” He asks, changing the subject.

“I think there’s a rule that you have to have a hot dog on the Fourth of July, isn’t there?” Tina replies, batting her eyelashes pointedly.

“Absolutely.” Tequila agrees. “Now the question is-“ he points the tongs at all of you seriously. “Are you a chili cheese dog person or a peppers and onions person?”

The question sparks a full culinary debate, as Tina insists only mustard is necessary, Sandra and Madi are fans of peppers and onions any way they can get them, and you just shrug over it all because there's no point in trying to be dainty with a hot dog. A chili cheese dog is the only way to go.

Jack chuckles as the girls are chattering, except the one in the red. “You are awful quiet, sugar.” He comments. “Not choosy?”

"Very choosy," you tell him, laughing a little about how involved your friends are getting in this debate with the other two guys. "Chili cheese dog every time. But my friends like to pretend that it's possible to be dainty while eating a hot dog. I'd rather enjoy something delicious."

Jack grins at your answer and points a finger up to tip his hat back on his head. “No, you just gotta jump in and devour it.” He hums, his smirk slightly dirty.

"Whoever put you three in one place today is a menace," you inform him with a deeper, rounder laugh. "But I totally agree. The only way is to jump in."

Jack chuckles, leaning in a little closer to you. “Not true.” He coos. “We were brought together for a good time.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.

It can be both," you concede, getting a whiff of an expensive, musky cologne under the grill and sunscreen smell that hangs all around this booth.

“Well then.” Jack snorts, tapping his bottle against your margarita glass. “To being a menace.” He offers with a smirk.

"Here." A long sip of your drink hides a flustered grin, but you don't mind having run into someone this charming and handsome right off the bat. You and your friends will wander away in due time, and they'll become a fun anecdote for the office, and probably material for the spank bank of each and every member of your group as well.

“So what made you decide to join our little celebration?” Jack asks without any sense of irony despite the bash being massive. There are bounce houses and carnival style game booths set up. Along with all kinds of food and drink.

"Girls' day out." Ordinarily you might feel bad for Sandra, being slightly singled out while the other three of you are being shamelessly flirted with, but she's chatting with Kiss the Cook as well and having a grand time. "When your day is office, home, and back again, sometimes a party is just what you need."

“Oh I understand.” He promises, even if his work is not as traditionally boring all the time, there are plenty of days that the paperwork tedium gets to him.

"Your days are probably a lot more fun than ours." Without knowing that you're reading his thoughts, you just decide to make conversation and enjoy whatever comes from it.

“Some days. Others it’s slower than molasses dripping off a spoon.” He likes the fact that you aren’t just flirting, there’s interesting conversation blooming. “Although I’m enjoying right now.”

"This must be one of the more fun workdays each year." Why wouldn't it be? There are half-dressed women all over the places, and whatever the orientation of these three might be, they're all definitely interested in women. You sip your drink again and find that your head tilts slightly in his direction instinctively. "We're not going to get you in trouble, are we?"

“Nah.” Jack waves away your concern, secretly touched that you would be worried about that. “Well just call this….public relations.” He teases, winking at you again. “How does that sound, sugar?”

"Like you should be a politician," you snort, but honestly you don't mind. It's been a while since you just flirted for the hell of it and it's fun.

Jack wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Sugar, you are breaking my heart.” He groans. “I would never want to be lumped in with those lyin’, thievin’ scumbags.” He shakes his head and puts his beer down to lay his hand over his heart. “I’m a patriot.”

Somehow that only makes you laugh more, and when you meet his eyes again it's with warm cheeks and a bright smile. "My apologies," you hum, tipping your margarita in his direction again like a salute. "We'll stick to drinking and flirting. No filibusters today."

“Now hold on….” Jack leans closer and chuckles. “Depends on what kind of filibuster we are talkin’ about.” He drawls. “Some of them can be a good time.” His eyes slide up and down your body suggestively.

Raising one eyebrow at him, sip your sour-sweet vacations through the bright pink straw and smirk. “You want to have a prolonged speech that stalls all activity about my body? Seems counterintuitive, cowboy.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand darlin’.” He leans in even closer. “We ain’t talkin’ during my filibuster, we’re just prolonging the main event.” He explains.

One second your head is tiled and the next second you're clamping your mouth shut on a bitten lip. He's just gone from casually flirting to casually painting a mental image that will last you weeks. "You're pretty sure of yourself, cowboy," you hum when you remember how to speak again.

“Have to be.” He admits, truth more than cockiness in his words. “You don’t have to accept, but….” He smirks. “You could always consider it your patriotic booty.” His pun is horrible and he knows it, but he uses it proudly. With the same confidence he wears his Fourth of July outfit.

You snort before you can stop yourself, shaking your head at him as you wave off the laugh as good natured. "That's awful." The play on 'patriotic duty' is absurd, but somehow he manages to make it circle back to charming in a way that is fairly impressive. From most guys it would just sound cheesy or plain bad.

“It is, isn’t it?” He agrees with a grin. “Really awful.” He reaches for his beer again and finishes it in one long swallow.

"Worst line I've heard in a very long time." Even though you're agreeing, you chuckle and shake your head. Why the hell not? When was the last time you just cut loose and had some fun? Can you even remember? "It's...not a no, though."

“Hmmmm.” He lifts a brow and smirks at you again as he reaches into the cooler next to him for another beer. “Well then, I better make sure that you are fed, sugar.” He tells you. “‘Cause you might be in for a hell of a night.”

"You promise a girl a hell of a lot." But for some reason you don't think he's lying, or even exaggerating that much. Maybe it's wishful thinking, you can't tell, but Jack fixes up your hot dog with flare and hands it over just as you finish your margarita.

He takes your empty glass and chuckles. “Would you like another frosty margarita? Or perhaps the blackberry old fashions that are being made?” He asks, pointing to another stand just a few feet away, featuring the ‘87 single barrel that Jack loves.

