#whiskey imagine

[jjsmaybank20]

Hi!!!! It's me again,🦁 Anon. I just looked at Glass onion and can I ask for a request for whiskey x reader. The reader was relaxing in the pool with others, and the moment whiskey comes out of the pool, the Reader literally froze and stared at her. The others started joking or making a remark about it until the Reader took Whiskey's hand and dragged her to her room because the Reader got excited.

Can the end be cute and fluffy?

Thank you very much!!!🥺

Speechless

Whiskey x Fem!Cody!Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend is gorgeous, and never fails to make you speechless.

Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff

Word Count: 759

navigation misc. masterlist

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When you, your brother, and your girlfriend were invited to Miles Bron’s weekend getaway/murder mystery party, you knew you were in for a treat. Miles never failed to astonish, so arriving at his private island housing his massive complex, you couldn’t say you were surprised.

Miles was an eccentric person, so of course the rooms were assigned based off of chakra. You bid your brother and your girlfriend goodbye, and headed towards your room to get ready for the pool.

You throw on some swim trunks, a bikini top, and a hawaiian shirt to wear over it. You check yourself over, seeing that you look good, and head down to the pool to meet up with your friends. 

Making your way down, you see Lionel and Claire already on the side having a conversation. You approach them, and they greet you warmly. 

“Y/N Cody, as I live and breathe! We didn’t have much time to catch up. How is everything? How’re you and Whiskey?” Claire inquires. You go to answer, but are interrupted by Birdie making her grand entrance. 

“Guys. Lionel and Y/N, you guys are too hot to be scientists. And Claire, you look so cute.” You glance over at Lionel, and then you see Claire flipping Birdie off, making you laugh.

“You just gave Bird the bird, Claire-bear.” You exclaim, making Lionel laugh along with you. Claire then glares at you, hating the nickname you had assigned to her. Everyone in your group had a nickname that you had given them, which you always called them.

Claire is Claire-bear, Birdie is Bird, Lionel is Lion, Duke is Dick, Miles is My-My, Peg is Peggy, and Andi is… well, was Cassie. 

While in your own head about Andi, you tune out Birdie and Claire bickering. You finally tune back in when Claire re-asks you the questions from before. “Oh! Y/N, answer the questions from before Birdie interrupted. How is everything? How’re you and Whiskey?”

You smile at the woman, and respond, “Things are good! Lion and I have been absolutely stacked at work, but you know how Miles is. Me and Whiskey are doing amazing.”

Lionel then looks around for your girlfriend. When he doesn’t spot her, he inquires, “Where is your girl, anyway?” You then look around, also not spotting her. You open your mouth to say something, but a clearly not listening Birdie interrupts again.

“God and no masks I can breathe again. Look at this pool, maybe I'll go for a swim.” As soon as she finishes her sentence, your gorgeous girlfriend breaks through the surface of the water gracefully. Your jaw drops, your eyes widen, and you turn bright red.

Lionel and Claire quickly take note of this, and immediately begin teasing you. “Hey, Y/N. You’ve got some drool right there.” Lionel puts his finger on your chin. You immediately slap his hand away, not taking your eyes off of your girlfriend.

Claire calls out to Whiskey, shouting, “Hey Whiskey! I think you broke your girlfriend!” Whiskey glances over at you, smirking at the expression on your face.

“Baby, you okay?” She asks. You say something intelligent like ‘Uh- mhm- yep- so good.’ She laughs and swims towards the stairs leading out of the pool. You quickly get up, not bothering to bid your friends goodbye. You know they won’t mind.

As soon as you make it to where your girlfriend is standing, you grab her hand, yank her out of the pool, and pick her up bridal style before running to your room. She laughs joyfully, and wraps her arms around your neck.

---

Once you reach your shared suite, you shift her so that she is pressed between you and the door. You kissed her intensely, and quickly started to trail them down her neck. You heard her let out a breathy laugh and felt the vibrations in her throat when she asked, “What’s gotten into you, babe?”

You pull back and put your foreheads together, smiling at the woman you loved. “It just always amazes me how you seem to get prettier and prettier every time I look at you.”

Whiskey blushes at that, and pecks your lips again before hopping down from your arms. She grabs your hand and pulls you down onto the bed, making you let out a yelp of surprise. She quickly climbs on top of you. Cuddling into your chest.

You couldn’t be happier than in this moment, on this island, with the people you love. If only you knew how fast it would go to shit.

---

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[peachsukii]

content // bakugo + reader are married (26/27). talks of children/pregnancy. semi-breeding kink. intoxicated dirty talk.

Imagining that the annual Hero Gala is the perfect place for Bakugo to let loose once a year, celebrating with his colleagues about their success and knocking back endless drinks without hesitation. It's the only time he allows himself to truly let go. It's time to go home when his hands can't stop wandering your form in front of everyone.

You're barely through the door of your home before his hands are hiking up your dress and pressing your back to the door, begging to let him make a mess of you.

"C'mon baby," Bakugo slurs while messily sucking on your exposed collarbone, pressing his groin against your thigh to let you how badly he wants you. "Need'ta taste you...feel you."

Whenever he gets like this, it's all give give give, never take. Bakugo becomes obsessed with pleasuring you, and only you. He doesn't even take himself into account, too love drunk and lust driven to care about his own release. But tonight? Bakugo's got a new agenda in mind, thanks to Mina and Kirishima's talks of starting a family earlier that night. All it took was Mina to casually say, "She'd make such a perfect mom, don't you think?" while gesturing to you across the room.

And goddamn, it consumed him whole.

"Wanna make you a momma, gorgeous," he mumbles against the shell of your ear as he slides his fingers seamlessly into your panties. Your thighs clench, a soft whine falling from your lips when two fingers slip between your slick covered folds. "Mm, ya like the sound'a that? You're soaked."

Bakugo's laugh is sinister before licking along your jawline and crashing into a heated kiss, whiskey lingering on his tongue. He pulls away, fingers pumping languidly into your pussy, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before whispering against your lips.

"Gonna stuff that pretty cunt'a yours full of my cum an' fuck it into you all night long. Eat it out of ya and fill you up all over again." He stops to lick at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth with a loud pop to leave you gasping for breath. "Fuck you so deep that you'll be leakin' cum for weeks."

Holy shit. You could faint on the spot.

"F-fuck Katsuki...bedroom, now."

[atlabeth]

too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus. 

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you. 

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now. 

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon. 

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them. 

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention. 

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once. 

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in. 

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did. 

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive. 

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake. 

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher. 

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it. 

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder. 

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking. 

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night. 

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce. 

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time. 

“What?” 

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips. 

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.” 

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—” 

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.” 

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.” 

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.” 

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.” 

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.” 

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you. 

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you? 

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.” 

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.” 

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.” 

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.” 

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.  

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.” 

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief. 

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl. 

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?” 

