#Jack whiskey x ofc

[artemiseamoon]

Draft release: Dial up the Jack, Dim the Whiskey

Agent Cognac (Bria Asare) x Agent Jack Whiskey

✨Draft release! ✨

💕Summary: Working at the Statesmen medical department, Bria started her career with aspirations of being an agent. Years after starting, it seems like that dream is never going to come true. Days after her 38th birthday, one of the senior agents gets gravely injured and she’s soon tasked with his care and recovery.

But there’s one issue, she can’t stand Agent Whiskey. As the weeks pass, and he starts to heal, the two form a bond and grow closer. As Jack’s health improves, he realizes the extent of his growing feelings for Bria as she comes to terms with her feelings for him too. 💕

Words:3,983

One shot for Arte’s Year of Whump for @yearofcreation2023 |I’m months behind , so making this the May one 😬| | Year of Whump + fluff /comfort masterlist

💫Below is a preview | read in full here on A03💫

An: still on a mini writing break, just occasionally releasing some drafts. My folder is way too full and taking up space on my phone. 💕this one is more fluff /comfort leaning.

Warnings: light on whump, recovery after injury, misogyny mentioned.

Bria always had two things she imagined for herself, being able to help people and work in the medical science field and being a world-traveling spy.

Growing up she was always glued to the screen for any shows about spies, secret agents, and detectives. It was something she wanted to do before she realized her draw to the medical field in high school.

The dream of being an agent was her first, and still her biggest one. And though she was in the right place for it, she still wasn’t an agent.

She was head of her department and got to work with tech and science, both things she liked, but she still wasn’t an agent. But this was a problem for more than one person at the office, namely Ginger who was also qualified but shot down whenever her name came up.

For all the perks and benefits of working there, the place was still deeply misogynistic in several ways, both from within the system and due to some of the men involved. And though there were women agents, the percentage was far less than that of the men.

Some offices were more progressive, like the New York office. Sometimes Bria wondered if a transfer there would be worth it, and maybe then she could finally have her wish come true. There was also the fact that aside from her job and friends being here, there wasn’t much keeping Bria in Kentucky. Maybe, New York was her future.

After a few days off for her birthday, Bria returned to the office. Upon arrival, she was surprised to find a new patient in her center. Agents get hurt, but that wasn’t the surprising part, what shocked her was who it was.

Some people had a shit ton of luck, and somehow barely got a scratch on them, Agent Whiskey was one of them and he was cocky about it too. The man was damn near indispensable, it was impressive but also fed his massive ego.

This place had many big heads and egos walking around, and Jack was one of them. While many women in the office, and men, fell for his charms and ate out of his palm, Bria wasn't one of them. No matter how physically attractive the man was, and really easy on the eyes, his attitude and ego were a major turn-off for her.

Thankfully she had limited contact with him, but the few times they did circle each other just reaffirmed what she felt about him. Nice to look at but stay away. And though she turned him down a few times, he’d still hit on her now and then. But she never took it too personally, he hit on everyone he liked the look of, it was hard to tell if his interests were genuine sometimes, or if he was just doing it to do it.

Read in full on A03

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[ladamedusoif]

Masterlist

Header - and slogan - by @agentjackdaniels

Hi there! I’m Rose (she/her/they), I’m 40 and I write fics - described with complete accuracy as “ethical porn for nerdy types” - for Pedro Pascal characters.

This is an 18+ blog so, for safety’s sake, minors should not access the content below.

I love hearing from readers! All comments, reblogs, likes, DMs, and asks are very much appreciated.

If you’d like to be notified about new fics and instalments, please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit - taglists aren’t working well at the moment so this is the easiest way to keep up.

I also cross-publish to AO3 if that's your preferred reading platform.

I do block empty/untitled/ageless blogs so, if that’s you and you’re a real person, just drop me a message - or, better still, populate your blog (you don’t need to be totally specific about your age) with a few things. If you’re not sure how, just ask! I’m happy to help and I’m sure others will be too!

Thank you so much for reading!

Visiting (Professor!Ben College AU - in progress)

Pairing: Professor!Ben x OFC Lydia (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, European art historian Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in the small New England college town of Barrow. She’s planning to spend a year there on leave of absence from her permanent job at home, expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor at Barrow College, a small liberal arts institution. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic Literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Rating: Explicit (18+)

See the main Series Masterlist for specific warnings and content notes.

Tempered in the Fire (Blacksmith!Din Djarin AU short series - in progress)

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Rating: Mature (series); Explicit (18+, later chapters)

See the Series Masterlist for specific warnings and content notes.

Gentleman Thief - The Heritage Crimes Universe (The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) - in progress)

Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x F!Museum Professional Reader

Summary: He stole a priceless ruby after your first date. You reunited after the museum's winter ball. And now? Something keeps pulling you into the orbit of the world's greatest (ethical) gentleman thief.

Rating: Explicit (18+)

See the Series Masterlist for specific warnings and notes.

A Merry Fic-Mas - a Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar

31 days. 31 stories (hopefully). 12 Pedro characters.

Inspired by this set of December/holiday themed prompts.

Rating: Teen/Mature/Explicit (see individual chapters for warnings and content notes).

20/20 - no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Optometrist F!Reader

Summary: After months of pestering from Sarah, Joel finally concedes that he might to get his eyesight checked and makes an appointment at your optometrist practice. He really doesn’t want glasses, though.

Rating: 18+; not explicit as such but implied; see the warnings on the original story

Café Crème - Javier Peña x f!reader

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Javier likes mornings at your place for more than just coffee.

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI; see more notes on the original post)

A Cup of Kindness, Yet - Javier Peña x f!Reader

Part of the brilliant @pickled-pena writing challenge - check out the blog for the whole masterlist.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Another Auld Lang Syne in Laredo, twenty years after your first with Javi.

Rating: Teen (see notes and warnings on the original)

My Kiss, Only For You - The Thief x Museum Guide f!reader

Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x Museum Guide F!Reader

Summary: You’ve noticed a regular attendee on the guided tours you offer as part of your job at the museum - and one day, he decides to ask you for more information on his favourite exhibit.

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI; see more notes on the original)

For the Night - Special Agent Ortega x F!Sex Worker Reader

Pairing: Agent Ortega (The Sixth Gun) x F!Sex Worker Reader

Summary: You might not be one of the “sweet young things” in the whorehouse any more, but a seemingly reluctant special agent helps remind you of your worth.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ (see specific warnings on the post).

Silvered - Detective Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader

Word count: ~ 800 words

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI; see specific warnings on the story)

Summary: Tim Rockford’s talented silver tongue has a reputation, in more ways than one.

Gentleman Cowboy - Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels/Agent Whiskey x F!Reader

Word count: 3500 words

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI; see specific warnings on the story

Summary: A solo getaway, a whiskey for one, and a very charming cowboy in the big city.

Able - Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI; reader is disabled; see more specific warnings on the story.

Word Count: ~3.7k

Room Service - Dave York x F! Reader

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Summary: You’re at one of those generic conference hotels to meet a man you know only as Dave.

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI; more specific warnings on the story

Word Count: ~2.3k

Coup de Foudre - Lucien Flores x F!Reader

Pairing: Lucien Flores x F!Reader

Summary: Caught in a sudden storm on a break in Paris, you and Lucien race back to the hotel room.

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI; specific warnings on the story

Word Count: ~1.1k

Part of the April Showers Challenge organised by @undercoverpena

[the-blind-assassin-12]

• Friday Five •

Hi friends! I hope everyone’s weekend is off to a fantastic start! Mine is starting with indecision! (Not that this is a surprise or different from any other day, it just happens to be Friday.) Want to help me pick what to work on this weekend?

Here are snippets from 5 of the wips I’ve been working on lately. If any of them seem particularly interesting to you, please do feel free to weigh in or ask about them!

Petrichor - long overdue follow-up to Point of No Return - Ezra x OFC Clara - the rainy season is here.

Leaning her temple against the cool pane of glass, she looked out and up at the sky, at the endless churning of slate gray and deep purple clouds. The occasional rumble of thunder tumbled down as one cluster crashed into another. Sometimes it was low and distant, drumming out a slow beat. Other times it sounded like it was right over their heads, shaking the walls and rattling things on shelves. The first truly loud boom had made her jump and gasp, her eyes widening before they rushed to find Ezra’s across the table, frightened for a second that the roof might cave in or the ground would collapse.

“Not to worry, little bird.” He’d said it with a wink. “We’re safe and sound in here, I guarantee it.”

Recall - Part 3: Un(f*cking)believable - Jack Daniels x F!Reader - Jack finally opens his big brown eyes in this one.

A metallic taste filled your mouth as you glanced over at him and finished your thought. I don’t know how yet but it’s connected. It has to be.

“When did you last hear from Merlin and the Galahads?” Champ asked. “And what’s the status of their mission?”

Their mission. Right.

In the chaos of dealing with Jack you’d almost forgotten what had preceded his arrival in the lab

Unfinished - Part 3: They Haunt Me in The Night - Marcus Pike x F!Reader - Ghost AU - taking on a trope I’ve never done in this one.

You turned into the hallway just in time to see Marcus open the door to the guest room. As he froze in place, head cocked to the side in confusion, you realized you’d forgotten to address the one logistical hang up of his visit. He spoke your name, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Am I missing something?”

“Shit.” You winced, fingertips coming up to rub at your closed eyelid before dragging your palm down over your face. I completely forgot about - you groaned. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I forgot to tell you. Bill took the guest bed when he moved out.” You gave a pathetic little shrug. “It was technically his, so…”

Trailing off, your eyes widened as another realization hit you. Oh, fuck. Because of how the night had gone, the sheets for the pullout couch that you’d thrown in the wash that afternoon had never made it into the dryer. “Shit!” You half sighed, half hissed through another wince. “I fucked up, Marcus. I left the sheets for the pullout mattress in the wash and now-“ You clicked your tongue and threw up your hands.

Untitled ACR one shot - Nico x F!Reader - angst x comfort - a dinner party goes a little sideways in this one.

Since you’d been reunited, the tether rarely stretched farther than the confines of your home. When it did, when Nico had to go into the office for work or when you had meetings with your editor, it didn’t ache like it did when you had no idea where to find him or if you ever would again. You felt it, sure. But you knew that by the end of the day he’d be right beside you. That you’d fall asleep coiled in his arms with the tether so relaxed that the hook in your ribs could latch right onto his without the elastic between them.

Now, as he finished closing the distance from the house to the pool’s edge, the hum of his proximity soothed the unease leftover from Petra’s comment at dinner. Somewhat, anyway.

“Mind if I join you?”

You didn’t look up as he spoke, your eyes cast down at the water as you watched the way it shimmered in the beams from the submerged light. “Sure.”

Aphelion - Part 12 - cowritten with @something-tofightfor - Oberyn Martell x F!Reader - Vampire AU - girl’s night feat. Toban

The past two weeks had been surreal in every way. Just fourteen days ago you were at Golden Lion’s Halloween party, and the biggest shock had been the fact that Oscar, the alluring and attractive stranger you met in a chance encounter a few days prior, was also in attendance. Since then you’d been attacked, watched that same stranger wield what you thought had been a prop blade in fight in an alley as he saved your life while risking his own, and learned that his name was not Oscar but Oberyn Martell - Prince of Dorne and one of the immortals known as Others that you always assumed were just the stuff of ancient folklore.

All of that would have been enough to fill your Bingo card of things you never even dreamed were possible. But it was only the beginning.

•••

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

A Promise of Gold

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x OFC

Rating: NSFW 18+

Warnings: this is an old western story so many of these come with the world. Mentions of prostitution, mentions of injury, normal saloon activities (gambling, alcohol consumption and handsy men) smutty times, fluff, oral (female receiving), p in v sex, fluff, angst, a shootout, a badass couple moment, very tiny mention of death, did I mention fluff?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Notes: I read a western series a few months back and this fic was born from it. I made an oc and left it with the possibility to return to it if the inspiration ever struck. I ADORE this fic so much. It’s probably in the top five things I have ever written and that's saying a lot. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I did writing it! Thanks to @clint-aww-no-barton​ as always!

ao3 link

  The dark of night had fallen like a slow sheet of snow on the small western town. The local saloon had already been at full swing for several hours, the noise growing as more patrons filled through the swinging doors. Henley had been making her rounds, finding laps to sit in and hair to lace her fingers through. Every suggestion of taking her upstairs had been shut down.