"I think I have to have whiskey this time, don't I?" Given his nickname, it would almost seem rude not to. Especially when you've decided to encourage him. At least you've been polite enough not to let your eyes wander down and inspect those tiny little shorts he has on.

“Right away.” Jack gives you a two fingered salute before he spins on his heel and hurries towards the booth to collect you the best blackberry old fashion you’ve ever had.

Sandra scrambles over during the momentary pause, searching your face for anything besides the focused attention you're paying to the cowboy's ass as he walks away. "Are we rescuing or retreating?" She murmurs, hot dog in hand but ready to bounce in a heartbeat if you need it. "Actually?" Glancing up at her, you offer a sideways grin of defeat. "I think I'm gonna hang out a while. Hot-but-cheesy cowboy kinda got to me. I wanna see how this plays out."

“Really?” Her brow shoots up and she grins at you. “Takin’ that mustache for a ride?” She teases. “I’m jealous. He’s got a fantastic one.”

"I'll tell Brad to grow one before the wedding," you tease, barely managing not to snort again with laughter as Jack heads back your way.

“Ladies.” Jack smiles with a charming aplomb as he hands you the old fashion he had made for you, and offers Sandra the one he had gotten for himself.

"Oh, I'm alright." Sandra insists, smiling her thanks but not taking the drinks. "Designated driver. I had my one and now I'm set for the day." That smile flashes over at you, and she squeezes your hip gently but encouragingly. "I think we're going to wander. You want to come?"

It's a clear chance to break away if you have suddenly changed your mind and you want to, but you shake your head and lean over to kiss your friend's cheek. "I'll catch up with you guys later," you tell her, though at present you aren't actually sure if you will or not.

“I’ll keep her entertained.” Jack promises when your friend’s eyes turn towards him and he can read a slight warning in them. “And return her to you when she’s bored with me.” He adds.

“You have our numbers,” Sandra reminds you. “One text and we come running.” She blows you a kiss before stepping away, satisfied that Jack will at least be respectful as well as pretty, and that’s worth its weight in gold.

“You don’t have to stay.” Jack hums. “But I’ll make sure you don’t regret it if you do.”

"Promises, promises," you sing song, but rather than letting the moment get heavy you take a first bite of your hot dog and groan happily.

He chuckles and lets you enjoy the hotdog, admiring the way you save a dollop of mustard before it escapes and takes a sip of his drink. “After you eat, are you wanting to dance or maybe play a few games?”

"Either." Pleased with the idea that he might put a little more work into this than just fucking you and having a nap after, you end up smirking a little before the last bite of your food. "Both?"

“Done.” He agrees easily, holding out a napkin for you like a gentlemen. Other agents have taken over the grills because Tequila and Rum have magically disappeared with your friends. “Games first, let your hotdog settle.”

Gone in mere minutes, you make sure you haven't smeared your mouth with mustard or chili before picking up the drink he brought you and motioning ahead of you toward the rest of the fair. "Lead the way, cowboy."

The first booth is one that all the agents have been warned to throw. It’s the shooting gallery. He grins as he cocks his head to the side. “Whatcha think?”

"I can't say I'm much with a gun. Besides maybe a Super Soaker." The big plushies and toys behind the counter look just as inviting as they're supposed to, though, and you shrug. "But what the hell. Think you can give me a few pointers?"

“Let’s see how you do and maybe I’ll help you win a prize?” Despite the warning, Champ won’t be too mad if he shows off just a little. Especially since all the prizes have been paid for by Statesman already, leaving the game free to play.

"I have a feeling I'm about to embarrass myself for your amusement." Despite that, you laugh and take your place at the booth. The moving targets are fairly standard — bright yellow duck-like figures that do not resemble the actual animals but look more like rubber duckies that will fall over on the track when shot. "Here goes nothing," you decide, figuring that if you get even two you'll be extremely proud of yourself.

Jack uses this to his advantage and presses close behind you, holding your elbow up. “Steady.” He murmurs in your ear.

"Hell of a thing to say to a girl when you're that close," you mumble, but the smirk in your voice is obvious.

“I can always say more.” He teases playfully, nudging your arm up slightly. “Be a good girl and take a deep breath.”

It's almost frustrating how well that works on you, making you inhale sharply and shallowly at the words and completely giving yourself away before you can follow the direction and inhale slowly like he's told you to.

You miss, but it was actually closer than Jack had figured the first shot would be. “Good job!” He praises, reaching for your hips and shifting your core slightly, brining you back against him more. “Try again, sugar.”

Whatever the cologne is he's wearing, it reminds you of a campfire in the middle of a forest and that might be fogging your mind more than helping you concentrate. Again, you inhale deeply and squeeze the triggering, putting far more work into this silly shooting game than you need to but finding that you actually clip one of the targets this time and manage to almost knock it over.

“Almost got it.” Jack hums in approval. “Let’s see you knock that same one down.”

Utter concentration isn't possible with him pressed up against you, but you breathe again and call yourself to order, managing to breathe and aim and drop your elbow and all of those other things in just the right harmony to actually knock over one of the targets on the next try. It's not enough to get you a prize, but it's enough to have you doing a little wiggled dance of celebration that all the effort paid off.

Jack chuckles, happy with your achievement. “Good job, sugar.” He praises. “You did a good job.”

"Not bad for an accountant," you joke, turning a little to beam at him.

“Not too bad at all.” He winks, nodding to the game handler as they set the target back up. “Now I want you to pick out which prize you want.” He tells you, taking the gun from your hand.

"Cocky." You smirk at him but glance back at the booth and consider the options hanging from the top of the booth. Right in front, there is a white teddy bear with blue and red stars wearing a Statesman t-shirt. "How about that one right there?"

Jack hums in approval and looks towards the attendant. “Ten shots in a row.” The kid, who can’t be more than seventeen explains. “Knock all ten down and you win the prize.”

There's no way he'll do it, but you step far enough away to give him room and wave one hand toward the little metal duckies. "Show off for me, cowboy."