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.” 

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?” 

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.” 

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.” 

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs. 

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination. 

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.” 

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind. 

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.” 

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.” 

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world. 

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.” 

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did. 

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.” 

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to? 

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.” 

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk. 

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything. 

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol. 

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say. 

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.” 

“How do you feel about tequila?” 

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.” 

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.” 

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.” 

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.” 

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.” 

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.” 

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles. 

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows. 

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.” 

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be. 

[pandapetals]

Tennesse Whiskey

You go over to Xavier's mansion looking for Charles only to be greeted by Logan.

dofp!logan howlett x fem!reader - logan is a bit of an ass, no y/n used, no reader description, cussing, reader has fiery personality inspired by daisy jones, 70s setting, making out, liquor play, sweetheart/gorgeous and good girl pet names used, rough kissing, teasing banter

a/n: AHKJAHSAJKH - this is me rn because i am a bitch in heat. someone asked for a sequel to electric fever and i was like wtf am i supposed to write? then the tiktok gods blessed me with a scene from crashing (thank you jonathan bailey, i love you) and here we are. *takes several deep shaky breaths*

divider credit: @enchanthings

The car’s engine sputtered to silence as you rolled to a stop in front of the ruins of what was once Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The sign above the crumbling arch hung crookedly, the paint faded and peeling, like the rest of the mansion. The grass had given way to dirt, and vines snaked up the sides of the building like nature was reclaiming it.

You killed the engine, the sudden quiet making the eerie emptiness of the place feel heavier. For a second, you hesitated, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. It had been a few days since you had sex with Logan, and no matter how much you told yourself you didn’t regret it, there was still a weight in your chest. Maybe it was irritation. Or curiosity. Either way, you hated that he lingered in your thoughts.

With a sharp breath, you shoved the door open and stepped out, your knee-high boots crunching against dry dirt where there should have been grass. You squared your shoulders, slung your bag over one arm, and marched up the weathered stairs to the front door, slamming your fist against the wood three times in rapid succession. Each knock echoed into the emptiness like the whole mansion was mocking you.

The door creaked open slowly, the hinges protesting loudly. And there he was. 

Logan filled the doorway like a permanent fixture, wearing a tight white tank that clung to his chest and shoulders like it was painted on. His hair stuck up in its usual wild tufts, and there was that smirk—the same cocky, aggravating one that made your blood boil. He leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand resting on the edge, the other holding a half-smoked cigar.

“Was wondering when you’d come begging for more,” he drawled. The scent of smoke and whiskey clung to him like an aura.

Your eyes narrowed. “In your dreams, Logan.”

“Pretty sure you’ve been dreamin’ about it, sweetheart,” he shot back, stepping aside as you pushed past him into the mansion.

“Where the fuck is Charles?” you snapped, your boots echoing against the dusty wooden floors as you glanced around. The place was cold and hollow, and the quiet gnawed at your nerves. “I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m not in the mood for your shit. So where is he?”

Logan let the door fall shut behind you with a heavy thud, his smirk only widening as he tucked his cigar between his teeth. “He isn’t here.”

You turned on him, hands on your hips. “Then when will he be back? What about Hank?”

“Gone, too,” he said, shrugging like it was the least of his concerns. “But hey, you’ve got me.”

You glared at him, your patience wearing thinner by the second. “Guess I’ll wait here.”

Logan chuckled, a deep, rough sound that sent heat curling low in your stomach— which you immediately ignored . He sauntered closer, his boots scuffing lazily against the floor as he towered over you, his presence almost suffocating.

“Sure you wanna stay? ‘Cause I can think of at least a dozen ways you could make better use of your time,” he teased, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that made you want to slap him. Or kiss him. No, definitely slap him.

“Don’t,” you snapped, pointing a finger in his face before he could finish whatever smug remark was brewing. “You’re too cocky for your own good.”

Logan leaned in just enough for you to catch the faintest hint of smoke and whiskey. “And you love it,” his voice dropped to that infuriatingly low, gravelly tone that scraped against your nerves.

Your glare burned hotter, but you didn’t flinch. “Keep pushing me, and you’ll find out exactly how much I love punching that smug grin off your face.”

Logan’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he backed away, hands raised like he was surrendering. “Alright, alright. No need to get feisty. I’ll behave...”

He spun on his heel and walked away, his broad shoulders still annoyingly relaxed. “But hey,” he called over his shoulder, voice dripping with amusement, “if you do wanna go another round, you know where to find me.”

You let out a frustrated groan, your fingers itching to throw something at the back of his head. Instead, you dropped your bag with a thud and stalked after him.

“Got any liquor, asshole?” you snapped, catching up to him as he crossed into what used to be the mansion’s formal parlor.

Logan’s chuckle rumbled through the hollow space, and the sound made your teeth clench. “Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart, but Charles drank it all,” he said, not even bothering to turn around as he sauntered toward an old end table by the far wall.

You rolled your eyes, quickening your pace until you were walking in stride with him. “Since when did Charles turn into a goddamn alcoholic?” you quipped, earning yourself a half-smirk from Logan.

“Apparently, you’ve missed a lot of things,” he replied, his voice dripping with amusement as he reached the end table. He pulled the cigar from his mouth placing it on the table. Sitting on top was a tarnished gold tray, a lone bottle of whiskey, and a single glass. He picked up the glass, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he poured himself a generous splash. The amber liquid caught the faint light streaming through the grimy windows.

Your eyes narrowed as you leaned against the massive wooden table in the center of the room, crossing your arms. “You’re fucking kidding me,” you said, your tone sharp. “You have whiskey? After all that, you’re just gonna pour yourself a glass and pretend I don’t exist?”

Logan turned to face you, glass in hand, and that damn smirk of his widened. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little disappointment?” He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving yours, like he was daring you to argue.

Your lips curled into a scowl, the heat in your chest climbing fast. “Do you have to be so insufferable? Or is that just a natural talent?”

“Natural talent,” he said easily, setting the glass down on the tray before picking up the bottle. He held it up, inspecting the label like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “And besides, there’s not enough here for two.”

You straightened up from the table, your fists planted on your hips. “Like hell, there isn’t.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, turning his full attention to you, the whiskey bottle dangling from his hand. “You that desperate, sweetheart?”

“Desperate?” you repeated with a sharp laugh, stalking toward him now. “I’ve put up with your bullshit long enough, Logan. If there’s one thing that’ll make it even remotely tolerable, it’s a drink. So, stop being an ass and pour me one.”

He didn’t move, though his smirk deepened, his teeth glinting wolfishly. “You want whiskey that bad?” he asked, his voice dropping to that gravelly, infuriating drawl that sent a shiver up your spine, whether you liked it or not.

“Obviously,” you snapped, stopping just short of where he stood.

“Alright then.” He set the bottle back on the tray, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. When he turned back to you, his eyes glinted with something dark, teasing, and far too confident. “C’mere.”