She was waiting on a particular someone to make his entrance. The blue dress she had worn tonight was a little more toned down than her usual and she had chosen it just for him. She stationed herself at the back, keeping away from the noise and grabbing hands, staring at her perfect view of the door.

  Then there he was, Jack Daniels. The definition of tall, dark and handsome, with a swagger that always seemed to draw attention. He was a true cowboy. Mostly kind in nature, but he protected what was his and those who couldn’t protect themselves. He would gun a man down in the street but he would rather not. He had become a special customer of Henley’s and she always looked forward to when he came around.

  He had traveled through one night, limping in after a ruthless battle to town. He had been injured and Henley had tended to him, which resulted in drunk mumbles of sweet flirting words until the man fell asleep. He charmed his way right into her bed the second he was able, and she let him. He wrote to her on the regular now, promising as soon as he got his hands on some gold, he would free her from this life and give her anything she wanted.

  Their eyes met from across the saloon, as the rest of the patrons turned to see who had entered. Eyes seemed to follow him as he skipped over the alcohol, the gambling and everything else, as he took quick strides to Henley. A smirk was planted on those lips and Henley felt that all too familiar heat. Butterflies fluttering around her stomach and heat pooling between her legs. His eyes looked her up and down and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, eyeing his next meal.

  “Howdy cowboy,” she smirked up at him as he closed the distance between them, and pulling her into him.

  “Howdy there darlin’. Now don’t tell me you picked out this little number for me?”

  “Of course I did. You like?”

  Henley smiled wide as he twirled her around and let out a whistle.

  “Well of course I do. But I know where I’m going to like it so much better,” he pulled her right into him and dipped his head letting his lips brush hers in a quick kiss.

  “Then let’s go get it there,” she pulled away, backing up as she held his hand, before pulling him along like he didn’t know the way.

  Henley had mostly stopped any other man from entering her room since she met Jack. He always left her with plenty of coin to get her by until his next visit. The saloon owner wasn’t entirely happy, so she would take a random customer here or there, but her eyes and her heart were set on Jack. They slipped inside and Henley shut and locked the door. By the time she turned around Jack was already getting rid of the top layer of his clothes.

  “Eager tonight are we?” She smirked but didn’t dare touch her clothes to remove them, he would take care of it.

  “I’m a little pint up darlin’ but I promise our usual talk and just lying together as soon as I release some of this energy.”

  Henley studied him for a moment realizing how true his words were. Something was bothering him, but she knew he would tell her after he took her. He stepped to her once he stood in nothing but a button up shirt and his trousers. He crashed his lips to hers without another word, backing her up till the back of her knees hit the bed. He spun her around leaving her dizzy and panting from the kiss, his skilled fingers desperately working her out of her dress. Layer after layer hit the floor until she was naked for him. She turned around, her hand coming to the back of his neck and pulling him back down for another, slightly softer kiss.

  “I’ve missed you darlin’,” Jack panted as he parted from her, resting his forehead against hers.

  His words made the butterflies in her stomach go wild and a smile to pull at her lips.

  “I’ve missed you too Jack.”

  Then he was back on her. His hands started to wander everywhere, touching in all the right spots that he knew oh so well. She worked at removing the last of his clothing, until he know stood naked before her. Then he was lying her back on the bed. His lips fell from hers, taking their journey downward. She laced her fingers in his brown locks letting her eyes flutter closed, as she let herself get lost in the way he made her feel. Jack was going so slow and she was started to lose her sanity.

  “I thought you were eager?”

  Henley whined, pulling a chuckle from Jack that she felt rumble on her stomach where he had stopped.

  “Now darlin’ that may be true but I’m a gentleman and I’ll always take my time to worship every inch of you.”

  She couldn’t stop the smile as she looked down at him, meeting his eyes.

  “Keep those pretty eyes on me darlin’.”

  He smirked and she did as she was told, watching as he kept going until he finally stationed himself where she had wanted him. He hooked her legs around his arms, keeping her spread for him. He flattened his tongue and took one single swipe from her, already dripping, entrance to her clit. He flicked his tongue over the bundle of nerves a few times causing her to let out a loud moan.

  “You still taste so delicious darlin’ and those noises that you make, like music to my ears.”

  Henley could only answer with a moan as she bucked her hips slightly. Jack let out a chuckle and then dug in. He took her clit between his lips and sucked, making her throw her head back, letting out a slight scream she knew anyone else up here could hear. She gripped at his hair.

  “Jack…” she panted trying to earn his attention all while he was continuing his assault on her with that damn mouth.

  He looked up at her with only his eyes, his eyebrows raising.

  “I…want you…inside me,” a loud moan as he made a certain movement with his tongue. “Now please.”

  She pleaded so pathetically and desperately but she didn’t care, she needed him buried inside and wanted to tumble over the edge with him.

  “Now who is the eager one,” he gave her a devilish smirk before starting his journey back up her body.

  His lips met hers and she let out a moan at the taste of herself there. He pulled away just slightly, their eyes locking as he lined himself up and pushed inside her. Henley let out a moan at the feeling. Jack set his usual quick, but gentle, pace. The bed under them squeaked and the headboard hit the wall. Henley knew the noises that were falling from her mouth could most likely be heard on the whole floor but she didn’t care. She wanted everyone to know that Jack was making her feel like no other man could.

  “Jack…I’m close,” she panted as she looked from between them to his eyes.

  “Let go for me darlin’, I’m right behind you,” he grunted and it was all Henley needed.

  She felt herself snap and she gripped at Jack causing him to let out a groan, letting go himself. She lost herself completely in him, the entire world fading away and leaving just them until she was floating back down. They both stilled, panting and spent. Jack moved carefully, both of them hissing at the loss of each other, before rolling over on the bed.

  “I think we getting better at that every time,” Jack looked at her and she turned her head to look at him.

  “I do have to agree,” she smirked, before she moved to lay on his chest, his arm snaking around her.

  “You know, you are always beautiful but this right here, is my favorite look. All flush and spent,” his thumb came up to brush over her cheek and then her nose which she scrunched in return.

  “You’re not so bad yourself cowboy.”

  Henley kissed his chest both of them laughing softly. His fingers started to idly rub at her back and shoulder as they sat in silence for a moment.

  “Have you gotten any closer?” Henley sat up slightly, watching Jack’s face, trying to memorize it as she always did.

  “I think so. I actually think I’m getting close. It’s why I wanted to come visit. I…may not be able to again for a bit until I find it.”

  Henley felt her stomach sink but she knew in the back of her mind this day was going to come, she just didn’t think so soon. Jack must have noticed the expression on her face.

  “But as soon as I get my hands on it I’m coming back for you. Then I’m taking you wherever you want to go. You can have a better life than this and I’ll take care of you. We can make love in our own house, have our own farm. I promise.”

  Jack fingers brushed under her chin softly, making her eyes meet his.

  “I just need you to be careful. You won’t do me no good if you get yourself killed,” she gave him a smirk, but they both knew she was trying to put on a brave face.

  Her words were a real fear. She always waited with her stomach in a twist, anxious that he wouldn’t walk back through the saloon doors. The fact now, that she would have to go longer without knowing he was okay, sent her to that place permanently.

  “I wish…I wish I could go with you.”

  “I know darlin’ but it’s dangerous and I would turn into a mad man if something ever happened to you. I promise I’m going to be as quick as possible and I’ll write as much as I can. Soon my darlin’ it will just be us and the wide open world.”

  Henley gave him a small smile as he kissed her brow before she curled into him. She slipped into sleep quicker than she wanted, even with her heart and mind wanting to spend more time with him.

    The sun danced behind Henley’s eyelids and she forced her eyes open, squinting in response. Jack was still here but he was dressing.

  “You weren’t going to leave without telling me goodbye were you?” She wanted it to come off jokingly, but it held a slight bit of pain.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it darlin’ you know that.”

  She sat up, covering herself with the sheet and Jack kissed her deeply before continuing to dress. She finally moved herself from the bed doing the same but keeping her eyes on him. When they both were finished and his eyes finally met hers, his lips twitched slightly.

  “What?”

  “Nothing I…I just,” her words faltered breaking tears springing in her eyes. “I’m just memorizing you. Making sure I never forget a thing.”

  The last few words came out a whisper and she mentally kicked herself for crying.

  “Hey shhh it’s alright my darlin’ I’m coming back for you, in one piece okay?” He grabbed her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears. “I promise I’m coming back.”

  Then he kissed her and it was different than any other time. It held a different kind of passion, fire, love. It hit Henley that it was love. It made her pull closer, kiss deeper. She loved him and he loved her and soon things would be better. When they pulled away they were panting, foreheads pressed together.

  “I…”

  “I know,” she whispered and her eyes met his.

  They stood there for a moment before he kissed her again.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  Henley gave him a nod and then he was gone. She watched the open doorway like it had swallowed him. She listened for his footsteps until they faded, and then she went to her window and watched him mount his horse. He turned it, looking up at her window and taking his hat off to her. She blew him a kiss in return and watched as the man she loved rode off into the open desert.

*3 months later*

  The music was so loud and, she wasn’t sure if it was just her, but the men were extra handsy. Henley found herself sneaking upstairs to her room closing the door and locking it. Maybe someone would think she had a guest. Her forehead rested against the wooden door and she closed her eyes, before letting out a sigh. She turned to her empty room. The unchanging scenery.

  It had been three months, if she had been counting the days correctly. Three months since she watched Jack leave. She was starting to fear the worst and it lead her mind down a path she had tumbled down several times. She was tired of being here, sitting still, waiting for word. But she also had no idea where he had even been heading. He had told her it was best that way, which he was right she supposed.

  She sat down on her bed and letting out another sigh, watching the candle light flicker across her walls. Then gunshots rang out and she jumped. She was up on her feet in seconds. Reaching under the bed and grabbing the shotgun she had stored there, she stood and raced to the window. She looked down to see most of the men in the saloon had stepped outside looking off out of town. Her eyebrows knitted together and she was up and racing down the stairs and outside in seconds. She pushed through the crowd until she came to the front of it and she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “Jack…” she smiled to herself.

  Jack was coming this way on horseback, but behind him were some angry looking men. Jack seemed to have several of his own posse riding next to him who would turn and shoot behind them every few moments. The crowd scattered as Jack got closer until he turned his horse and started to fire.

  She planted her feet right next to his horse, taking aim with her shotgun at any that got within range, and pulling the trigger. She moved through the moments of firing the gun over and over until she was out.

  “Darlin’!”

  Jack called from next to her and with a smirk and a wink he dropped a rifle in her hands. She gave him a smirk back and started to fire it. Most of the men from the saloon had chosen to take their side, shooting at the strangers who trespassed on their town. Finally they tucked tail and ran, those that were left and everyone scattered leaving Henley and Jack standing in the middle of the street. A few bodies of locals were scattered about, but they were lucky overall. Jack dismounted his horse.

  “I took it you found the gold?” Henley smirked.

  “Now what gave that away?” Jack looked down at her as he pulled her to him.

  “Oh I don’t know, the angry mob that was after you,” she let out a giggle.

  “Oh those guys? Old friends,” she laughed again before Jack’s lips connected to hers in a deep kiss that made her dizzy.

  “I can’t believe you found it. Where is it?” Henley looked around Jack and at his horse.

  “I have somewhere safe no need to worry. I do have a little bit on me but it’s for us to get passage out of town. We will need to make a few stops along the way.”

  “So one last night here?” Henley looked back at the saloon.

  “Just one more night darlin’.”

  It had been a night of love making and celebrating. Jack and Henley slipped out before the sun was even above the horizon.

  “You ready to see the rest of the world with me darlin’?”

  “Oh you bet Jack.”

  He smirked as he kicked and his horse took off, the wind flowing through Henley’s hair.