Jack settles his hat more firmly on his head and since it’s ten shots, he picks up another gun to have one in each hand. “Oh I will.” He promises as he sends both weapons twirling around his trigger fingers in a smooth gun trick.

Despite literally asking him to show off, your eyes still widen with the trick and you're left half-giggling and half-staring as he knocks down every single target with grace and seemingly no effort at all.

The targets are easy and Jack might have been showing off just a tad by alternating shots with both hands, making sure that you know he’s just as accurate with both hands. The targets are down and he turns towards you with a grin. “Your prize, sugar.” He bows as the stuffed bear is handed to you.

More than a little surprised by the display that was just put on for your benefit, you choke out a laugh, thank the kid running the booth, and positively curtsy to Jack in exchange for the bow. “Alright, I admit it,” you laugh in utter surprise, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek like a fairy tale princess bestowing a token. “I’m very impressed.”

“Good.” Jack smirks slightly and looks at the bear. “I think it’s always important to impress a lady.”

“Consider us deeply impressed indeed,” you joke, holding up the bear beside you like it might have had an opinion in the matter all its own.

Jack smirks slightly. “Do you want to play some more games or dance?”

“I don’t see how we could do any better at the games.” ‘We’ here meaning him — your own performance was dismal but that hardly matters. He’s smiling at you like he wants to make you scream in the best way possible and you want to see if he moves as well on the dance floor if he claims to in bed. “Let’s go dance.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jack takes the hand that is holding your drink and carries it for you. Looping his arm through yours so you can still hold your bear. “We’ll let him watch and learn.” He jokes, motioning to where other stuffed animals are resting while couples cut up the large dance floor.

“For when all the other bears decide to have a hoedown of their own?” That’s about the cutest thing you can think of — aside from him — and you grin at the idea. “I like that. Teddy Bear Hoedown is like a sequel to the Teddy Bear Picnic.”

He chuckles and you go over to the large table, setting down your bear in a particular spot. “He will be safe.” Jack promises you.

“So full of promises today.” The little coo in your voice is teasing, but maybe that’s just how he is? Reassuring and protective is not a bad combination in a man. Not at all.

“My momma always said never make promises you can’t keep.” Even with your drink in your hand after he presses it to you, Jack sweeps you up in his arms to take you out to the dance floor.

“And you always do what your momma tells you to, like a good southern gentleman.” It’s just a guess, but as he twirls you around to settle against him, cradling you in his arms so you can drink and dance while you away with the slower tempo song that’s playing, you just have to grin. “Very smooth,” you admit without a hint of begrudging in the compliment.

“Sugar, all my moves are smooth.” Jack boast, smirking as he gently glides around the floor with you, taking special care not to jostle your drink. The next song will be faster, but right now, the breathless couples are resting slightly with the bluesy sounds of Patsy Cline crooning to them.

“I’m starting to get that.” Not that you mind. Coming to this whole big carnival for the holiday was just for fun after all. But you glance over at Jack after taking the last sip of your drink and find your smile going a little lopsided. It isn’t the booze. He is that handsome.

He hums, his voice a little rusty as he starts to quietly sing along with the song. Only slightly off key as he serenades you with a grin on his face. One that tells you he’s well aware that he’s not the best singer, but he enjoys being a little silly.

Maybe it’s silly. Or maybe it’s human. Maybe it’s because it’s both, you start singing along with him, quietly and just a tad off key. Two silly, awkward, imperfect little people out there on the dance floor swaying in each other’s arms and singing ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ to each other like a chest moment from a 90s romantic comedy. It’s impossible not to look at his lips at least a few times, both of you grinning when one of you flubs a lyric. And at the end of the song when he twirls you around again to land tight against his chest? The only possible place you can look are his eyes or those lips again, like a magnet pulling you in.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to his lips, basically asking for him to kiss you. He leans in slightly right before the song changes and is incredibly peppy. A song to line dance to. “Oops.” Jack smirks.

One another day or with another man it might have annoyed or frustrated you to be more or less cockblocked by a deejay. Today? With Jack? Your answer to it all is just to snort in amusement at how pleased with himself he looks and let yourself get all swept up in the dance. It was barely an hour ago that you met him. It does no one any harm to spend a little more time together before things get frisky.

The beat is easy to dance to and despite the fact that you might not know all the steps, Jack does. “Just follow me, sugar.”

The trouble with line dancing is that if you don't know every move you end up looking like an idiot, but you nod and decide to put a little bit more trust in him for the time being. If you were about to kiss the guy, you should at least be able to do that, right? "I'm with you," you promise him, knowing you can keep up.

Jack files into the natural line that forms, partners slightly in front of their men and everyone starts to move together. ‘Heel, toe, dosey doe, come on baby. Let’s boot-scoot.”

Able to pick it up step by step, you follow Jack's lead for movement and watch the couple in front of you the once or twice you get confused, until you're very smoothly and easily moving through the dance with glee. It's such a simple thing but so welcome, and utterly fun to boot.

You are laughing and that is all that matters as Jack grabs your waist to pick you up and spin you around before setting you back down in time with the other couples on the floor. “Having fun?”

“Every second I possibly can,” you answer with a light, bubbling giggle. He’s a strong lead — which is wonderful in a dance partner but gives you ideas about what he could be like in bed. Not to mention how strong he is…

“Good.” Jack is almost ninety-nine percent certain that he is taking you home tonight, but he wants you to enjoy yourself.

"And I hope you are, too?" Glancing back at him as he turns you, you raise one eyebrow at him in question.

“No doubt, sugar.” Jack is a shameless flirt, but oftentimes it’s not leading to more than that. Unless it’s his mission to seduce a target. This- this is just for him and he likes that you are having fun with his corny nature. “Best damn party I’ve been to in forever.” He promises. “Company makes it good.”

“Company is what matters.” And maybe it’s the silliness of it all again, but you throw him a wink before the dance has you turning again. He seems to like a like cheese with his flirting, and frankly that just makes it more fun for you.