You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, stepping closer, his boots clicking softly against the floorboards. He towered over you now, his body radiating heat, and you could feel his breath, warm and laced with whiskey, as he leaned in. “You want a drink? I’ll give you one.”

“Logan, if this is one of your—”

Before you could finish, his hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly and setting you down on the edge of the wooden table. The rough surface creaked under your weight, and your boots dangled an inch above the floor. You glared at him, heat rising in your cheeks as you pointed a finger at his chest. “You are such a—”

“Open your mouth,” he interrupted his voice a low growl, his hands still resting lightly on your hips.

Your jaw dropped—not from obedience but from sheer disbelief. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

He nodded, his smirk practically feral. “Dead serious, sweetheart. Now, open up.”

For a second, you debated decking him right then and there. But there was something in his eyes—a challenge, an invitation—that made your blood run hotter. Against your better judgment, you rolled your eyes and parted your lips.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and the low rasp in his tone sent a flicker of heat straight to your core.

You barely had time to glare at him before he brought the whiskey glass to his lips and took a slow sip. But instead of swallowing, he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against yours as he tilted his head. The whiskey spilled between your lips, hot and smooth, but before you could react, his tongue followed, sliding past your teeth and deepening the contact.

The kiss hit you like a punch—messy, heated, and all-consuming. The whiskey burned down your throat, but it was nothing compared to the fire spreading through your veins. Logan’s hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, and your hands instinctively tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer.

Your teeth grazed his bottom lip, and he let out a low growl, his hands sliding up to grip your thighs. The table groaned under the weight of your combined intensity, but neither of you gave a damn. His tongue teased yours, the lingering taste of whiskey making you crave more—of the drink, of him, of everything.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Logan pulled back just enough to look at you. His lips were wet and swollen, a faint sheen of whiskey lingering on them, and the gleam in his eyes—dark, dangerous, hungry—sent a jolt straight to your stomach.

You licked your lips, tasting whiskey and him, and your voice came out more breathless than you intended. “Now are you going to pour me a glass, or what?”

Logan let out a low, gravelly chuckle that made your thighs tighten where his hands still rested. “Are you gonna beg for it?”

Your eyes narrowed, your irritation flaring instantly. “Do I look like a girl who begs?” you snapped, moving to hop off the table. But his hands didn’t let you. His grip tightened on your thighs, rough and unyielding, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he rasped, his smirk widening. “You’re the one who asked for a drink. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

You glared at him, the heat in your chest climbing higher. “I’m not backing out of shit,” you shot back, your fingers darting toward the bottle still sitting on the tray. “If you’re not gonna share, I’ll just help myself.”

You managed to grab the whiskey, the cool glass smooth in your palm, but before you could bring it to your lips, Logan’s hand shot out, covering yours and wrenching the bottle away with infuriating ease.

“Nice try,” he growled, tilting the bottle to his mouth and taking a long, deliberate swig right in front of you. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and when he lowered the bottle, his tongue flicked out to catch the drop sliding down the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a goddamn child,” you bit out, seething. “Can’t even share a drink.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips. “Oh, I’ll share. But I don’t think you really want the whiskey, sweetheart,” he said, stepping closer until your knees pressed against his sides. “I think you just wanted an excuse to kiss me.”

You huffed out a laugh, sharp and biting. “You’re full of yourself.”

“And you like it,” he shot back, his voice dipping low as he leaned in. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, and the deep rasp sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Admit it.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of rattling you—at least, not yet. “You’re delusional,” you muttered, though your voice faltered when his lips trailed down to your jaw, the scruff of his beard scraping against your skin.

He hummed, the vibration made your breath hitch. “Am I?” he murmured, his mouth skimming down to the curve of your neck. His teeth grazed your pulse point, and you gasped softly, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his tank top. “Because I think I’m in your head, sweetheart. Under your skin. And I think you like it.”

You opened your mouth to snap back, but then his lips latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Heat bloomed across your skin, spreading down your chest and pooling low in your stomach as his tongue soothed the spot before he moved lower, biting and kissing a trail along the side of your throat.

“Logan,” you said, his name spilling from your lips half in warning, half desire.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and wild, his hands sliding up from your thighs to grip your hips, firm and possessive. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough and fraying at the edges. “Admit it.”

You swallowed hard, your nails digging into his chest. “Admit what?” you asked, your voice shaky but defiant, even as you felt your resolve crumbling.

“That you like how I get under your skin,” he said, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. His breath was warm, tinged with whiskey, and it made your pulse race. “That you like the way I make you crazy.”

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t look away from him, your breathing uneven as his hands gripped you tighter, his thumbs stroking small, maddening circles against your skin.

Finally, you huffed, rolling your eyes as your cheeks burned. “Fine,” you said, your voice sharp but barely more than a breath. “I like it. You happy now?”

The second the words left your mouth, Logan growled—a deep, guttural sound that made your entire body shiver. “Not yet,” he muttered, and then his mouth was on yours again, harder this time, hungrier.

His kiss was fierce, devouring as if your admission had broken whatever thread of control he’d been holding onto. His hands slid up your sides, tugging you closer to the edge of the table, and you wrapped your legs around his waist without even realizing it, your body moving on instinct.

You tugged at his tank top, fisting the fabric in your hands as his lips moved against yours, hot and demanding. When his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.

Your fingers slid up into his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from him, and the sound sent a thrill racing through you. He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down your neck again, nipping and sucking in a way that had you arching into him, your breath coming fast and uneven.

“ Logan ,” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as his teeth scraped against your collarbone. 

Logan’s lips moved against your neck like he had something to prove, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath hitch. His hands were everywhere—rough palms sliding up your waist, fingertips pressing into your ribs like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

Your brain was short-circuiting, every thought scattered to the wind except for more . It was all you could think, all you could feel as the heat of him pressed closer, his broad body trapping you against the table.

“More,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his tank top, pulling him closer, needing him closer. “I need more.”

Logan growled low in his throat. “You sure about that, sweetheart?” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin.

Before you could answer, his hands moved, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and before you knew it, the fabric was sliding up and over your head. He tossed it aside without a second thought, baring you to him in nothing but your bra. His gaze dropped, and the way his eyes darkened made heat flood through you, your entire body flushing under the weight of his stare.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, his hands cupping your waist as he leaned back in, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that stole the air from your lungs. His hands roamed higher, his thumbs brushing over the edge of your bra, and you let out a soft gasp against his mouth.

Your legs tightened around his hips, and he groaned as your fingers slid under the fabric of his tank top, nails raking lightly against the hard planes of his stomach. Logan’s mouth was everywhere, moving from your lips to your jaw, then down your throat to the sensitive spot at the base of your neck.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he growled against your skin, his voice rough and ragged.

“Just hurry up,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair as his teeth scraped against your collarbone.