  “I love you cowboy.”

  “Oh I love you too darlin’.” Jack turned to kiss her softly and quickly.

  She had always heard the sappy saying about riding off into the sunset. Now here she was riding on the back of a horse, holding on tight to the man she loved and they rode into the sunrise instead. Right into their new future and what she hoped was several grand adventures.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl​ @arcadianempress​ @discogrrl​ @immundusspiritu​ @someplace-darker​ @thisis-theway​ @ohpedromypedro​ @scribbledghost​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @princess-and-pedro​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @littlevodka​ @all-hallows-evie​ @mack4676​ @perropascal​ @audreyshepbvrn​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @kaqua​ @novemberrain221​

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓

pairing: stripper!jack daniels x f!reader

genre: stripper AU, explicit, minors dni

word count: 4.2k

summary: frustrated by your everyday life, you seek solace at a male strip club. It's your first time and you're instantly mesmerized by the one that calls himself "Whiskey".

warnings: a mild start of a anxiety attack at the beginning, suggestive dancing, stripping, coming untouched, awkward moments, reader's first time at a strip club, unprofessional situations, mutual pining, sexual tension, use of good girl once

a/n: this idea was born whilst we were talking with @fuckyeahdindjarin about stripper!frankie and ofc since both of us are unhinged about a certain cowboy, the conversation steered naturally in the direction of stripper!jack ❤️‍🔥 I'd like to add that I've never been to a strip club and everything here (especially the dances) are born from me watching way too many male stripping tutorials and google searches, so it might not be %1000 authentic buuuuut hopefully it's fun nonetheless!

click for part two of the stripper!jack series

dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜

Your eyes are glued to the neon sign right above the bar. It flickers a bright pink, then purple, then red. In capital letters, it says: PEEP SHOW, and underneath it there’s a heart and in that, a keyhole. 

The music isn’t loud enough to leave you deaf, thankfully. You’re not sure you could’ve handled music blaring from the speakers like you were in a dance club. Make Up Sex by SoMo plays in the background, you gently sway with the rhythm refusing to look at the stage. The thumb of your right-hand traces over the knuckles of your left. You notice the bartender and tear your gaze from the sign.

He stands behind the counter, his presence radiating a magnetic charm. With a physique sculpted to perfection, he possesses an air of rugged masculinity. His hazel eyes hold a captivating depth, and his confident smile hints at a mischievous nature. As he moves with grace and confidence, he threads his fingers through his tousled chestnut hair.

“You look like you might need a drink,” he teases, his smile bright and comforting. “Anything I can help you with?” 

“Uh. . . a greyhound please?” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he replies, taking a step back as if about to leave. But then, he pauses, leaning in close. His breath gently fans your skin, a rush of excitement flooding your veins. “And just some friendly advice, try to relax. We promise we don’t bite,” he says with a wink and goes off to prepare your drink. 

You’re frustrated. Have you truly been that obvious? Who are you kidding— of course you have. You’re alone at a male strip club staring at the neon sign rather than the stage. Of course, they can tell you’re new here. You sigh and look around. The establishment is surprisingly neat. You notice a bachelorette party taking place not that far away from you, they seem to be having fun, screaming as a stripper sways his hips from side to side. He looks good. Chiseled abs, shiny chest, the whole thing shebang. 

Your heart sinks into your chest. You hate being alone and you’re so incredibly tired of it. Everyone you know is either busy or doesn’t care enough to spare you even an hour. It’s been two years since your last relationship and you swear the lack of company is eating you alive. It would be fine if you had a couple of distractions, like going out with friends maybe, but that proved to be an impossible ask. You’re not even sure why you’re so bothered. You do a lot of things alone. You enjoy your own company. Yet, for some reason seeing everyone together, having fun is more difficult today compared to other days. Your chest collapses on itself, your pulse quick under your skin. 

Suddenly it's very hard to breathe. 

You take short, sharp breaths, filling your lungs with the scent of musk and strawberries. 

Your chest continues to heave—Shit, are you about to have a panic attack in a freaking strip club? Now that will surely be in your top five most embarrassing moments. Nothing even happened, why are you feeling like this?

“You a’right there darlin’?” 

A voice smooth as honey reaches your ears. It curls around your body and keeps you still. Goosebumps flare across your skin, the small hairs that are scattered over the back of your neck standing with attention. Slowly, you turn. 

It’s one of the strippers, at least you assume it’s one of the strippers. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, a leather jacket, and some low-hanging jeans. He’s wearing a white mesh top underneath. You find yourself unabashedly gawking at him. You’re not sure how long you stare but you’re hoping it only lasted for a second. And if you’re really lucky, he wouldn’t have even noticed. 

In contrast to the other strippers you’ve seen so far, he appears slightly older with a softened stomach, yet possesses a lean physique sculpted by years of dance.

You swallow thickly, forcing your gaze back up. He’s clean-shaven except for a dark mustache, he’s smiling but you see a hint of worry in his gaze. Narrowing your eyes, you notice a small gold sticker in the shape of a star under his right eye. 

“I’m. . .” you swallow again and shake your head. You’re dumbfounded. “I’m okay, thanks.” 

The bartender places the greyhound you ordered, at the same time the stripper extends a hand, “Whiskey,” he says in a sultry way. You squeeze his hand and raise your eyebrows, your shake is a bit weak. 

“Whiskey?” you ask. He lets go of your hand and you bring it to your forehead, nervous laughter escaping you. “Oh, it’s your stage name. Of course.” 

His crooked smile is intoxicating, the tip of his tongue moves over his teeth. “My parents would have to hate me to name me ‘whiskey’ sugar,” he answers, rubbing his chin. A moment of silence follows as he thinks, ”Well, my real name ain’t any less embarrassing now that I think about it.” 

You want to ask him his real name but end up biting your tongue instead. You can’t ask him that, it would be rude, and even if you did you doubt that he’ll tell you. Pressing your lips tightly together, you drop your gaze to your drink. You curl your fingers around it. The sudden cold against your skin calming you. 

“First time?” he asks and you nod. “May I ask why you’re here then, so I can be of service?” 

That’s a good question. Why are you here? 

“I think to have some fun,” you mutter as you drag your thumb over the cool condensation. “I’m just. . .” you shake your head. “Nevermind, that’s stupid. Let’s just say I’m here to have some fun.” 

Whiskey observes you for a moment. His chocolate gaze taking in every detail of your expression. Are all strippers this attentive? you think, heat crawling up your spine. His hand slowly slides over the smooth bar until his fingers are gently resting above your wrist. You suck in a breath. His thumb moves over to the inside of your wrist, tracing the vein that pulses violently. 

“How about a private dance?” he asks slowly, as if you might bolt out the doors at any given second. “I promise to entertain you thoroughly, sugar.” 

You blink, “Really?” you ask instantly feeling foolish at the question. It’s a service he provides, that you will be paying for, of course he means it. Nonetheless, he seems amused by the question. He grins proudly, crowding your personal space. He tilts his head. Your fingers twitch around the glass and your eyes drop to his lips. 

Man, he’s dreamy. You’re starting to understand the appeal of these establishments. 

“Really,” he parrots back at you. “Follow me, darlin’.” 

With shaky legs, you do. 

The private room is a sanctuary tucked away from prying eyes. 

Your eyes follow the sumptuous drapes of deep velvet cascading from floor to ceiling. In the center of the room stands a circular stage much smaller compared to the one outside, its surface gleaming. Positioned in the middle of it, a solitary chair, adorned in lavish leather, and next to it a small table with a small remote on top. Whiskey closes the door as you enter and walks with confident steps. You stand awkwardly until he gestures towards the sole seat with his head. 

“Take a seat, sweetheart. Get comfortable.” 

“O–Okay.” 

You’re not aware of how close he is until you take a seat, he immediately follows, dipping low. He curls two thick fingers under your chin and tilts your head up, his gaze searching. 

“Tell me if anythin’ starts becomin’ too much, understood?” 

“Understood,” you squeak, cheeks growing warm. Without any hesitation, he starts the music. Acquainted by the Weeknd starts playing softly through the speakers. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The way he walks now is different from the way he walked when guiding you here. He saunters over to you, his shoulders rounding as he starts feeling the music moving through him. 

He stands in front of you, movements fluid and confident. You’re mesmerized by him.  He stalks even closer to you, and you feel the electric heat radiating off of his body. He slides his hands down your arms and you can't help but let out a little gasp. 

Whiskey continues to study your expression, He moves with grace and purpose, his body sliding and swaying sensually to the music. His hips rock back and forth in time, seemingly choreographed flawlessly. His hands glide down his body, tracing the contours of his definition before slipping up his torso. His movements are punctuated by smoldering gazes and slow, deliberate breaths. He rolls his shoulders, his leather jacket sliding to his elbows and falling to the floor a beat later. Your mouth waters. 

Suddenly, he turns and bends his knees, straddling your thighs. Your gaze drops, turning into saucers as you take in the sight of his tiny little ass. You exhale a sharp breath from your nose, nostrils flaring. He draws circles with his hips, nearly brushing against you but not quite, he gently holds your wrists, placing them in his inner thighs. His touch is feather-like and with two fingers, allowing you the chance to break free if needed. Your skin feels taut over your muscles, sweat building at your tailbone—he’s so close. You don’t even remember the last time you were this close to a man. It’s dizzying. 

Whiskey slowly extends his legs and slides your hands up, your fingers skim the apex of his thighs until he’s standing. 

Arousal builds between your legs, your lips a tight, thin line. 

Your hands are on his crotch. 

Oh god, you think you might actually faint. Wouldn’t that be fucking hilarious? 

Fuck he feels warm under your palms—

Scratch that, he feels big. 

He drops down as he rolls his hips, his body slides under your hands like a snake and your fingers move up his chest with the movement, feeling the mesh fabric and the firm chest underneath. Very inappropriately, your nails bite into his skin. If your eyes weren’t glued to this gorgeous man’s back, you would’ve missed the moment his hips stuttered, the smallest grunt echoing from the back of his throat. 

“Sorry,” you squeak, fingers twitching.  

“Don’t worry about it darlin’, just enjoy the show.” 

He stands back up again, guiding your hands down to his hips as he squats low. Before you know it, your hands are resting on his pelvis once more, feeling the underlying heaviness. He grinds forward, hefty bulge filling your palms. 

The music fades to the background. His steps in slow motion, he turns and straddles you normally, knees dipping as he raises his arms and grinds his hips towards you. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s so close. With his every move, you can smell the leather coming off of him, it takes you everything not to close your eyes and just inhale his scent. He steers your hands towards his ass, placing them against the firm mounds. 

You know that this is a strip show. You know that you’ll be paying him afterward—and tipping him generously. 

But, fuck, the way he’s looking at you shouldn’t be allowed. Something dark swirling in them, something ravenous. His smile is knowing, teasing, like he can read your mind and it’s unnerving. How does anyone leave this strip club not being a mess for this man? 

His fingers delicately trace the column of your neck, moving over to your shoulder and coming back. He’s observing you, eyes fixed on you as he searches for any kind of discomfort. Then he gradually wraps his hand around your neck. There’s no pressure and it feels slightly ticklish. 

He moves closer in tune with the music, his lips brush against your neck, your nipples tightening at the touch. He takes your hands and guides them up his chest and broad shoulders. His lips are barely touching yours and you can feel his softly blowing breath. He thrusts his hips, clothed cock nearly touching your chest, suddenly you’re holding your breath wishing nothing more than his touch. His ass flexes under your hand, firm and warm. 

Till this point, you were trying really hard to ignore how wet you’ve gotten. Subtly, you’re moving your hips, trying to add pressure to your throbbing clit. The wet fabric of your underwear grazes against the bundle of nerves, dipping between your wet folds. Your chest heaves and you swallow down a whimper. It’s been so fucking long since you’ve felt anything like this. Tension curls around your thighs and moves up to your stomach, arousal heavy between your legs. He must be used to this right? You can’t be the only one to get this worked up. 

Even if Whiskey does notice your weak attempts at relief, he doesn’t say anything. 