The song finishes up and Jack decides that he will twirl you around once more and dip you down low, just to make you giggle. People clap and he grins at you over his aviators. “Another dance, or another drink, sugar?”

“One more dance?” He’s far too much fun like this, with moves even you have to admit he can be proud of, and you’ll be damned if you’re going to give that fun up just yet. Besides which…it might be a bit embarrassing for the guy whose nickname is Whiskey to find out you’re a bit of a lightweight.

He waggles his brows when the song turns to another slow one, meant to press bodies together. “Never turn down a chance to hold a beautiful woman close.” He promises as he tugs you in.

“I don’t believe you do.” It may be a small moment of teasing but the fact that he doesn’t take himself too seriously speaks volumes to you. Relaxed and confident are too things that don’t always compliment each other well — it can come off as pure arrogance whereas he’s cocky in a way that is a bit cheeky and fun. Everything about the man is over the top. “But then,” you hum, winking for good measure. “Neither do I.”

“Really?” Jack’s grin blows into a fully devilish smile and he looks around speculatively. “And which beautiful woman would you choose?” He asks with a chuckle.

For his amusement, you make a show of surveying the room even while you’re pressed tight up against him, and nudge him slightly when you spot a cute girl in the corner being talked at by some other guests she doesn’t seem to be too interested in. “Do you see the cute little redhead over there?” Your own nose points the way to him when you nod. “In the corner? She’s at a table with a blonde, but these two guys keep trying to flirt with her. I think she’s talk rather be flirting with her blonde friend.”

“Good call.” Jack snorts. “That’s Grenadine.” He explains. “She works at Statesman too.” It’s interesting that you seem to have an eye for agents.

“Does everybody get a booze related nickname?” You ask, amused at the idea of it. If you all got accounting nicknames, things would start sounding weird very fast at the office.

“Mixers count.” Jack chuckles. “It makes it easy when there’s twelve John’s working around the place.” He reasons.

"Fair enough, I guess." That does, logistically, make a bit of sense. And frames Statesman as a fairly whimsical place to work in the process. After twirling around the dance floor a little more, you hum softly to yourself and lift your head, raising one eyebrow in question. "Did you always want to work in the booze biz?" He seems silly enough to appreciate the phrasing, and you grin. "Or do you want to be something else when you grow up?"

“Just wanted to raise some hell.” Jack admits with a chuckle. “Was in the Navy for a little bit. Found out I like the freedom of the private world better.”

“Rules.” You huff dramatically, blowing a raspberry to make him laugh. “Who needs ‘em?”

Jack laughs, a full belly laugh of good humor. “Exactly.” He agrees. “Plus the pay is better.”

“There’s that too.” A nod of agreement comes on the end of your own laughter. “Distilleries pay well? I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.”

“Good enough to buy corny outfits for the Fourth of July picnic.” He jokes, taking his aviators off and turning them around to perch on your nose.

“That’s what your shorts need!” You tease, cackling out loud and pushing his sunglasses a little further up your nose. “Ears of corn! The perfect symbol of Americana.”

Jack laughs again. “I’ll have to see if I can order some for next year.” He hums.

"Perfect." The grin you aim at him is almost blinding. "I guess I'll have to come back and see if you found any."

His smug smirk deepens and he waggles his brows. “Yeah?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have to model them for you.” He suggests. “Make sure they are cheesy enough. Rum talked me out of my Daisy Dukes of Freedom.”

"Oh my god..." You barely manage not to snort with laughter over that image. "Do I want to know?"

“Silkies.” He explains. “Running shorts in the military are…brief.” He hums with a grin. “I had some American Flag ones but then Rum was complaining my upper thighs were too white to wear them.”

"Your friend's objection was your lack of tan?" That only makes you laugh harder, and by the end of the song you're practically clinging to each other as you share that laughter between you. "I dunno, Jack." With your lips pursed, you correct yourself. "Whiskey." He's sure as hell smooth, so why not just use the nickname? "I think you might have to do a little tanning so you can wear them again."

“Well I left my speedo in Italy.” He chuckles. “So how do you suggest I tan?”

That opens up a whole new line of questioning, but in this moment you just flash him an even bigger grin. "Nude, hopefully."

He pretends to be shocked, mouth opened and he reaches for his chest as if he is clutching pearls. “Why I declare!” He drawls. “That is such a scandalous suggestion.” His lips curl into a smirk. “I love scandal.”

"I had a feeling you might." The song is over, your revolving has stopped, and as the next — much more upbeat — song begins, you tilt your head slightly to the edge of the dance floor. "You wanna go be scandalous, Whiskey?"

“Is that an offer?” He asks, lifting a brow and giving you a chance to change your mind. He loves to flirt and have a good time, but he wants it to be enthusiastic.

Hadn't he caught you staring at his lips maybe fifteen minutes ago? Was it really only just a few dances since then? It seemed like days spent basking in his energy and charm. Ah well. Why the fuck not? The Founding Fathers were all freaks anyway, might as well celebrate their way. "Yes."

Well, sugar…” Jack sweeps his hat off his head and holds it over his heart. “You just made my damn year.” He promises with a wink. “And I guarantee I’ll make yours.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, cowboy.” Something tells you he’s bragging with plenty of proof to back him up, but you still give him a crooked smile as you dig your phone out of your pocket. “I’m going to tell my friends not to wait for me.”

“I’ll go collect Mr. Bear for you while you do that, sugar.” He nods and sets his hat back on his head and moves away so you can text your friends privately.

Sliding open your phone, the group chat you have with your friends is full of photos, videos, and excitement shared between them during the day. You’ve been apart from them longer than you expected but they seem to be having a ball — though Rum and Tequila don’t feature in any of the photos or videos so it seems like you’re the only one who stuck with an interested fella today.

Don’t wait up for me, ladies. You type out, and send along a selfie of you wearing Jack’s aviators with him picking up your prize bear off the table in the background. Gonna save a horse by riding that cowboy.

The answers that come back are swift and all congratulating you. Teasing you about your quick change of mind.

Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you all the gossip tomorrow. You write back, barely smothering a grin and you have to bite your lip to keep it at bay. I’ll send you guys a photo of his place and the address when we get there. If you never see me again, tell the cops it was the cheesy pickup lines that convinced me to go with him.

Jack watches you giggle as you put your phone away and walks back to your side with the bear. “See? Safe and sound.”

"Both of you." And something tight and gnarled in your heart seems to breathe more easily in a way you don't quite understand. It's an excitement you haven't felt in a very long time. "Lead the way," you say, accepting the bear happily when Jack deposits him in your arms.

“Did you ride with your friends, or do you want to follow me?” Jack’s Bronco is close to the party, having been here for hours bringing in coolers and helping to set up. He pauses by it and taps the side. “Give you a ride to your car if you want?”

“We all rode together, so I guess I have to beg a ride with you.” Saying it out loud makes it feel very real, but for some reason you’re not nervous. There is a tingle of anticipation and excitement but no worries.

Jack nods and opens the door to the passenger side for you. “Then let me give you the address of where we are going.”

“Thank you.” For both the door and for his understanding, you offer him a soft smile as you climb into the Bronco. So many men these days take the sensible precautions of women they’ve just met as an insult. It’s nice to not have to skirt the line and simply be upfront with him.

He smirks at you as he whips out his phone and opens it up to air drop you a location. “Nothing but details, sugar.”

“Which is the same thing the girls are gonna say to me tomorrow,” you tease, sitting back in the buttery soft seats as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Then I better make sure you got nothin’ but good things to say.” Jack chuckles.

“I guess you’d better.” And you wink, even though the promise makes you squirm slightly in your seat.

“I don’t live too far.” Jack converses as he drives, wanting to you at ease. “That way I can be in the office easily in an emergency.”

“Like oh no, the whiskey isn’t old enough yet?” You ask, confused as to what kind of emergency a distillery could possibly have.

He chuckles. “Or the storage tanks collapsed and flooded the complex in raw, unbarreled whiskey.” He counters. “Thieves. Corporate spies.” He doesn’t get into the extra security Statesman has, that would be a little much for you to understand.

“Corporate spies. Thieves. You make it sound so…” Searching for the word, you notice he never even gets on a highway to get back to his place. He’s simply driving through a suburb as ramblingly as he pleases, and then turns down a long country road. “So very much like the beginning of a self-discovery novel, where the main character is just a lowly employee who finds out their job is really just a cover for something illegal or magical.” Grinning at him, you turn in the front seat and look at him instead of the drive. “Need an accountant? The place sounds fun.”

“Never know, maybe we could.” He chuckles, knowing he would enjoy seeing you around the office more. Might actually want to sit behind his desk more often if he could expect a view like you.

“Never know,” you agree, but your attention is quickly diverted by the little white-painted farmhouse with its picket fence and big shady trees outside that he pulls up beside. “It’s so cute!” You exclaim, having expected to see him living in something huge or deeply masculine. A house you’d see on Yellowstone or picture Clint Eastwood outside.

“Thanks.” He shoots the house a proud smirk. “My great-grandaddy built the place with his own two hands.”

“I love it even more now.” Madi would point out that you’re a sucker for a family story, and she would be right.

Jack is proud of the restoration and tasteful updates that have been done to the old place, an homage to the past. “Then you’ll love it when I tell you that they are buried up on that hill.” He chuckles, pointing to a little fenced off area around a large magnolia tree.

“Being a sentimental man runs in your family. I do like that.” When he pauses in sliding out of the Bronco to open your door and raises an eyebrow at you, you fluster. “Not that I assume you might be sentimental about me,” you clarify immediately. “Just that I appreciate a man who isn’t afraid to be passionate.”

“Sugar, that is something you’ll get to witness firsthand.” He promises as he climbs out and saunters around the front to help you out.

It’s a beautiful little place he’s got, and when he helps you out of the car you can see the wrap around porch does go all the way around, and that the house has been added on to in back. Maybe the second level was an add-on as well, you can’t quite tell. But it speaks to generations of love and stubbornness to stay here and add to this old place instead of moving or building new, and you like that. Loving and stubborn isn’t a bad combination by any means.

“Do you want a drink?” Jack offers. “Water, Coke?” He doesn’t just want to ply you with alcohol, so he offers other things, even though he is walking towards the bar cart in the corner.

“You can make two of whatever you’re drinking.” Whether that’s alcoholic or not, you have a feeling you’ll be putting your glass aside in favor of paying attention to other things soon enough.

“Hmmmm.” The countertop ice maker is put to use after you tell him this and Jack adds a little flair to his movements as combines orange vodka, pineapple juice and peach schnapps into a shaker and mixes it up before straining the cold alcoholic drink into two glasses and floats some blue raspberry vodka onto the top. “Here you go sugar.” He hands it to you with a wink.

“Do you have friends called Vodka and Schnapps, too?” It’s just a light tease, but he poured and mixed and assembled the drink so deliberately that you found yourself mesmerized by his movements. “Or one with the same name as whatever this drink is?”

“There are colleagues by those names.” He admits with a grin and takes a sip of his drink and groans in approval. “But this one was made just for you.” He hum. “I call this ‘Lick Her Right’.”

“Shit, Jack.” You end up smothering flustered giggles as you have your head at him and try a sip of the fruity sweet cocktail. It’s every bit as delicious as you expected and doesn’t taste a thing like alcohol — which probably means it’s the strongest drink you’ve had all day.

He chuckles at your cute little giggle. “Sweet with just a touch of twang,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you and leaning in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek next to your ear. “Just like the best pussy.” He murmurs in your ear. “Like I’m betting your pussy tastes.”

“Need you to do one thing for me before I let you find out,” you murmur, finding that just as you expected you’ve only had a few sips of the drink before something much more enticing has been presented to you.

“And what’s that, sugar?” Right now, he will offer you the moon. Give you whatever he needs to be able to strip off those tiny shorts of yours and drape your legs over his shoulders for a private Independence Day celebration.