Logan chuckled, low and dark, the vibration of it making you shiver. His fingers fumbled with the clasp of your bra, and you were about two seconds away from helping him when—

“Ahem.”

The sound cut through the heated fog like a bucket of ice water, and Logan froze. His lips stilled against your skin, his hands halting mid-motion.

Your head snapped up, and there, standing in the threshold was Charles and Hank.

Charles’s expression was between mildly amused and thoroughly exasperated, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. Hank, on the other hand, was wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open slightly like his brain hadn’t quite caught up with what he was seeing.

Logan reacted faster than you, snapping into action like nothing had happened—though the growl rumbling low in his chest told a different story. He grabbed your shirt from where it had been tossed, spinning you away from the two men as he yanked the fabric back over your head with the kind of speed and efficiency that only Logan could manage.

“Don’t look,” he barked over his shoulder, his hands still adjusting your shirt as though shielding you from view would undo the last few seconds. “Turn the fuck around.”

Hank immediately slapped a hand over his face, turning away so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. “I—I didn’t see anything!” he stammered, his voice pitched a little too high.

Charles, however, didn’t move, his lips twitching as though he was suppressing a smile. “Logan,” he said calmly, the faintest hint of dry amusement in his tone. “I see that you’ve been… preoccupied.”

“Not another word,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous as he adjusted your shirt one last time before stepping in front of you, blocking you from view entirely.

You, still catching your breath and absolutely mortified, peeked out from behind Logan’s broad shoulders, glaring at the two intruders. “Now you want to show up?” you snapped, your cheeks burning hotter than they ever had in your life.

“Quite honestly, I didn’t expect to find… this ,” Charles replied smoothly, gesturing vaguely to the two of you. “If I had known, I assure you, I would have announced my presence more tactfully.”

Charles cleared his throat, glancing down briefly at the floor before looking back up at Logan with an air of professional detachment. “We’ll give you both a moment to, ah… compose yourselves,” he said, gesturing for Hank to follow him out.

Hank, still not looking at either of you, mumbled something unintelligible and practically bolted for the hallway. Charles followed at a much more measured pace, but not before casting one last glance over his shoulder. “When you’re done, Logan, I’d appreciate it if you could join us in the study. We have matters to discuss.”

Logan didn’t respond, his glare enough to send Charles out without another word.

The moment they were gone, you let out a sharp exhale, your hands covering your face as you groaned into your palms. “I hate you,” you said, though your words were muffled.

Logan chuckled, turning back to you with a shit-eating grin. “No, you don’t.”

You glared at him through your fingers. “I mean it, Logan. I hate you.”

“That right?” he said, stepping closer, his hands finding your waist again as his smirk softened.

Your cheeks burned hotter, and you shoved at his chest—not that it did much, considering he was built like a goddamn brick wall. “I’m serious. I hate you.” 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he shot back, leaning down to press a quick, teasing kiss to your lips before stepping away entirely. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go deal with these two before they pass out from whatever they just walked in on.”

He held out a hand to help you off the table, and though you glared at him for a long moment, you eventually took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

“You owe me whiskey after this,” you muttered, adjusting your shirt as you brushed past him.

Logan chuckled, following close behind. “Oh, I’ll give you more than whiskey, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. “But only if you ask nicely.”

You shot him a scathing look over your shoulder, but the slight curve of your lips gave you away.

[avenging-fandoms]

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

***some links do not work :( please inbox me if you need help navigating a fic!

SMUT:

Call Him Daddy

All for Me?

Soft Lover

Mando's Kinks

Friends with Benefits on Narcos

Trying for a Baby

Fingered to Tears

Degrading

Fucking Enemies

Cowboy Hat Rule - Agent Whiskey

Obsessed - Javier Pena

The First Time - Din Djarin

My Toy - Din Djarin

Inexperienced - Oberyn Martell

Punished - Joel Miller

FLUFF:

Movies and Edibles

Rain at the beach

Pretty

Stay with Me

New Years

Pretty Boy

Southern Accent

Proud

Accidentally Spotted

Welcome Home

Spanish

Cleaning his Glasses

Admiration

I'm Home!

Wink Wink

I'll Keep You Warm

Bad Day

Physical Touch

Unexpected Christmas Together

Nervous Mistletoe

Costume Change

Sugar Daddy

Drunk in Love

Power's out

Do I Look Pretty? - Dad!Pedro

New Neighbor - Agent Whiskey

Home - Marcus Moreno

Cat's Out of the Bag - Marcus Moreno

Sleepy - Din Djarin

First Kiss - Din Djarin

I Love You - Din Djarin

In This Together - Din Djarin

A Well Needed Hug - Din Djarin

You Can Stay - Javier Pena

Is This Your Shirt? - Javier Pena

Dating - Joel Miller

First Kiss - Joel Miller

Oh Baby - Joel Miller

Oh Baby - Joel Miller - Part 2

Nicknames - All Characters

ANGST:

Lasso - Agent Whiskey

Helping Hand - Din Djarin

Save me - Joel Miller

Memories - Part 1

Memories - Part 2

MISC.:

Husband!Pedro moodboard

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Pressing

Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU

A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️

Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!

Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.

It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.

It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.

But you endure it all - for days like this. 

It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.

Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.

On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.

But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.

His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.

The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway. 

The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.

‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.

‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.

With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.

Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks. 

Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him. 

You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him. 

‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’

‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’

His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you. 

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’ 

As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.

You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’

There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines - 

And then he thrusts home inside you.

After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.

You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move. 

There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.

Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure. 

When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge. 

‘Where, darlin’?’

‘Inside me.’

The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.

Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.

You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table. 

‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.

‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.

‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.

Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time. 

He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’

He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.

‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’

‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.

You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’

‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’

Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’

Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’

The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.

With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’

Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 7th

Day 7: Bruising or Bitemarks // Virgin // Ice Play

Agent Whiskey x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Vaginal sex, cock riding, biting, hickies, begging, submissive Whiskey, teasing

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Uh, Whiskey?” Jack looks up from examining the amber tone of the newest batch of Statesman that had been un-barrelled and bottled, sniffing the oaky rich notes and was satisfied with the hint of cloves and honey. It will be a good vintage, one that he had personally crafted and he was just about to put it to his lips to taste when he’s interrupted. 

Looking up, he finds Champ, aka Agent Champagne, his boss - staring at his neck. Making him frown at the bewildered and slightly bemused expression on the older man’s face. “What is it?” He asks, setting down the glass and reaching up, his brows pulling together even more when he feels a tender abrasion that has been exposed as his collar moved down, pulled tighter as he had sat. Making his own embarrassment bloom on his face as he realizes what Champ is staring at. 