All your senses narrow on him as he kneels in front of you, the music dropping with him. With a wink, he takes your hands and guides them down his chest while leaning back to sit on his heels. Your hands slide down his torso, once again just shy in touching his length. With a body roll, he comes back up and grips the armrests of your chair, popping up into a bridge position. Your thighs are spread and he drops his head low, you swear you feel his breath on you before he slithers up again, lips nearly brushing the valley of your breasts. His face is an inch away from yours, only charm. He tilts his head, coming in closer as if he’s about to kiss you, then moves away again. 

You’re mortified when you find yourself instinctively chasing after his lips. 

He hums, the sound barely audible over the music, his smile never fades, “Good girl,” he mutters as his hands slide down to gently grip the back of your thighs. 

You’ve never been more aware of not touching someone in your life.

Whiskey pushes himself closer and lifts your legs. Despite the clothes that separate the two of you, you feel the sinewy fabric of muscle hidden underneath as your legs frame his narrow hips. He presses closer, positioning his length against you. You feel it. His cock throbbing and aching under those tight, tight pants. Your throat moves, the muscles in your jaw clenched. He grazes one hand up and up and up until the width of it rests over your hip. 

He continues his grinding, his jeans rubbing tantalizingly against your inner thighs. You feel his hardness through the thin fabric separating you; all you can think is how good it feels to have him there. His hands rub lazily across your hips, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Whiskey's hands snake up your sides, his fingers weaving through the flesh of your waist. His pelvis moves rhythmically against yours, each thrust accompanied by a low moan that you’re desperately trying to bite down. 

“You seem tense darlin’,” his breath is hot and heavy in your ear as he gently nibbles the sensitive lobe, tantalizing you further. “Could see it in your eyes as soon as I spotted you alone at the bar. Let go, sweetheart. It’ll be our little secret,” His hips sway in and out, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You feel your breath catch and become labored, is—is he actually suggesting what you think he’s suggesting? 

God, you just don’t have it in you to care anymore. You’re too worked up, every touch feels doubled with the way he moves, smiles, and looks at you.

You can’t help but relax into his motions. He moves slower, teasing you as he coaxes your inevitable fall. He builds you up, and normally, you would bask in the relief that he would tear you apart soon enough—but the thing is. . . you two aren’t actually having sex. There’s a very high chance the build-up would last forever, that is, until the time was up. You’re being edged in the best way possible but you fear you might have a hearty breakdown if you can’t, as how he put it; “let go”. 

He must’ve sensed your worries because for the first time, his smile falters, brows furrowing with concentration. His eyes flit over yours briefly before cupping your chin and raising your head. You expect him to say something, anything—maybe call you his good girl again—but nothing escapes those lush lips. Your eyes drop to the divot of his bottom lip and he leans closer, cock fully moving over your puffy clit. Your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek. Your stomach bottoms out, there’s a faint buzzing in your ears as the pressure in you grows and grows until you feel it in the back of your eyes. 

Fuck—Are you about to come? 

Nonononononono—

Your body spasms in pleasure, an orgasm building from deep within you as the music and his body surround you. He smells of pine and leather and the scent assaults your lungs. Your insides begin to clench and your muscles carry on a delirious dance of its own as warmth starts to spread in waves throughout your body. Your toes curl and every nerve ending in your body is brought alive. You squeeze your eyes shut,  your breath quickens. You swallow down all the noises that threaten to spill out. All you can think of is how embarrassing this is, your cheeks are left burning, your orgasm washing over you in large waves against your better judgment. 

Whiskey barely slows, still rolling his hips with the guide of the slowing song. He does pull back eventually and you’re grateful for it. The inside of your mouth is dry, your eyes watered, the inside of your panties soaked. 

“S-Shit,” you whisper. “I’m . . . I’m—” 

He lets out a content sigh, if anything, he seems delighted by the whole ordeal. 

“Like I said darlin’,” he rasps, breath ghosting your lips. “This will be our little secret.” 

The music ends and you know your time is up. 

Hanging out at a strip club isn’t actually as mortifying as you thought it would be. 

After your first encounter with Whiskey, you thought you would never step into the glitter and glam of the club ever again. However, after a particularly tough day, you found yourself at the door once more. The bartender, who later introduced himself as Tequila, greeted you enthusiastically, and from that point on, you became a regular.

Despite being a regular, names were still off-limits, and you didn't mind. Everyone was entitled to their privacy, and it made it all the more special for the time when Whiskey might eventually reveal his real name, if that day ever came. You're still not sure where you stand exactly on the spectrum between being a customer and a friend.

You could never afford another private dance though, at least not if you wanted to have enough money for food this month. Nevertheless, you were content with just watching the performances, and seeing Whiskey entertain endless bachelorette and bachelor parties was always a delight.

And hey, surprisingly, Tequila made some killer iced coffees, which you greatly appreciated since you weren't the biggest drinker and a bit of a lightweight. The last thing you wanted was to get drunk with Whiskey around, as you had already embarrassed yourself enough. However, he was a man of his word. He never mentioned the incident that took place during his performance. In fact, he behaved as if it never happened. For a minute there, you even thought that maybe you had imagined the whole thing.

However, there were moments when he would simply give you a certain look, and in that instant, you knew for certain that he did remember.

“Here you go gorgeous,” Tequila says, pulling you from your thought as he places an iced coffee in front of you. 

Your eyes widen as you see whipped cream with a lavish cherry on top. 'Is there a special occasion I'm not aware of?'

He shrugs, “I was bored, it’s a slow night.” 

Thanking him, you turn in your seat. It was a slow night, with only a handful of people present. There was a couple seeking a good time and a couple of corporate-looking ladies. Whiskey was entertaining one of them, employing his Southern charm as he winked at the woman and tipped his hat. Over the passing days, you had come to recognize his dance choreography. It seemed he genuinely enjoyed what he was doing, which made you happy in return.

Sometimes you do wish you had met the man outside of these walls though. You can’t fight the longing you feel whenever you see him. Other than being ridiculously attractive —and knowing how to make a woman come without touching them— he was kind to you that day. He saw how miserable you were and tried to cheer you up. Sure, you were a customer, but still, he didn’t have to go the extra mile. 

You often thought about meeting him at a supermarket or something instead. Would he be as kind? Would he be as attentive? Maybe he wouldn’t even give you a second glance as he buys a box of cereal—you frown, when you think about it like that, maybe meeting him in a strip club wasn’t that bad after all.  

Whiskey's dance comes to an end and you have to fight every fiber of your being not to eat him with your eyes like a hungry, horny, wolf. You try to look disinterested, eyes moving to one of the other dancers. It’s too late though, his gaze catches your own. He smiles as he struts towards you. 

“How are you sweetheart?” he asks, pink tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Is Tequila here treatin’ you well?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” You grin, gesturing to the whipped cream and cherry on top, as if it's obvious. His eyes drop to the fruit, glistening and wet. Without waiting for you to say anything, he picks up the fruit by the stem and sticks his tongue out. He catches the cherry with his lips, slowly drawing it into his mouth, and you watch, transfixed, as he chews. His jaw works over the cherry, then, a moment later, he shows you his tongue once more. 

On the tip of it, lays a neatly knotted stem. 

“Holy hell,” you whisper. “I should be mad because I was looking forward to that cherry but I’m too impressed.” 

With two fingers Whiskey calls for Tequila, “Get the pretty lady another cherry,” he says. 

“Show off,” the other man mutters but complies anyway. A quick moment later, there’s another cherry on a bed of white. 

You eye him warily, “You’re not gonna eat this one too, are you?” 

He laughs, “No darlin’. Don’t worry, enjoy your overly sweetened fruit.” 

Still not trusting him, holding it by the stem, you stick the cherry between your lips and quickly chew. He draws his brows together, “No show?” 

“If I was that talented with my tongue I wouldn’t be single.” 

“There’s more to relationships than a good tongue,” he answers. “I would know.” 

He’s single? 

You don’t know why the revelation shocks you, but it does. You didn’t want to assume anything based on his career choice and by personality alone, you didn’t really think he would be in the same boat as you. 

“You can act a little less surprised you know,” he teases, leaning against the bar with a curled lip. 

“S-Sorry, I just never thought you would be single you’re just so. . .” cutting yourself off, you press your lips together. He leans closer, teasing smile now shifting into a full toothy grin. 

“So. . . what?” he asks. His finger dips into the whipped cream, and he brings it to his lips, his deep gaze never leaving yours as he sucks it off slowly. “Dazzling, charming, talented?” 

Your throat goes dry and you have to swallow, “Well yes, all of those and. . . handsome.” 

“Compliments don’t get you a free dance, sweetheart,” he winks. “Just sayin’.” 

Your lips quiver, a hesitant smile curving your lips. Your cheeks warm under his gaze. 

Talking to him comes easy to you. You also enjoy his confidence, he knows he’s good looking and he doesn’t shame you for stating it, or make you feel less of a person for admitting. It’s freeing. Maybe that’s why you’re always visiting the club. He grants you a place to just be yourself, even if he does so intentionally or not, you appreciate it. 

“You, giving out a free dance?” you exaggerate every word, you mirror his movement and stick two fingers in the whipped cream. You bring them to your lips, savoring the sweetness. It’s subtle, but you catch the way his breath hitches. Your smile grows. “I never would expect such a thing.” 

“Good,” his voice drops dangerously low, almost sounding like a growl. Inching closer, his breath fans the side of your neck and you feel the rough scrape of his mustache against the shell of your ear. A whimper rattles your throat. “I would hate to be misunderstood.” 

He pulls back with a wink, he flashes you his canines, and drags his tongue over them. “See you around, sunshine,” he says, voice returning to normal. The words die in your throat as he disappears towards the back, presumably to get ready for his next show. 

You’re left staring, mouth agape. Flustered, you stir your iced coffee to feel the soothing sound of ice clanking around. 

You frown when you realize all the ice had melted.

Thank you for reading everyone! This one definitely tuckered me out but I think it ended up not being that bad?

Normally this was always going to be a two-parter but then the first part ended up being way longer than I intended (almost 8k) so I decided to split it into two chapters since didn't want it to be too long. Therefore, this little series will be three parts in total. I've written most of chapter two since it was meant to be a part of chapter one so it'll be out relatively quick!

That's it for now, sending everyone love and many hugs 💜

[whiskeynwriting]

The Babymoon

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Brief mention of reader’s hair (Jack just brushing it aside), established relationship/marriage, pregnant reader, dirty talk, aggressively passionate Jack (I’m W E T), degradation/teasing, breeding kink, daddy kink (ofc), spit kink, rough sex, choking, biting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, and some fluffies

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A/N: I apologize for the late post but ya girl has the stomach flu y’all 

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Daddycember ‘23 Masterlist

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Every small grunt forces a ping of guilt through your husband’s gut, both hands working tirelessly to relieve your pain. Truly, he didn’t know the walk would be so rigorous for you, but he should’ve known, should’ve researched more before coming out. But he does his best to make the situation better; he carried all of the bags, both yours and his, set them down in their appropriate rooms and then rushed back to tend to you. Jack led you over to the couch, letting you lay out while he removed your socks and shoes.

“I’m sorry, sugar.” He mumbled, removing his hat while kneeling down. “Didn’t realize it was such a long hike.”

“It’s okay.” Came your sigh of reassurance, head tilted back. “It was worth it.”

And that made him incredibly happy, forcing that handsome smile right across his face. What you said was true, too, coming here was definitely worth it. With Jack’s busy work schedule, and you constantly prepping for the baby, the two of you needed a break, especially before your newborn gets here. And that’s exactly what this trip was intended for. Some time away to relax, reset, and enjoy each other’s presence. 

Jack’s lips find their way to your ankles and calves, fingers massaging your sore feet. He didn’t mind doing this for you, did it almost every night, in fact. It became routine for him quite quickly; he could never not care for you. But thankfully, most of the more aggressive symptoms have subsided alongside the beginning of your third trimester. No more intense nausea or bloating, no more awful heartburn. The worst of your troubles have been general muscle aches and pelvic pain, but you’d take that over vomit any day.