“You’re gonna need to kiss me, cowboy.”

He laughs, tossing his head back and reaching up to take off his hat. “Much obliged to, sugar.” He promises before he swoops in for a kiss, his tongue still cold and fruity from the cocktail as he slides it into your mouth.

He’s playful and enthusiastic, two things you all but demand from a lover, and your arms slide around each other with greedy intensity as the rest of the room goes blank around you.

Jack’s drink is all but forgotten when he sets it on the table and pulls you closer, letting your body press against his as he plunders your mouth and groans in happiness that you accepted his invitation to come back to his place.

The half-wall behind you becomes the perfect thing to lean back against as Jack presses in, holding you as close as he is holding the last shred of decency you’ve got as you plunder each other’s mouths eagerly. You’re damn lucky your glasses didn’t get so thoroughly tossed aside that they fell over and stained his rug, but right now all you care about is chasing that sticky sweet taste from each other’s tongues.

His hands slide under your tiny little tank top, fingers pinching the back of your bra strap and unhooking it with one hand while the other slides under the cup to posses one breast. Keeping his tongue tangled with yours as he moans at the soft fullness of it, the hard nipple against his palm.

It's so smooth you might have barely noticed the movement at all, except his hands are hot and callused and the touch of them on your skin makes you moan into the messy kiss with enthusiasm. Nothing but the perfect heat and heaviness of him can penetrate your mind at this point — and that includes the heaviness growing hard in his own shorts as you both do your best to stay as pressed against the other's body as possible.

Jack presses his cock against your tiny shorts, grinding into you as he paws and plucks at your tit, pulling the most beautiful sounds from your throat as he slides his other hand to your neglected breast to give it the same treatment.

Pressed between Jack and the wall, your own hands wander freely. Mapping his body from broad shoulders down to slim waist, there is no hesitation there when you slide one hand into the back pocket of his shorts and pull him forward, inviting him to grind into you just as much as he likes as he swallows your moans.

There’s nothing wrong with a little over the clothing humping in Jack’s mind. Grinding against you and squeezing your tits as he kisses you is just the warm up for the night, although it feels pretty fucking good as you pull him closer.

The world has gone the most gorgeous shade of blank, narrowing down to just Jack, and when you finally can’t breathe in any more of him and have to break the kiss for air, the matching groans you let out are sweeter than any other sound.

You’re gorgeously giving and soft. Yielding to him. He reluctantly releases one breast and pulls back just a bare two inches to slide his hand between to you pop the button open on your shorts. His hand immediately sliding inside to delve into your panties.

“Fucking—” The rest of the curse, whatever it is, gets swallowed up by your moan as his thick fingers make quick work of finding your slick and swollen clit to draw circles around it that have you seeing double.

You’re wet and nothing is sexier to Jack than a wet pussy on an eager woman. He groans into your mouth. “Already so wet.” He rasps. “Want to see how much wetter you can get.”

“Before I dehydrate?” You huff, growling into a kiss with ferocity and angling your hips to try to get him to slide his fingers inside you. Not that it’s been very long at all since he first kissed you, but you’re on fire with wanting him and have been for hours. “Or before you finally fuck me?”

He chuckles into your mouth and bites at your lower lip. “Both?” He teases, rubbing your clit again before he finally gives you what you want and slowly sinks two fingers into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Shaking as he twists his wrist and presses the heel of his palm against your clit, you’re even more pinned against the wall behind you than you were a second ago. Far from finding it confining, your fingers dig into Jack’s broad shoulders with enthusiasm as you cling to him in that moment.

“That’s it.” He groans, feeling your walls pulse around his fingers and he hums in approval. “You’re little pussy likes my fingers.” He coos. “Why don’t you cum on them for me?”

If you could ever cum on command, it would probably be right now. It would be for the pair of thick fingers curled so perfectly inside your cunt every time he pumps them inside you that your vision whites out a little at the edges. It would be for the man who makes you simultaneously tense and limp with need. As it is, your toes are curling in your sneakers and you're about damn ready to flood his hand any second while the only sound you can make as an incoherent moan.

“Sugar, sugar, sugar.” He groans. “You’re so close.” He continues to finger you, loving how your eyes are rolling back. “Just let go and give it to me.” He begs. “I want to strip you down and eat your pussy, but I can’t until you cum for me.”

The absolute whimper of frustration on your lips and hearing what's coming next mighty really be what does it. What has you moaning his name into the warm evening air and holding onto him so tightly that your fingernails leave neat little half-moon shapes at the base of his skull. When you cum it's full force, with shaking legs and an arching back, and all you can think — when you eventually get your thoughts back after the fireworks subside in all your nerves — is how fucking glad you are that you took a chance on going home with this man.

Jack loves to see a woman cum. Always beautiful and you are no exception. The hollow of your throat is the perfect place to moan his praise, the white shorts he’s wearing becoming damp and showing it as he leaks pre-cum into the material. His fingers are soaked and making the most obscene sounds as he pumps them into your cunt until your entire body sags against the wall and is only held upright by his pinning you there. Then he slows his wrist and ease you to a stop as you pant his name. “Good girl.” Jack rasps against your throat. “Now I want to see what kind of mess your pussy made.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a second,” you huff, giggling under your own breath and a little dizzy. If he can do that with his hand, the rest of him is going to reduce you to a puddle. “Stripping is tricky when my legs are wobbly.”

He chuckles and pulls his hand out of your shorts to grab your thighs. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” He promises, pulling you up into his arms and guiding your legs around his waist as he pulls away from the wall to carry you through the house to his bedroom.

It only encourages you, which you’re sure was his intention, you steal kisses and swoon at this strength as you carries you down a hallway. By the time he turns into his room you’ve found the spot on the long column of his throat that makes him moan when you suck on it, and the bruise you’ve left there will be sure you remind of you every time he looks in a mirror for at least the next few days.