****

“Fuuuuuuuck, sugar.” It’s hotter than fucking Satan’s ass in the middle of July, but he’s not going to even fucking complain. Your sweat slick body writhing on top of him, your cunt wrapped around his cock, bouncing on it so expertly that it makes his toes curl every time you settle on him. His head tips back, eyes closed as you kiss down his jaw. 

You hum, the sound almost a growl as you reach up and start to tangle your fingers into his sweaty hair, holding onto him like you are riding a bull. Putting a little more roll into your hips as your teeth come out and you scrap them over his skin. 

“Oh shit.” Jack hisses, his cock twitching in an instinctive reaction to your little nip and making you giggle. 

“You like that, baby?” You coo, your voice dripping with sex and honey, just the way he likes it. You nibble at his throat again and he moans softly, his cock jolting inside your walls again. Even if he denies it, his body is telling you that he loves what you’re doing. 

“Hmmmmm.” You smirk and open your mouth wider, letting your teeth sink into the sensitive flesh of his neck, right above the pulse and dig in. 

Your name falls as a whimper from his lips, his own fingers digging impossibly tight into your hips. Holding you there rather than trying to push you away. You know Jack is stronger than you are, you have seen him in action. If he didn’t want this, he could easily stop it. 

The fact that he doesn’t makes you feral. Sucking and biting more and more. The same spot over and over again until he is wearing an impression of your teeth in the smooth, tanned skin of his vulnerable throat. A bruise is already starting to bloom under the surface from where the pressure of your mouth has broken capillaries. 

“Goddamn.” He pants, rocking his hips up into you, needing and wanting more of your cunt while you lose yourself in the taste of his sweat and the beauty of marking his body as your own. “Sugar, you gotta- I need-” 

He whines again when your tongue presses at the hollow of his throat, your teeth scraping over his Adam’s apple. He’s never been one to give up too much control, but right now, it’s like you’ve lassoed him to the bed and he can do nothing more than bed for you. Chills racing up his spin every time your teeth bite into his flesh and his body pulls tight in pleasure. 

“I know what you need.” You tease, lapping at the latest mark and then deciding to suck on it again. Enjoying the tightening of his core and the melting of his limbs as you put another set of bitemarks to his shoulder after you’re satisfied with one right above his collarbone. 

His chest becomes your canvas, your mouth the paintbrush. Bruises and impressions start to form a pattern over his skin. Making him whine and squirm ever more, groaning in protest when you actually pull off his cock so you can move down his body. 

Another bruise on his hip bone, making sure that it will be vivid when it fully forms, imagining the way it will look when his low slung jeans rest right below it. It makes your now empty cunt clench around nothing and you moan before you move to give him a matching mark on the right side. 

Jack Daniel whines when you bite right next to the base of his cock. You don’t apply as much pressure as you do on the less sensitive areas, but the shudder of his thighs and lovely little spurt of pre-cum that beads up against his belly and slides down his stomach gives away how much he likes this. 

Your tongue teases his balls, making him gasp and they draw tight, as if he is about to cum, but you move away and his groan is heavy with disappointment. 

Focusing on his thighs. You always love how thick and strong they are. Able to ride a bull and hold tight, they are tight with need and anticipation as you smirk up at him, your face planted right at the most sensitive inner portion. 

“Cock tease.” He blows out a half breath, half laugh as he looks down at you. “You might as well make your mark there, too.” He pants, making your smirk at the way he makes begging seem like he’s going you a favor. He wants this just as much as you do, maybe even more. 

You blow on his skin, making him hiss before you finally give him what he wants. Your mouth suctioned to his skin, pulling it harshly before you pull away and bite around the mark. Only to do it all over again under there is a change in the skin. The slight puffiness of where it has been sucked on, the discoloration and then the indentions that are so close to breaking the skin that they are bruising as well. 

Jack looks drunk, his eyes heavy and his chest heaving, so close to just giving in and cumming untouched from the attention of your mouth. “Sugar.” He slurs the soft praise. “Goddamn, c’mere.” He reaches down and urges you back up his body. “I fucking need to be inside you when I blow my load.” 

You nip his hip again and giggle when he moans, your teeth carving the path back up his body. 

****

“Jack?” He doesn’t hear him say his name the first time. “Earth to Jack.” 

Jack squirms slightly, pulling his collar and covering up the bruises and bitemarks that could be seen and shooting Champ an innocent look. “Training injury.” He lies, knowing that the man would never believe that for a second. 

Champagne snorts and shakes his head, turning back to the bar cart with a chuckle. “I’ll have to get Ginger to get the nanites to get rid of it for you.” He offers, smirking to himself. 

“No.” Jack shakes his head quickly, picking up his whiskey glass to lips to hide his grin. “I’m good.” 

[starryeyeddreamer21]

Hazbin Hotel Incorrect Quotes

Lucifer: *walks into the room covered in lipstick marks* Hey... why is everyone looking at me like that?

Vaggie: Um, Sir, you've got a little something... everywhere

Charlie: Mom WHY

Lilith: *puzzled* It wasn't me

Angel: Than who-

Alastor: *walks in with smudged lipstick* What's going on in here?

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: he was ready to give you the world, except one thing: be the father of your baby

Warnings: angst, hurt, angst, agent whiskey (because he is a trigger warning himself), asshole!agent whiskey, pregnancy, mom!reader

A/N: YAY, finally my first Agent Whiskey story!!! Came up with this idea last night and I was so excited about it. I love angst and he is such a handsome angsty asshole! I hope you guys like it ❤️

2.2k words

The moment Jack lay his eyes on you, he felt different.

He didn't understand it at first, it felt so odd, so foreign, so unexpected. Something he hadn't felt in years and years, not after his beautiful, little family was ripped away from him.

He tried fighting it off, it was his first instinct, he couldn't do that, not after all those years, not after having his heart broken the cruel way it was. But at the same time, everytime you smiled at him, asked him about his day, called his name, something as simple as that, it made him weak on his knees.

That cowboy had it bad. And he had it bad for you.

So he made his first move and invited you out. You accepted.

Three years later, Jack was the happiest man on earth. He had a woman he loved very much by his side, you were gorgeous, so perfect for him, you made him feel so good, so worthy of love, and he treated you like a goddamn princess.

You spent more time in his apartment than anywhere else, he wanted to ask you to move in with him, but it didn't feel quite right yet. One of the reasons was because he didn't actually like living in that apartment, he thought maybe taking you to his ranch would be a lot better. You wouldn't be so busy all the time, the daily routine stress wouldn't be as bad as New York, you would be all the time around nature and things would be fine between the two of you.

But you guys weren't married.

And Jack didn't know what to do with himself when that particular thought crossed his mind. He had never, even considered marrying someone new after he lost his sweetheart. He just couldn't, it would be impossible, he could never replace her.

But then again, whenever he saw you, his heart fluttered and he couldn't help daydream about watching you walking down the aisle with a pretty white dress all for him.

Whenever he was out, he would check jewelry store's windows and picture which ring you would like the best.