“I can feel him kicking.” A sudden laugh comes from your throat, both hands falling to your belly. 

Jack grins, reaching up with one of his own hands. “He’s a wild one, in there.” 

“You… you think it’ll really change?” All Jack does is look up with confused concern. “Our lives, the way we are, when he comes.” 

His casual shrug serves as minimal reassurance. Glancing back down at your feet, Jack clears his throat. “Sure it will, babycakes. But not in a bad way.”

“How do you know it won’t be in a bad way?”

“Because I won't let it be that way.” Chocolate eyes meet yours once again, full of warmth and kindness. “Don’t worry so much, honey. We’re on vacation.” And with that, he’s standing, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Let me go make you a drink.” 

And in this brief lull, you let out a relaxed breath, feeling at ease in Jack’s care. He’d always been such an attentive man, an attentive partner, able to identify and tend to your wants and needs before you even knew what they were. Being observant was in his nature, and branched into every area of his life, even now. 

“Here you go, sugar.” Handing you the drink with a smile on his face, Jack turns toward the fireplace, taking it upon himself to light it. 

It’s easy to admire him, not only for his incredibly handsome features, but for his wonderfully doting personality. He takes care of you, in every sense of the word. You’ve never felt safe before, like you do with him. 

Although the walk up to the cabin was laborious, he’s still glad he chose it. Perfectly secluded and quiet, up in the Kentucky mountains. The entire estate is surrounded by woodland brush and gentle creatures, deers and rabbits and birds. The surrounding peace is everything the two of you have been craving, a place to relax and reconnect. Your travels happened later in the evening, though, the night sky already beginning to grow. And with the stars peeking out from behind the clouds, and Jack lighting the fireplace, the entire situation seemed all too familiar. 

“You know…” Looking over at Jack, he stands, briefly clapping the dust from his hands. “This kind of reminds me of our honeymoon.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, flashing you that dazzling grin. And then he shrugs, walking over to you. “That was kinda the point.” 

Romantic, warm, and beautiful, qualities that mirror both your relationship and post-wedding vacation. It still makes you grin, still makes butterflies erupt inside your belly that Jack is willing to do all of this for you. 

“Wanna spoil you, angel.” Jack then hums, brushing aside some hair so he can get to your neck. And then he’s placing a single, sweet kiss, smiling. “How’re you feelin’, hm? Sore? Anything I can do?” 

The mention of your honeymoon has his insides stirring, his mischievous nature growing. Alongside these playful emotions comes the presence of Jack’s hand on your thigh, warm even through the material of your pants. He rubs you firmly, giving the plush fat of your legs a slow squeeze. 

Spoiling you is genuinely Jack’s pleasure, and he does it because he loves you; and this trait grew tenfold when you decided to carry his baby. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use these situations for his own satisfaction, too. Watching your body grow makes his entire body run hot, your soft and squishy thighs, your round belly and perfectly plump backside. And Jesus Christ, your tits, he never thought they could get any more enticing before you got pregnant. But now? So swollen with your nipples all sensitive and red… he can’t keep himself away. He just can’t, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to on your private getaway. 

The slightest, most timid smirk forms on your face, eyes choosing to look away. “Well… you already took care of my feet.” Something in you says that Jack is looking for an excuse, for any simple reason to touch your body, massage it and just feel every inch of it that he can.

“Yeah?” He responds, chestnut orbs traveling down your figure. “What about your legs?”

“They’re fine, not too sore.” Shrugging, you do your best to suppress your laugh. Sometimes, teasing Jack was fun. 

Raising a brow, he then asks, “Your hips? Stomach?” Now, he’s running his palm over your swollen belly, chest inhaling a deep breath. Nothing about pregnancy turned him on before, not until he saw you carrying his child. Who knew Jack Daniels had a breeding kink? 

“Nope.” Finally turning to face him, you smile innocently. “I’m okay, baby.” 

The look on your face is kind and calm, but the twinkle in your eye tells him you’re only playing. And his own expression is growing stern, contemplating his next move. 

“You don’t seem to get it, do you?” 

“Get what?”

And in one quick motion, Jack’s hand rises to grab harshly at your chest, squeezing one breast in hand. It makes you gasp, makes your body jump with surprise. 

“Daddy wants to touch you, sugar.” In an instant, he’s closer, breathing heavier against you. “Daddy wants to touch your sweet body and watch you fall apart in his arms.” 

With an exasperated sigh, he’s then falling to your neck, sucking on it with wet lips. His sudden advance has your jaw dropping, lips curling up at the ends. Keeping his hand on your chest, his fingers press into your skin, massaging your tit before collecting his fingers so he can toy with your nipple.

“Jack,” Comes your simple sigh, head falling back.

“I know,” He says, mouthing at your neck. “It feels so good for you, honey.”

His mouth moves to your jawline, licking it, nipping at it, while brushing his thumb across the point of your breast. Even the slightest bit of friction made them hard, whether it be a small breeze or the soft fabric of your shirt. They’d never been more sensitive, and Jack had never been more interested. 

“You know I wanna touch you,” Jack mumbles over your skin, hand dropping to your legs. “Fuckin’ tease.” 

Cupping you between your thighs pulls a full moan from your throat, head lifting just in time to see him lean into your chest. Jack buries his face into you, right between your smooth mounds while his tongue dips into your cleavage. 

“Oh, god, I want this, sugar.” Though, you can barely hear him with his face stuffed between your tits. Lifting both hands, you encourage him, holding him there by the back of his head. 

“Daddy,” Two fingers rub firm circles over your covered center, your husband groaning quietly when you grab onto his hair. 

“Let me do this, baby doll.” 

Nodding rapidly, you gulp. “Okay, daddy. Okay…” 

Moving away from you with a swift inhale, Jack lifts himself from your body. Already, his pupils are blown, his pants tented firmly against your thigh. And for a brief second, you laugh. The two of you haven’t even been here for more than thirty minutes and he’s already trying to get into your pants. 

“Gorgeous fuckin’ thing.” The praise makes you flush and he knows it, making his way down so he can kneel between your legs. “Get these off, sugar.” And even though he says it like a command, he does it for you, undoing your jeans and yanking them down your legs. The help you offer is brief, a simple lift of your hips. But then you’re falling back down and watching him spread your legs. 

“Yeah… this is what I wanna see.” With his gaze focused on your center, Jack groans, tongue poking out to lick his lower lip. “Already leakin’ through your panties…”

In an experimental act, he reaches out, finger swiping over the very center of the delicate cloth. It’s damp, the middle darkened from your wetness. And that makes him grin, makes him fucking throb in his pants. 

“You know it, don’t you?” He asks before leaning forward and stuffing his face between your thighs. Again, it takes you by surprise, forcing your legs wider while that curved nose of his nuzzles its way into your crotch. And then, he’s inhaling, hot mouth opening to taste you through your panties.

“D-Daddy,” This time, it comes out as a whine, one hand fisting his hair while the other grabs hold of the couch. 

“Ugh,” Lifting himself just enough for you to hear, he says, “Know just how fuckin’ good you taste.” Reaching forward, Jack hooks two fingers around your panties before pulling them aside. And then his tongue is laying out, flattening it to give your cunt one firm, wet swipe. 

“Fuck,” Puffing out a harsh breath, your eyes are fluttering shut, feeling the firm shove of his tongue. 

“Get so goddamn wet like this, babycakes.” He notes, mouthing at your clit. Lifting a hand, he grabs onto your hip, urging you to sit back and lift your pelvis up a bit. It gives him better access, after all. “Been a goddamn fountain since I got you pregnant.”

And that makes you laugh, hands lowering to brush kindly through his hair. Both of those broad palms then move beneath your thighs, holding them with a secure grip while sucking on your core. It’s already on his face, on his lips and chin and cheeks. And lord, does he love that. He’d willingly drown in this if he could. Getting his face wet with your slick made him the happiest man on earth, made him harder than he ever thought he could be. 

“Pretty little whore, aren’t you?” Jack chuckles, leaning back to spit on your folds. “Sittin’ here with my baby inside you, and your body’s still beggin’ for more.” The devil truly came out when he was like this, nothing but offensive praise and aggressive passion.

Running his tongue up and down through your lips, he groans, wrapping his mouth around your sensitive bud. And when he gives the tiniest succession of sucks, pulsing his lips around that tiny pearl, you feel like you’re going to come undone. Every part of you feels light and airy, like you could float away at any second. It’s like you’re buzzing with it, with euphoria and happiness. And he just keeps going, just keeps his head between your legs and his mouth on your throbbing cunt. 

Jack knows when to hold you down, he’s done this too many times to not be aware. The grip he gives your hips is bruising, digging in with ferocity while shoving you onto his mouth. Your hips grind against him, head forcing itself back while you cry out for him. It’s a sweet whine, a gasping moan, fingers tightening on those dark brown strands while he fucks his tongue into you over and over again. He did that every time he ate you out, sucked on your clit until he made you unravel and then dove down to collect what he’d worked so hard for.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” He’s out of breath, reaching for your jaw before smashing his mouth to your own. Instantly, the combination of his spit and your slick is running down your chin, legs shaking gently while Jack consumes you from above. 

“I’m, I - baby.”

“Get up,” Jack grunts, hauling you up by your arms. “Gonna get you in bed so I can see the mess you made for me.” 

Keeping his grip on your bicep, he pulls you alongside him, hurrying down the hall. The master bedroom isn’t far, which your shaky legs are thankful for. His demanding words and actions make everything seem so quick, like you don’t have a choice in anything that’s going on. And truthfully, you want it that way. You want Jack to make the decisions, you want to lie down and do whatever he wants you to. 

Shoving you forward, he watches you stumble onto the bed, a bright grin on your beautiful face. Taking a beat, he pauses, standing above you before beginning to remove his shirt. And while keeping that deadly gaze, you move backward on the covers, shimmying out of your panties. 

Eyes dipping down, he nods toward your chest. “Take off your bra.” 

While unbuttoning his shirt, he watches you complete his task, tossing the last bit of your clothing onto the floor beside your bed. And just in time for him to shove his pants down, too. 

“Mine,” He suddenly says, crawling over you on the bed. “Mine - all mine.”

Again, he’s obsessing over your breasts, shoving his face between them while his hands work the rest. His body rubs against you, cock wet and leaking on your thigh. It makes your insides burn bright, seeing his overt attraction for you. He gets so passionate when he’s like this, so vulnerable yet assertive, confident. 

“Let me get my fingers inside you.” That breathy voice says, licking two of them before dragging them down your chest. 

While his tongue lays out, toying with your nipples, Jack’s fingers dip inside your entrance, already loose from your orgasm. So sweet and welcoming, velvety and warm. And all you can do is writhe beneath the weight of his body, turning your head to kiss his cheek and neck. The curl of his fingers practically makes you shriek, feeling your body react on its own accord. 

“So sensitive like this, baby.” It’s lazy, the way he licks your nipples, teeth dragging over the red and puffy peaks. And then he’s sucking on them, sucking on the swollen swell of your tits and groaning like he’d just cum in his goddamn pants.

“Tell me you want more.”

“I want it,” Nodding, you gasp, swallowing dryly. “I want more.”

Your hips cant upwards in time with his fingers’ movement, hands grasping for his bicep and back. But it’s not enough, not for him.

“Tell daddy you need him, c’mon.”

“Daddy, please.”

“Nuh-uh,” Breathily, he chuckles. “Use your big girl words, sweet pea.” 

“I need you, I need you, daddy. Please, please.” In an attempt to convince him, you lower your hand, finding him laying heavy over your thigh. The firm grip you give his cock makes everything slow down for him, his eyes shutting alongside a small hiss. Even his fingers fall slack, chest dropping against your own. 

“Touch me, baby.” It’s a quiet command, one said while he nods. “Touch daddy.”

Knowing that he’s happy with this, you grin, running your fist up and down his length. Glancing down between your bodies, Jack watches, eyeing the way your thumb swipes over his tip.