Jack’s bed is large, inviting and it’s not as heavily masculine as you might expect. The comforter is pillowy when he lays you down and smirks as he pulls back to look at you. “Now it’ll be easy to strip you down and not worry about those legs, except for how they look on my shoulders.” He boasts.

“I think I’m past the point in my dignity where I can dispute that,” you tease, wishing he hadn’t stood up fully because now he’s too far away for you to grab.

Jack unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders. Revealing the shape of his hard cock pressing through the white shorts and he grins down at you. “We will just have to have an undignified time then.”

“Deeply undignified, I hope.” You agree, letting your eyes wander down the length of his body and darken all over again at the sight of what is waiting for you.

“Is there any other kind of sex?” Jack snorts, quickly unbuttoning and stripping down his shorts to groan in relief when his cock bounces free.

If you were going to debate with him, whatever argument you had gets lost on your tongue. He's a mouthwatering sight — veiny, cut, and curved just right so you know you're not only going to have him pulsing against your g-spot later but you're going to be cross-eyed and breathless while he's at it. "Fuck I hope not," you grin, licking your lips. "At least not tonight."

He smirks proudly and kneels on the bed, shuffling closer to reach for your shorts. He drags them over your hips along with your panties while you lift your hips so he can slide them down your legs and toss them on the floor. Eager to spread your thighs and get a good look at that slick pussy.

Sure it was only five minutes ago that your legs were shaking in his living room, but when he very surely moves your ankles to open your legs wide on top of his bed, your fingers drop between your spread legs without hesitation. His eyes on your pussy have you craving touch all over again.

There’s only your shirt left and Jack hates for the material to conceal your tits from his eyes, so he slides his hands up, grabbing the hem of it to pull over your head, unable to resist dipping his head down and lapping at a hard nipple.

It was barely a scrap of a shirt and this is so much better — tits free for his attention and back arching up to meet his mouth just as eagerly as he dips his head. The cool air in his room makes your already hard nipples peak even tighter, but all you can think about is the heat of his mouth and the heaviness against your thigh. Every inch of him feels incredible and he's not even inside you yet.

He lavished attention on one, then the other before he pulls away with a pop and a grin as he starts to slink back down your body. Intentions clear as he scrapes his teeth over the top of your mound and pulls your legs up onto his shoulders to cradle his head.

"Jack..." his name is a whine from your lips as he kisses the insides of his thighs, and one of your hands fists in his hair to tug encouragingly at the short strands.

He chuckles and blows a little air on your pussy to hear you whine again, your hips jerking up to try to meet his mouth. “Now, let’s get down to the business at hand.” He intones seriously. “You’ve got a pretty pussy that is begging to be eaten.” He looks up into your eyes and winks. “And I’m just the cowboy for the job.”

He dives in like a man starved, making you feel like every single woman whose pussy he tried to eat over the years must have denied him otherwise there wouldn't be any reason to be this voracious. That first lap at your slit has you gasping sharply, eyes rolling back in your head and tugging tighter on his hair in needy, silent gratitude. You'll be lucky if you can form any words beyond his name in all this. His name and endless repetitions of 'yes' or 'fuck'. But that's all you need.

Anything that Jack sets out to do, he does with vigor and eating your pussy is no different. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling your hips up to his month as he devours you. Wanting to feel the sting of your hands pulling at his hair while his tongue carves a path through your folds.

He means to overwhelm your senses entirely and he's doing a damn good job, right down to how tightly he manages to hold you in place while he leaves no part of your soaking wet pussy untouched. Maybe at another time you might have fought of wrestled or taken some of the lead, but he's swept you away so entirely today that all of your usual sass is reduced to whimpers and moans under his attention. Probably because the attention of that long tongue of his is well worth submitting to.

He had been right, you do taste delicious. Making him even more ravenous as he explores what makes you whimper and whine his name as his tongue laps at your swollen clit.

Every time your hips twist or roll to beg for a specific kind of friction. he seems to be anticipating it. He reads the waves of your body like it's a second language, intuiting what you need and giving it to you with growls and groans of his own that vibrate through you and make you see wave after wave of stars.

His mustache is coated with your juices, his chin slick with them, and still he continues to devour you. Licking into you and pushing his tongue into your pussy like he is starved for you, his hooked nose pressed against your clit as he groans in pleasure.

It doesn’t matter how long you lay spread out like this. Or how long Jack spends devouring you like you’re his new favorite dessert. The walls could crumble down around you and you would still be begging for more.

Jack can feel your body start to tense, your thighs tightening around his head briefly and then relaxing only to do it again. He holds them loosely, wanting you to squeeze him and he rolls his tongue back up to your clit to lap at it.

The second time you cum for him isn't like being carried away on an ocean wave. Even the arch of your back is like being washed out to sea, and the roaring of your blood in your ears making you feel like you've just crashed on top of a wave in some dramatic engraving. It's like all of your senses are both being hugged tight and being blasted wide open and you're drowning in every sensation but your nerves are tingling with life as you float back down to earth in his bed.

Humming softly, the pads of his thumbs rub your inner thighs, soothing you as your breath starts to slow down. You had screamed loud enough to wake the dead. A feat that has Jack feeling mighty smug as he watches your closed eyes bounce around under your lids.

"Fucking hell," you manage, once you stop panting and have the presence of mind to push up on your elbows to be able to see him more fully.

Smirking up at you, he winks as he unfurls himself from between your thighs to rest on his knees. “How are we doing so far?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. “Feeling patriotic yet? Or should we really make you see fireworks?”

"I think we'd both be missing out if we gave up now." After all, you've barely done a thing for him. And if his cock feels half as good as it looks, you refuse to miss out on that.

“I have to admit, I’m dying to know what you feel like around my cock.” Jack confesses, his hand squeezing his cock and pumping it lightly.

"I think it's time for you to find out." There is a smirk curling in the corner of your mouth as you sit up, and with one hand beckon him closer. "Don't you?"

“Yes ma’am.” He hums. “Do you want to save or horse, or see if I can hold on for eight seconds?” His brow arches in question and he wonders what you will say.