Until he finally got the balls and bought one for you. He hadn't proposed yet, he still didn't know how he could do it, but he had made up his mind. He was going to make you his, you would become his sweet, beautiful Mrs.Daniels, his world and nothing could ever come between the two of you.

The night Jack proposed to you, you were both lying on the grass, spending a summer weekend at the ranch, where you two stargazed and made love for what it seemed like hours, and when you felt him move, you turned around just to see him on his knee, a ring box in hands and his pleading eyes, asking you to become his.

And you said yes. You were Jack's and he was yours.

And you would continue to do so, until you began feeling sick. You were sure it wasn't nothing more than just a stomach bug, maybe you were coming down with the flu or something like that as you also felt light headed. You insisted Jack didn't have to take you to the doctor, but he was overly protective and quite stubborn too, so it was better just to let him, instead of trying to talk him out of it.

He held your hand the entire time, as you two waited at the reception and the only reason why he didn't go inside with you was because the doctor insisted you had your appointment on your own.

A few questions asked and a blood exam later, the doctor called you and Jack into the office.

They had the results that neither of you expected: you were pregnant.

Jack's world crashed and collided at that very moment. He felt the ground disappearing from under his feet and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He couldn't do it again, he wasn't ready to lose everything that mattered to him.

He couldn't believe you, out of all the people in the world, you couldn't do that to him.

He had lost a wife and a baby before, and he wasn't going to go through that again. He had said many times he didn't want to be a father, he didn't want to have a baby and he thought he found someone he could rely on, he could trust.

But he hadn't.

No matter how many times you had tried to explain to him you were on birth control and that they could all fail, Jack wouldn't listen to you.

You argued, yelled at each other, he told you so many horrible things to which you replied even more horrible ones.

But the end of the line was when he suggested you get rid of the baby.

You couldn't and you wouldn't.

You had never thought of yourself as a mom, you didn't even think you had the maternity bug in you, but the moment you learned the news you were carrying a little someone inside, someone who would grow to become a baby, and then a beautiful child, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Jack even offered you money, so you would interrupt it. But you didn't even bother answering him. You took off the ring he had given you, placed it back in the box and left it on his pillow and you walked out of the ranch you had called a house once and never returned.

You hadn't seen Jack anymore. But you still felt him around sometimes, you just couldn't tell if it was real or just a product of your imagination. You would catch whiffs of his cologne, or you would glance at a man that looked like him and would simply disappear in the blink of an eye. As your bump grew, the loneliness and the heartbreak were visible. You would smile, but the smile wouldn't meet the eyes.

Still, a small part of you thought and maybe hoped he cared for you, but he never came after you, he had nine months to do so and you had no news.

When you learned you were having a baby boy, you felt a pang in your chest and for a moment you actually worried about what he and other people would think. You didn't want to compete with her, you weren't a replacement of his family, you knew he had lost a wife and a baby boy, and life had given him a bride and a baby boy and he chose to walk away from that. You realize then, you weren't competing with anyone, you were living your life and it was not your fault if someone else lost theirs in such a tragic way. Then, after that realization, your heart filled with nothing but love and pride of you beautiful baby boy. If his dad chose not to be around, he was still a tiny piece of Jack you would keep, to remind you of all the good times you had spent together and the moments you were happy.

When you gave birth to your beautiful baby Wyatt, you thought you had seen Jack. You were almost sure you woke up in the middle of the night and found him in the room. He was dressed exactly the way you saw him for the last time, dark clothes and cowboy hat, and he eyed you and the baby.

You didn't have the strength to say anything to him and you just closed your eyes when you saw him picking up Wyatt so carefully into his arms.

In the morning, the doctors said you had experienced a fever peak through the night, so if it was actually Jack or just a cruel feverish dream, you couldn't tell. You even asked around, but no nurse had seen a cowboy over the nightshift.

Time flew, you never actually believed in that whenever you heard people saying, until you realized the tiny newborn became a bigger baby and that baby turned into a toddler in the blink of an eye.

Life was hard without Jack's financial support, you had to admit that, but you lived a happy life with your son, who painfully reminded you of his daddy. The sweet warm pool of brown chocolate eyes, to the cute curls that grew wide if you didn't give him a haircut every two months, to the smartness in him and his fascination with farm animals.

It was actually kind of funny, Wyatt had never met his daddy, he had barely acknowledged the fact other kids had a father and he didn't have one, and yet, he was just the spitting image of his. Sometimes you wonder what Jack would think of him, if he would be proud, happy or pleased to see his boy and himself were so alike. You still had that feeling Jack was around at times, when you took your son to play dates at the park, when you were out shopping and he waved at someone behind you you couldn't never actually see.

And also the times a mysterious amount of money came in handy whenever you found yourself struggling with some bill.

A tip or a bonus in cash your boss didn't actually know how to explain where that came from or when some of your debts simply had disappeared, but you couldn't track the source of the money. However, you only knew one person who had enough money to actually be able to do such things.

You just didn't understand why Jack did all that, if he was so clear about not wanting you nor your baby you didn't get why he still took some of his time to go after the two of you and not only that, he was also putting money into you. Not every month, like child support but enough so you could be comfortable.

On the weekend, you decided to take Wyatt upstate. He was so excited to go to the small farm, a nice ranch where families could spend the day and see all kinds of animals. Your heart ached as you thought about the time you lived with Jack, if you hadn't gone separate ways, Wyatt would love to live there, play with the animals all day and interact with them. It could have been a different story, for the two of you and also Jack, but it was his choice after all.

The little toddler was so excited as you walked around the entire place with him, you were so patient with your son, holding his little hand and showing him all the animals he wanted to see.

He liked the chickens, the horses, the baby pigs and was so excited, but his little heart raced when he saw a man standing a few feet away.

"Mommy, wook! A cowboy!!!" He squealed excitedly as he still struggled in pronouncing the Rs and let go of your hand, running freely towards the man.

You called his name, but knew it was no use at all, so you forced yourself to run after him. You fastened your pace, worried about losing your little boy in the crowd and froze as you saw your son standing next to a man you could recognize miles away. He was in his typical cowboy clothes and he had one arm wrapped around Wyatt's small body.

He smiled at the little boy, nodding gently at whatever he was saying to him. You looked at them in horror, shaking your head and not understanding why that could be possibly happening.

You took some steps closer and whispered your son's name. Jack immediately looked up at you and smiled softly

"Here's your mama, little one" he said in his thick accent "looking pretty as ever" Jack added and got up, lifting his son up and felt his heart clenched at how tiny arms wrapped around his neck. He trusted him so easily, as he was so sweet and affectionate, without even knowing him, without having a clue he was his dad. Of course that sweetness was all you.

You teared up and swallowed hard, extending your arm to Wyatt who was still mesmerized at the big boy.

"Hat, mama!!" He pointed excitedly at Jack's head and made the older man chuckle.