“Oh, fuck.” Shaking his head, Jack sighs, hips rocking into your grip. “Always need you like this, sugar, always…” 

You can’t deny that it’s been hard these past few weeks, hell, these past few months. Being intimate hasn’t been a priority for the two of you, unfortunately; stress just took control of your lives. Jack’s career was becoming incredibly demanding, leaving you to care for the house and your unborn baby all on your own. Setting up the nursery, going to doctor’s appointments by yourself, feeling the baby kick without your husband there to experience it, somedays, it was just heartbreaking for you. But you’re here now, you’re together, without a single distraction in sight. You’re his, and he’s mine. That fact is always in your mind.

Taking himself from your hand, he settles between your legs with a relieved breath. Jack’s love for you consumes him, his entire body and mind. He just wants to wrap himself around you, looping his arms around your back while burying his face in your hair. 

“Jack,” It’s said quietly while you hold him, stroking his hair. 

Lifting one hand, it rests on your left breast, Jack’s hips moving to push into you slowly. The way you open up for him is an absolute dream, a breathless laugh spilling from his mouth as it happens. And when he pinches your nipple, you whine, forcing a jump from his cock as it rests inside. 

“You just need a lil’ extra somethin’, don’t you, sweetheart?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice, but you’re not sure what he means. 

Pressing his face into the curve of your neck, Jack smiles brightly, lips dragging over the skin as he begins to move. So he doesn’t hurt you, the hand on your chest moves to the bed, placing all of his weight onto it. 

“Puttin’ my dick inside you just ain’t enough anymore. Was it ever?”

“Daddy, what…” The steady pump of his cock between your legs is making you feel delirious, flooding your body with a sense of euphoria you’ve never felt before your pregnancy. “What do you mean?” 

“Remember what we used to do, sugar? You remember?” Heat creeps onto your cheeks as he says it, legs lifting to his waist as the arousal in your body heightens. “You remember what you did in my office?” 

“B-Baby,” He knows this gets to you, knows it hits right to your core.

“I remember,” Jack continues, licking at your neck. “Bendin’ you over my desk, fuckin’ you dumb over my paperwork. Or how ‘bout the times you sucked me off while I talked to Champ, huh? What about that?” 

Every firm shove forces the tip of his cock against your most sensitive spot, the thin tissue that just begs for his presence. And that, alongside those devilish words, is making you drip around him.

“Crawling on your knees for me in my jet,” He’s throbbing inside you, words becoming airy as he reconnects with your body. “Shit,” Hissing harshly, his eyes pinch shut. “Fuck me, honey. You remember rubbing yourself over me? Over my new goddamn boots because you were so horny?”

“Fuck, yes.” Exposing your neck even more, you toss your head back, feeling Jack’s teeth make their own special imprint. 

The memory is all too erotic, something you honestly can’t believe you did. Jack made you stupid; he was so goddamn attractive, so goddamn charming, that you’d do anything just to please him. Even if it meant humiliating yourself, you’d do it just to get off. 

“Hm…” You sigh out, placing your chin on his knee and closing your eyes in contentment.

“How’s that feel, honey?” He asks, reaching down to tilt your chin up to him.

Your eyes open, lids already heavy with adoration and lust. Jack’s smiling down at you, his expression soft and caring.

“So good,” Comes your contented hum, more than happy to finally have contact with your lover.

“Yeah?” He whispers, “Then keep goin’. Make ‘em all wet and shiny for me, honey.”  

You whimper quietly at his words, moaning lightly as you lean forward to begin moving your hips. The movement of your soft skin, your folds brushing over the smoothness of the material, only furthers the waves of heat that begin flowing through your core.  

“Go on,” He urges, “entertain me, sweet pea.”

“God, do I miss that. Havin’ my own little slut on tap.”

“Daddy, I’m, I’m still here.” It sounds pathetic, like you’re begging, trying your damnedest to prove to him that that part of you hasn’t left. 

“Oh, I know you are.” Lifting himself from your body, Jack glares down at you, one hand lifting to grab your jaw. “I know you’re there, babycakes. Comes out every time I’m inside you, every time I give you a demand. Why don’t you show me?”

At this, your brows raise innocently, unable to speak from the grip he has on your jaw and chin. And amidst your silence, he says, “Show me how well you still listen to me… and open that mouth.”

As soon as his grip allows you to, your lips are parting. That strong hand drops to your throat then, Jack’s face coming down to drip a cool trail of spit onto your tongue. But he’s not done then, not until spitting forcefully onto your mouth. And the moan you exude is nothing short of whorish and erotic, the liquid sliding over your tongue. 

“Yeah…” The word is said with a cocky sense of power, that gorgeous half-smirk crawling onto his face. “You just can’t get off to that vanilla shit anymore, can you, babycakes? You need it rough, don’t you?”

That hand is still on your throat, and only tightens as he speaks. With every thrust, his pelvis slaps against you, forcing your legs wider, and forcing himself deeper.

“Need daddy to manhandle you? Choke you? Hold you down and bruise you?”

Burying himself inside your cunt, you can’t help but feel so perfectly full, the veins along his shaft rubbing delightfully against your inner skin. It feels so natural, this connection, so natural and sensual. But nothing about it is sweet; everything about this encounter screams salacious and indecent. 

“Yes,” Comes your little plea, nodding. “Yes.”

Each shove rocks your body against the mattress, the strength of Jack’s body surrounding your entire presence. He feels so warm and strong, soft when he needs to be and mean when he wants to be. 

“I love this,” Jack admits, “Love nothing more than this; connecting with you. Look at you, just look at you.”

Lowering himself with a flurry of rapid breaths, he presses his mouth to your cheek, expressing his adoration for you. “You’re so good for me, my pretty baby. So pretty like this, sugar. Fuckin’ gorgeous when you take me.”

“I need you, can’t, can’t live without you.”

“Never, sugar.” Gasping against the side of your head, Jack’s chest stutters, a deep groan slipping from his lips. “Always here for you, with you.” 

When he gets like this, you can’t help but wrap your legs around him, tightening every muscle and pulling him in. And he lets you, falling into your embrace with a deep moan of gratification. It consumes him, the pleasure of it all, of releasing inside your wonderfully welcoming body. Jolting slightly above your beautiful and giving form, Jack moans helplessly, feeling his release wash over your walls. Every spurt is accompanied with a sharp shudder, arms moving to encircle you fully. Humid grunts pass over your ear, his mouth hanging open as he experiences the sensation of it. 

“My sweet girl.” Your husband finally says, his body tingling with every ounce of happiness that he has. His hold is full of pure, unwavering love, full of absolute worship and adoration. And beneath him, you relax, wanting nothing more than to rest with him in this peace. 

Kissing your head, Jack whispers sweetly, “Perfect little thing.” 

It’s in this moment that you feel every single worry melt away, every anxious thought about Statesman and the baby. Those negative notions serve absolutely no purpose to you, not when Jack is here, not when he cares for you so consistently and so openly. With Jack, you’re safe, you’ve never known otherwise. And nothing could ever take him away from you.

[penvisions]

hello hello and thank you so much for being here in my little corner of the internet! i'm a long time hobby writer that's getting back into the swing of things as hyper fixations take place. currently that includes a wide range of fandoms and most of my works are still in progress (ppcu). i hope that doesn't deter you from checking them out!

i hope you they bring something to you if you decide to check them out, little joys are so important these days

any and all likes, reblogs, comments, asks, shoutouts are so so greatly appreciated ♡ please feel free to reach out if you feel so inclined ♡ i’d be happy to chat with y’all

there is absolutely no pressure, but here is my kofi account if anyone if feeling generous ♡

wanted to pop into this post and highlight that a few of my reader characters range from descriptions of hair and skin color / texture. most of them have been adapted from OFC characters in my mind but i want everyone to feel like they aren't being blindsided when reading or beginning to start my fics. most details can be discarded. i hope this is all okay and happy reading! love y'all so much and just want everyone to have a good time and enjoy reading ♡

-> ao3 link || drabble masterlist

*The Last of Us:

Joel Miller x Reader Masterlist

*Triple Frontier

Frankie Morales x Reader Masterlist

*Kingsman: Golden Circle

Jack Daniels x Reader || Agent Whiskey x Reader Masterlist

*Star Wars: The Mandalorian:

Title: of beskar and kyber Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) Status: work in progress Summary: You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated? 

ao3 link || series masterlist

*Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Title: from grief to grace Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Reader Summary: Determined to work through your heartbreak, you end up spacing out until your boss comes to check on you.

fic link

*Eddington

Title: appointing authority Pairing: Ted Garcia x F! Reader Summary: Mr. Garcia needs a distraction from all the hard work he's been doing and you're more than happy to provide it.

fic link

[yopossum]

Yopossum Masterlist

Hi! Yopossum here!! They/she. Queer weird dynamically disabled mentally ill and totally chill mom/spouse/friend/writer/artist/wildlife wrangler/rabble-rouser/cryptid. Older than the World Wide Web. I love meandering prose and big feelings and happy endings (both kinds)

All content will be rated on both series and each installment of the series. Warnings on each series masterlist unless otherwise indicated. Not every work will be sexy or explicit, but I have a blanket NO MINORS policy for anything I post.

Key - 🔥: smut — ⛈️: angst — 💖: fluff — 🌈: queer

Happy to interact, appreciate a like or a reblog, love if you feel compelled to share; not presently taking requests or seeking constructive feedback or suggestions. That said, I work hard to create content and curate a space that is open and safe and accurate. I do my best to research and be mindful but if I misstep or am misinformed, please reach out!

I do NOT have a regular posting schedule because I am a joyful agent of gentle chaos. I also don’t have a tag list because frankly I am too much of a mess to keep track of one 💕

All brainworms are my own and I do not purport to own or represent any pre-existing characters or IPs.

AO3 - KO-FI

Characters

Joel Miller

Not Anyone Who Says - series, in-progress - Joel x OFC Juniper - M/E 💖🔥

Matilija - series, in-progress - Joel x f!Reader - M

Snug - one shot for @beefrobeefcal’s Married Joel Sits on You challenge - Joel x wife reader - M - 💖

& what if hope crashes through the door - series, ongoing - Joel x OFC + Hopper x Joyce (Stranger Things) - M/E - ⛈️💖🔥

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales

Known You When - two part - Frankie x f!Reader - E ⛈️🔥💖

Floating - one shot - Frankie x gn!Reader - M 💖⛈️

Safe Harbor - one shot - Frankie x Santiago - M/E 🏳️‍🌈⛈️🔥💖

Watching - one shot - voyeur Frankie - E 🔥

Ezra

Never Let Me Go - oneshot - sub!Ezra x gn!Reader - E - 🔥💖

Dieter Bravo

HOME - series, ongoing - Dieter x bff!Reader (mostly platonic bffs/roommates) - M/E - 💖🔥🌈⛈️

Sweet Dee - oneshot - sub!Dieter x gn!Reader - E - 🔥💖

The X Files drabble - Dieter x Mulder x Scully - E 🔥

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Kindred Spirits - miniseries - Professor Jack Daniels, PhD x f!Reader - M/E - 💖🔥

Sing for You Forever - oneshot - musician Jack AU x f!manager Reader - M - ⛈️💖🌈 (no romance!)

Silva

El Gran Varón - oneshot - Silva x Jake - M - ⛈️🌈

Din Djarin

Only One Bed - ficlet - Din x gn!Reader - T - just goofy!

Untitled - oneshot, TBD - solo Din - E - 🔥

Tim Rockford

Manspreading ficlet - Tim x gn!reader - E

Javier Peña

The Secret Place - Javi x female reader - E 🔥💖

Paranoia Paralizante - series, TBD - Javi x ??? - E - 🔥⛈️

Marcus Moreno

Untitled - series, TBD - Marcus Moreno x Mr. Ben - M/E 💖🌈🔥

Mr. Ben

Untitled - series, TBD - Mr Ben x Marcus Moreno - M/E 💖🌈🔥

[spnbabe67]

Owner of an Empty Heart

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Summary: Tori and Dean are now in the same space after 3 months of no contact. Personalities clash and words are exchanged. Will Tori and Dean make it through?