“On your back, Jack.” You grin up at him, already shifting over to switch places. Even if this isn’t where you end up, you want to ride that handsome cowboy for at least a little while.

“Never say I don’t follow a lady’s orders.” Jack drawls as he lays down, tucking one hand behind his head and the other still pumping his cock languidly.

“Not if you know what’s good for you.” That smirk stays in place as you straddle his hips and lift yourself up, braced for your cunt to be so wet from his attention that he slides inside you right up to your throat.

Jack helps, holding his cock up for you line up. “Take your time, sugar.” He coos, watching you with a predatory gaze. “It takes time to make sure you are seated right.”

“Not too long.” A moan escapes your lips as you sink down, but you take him at a slow, steady pace. “I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

“And here I thought I couldn’t be the one to break your dry streak.” He teases, having read your lips from the margarita stand with the assistance of his glasses. He had turned off the special features before he put them on your nose earlier.

“Were you spyin’ on me earlier?” The best you can do with him halfway inside you is to raise one eyebrow as if you vaguely disapprove, but it doesn’t hold a single drop of water when you let out a shuddering little gasp and take more.

“I can read lips.” He admits with a grin. “Don’t worry, sugar, I didn’t hold it against you. Just made me want you more.”

"Now I feel like I ought to have made it harder for you," you purr, but the truth is that he'd had you from the first real smile. Not the smirks, not the intrigue of just being handsome in general. The first time Jack genuinely smiled at you, you had felt your heart beat a little faster. Now it's your pussy that's reacting to him, though, and you shift your weight to lean back and give him a long view of your whole body as you start to bounce on his cock. Whatever his reason for being interested in you, it is well worth it.

“Jesus Christ.” Jack hisses, sliding his hands up to your tits again. “You are such a pretty thing, so fucking beautiful.” He groans, admiring the view as you use him.

"View can't be as good as mine." Panting between each word is the only way to get them out, because your mind is so fuzzy all over again from how good he feels that all you can focus on is how well he fills you.

He would have to disagree, but you steal his ability to speak when you roll your hips and squeeze him tight. All he can do is groan and squeeze your tits harshly before sliding his hands down to your hips.

"Hold on, handsome." It doesn't take more than a few movements of your hips to establish a rhythm, and one that you're both thoroughly enjoying. With Jack's fingers curling insistently into your flesh, you pick up the pace and let your eyes slide shut in bliss.

Jack groans your name again and again when you fully seat him inside you. Giving you the encouragement and praise through the panted words.

It's a damn good thing that his bed isn't an antique like his house. Once you get going, with his encouragements and your own seemingly insatiable thirst for this man, it would be a damn shame to sacrifice an heirloom to your shared lust. The sheer power and force of your enthusiasm with his strength makes it feel like you're going to fuck each other into the stratosphere to begin with, there's no reason to lose furniture.

“That’s it, sugar.” Jack slaps your flank in encouragement and moans when you roll your hips down at little harder. “Fuck, you do know how to ride a man, don’t you?” He counts his lucky stars you wanted to come home with him. “Ride me hard.”

He might have been the one to make the joke about lasting the length of the ride, but you have no intention of getting bucked while you're on him. The prominent veins of his cock scrub your walls like they were made for you, bringing deeps moans and shuddering growls of his name from your lips with every bounce and rock of your body on his.

Bracing his feet on the bed, Jack tilts his hips up, changing the angle and he chokes out a sound of approval when you squeal in pleasure. “There it is.”

It's the exact angle you need to have the head of his cock battering against your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure, and right now you're prepared to swear that no one has ever managed to find the spot that perfectly before. Just like his fingers curling against it earlier, your vision whites out as your eyes slide shut again and you could swear this is what being on fire feels like as you cry his name out in that quiet little farmhouse.

When your pace stalls, Jack picks up the slack. Driving up into you while your walls convulse and you shake on top of him. Groaning out your name raspily as he works himself towards that same peak you are currently cresting.

It's so easy to fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest with both hands and letting him take over the pace. Your third orgasm ripples through you so sharply and definitively that you practically scream, but his arms are there to catch you and pin you to his chest while he races toward his own pleasure.

It only takes a few driving thrusts until his holding you tight, locking his arms around you and grinding up into you. Your name is moaned into his ear as he floods your fluttering pussy with his cum. “Fuck sugar.” He groans. “Little pussy is milking my cock like a dream.”

"I'm afraid..." You're both panting, and you rest your forehead on his rising chest for a beat and giggle to yourself. The flow of endorphins is making you feel so light you could fly. "I've been neglecting her. She was hungry."

“Pussy like that needs to be seen to frequently.” Jack chuckles breathlessly and strokes your back as the sweat clinging to your bodies starts to dry and cool. “I’ll be happy to make sure that happens.”

"Oh yeah?" In the bliss of the moment, when you pull back to look him in the eye, it's like you're seeing a completely different side of the needy and addictive man who was pushing you up against a wall a mere hour ago. This Jack is soft at the edges, boyish and gleeful, not to mention beautifully relaxed as he cradles your body against him. "Thinkin' about asking me out, cowboy?"

“Considering it.” He admits before that soft smile curves into more of a smirk. “I think it would be my patriotic booty to keep you satisfied.” It’s the repeat of the joke from earlier, but completely worth it because of how cheesy it is. “What do you say, sugar?” He asks. “Want to make everyday Independence Day?”

"I think it's only right." Stretching slightly, the tip of your nose nearly touches his and you dip your head barely lower to hover above his mouth. A single centimeter of movement and you would be kissing him. "It'd be a damn shame to never ride my new favorite steed again."

“Damn shame.” He agrees. Since you’ve been in his house, the sun has slipped below the horizon and he reaches up to cup your cheek just as the first muted boom of the fireworks from Statesman is heard. “Happy Fourth of July, sugar.” Jack murmurs before he crushes his lips to yours, happy that he had decided to go to the celebration rather than taking a mission. He had never had a better Fourth than this one.

______

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