"I see you are a little cowboy yourself, aren't ya?" He asked and took his hat off, handing it to the little boy and placing it on his head.

He kicked his little legs in excitement and finally agreed to go with you, holding your hand and twirling around in pure happiness.

You didn't have any words to say, you wanted to stay away from Jack, and keep him away from your son, he had rejected you, and now he had no right to claim either of you.

You immediately took Wyatt's hat off and shoved it back to Jack. He only stood there, disappointment in his eyes but he understood it.

"It was nice seeing you, sugar. You're looking gorgeous as ever" he said but you only gave him your back and walked away from him.

Jack had lost his first family and out of fear, he lost his second one too, because he was a coward, he was a bad man and he would have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

_____

A/N: of course my first Agent Whiskey piece had to be an angst one. I hope it was alright ❤️

[bbygirlpascal]

Behave (Pedro Pascal x Fem Reader)

Hi friends! Sorry about the lack of posting last week, I was on vacay in Disney, it was a really great break from reality hehe. But I’m back now and will be posting weekly. Hope you like this one. <3

18+ ONLY. Please don’t interact with my posts if you are under 18.

Includes: unprotected sex, choking, demanding, teasing, solo play, public play.

Summary: This doesn’t really have a story line, mostly just smut. Reader wants to see if Pedro will behave in public as she teases him all night. ;)

Pedro couldn’t keep his hands off of you all day. You were both getting ready for an event you got invited to tonight. Going to events with coworkers of Pedro’s was always fun, but tonight you both just wanted to be in bed together, fucking each other senseless.

“Mama, you can’t wear that dress tonight,” Pedro says to you, looking you up and down hungrily.

You furrow your brows together, “But, this is the dress I’ve had picked out all week.”

Pedro walks up behind you and looks at you through the mirror you’re standing in front of. He wraps his lips around your earlobe giving it a soft bite and sending shiver down your body. “If you wear that, I don’t know if I’ll be able to behave myself.”

Your cheeks became flush and your pussy was aching from his words and his touch. You bit your lip, “Well, you’re just going to have to behave aren’t you? Cause I’m not changing,” you walk away from him and grab your shoes. As you bend over to put on your shoes, Pedro looks over to see you are not wearing any underwear.

You feel his finger run up your slit and let out a breath, gripping onto the bed post. “You’re killing me baby,” Pedro says to you, still toying with your pussy. “I want to taste you now.”

You turn around to face him and your met with his fingers in your mouth. You swirl and wrap your tongue around them, slowly bobbing your head up and down. You know what this does to Pedro and you were in the mood to be a tease all night, testing to see if he really will behave himself. Your eyes met his and he was watching your every move, fixating on your mouth around his fingers.

You let his fingers come out of your mouth with a pop, “You’re just going to have to wait, we need to go. Now.”

You grabbed his hand as he dragged his feet behind you and you both made it out the door into the car. The company that was hosting the event tonight had arranged a driver to pick you both up so you climbed your way into the back seat of the SUV. You both exchanged small talk with the driver and silence fell upon the vehicle, the sound of the radio softly filtering through to the back seat where you and Pedro sat.

The middle seat was empty between you and Pedro, you turned to face him, your back to the window. You brought your legs up resting them on the middle seat, exposing your pussy to him. You watched him shift uncomfortably, as you spread your legs a bit wider. Bringing your hand down to your pussy, you starting rubbing circles on your clit, and dipping them into your dripping sex. You could hear the wetness of your pussy as you continued to play with it, teasing Pedro to the point where you could tell he was about to burst through his pants.

He brought his hand up to your leg, rubbing your calf and nudging your leg open wider so he could get a better look. You quickly closed your legs, making sure he knows you can’t touch him right now. The car came to a stop as you realized you had arrived at the plaza.

You made your way into the event room, your arm looped around Pedro’s. He took a quick pit stop in the bathroom to readjust himself. You both once again made small talk with other guests at the event, Pedro’s hand resting on your lower back and lowering to caress your ass every now and then. Once you two had found your table you took a seat.

You placed your hand on Pedro’s thigh, eventually creeping your way up to his cock. It’s still semi-hard from your performance in the car and you smiled to yourself. You started to palm him through his pants, feeling his cock grow harder. Pedro let out a sigh and shifted in his seat.

He leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Don’t make me take you home and punish you,” he said with a clenched jaw. Just what you wanted.

You continued to tease him throughout the night and once you both had finally made it home, you closed the door and Pedro pinned you against it. His face inches from yours, as he wrapped his hand around your throat, placing his thumb against your lips.

“Did teasing me all night make you wet? Hmm?” he asked you as he slid his fingers into you. “You think it’s fun for me to be hard all night while you sit there with that pretty smile on your face as you rub my cock and play with your pussy?” he pumped his fingers in and out of you, making you moan and whimper as he curled them toward your g spot. You bit your lip as he fingered your pussy, hearing how wet you were for him made you even more aroused.

You wrapped your leg around him, but he moved it away. “No, now it’s my turn,” he said nipping at your jaw. He traveled open mouthed kiss all down your body, starting from your neck, to your collarbones, to your chest. He pulled down the top of your dress, exposing your tits and started sucking and flicking his tongue on your nipples. Placing soft kisses on them, making you shiver at his soft touch.

He eventually pulled your dress down to your ankles as he worked his way down your body, softly touching every inch of your body with his mouth. He lead you to the bedroom and laid you down on your back. He took off your shoes, kissing the tops of your feet all the way down your leg. He stopped at your inner thigh, teasing you by hovering his mouth over the sensitive skin, licking and sucking on your inner thigh.

Your hips squirmed, so desperate for friction on your pussy. “Mmm, not yet princess,” he said to you. He rose up and took of his shirt, unbuckled his pants and dropped them and his boxers to the floor. His cock was already hard and dripping with precum. You bit your lip, craving his cock inside of you.

“Please Pedro, I’m sorry,” you whimpered. He ran the tip of his cock onto your folds as you sharply inhaled at the friction you wanted so bad.

“Touch yourself,” Pedro demanded. You brought your fingers down to your clit, rubbing circles on it, bucking your hips towards his cock as he continued to tease you with it. “Good girl, you’re behaving now.”

He thrusted his cock into you completely, filling out your walls perfectly and making you cry out. He pulled out completely before diving back in, his cock stretching you out. The pleasure washed over you and he continued to thrust into your pussy. He bent down and connected his lips to yours, you both sloppily kissing each other, tongues squirming around each other, and your moans muffled into his mouth.

“Turn around baby,” he said breathlessly as you turned around for him, pushing your hips up into the air. Pedro spanked you harshly, the sting subsided quickly as he slapped you again. He entered his cock into you, he felt even bigger from behind. He wildly thrust into you, the sound of skin on skin filling your ears. His hands dug into your hips as he guided your on his cock.