Warnings: Smut, P in V, fingering, oral, body worship, praise, alcohol, drinking, slight tipsiness due to alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3751

Written for @spnkinkevents : 2024 Kink Bingo using the square 'Cowgirl'

Authors Note: Hey all, this is part 3 and the finale to my angsty mini-series. This miniseries has been my way of exploring how my OFC and Dean might interact in the overarching series I'm starting to write. So, if you are at all interested in Dean and Tori and hearing more about them, let me know!

Also, I don't condone cheating in the slightest irl. I am a big proponent of characters doing or saying things outside of your own personal values (within reason) for the sake of keeping their personalities and identities as true as possible

Tori wasn't sure her day could get any worse. She'd woken up to a dead cellphone, courtesy of the previous night's thunderstorm knocking out the power and frying the outlets in her room. A steady downpour meant once she returned from running errands around town she was soaked to her core and shivering hard enough to make her muscles ache. Thankfully, the downright shitty motel, infested with roaches and mold she used to stay low for the past week had scalding hot water and passable water pressure. Tori had savored the warmth, standing under the stream until she could see steam rising from her skin and the water itself started to turn chilly. 

The bathroom was thick with steam  clinging to the walls peeling with paint, and accumulating in a layer over the mirror. The towel was scratchy and itchy, removing what seemed like a layer of skin along with the water as she dried off, pulling on underwear and a pair of sweats that hung low on her hips, the elastic long since gone limp but the insides were soft like a cloud. She tugged a tank over her head, the cloth clinging to her dewy olive skin.

Leaving the sandpaper disguised as a towel, Tori padded out to the main room, damp hair loose and turning wavy in the air. The unsecured door allowed for the cool wind from the summer rain outside to sneak under the door, making the room deliciously chilly against her feverish body. With a bottle of Jack Daniels she managed to flirt her way into getting a discount on, Tori settled back on the questionably clean bed, flicking through channels alternating between various news sources and static until she landed on the Game Show Network. It's gonna be a long night.

Tori was three seconds from sleep to the sound of Pat Sajak's voice, the nearly finished bottle of Tennessee whiskey in a loose grip against her chest when a series of knocks sounded on the door. Her eyes cracked open to the dark, the only light was sourced from the late night gameshow on the grainy tv. The canned laugh track played softly as Tori, with a knife in hand, stumbled her way through the barely illuminated room in a hazy, dizzying blur.

Tori hissed a string of curses that came tumbling from her lips, pain blooming from her hip bone as she hit the corner of the table hard as she fell forward. Well, that's gonna leave a mark. The ache flared with each halting step toward the door. Had she been any more sober, Tori would have been more ashamed of how long it took her to remove the security chain, fingers seemingly unable to grasp the small, cold brass chain and ease it from the narrow channel; the deadbolt was less of an ordeal, giving way easier with a soft click.

Holding the knife behind her back, grip tight on the smooth hand-carved handle, Tori eased the door open, careful not to disturb the salt line she'd laid in a semicircle in front of the entryway. Out of all the shitty things that had happened to her in sequence in the past 12 hours, nothing could have topped seeing Dean Winchester standing on the other side of the door, soaked in rain.

"Tori?" Dean's voice was muffled, like she was underwater.

Tori blinked, stumbling back a step only to catch herself on the door jamb. I didn't think I drank enough to start hallucinating. After two blinks and Dean still stood there, looking more concerned by the second, Tori shook her head. "What are you doing here, Dean? How, how'd you find me?"

Dean’s brows furrowed, green eyes scanning her, catching on how Tori leaned against the door for support, cheeks flushed pink. "Are you drunk, Tor?" His words brimming with concern.

"I'm moderately functional." Tori quipped back, heart seizing at the familiar nickname. She looked past him into the pouring rain, how the droplets rolled off his leather jacket. 

She’d be lying if the sight of her former lover looking like the product of a hate-fuck between a drowned rat and a kicked dog didn’t invoke some joy in her drunken state. She huffed an exasperated breath, grabbing Dean by the arm and yanking him into the room. "Get the fuck in here before you get sick, dumbass."

Dean huffed a laugh, taking a step into the room looking around at the squalor in which she had been residing. He glanced back at her, rubbing the back of his neck. “So,” he trailed off, unable to look Tori in the eye. “How you been?”

Tori took a sharp breath in, swinging the door shut hard enough to make the window rattle, all sense of humor put out like dumping a lit candle in water. She slammed her knife down on the table. “Cut the shit. You didn’t answer my question: Why are you here? How are you here? The only person who knows…” Tori sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “Sam.”

“Don't be mad at him.” Dean placated, shaking the excess water from his jacket.

“He’s really not who you should be worried about right now.” Tori shifted her weight onto one leg and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Look, Tor, can we talk please?”

Tori flung her arms out at her sides exasperated. “About what, Dean? About how you cheated on me? About how you called me, what was it again” She cocked her head to the side, putting her hand on her chin in mock contemplation, “Oh right, a whore who sucks the life out of people? You wanna talk about that? Then talk!”

Dean sighed, slumping down into the chair behind him, burying his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. I know better than to try and give you excuses. I just…I’m sorry. If I could take it all back I would.”

Tori wrapped her arms around herself, drying hair falling soft down her back and over her shoulders. Both of them fell silent, existing in an uncomfortable atmosphere, a tissue paper-thin bubble poised to burst should either of them move too quickly.

“Why?” Tori broke first. Voice softer than Dean had ever heard; vulnerability expressed by a woman who he had never seen even an ounce of self doubt from.

“Why what?” Dean braced his elbows on his knees, looking up at her, how the soft flow of ebony hair only enhanced the stunning features of her face. He could count on one hand how many times he had seen those dark locks freed from the confinement of the french braids she so often kept them in. 

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Tori placed a hand over her chest, skin clammy. “I knew you were hurting. We all were. Why didn’t you come to me? Why couldn’t you trust me enough to talk to me. Why wasn’t I good enough for you?”

Despite her best efforts, her voice broke. Tori sucked in a shuddering breath, blinking back the emotions building behind her eyes. Dean felt his chest tighten at the way Tori’s voice broke, her bottom lip quivering with her declaration of her perceived inadequacy.

“What do you want if not me?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Dean breathed out, slowly standing from the chair.

Tori shook her head, face crinkling with sorrow. Dean crossed the space between them with a few strides of his mile long, bowed legs. Her eyes fluttered shut as his hands cupped her face, calloused from years of holding knives and guns. She had to stop herself from leaning into his touch, the juxtaposition of the way he’d gripped her chin in a harsh vice-like grip that night not lost on her in that moment.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

Tori slowly opened her eyes, meeting Dean's soft expression and she couldn’t decide to be mad or upset, so she chose to just stay silent, not completely sure that if she wouldn’t cry if she opened her mouth to say anything anyway. As she blinked, a tear slipped down her cheek, only to be wiped away by his thumb.

“Sweetheart, you are more than enough. You always have been. I never, never meant to make you feel that way. Tor, you are the best damn thing that happened to me. And you deserve so much better.”

“Dean,” Tori placed her hands on his wrists, her thumbs brushing against the back of his hands.

“You're too good for me, Tor. Always have been. The last thing I wanted was for you to get caught on my rough edges. And when times get tough, all I know how to do is push people away. Push the people I love away.”

Tori pulled away from Dean, taking a steadying breath. “That's not your decision to make. I'm a big girl Dean. I'll choose who I get caught on, and when I've had enough.” She grabbed his hand, pressing her lips to his palm “Promise me you won't push me away again. Promise me that, and I'm all yours.”

Dean loosed a breath, letting his hand rest against Tori's cheek. The other reached out hesitantly, finding it's place gently on her waist, her body warm beneath his touch. “I promise.” Dean leaned down, pressing his forehead to Tori’s. “I'm so sorry Tori. I promise this will never happen again.”

Tori leaned into Dean's hand against her cheek, her other hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck, fingers toying with the soft downy hairs there. “Say it.” She whispered into the space between them. “Say you love me.”

“I love you. I love you so much. More than anything, I love you, Tori.”

Tori let out a shuddering sob, choking on tears. “Then kiss me.”

Dean was sure his heart was in a million, no, a billion pieces at Tori’s choked sob. His hand on her waist migrated up to cup the other side of her face as he brushed his lips to hers. Hers moved his response to his own, the kiss tender with unspoken apologies and forgiveness. 

Dean could taste the sharpness of the whiskey she was drinking, only fueling the rush of serotonin in his body. Like a junkie getting his fix he drank up her taste, the way she smelled, the way her body felt beneath his hands.

Dampness soaked his thumbs and Dean pulled back enough only to kiss away the tears that adorned Tori’s flushed cheeks, clinging to her thick eyelashes like dew on the morning grass. He made sure to remove all traces of tears from her face before reclaiming her mouth. 

Tori's hands fell to Dean's chest, the damp cotton of his shirt sliding against her palms as she smoothed them upwards, pushing his rain-soaked jacket off his shoulders. He got the hint, hands leaving her face to slide the leather off himself, letting it fall to the ground in a heap. Dean's fingers found their way onto Tori's hips, sliding under her tank top to meet the soft flesh of her sides.

She giggled softly at the sensation, smiling against his lips. Dean echoed her grin, nipping softly at her bottom lip. Slowly, Dean walked Tori backward until her calves hit the edge of the bed. Tori sat on the edge of the bed, a hand on the back of Dean's neck pulling him down with her. Their kisses gradually became increasingly heated as Tori scooted back up the bed, Dean kicking off his boots. Dean gently caressed Tori's body as he crawled up her body, taking the time to trace along her thighs, up her flank; a maestro handling his instrument, knowing where to touch and how to pull the sweetest sounds from her.

Dean slotted himself between her legs, bracing himself on his elbows above Tori. She hummed contentedly as his lips left hers, blazing a trail of fire to her jaw and neck. He teased his hand under her tank again, the material bunching around his wrist as his thumb grazed the underside of her breast. Tori's breath became uneven at his touch, back arching off the bed slightly.

"So pretty," Dean mumbled against her neck. "So responsive f'me, sweetheart."

His name tumbled from Tori's lips as Dean tugged her tank the rest of the way up and off with her help. Her nipples hardened against the chill room, causing a welcome zing of pleasure as they brushed the soft fabric of Dean's shirt.

Tori huffed in displeasure as Dean sat up from her body, kneeling between her legs. With a smooth swift motion, Dean slid Tori's sweatpants down her thighs and gently removed them. One big hand delicately cradled her ankle, pressing a kiss to the bone there before kissing up her leg; one to her calf, then to the inside of her knee, then to the plush of her thighs. His teeth grazed the skin increasing incrementally the closer he got to the apex of her thighs so by the time his breath was hot against her now-soaked core Tori was sure she could come undone with a single touch. She tipped her head back as Dean pulled away once more, starting again on the other leg with his mouth to the inside of the knee.

"Please." She breathed out, hands gripping the sheets around her.

All the response she got from him was an amused chuckle and a teasing nip to the softness of her inner thigh.

"Let me take care of you." Dean glanced up at her as his wandering fingers hooked on the waistband of her panties, pulling them down to follow the same path as her pants.

Tori became painfully aware of how exposed she was, sending a shiver through her naked body. She wrapped her arms around herself, covering her chest, hands over her face.

Dean made a shushing noise, hovering over her again, his body hot against hers.

"Don't hide." He coaxed, gingerly removing Tori's hands from her face, pinning them to the bed above her with one of his own. "You're perfect."

Tori scoffed softly. "Hardly."

"No?" Dean cocked his head.

"Nuh-uh."

"Well then I'll just have to convince you then."

Dean dipped his head, capturing Tori's lips once more. His mouth left a hot trail as he moved South, nibbling marks on her collarbone. He kissed his way into the valley between her breasts, his free hand coming up to roll one hardened bud between his fingers.

Tori gasped softly, arching up against his touch. It was too much and not enough all at once. She tried to pull free from Dean's grasp but he held her wrists in a vice-like grip. Soft noises escaped her lips as Dean continued his descent downwards, kissing the softness of her belly, tongue flicking across the scars and stretchmarks that littered her olive skin. Finally, he relented his grip on her wrists, using his thumb to trace her hipbone, fingers lovingly caressing the dip of where her waist met her hip.