You felt that familiar feeling in your pussy as his balls slapped against your clit.

“Baby, I’m gonna come,” you said to him.

“Come on my dick baby.”

He thrust into you harder and you felt your walls contract around his cock. Pushing your hips up even more to feel him deeper inside of you.

“Yes, just like that baby,” he said, still thrusting into you. He pulled out his cock and turned you around, you took his tip into your mouth, he used his hand to pump his shaft and you felt his load cover your tongue as you swallowed.

You got up onto your knees, facing Pedro as he kissed you all over making you fall back on the bed.

[cyellolemon]

Obsessed over their hand size difference it's so cute..

LOOK AT THEM... their meeting was the cutest thing ever

[ioniansunsets]

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Birthday Special ✖

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Birthday Special ✖

✖ Word Count: 836

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: I think of this as a 10pm-2am party on the 30th so Kayn can quietly pretend its a party for his real 31st Birthday.

----

It was irritating, he'd have to admit. A full day of media and paparazzi chasing him. All he wanted was to by your side, to celebrate with you, to not have to phase through walls just to hide from the crowd. The crowd that was even worse than usual because it was Halloween night. He clicks his tongue as he pulls his facemask up to hide away from the crowd.

" Gods help me."

He whispers angrily under his breath. Almost like an answer to his prayers, Ezreal pops up and drags him down an alley, helping him to slip away from some fans and find his way to the club that you told him to meet you at. It was the usual spot, Heartsteel's favorite bar, the bouncers already waving to let Kayn and Ezreal in.

" Everyone's waiting LMAO! You're so late." " You're late too loser. The fuck you on about!"

Ezreal laughs as he flings the doors open. You, with the help of some others in Heartsteel booked out the entire club for Kayn this night. A hustle and bustle as K/DA and some other friends of Kayn's hang out, laughing and drinking. Cheers from everyone as he walks in, everyone wishing Happy Birthday on what he personally thinks is the wrong day. But attention is attention and he can't say no to a little fun at night. Everyone in little Halloween costumes, high fives, loud laughs, awkward hugs he talks to everyone, socializing and thanking them for the wishes. Yone graciously DJ-ing for the party, Akali pointing him a middle finger as they make eye contact but showing up to the party anyway, Sett and Aphelios trying a hand behind the bar to make drinks for the party. K'Sante sitting by a table talking to Alune and the rest of K/DA. But still, something was wrong, he sees all his friends but where the hell were you? The you who was arguably the most important person to him. The you who were the one who invited him here anyway.

" Happy Birthday Kayn!"

At the sound of your voice he perks up, immediately putting his drink down to turn and find you. As he spots you a little away he basically runs over to throw his arms around you, lifting you up and giving you a little spin as you hug him back.

" My favorite person! Where the hell were you! I'm only here because you told me to come by the way."

He sticks out his tongue in mock irritation, arms still around you the whole time. All the attention and well wishes from everyone could never compare to your love. Ah how he loved your smell, your cute laugh, your stupid teasing smug face as it stared at him. He leans down giving you a quick kiss before letting go. Resting his arms across his chest waiting for a good explanation from you.

" Took a while because I had to get this finished for you."

You defend yourself, you hold up a present for him. It was small, suspiciously small for a gift for someone as amazing as him, but it was from you so like hell he won't complain. Picking up the box for your hands he holds it up, shaking it a little, no noise. Curious now he opens it, face immediately lighting up. He puts the wrapping down behind him as he holds up the gift.

" Oh fuck is this...?"

You nod as he examines it, a custom guitar strap. Designed like his recently solidified aesthetic from the Paranoia MV, bright colors, a yellow base, pink, purple and green accents with an imitation of his signature down the strap. Little handmade patches of him and Rhaast on the corner, hearts the colors of all the boys around the middle, and finally your initials sneakily sewn in the underside next to Kayn's right where the strap would meet the guitar, there, yet hidden from view so he could still use this on stage. A beautifully thought out way to have something of you near him all the time, even when he was on tour, on stage or in his studio. How personal... Kayn laughs, a hand returning to pull you into him, he leans down close to your ears as he growls out softly,

" Damn babe...you're going to make me emotional."

A blush rising up your face, Kayn turns to give your cheek a quick kiss. A hand sneakily rising up to wipe something away under his eyepatch. You take note to tease him about it later.

" All custom made and details hand sewn by the way, I got K'sante and Sett to help me."

" Thank you. Amazing gifts from you as always."

After a quick kiss on your forehead, he pulls away from the hug, hand wrapping around yours as he drags you to the bar, the brightest smile on his face as he gives Aphelios a nod to make drinks for you two.

" Now let's properly celebrate together."

[replaytech]

desperately in need of a brown eyed mustached agent named javier

[anachronistic-falsehood]

team bolas' victim complex makes sooooo much sense from like a character standpoint and it drives me crazy. i don't think they ever left day one. i think in their heads, they're still burning themselves in that bonfire. half their players were inactive, they had a clear pvp disadvantage, and they kept getting killed by other teams. it was them against the world on day one. their only solace was each other when they felt helpless and they're carrying that with them to drive them forward. they still call themselves victims because if they win, then it's a pleasant surprise, and if they lose, that's just how it is with team bolas, right? it's better to have no hope at all in the first place than to feel the crushing weight of having your hopes dashed.

day one was hell. their friends killed them repeatedly without mercy, they had barely anything while other teams built their bases, and they were bottom of the leaderboard. they've come to expect tragedy, even after their multiple victories, after they've come to regard one another as family, after they've worked so, so hard to be one of the last teams standing and actually made it. they never left that bonfire.

[ruiky]

📺 “Your definition of ‘perfectly well’ is deranged”

(Scene from "Livestream 666, Now Presenting : A Love Potion Makes the Medicine Go Down" on Ao3 by @prince-liest )

Alastor rolls his eyes, now ready to consider the question posed. “Isn’t that what your little stoplight system is for? It’s worked perfectly well in the past.”

“Firstly, your definition of ‘perfectly well’ is deranged,” Vox says, “and secondly, I’m being a hypocrite, okay? I recover just fine when you fuck me up, but if I do something that makes you ghost me for three months, I’m going to be upset.”

“Hm,” Alastor hums, dragging his eyes up to Vox’s face. “I wonder how that feels.”

I really love the part where they talk about past sins and opinions on murders. (Alastor's reaction is so hilarious 😂)

Thank you so much for sharing this series on Ao3, it help me find the words to better explain Asexuality to my family. 🖤🩶🤍💜

[yeollie-plz]

Swans A Swimming

Day 7 of Pedromas! | Masterlist

Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

Synopsis: Agent Whiskey takes you for a swim.

Genre: smut

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

Gif credits to owners!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jack-" You whimper.

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

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

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

"That was-that was different."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Taglist:

@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley @amyispxnk