"So beautiful. Fucking divine." Dean spoke into the plush of her lower stomach. "I can't get enough of you."

Tori's breath caught in her throat at the first hot breaths against her core, followed by a choked moan as his downright sinful mouth attached to her clit. Immediately her fingers buried themselves into his downy soft hair, ankles crossed on his back. Tori bucked her hips against his mouth, but Dean had one arm across her hips, hand splayed across her belly, holding her in place. He ate her out like a man starving, licking a sucking at her clit, tongue dipping into her heat as if on cue.

Soft gasps and moans spurred Dean on, using his free hand to rub small circles on her clit, alternating to sweeping motions that had Tori slamming her legs shut around his head. Dean just smiled into her pussy, deciding that if this was the way he was meant to go, then he would be the furthest thing from upset. Tori's thighs squeezed harder around his head as Dean inserted one finger into her, curling his fingers in a 'come hither' motion just right against the sweet spot deep within her, making Tori see stars. He knew all the right ways to stroke and touch her in order to keep that wave of pleasure continue to slowly reach it's peak.

"Dean," Tori sighed his name, feeling her lower belly tighten.

"I know. I know sweetheart. Let go for me."

With a cry, her climax hit her like a freight train. Her vision went dark for a second as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her, making her legs shake. Once her world stopped spinning and the roaring in her head died down, Tori released her death grip on Dean's hair, allowing her lover to kiss his way back up her body. She could taste her own release on his tongue as he kissed her deeply, lovingly.

"You're," Tori spoke between kisses. "Wearing too many clothes."

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, kneeling with Dean as he chucked the item over his head and into the room. Tori's nimble fingers made their way down his torso, tracing lines downward to his belt. Her lips attached themselves to his neck, sucking dark marks into his tanned skin as she unbuckled his belt. She could feel his hands rubbing soothing, sweeping motions up and down her sides as she tugged his jeans down his muscular bowed legs.

With some maneuvering, Dean found himself, sitting with his head at the top of the bed, Tori removing his jeans, followed by his boxers that already had a wet stain from his erection. Tori swung her leg over his lap, lowering herself to rest on his thighs, placing a kiss to the tattoo over his heart. She sucked in a breath as she ground her hips down over his dick, sliding herself over him. A sense of pride bloomed in her chest as she pulled a rumbling groan from Dean. His hands landed on her hips, pulling her forward and back, guiding her motions.

Tori rose on her knees, reaching behind her to grasp his length, Dean hissing in pleasure as she did so. She pumped her hand up and down him a few times as she kissed Dean hard. Tori pulled away just enough to catch Dean's forest green eyes as she slowly lowered herself onto him, guiding him in with her hand. Dean groaned lowly, both of them unable to move or breathe until he was fully seated inside of her. Pleasure melted with pain as Tori adjusted to the feeling of him inside her, breathing in as Dean exhaled.

"Fuck." Tori moaned into the crook where his neck met his shoulder.

"Feel so good, Tor." Dean rasped, fingers digging into the softness of her ass, kissing her shoulder. "Takin' me so good. So good, sweetheart."

Once Tori adjusted to the feeling of him inside her she began to move, alternating between raising herself up and down on her knees and grinding her hips against his. They fit like a puzzle finding it's final piece, Dean's pubic bone providing delicious friction against her swollen clit. Tori gripped Dean's shoulders as she pistoned herself up and down, rising until only the tip of him remained inside before sliding back down. His grip on her hips and thighs helped steady her as she rode him, slowly picking up speed. Dean leaned back against the headboard, watching Tori above him, her head thrown back in pleasure.

"So pretty for me, Tor. So perfect like that." Dean praised as he traced her hipbones, guiding her movements. "That's it, you got it, sweetheart."

Tori continued moving up and down, one hand drifting down to guide his between her legs. He got the hint, starting to tease her clit as she bucked her hips up again. Tori moaned softly, her breaths in tandem with his as she felt the familiar sensation of pleasure building low in her belly.

"I'm close." She gasped to him

"I know, I know. Me too,"

Dean sat up again, guiding Tori's halting motions as they both teetered on the edge of their releases. With a low moan, Tori's walls clenched down on Dean as her climax hit, triggering his own as he felt his release fill her. Tori continued to move, drawing out both of their orgasms through stuttering motions, her legs feeling like jelly.

They both panted into each other's mouths as Tori rested her forehead against Dean's in post-coital bliss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Dean murmured, nuzzling his face into her neck.

He gently, laid them both down, pulling out of her with a soft groan. Tori watched from the bed as Dean disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the water running briefly before her lover returned with one of the washcloths in hand. She whimpered slightly as Dean used the rough, warm towel to wipe away the mess between her legs, brushing against her overstimulated clit. He tossed the rag back into the bathroom before stretching out beside her.

"Feel okay?" He whispered to her.

All Tori could manage was a blissed-out nod, scooting herself closer to Dean. He grabbed the covers, pulled them over them both, and wrapped his arm around Tori's waist, tugging her to him. She rested her head on his chest, a leg draped over his waist. He pressed a kiss to Tori's hairline as he traced shapes and loving words onto her back, lulling his girl to sleep. Tori brushed a kiss to his chest before settling against him, letting her eyes fall shut.

In the early morning hours, Tori found herself awake next to Dean in the lumpy motel bed. The sun was just waking, casting them both in golden hour light, teasing along the highlights of her lovers sandy blonde hair, emphasizing the five o’clock shadow and every silver line of scar on his bare torso. 

She reached out gently, brushing aside the short hairs falling gracefully across his forehead, fingertips lingering on the small scar there. His arm was heavy across her waist, keeping her in the bed next to him. Green eyes blinked open as she adjusted. 

“Where you goin’?” Dean muttered, voice rough with sleep.

“Nowhere.” Tori smiled at Dean, scooting forward to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I'm not going anywhere.”

[missredherring]

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

🌶️= spice

Agent Whiskey (Kingsman: The Golden Circle)

Southern Comfort

He sighed and held you tighter, running his hand up and down your back in soothing strokes.

Take His Gun and Send Him Into Battle (OFC) - Part One

An AU where Whiskey isn’t killed and turned over to Statesman instead. No longer Agent Whiskey, Jack Daniels is going to have to find out who the man beneath the Stetson really is. 

Alejandro Santos (Drive-Away Dolls)

In the Flesh 🌶️ (x Ted Garcia, m/m)

A glory hole in a dive bar at the edge of town truly is a liminal space, and this particular half hard cock straining through the side of a bathroom stall is all the proof he needs of that fact. 

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

Dieter Does Dorne

"That is not a great angle for the dangle." You said as you turned your head, trying to better understand what you were seeing. Granted, your phone screen wasn’t the biggest, but you weren’t sure a bigger picture would help untangle the knot of limbs you were looking at.

Feast

Dieter's body stops as if it's come to the end of a tether and he turns his full attention to the section of press you're in. Flashing cameras go off and the yells are deafening once they realize his attention is on them, or so they think. Incubus AU.

Paint Me Like One Of Your French Girls

"Sorry, sorry." He says distractedly while glancing around. Even now that he's in the studio, he's still flitting around to find the right supplies.  "Bravo, I'm freezing my ass off." You say, and it's true: the cold is seeping into your butt from the concrete floor. 

The Roles We Play

While isolated in a manor house with his costars, he roams around in a bathrobe, desperately looking for someone to hook up with. 

Dieter Gets It 🌶️

You didn’t get the appeal of this, but Dieter does.

Someone Who Calls Me Baby (Dieter x Javi G)

He shakes his hands down at his sides, but it does nothing to expel any of the nervous energy running through him: his fingers still tingle as he taps them together and a faint ringing starts in his ears.  When he scoops up his phone to reread the text from his agent the message hasn’t changed. He hasn’t gotten the role in a while.

Touch Me Touch Me Touch Me 🌶️ (Fat Reader)

“How long do you want this?” You adjust his kerchief to indicate your meaning. “All day. We don’t have other plans.” He offers and shudders when you bury your nose in his neck, nuzzling at the skin at the edge of the fabric.  “Good. All you have to do is take it off.” You remind him, as you always do. He nods and you reward him with a bruising suck right over his carotid artery that makes him whimper.

No Solo Riders

The ride operator calls out, the music explodes, and the world falls away around you.

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir AU

30 Minutes or Less

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

The Road Ahead

Starting a new journey in life with Din at your side is great. Until he hits a huge pot hole and almost loses the airstream.

Laundry Day

Laundry piles up while no one is looking so you go to the laundromat in town and meet someone new. 

"Then we'll find out together."

Eddie (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

An Act Of Kindness (Fat Reader)

Part Two

"More," he begs, his tongue eager and searching out every drop. "Please."

Ezra (Prospect)

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Hidden Treasure

Sometimes it pays to take a detour and give in to curiosity. You and Ezra find a hidden gem on a dusty planet.

Sanctuary

You weren't surprised to find him at the book shop when you went to open that morning.

Frankie Morales (Triple Frontier)

Highway Honey🌶️

“What’s gotten into you today?” “You don’t have fond road trip memories?” “Not really, and I wouldn’t call the trips I do remember ‘road trips’.” He says and you don’t let what he doesn’t say, that most of them were missions or deployments, bring the mood down.

Strawberry Wine

Frankie prefers beer, but he’ll definitely take you to the local winery with live entertainment for a date night.  

When I Watch The World Burn All I Think About Is You

The world is ending and maybe it was sentimentality or fate, but you ended up at the bar where you met. Somehow you could handle the heartbreak in a place like this.  

Cold Ones and Cards

A breeze drifted in through the open windows and the humid air sent goosebumps down your arms. A warm hand, calloused and large, rubbed at the skin there and you leaned back into his chest. Your whole body shook when Frankie laughed, a deep sound that came from his belly. He had to put his head on your shoulder to catch his breath. Whatever the joke was it must’ve been a good one. 

Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

What're We Doing, Joel?

"Tell me what you like."

Develop🌶️

Your fingers freeze on the mouse when you get to the last pictures of the final roll of film. You scroll through, eyes straining to understand what the thumbnail is showing you.  It looks like Joel had an adult sleepover of his own.

I'm The One To Beat 🌶️

Every one of your friend's names had been added to his list of victims, but not yours. For better or worse, you survived. 20 years pass and new victims start showing up with Joel's MO. Now's your chance. Slasher/Final Girl AU.

Let's Twist The Knife Again

When he feels the hard hit to his head, Joel hopes he doesn't wake up. But he does. Time Travel AU.

My Back Is Breaking From This Heavy Heart (Joel x Reader x Tess)

You weren’t home when the music stopped playing on the radio.

Wrong Until You Make It Right

After a long day when his kitchen sink starts leaking, there's only one person he thinks to call. You make a house call and Joel gets a wake up call.

For A Good Time Call... Joel 🌶️ (Fat Reader)

Joel nods like your silence is the answer he expected. “I had plenty of time to think about it last night. All that noise and it still sounded like someone just gettin’ off.” He shakes his head a little. “I’m sure Tommy did good by you, but there was something missing. That desperate edge to your voice, honey. I bet you’ve never not come, always making sure to get yours. But where’s the fun in that?”

Warming Up 🌶️ (Fat Reader)

The impish impulse wins out and you scoot closer to drape yourself over him as much as you can with him sprawling out on his stomach. He yelps and makes to move away, but he’s already at the edge of the mattress.

A Flower in February

When he’s finished cleaning the scrapes on your face his thumb swipes tenderly over the curve of your chin once. “I'll take care of it.”

Little Girl with a Big Mouth 🌶️

"More?" he asks your shoulder. "More." you agree.

Liam (Nikita)

Lap of Luxury🌶️

He’d told himself that you were a distraction, a liability, a weakness he’d be foolish to give in to, but he hadn’t been able to stay away. He hadn’t been able to stop wondering what it would look like to press his fingers into your skin.

Lucien Flores (The Uninvited)

Red Light Glow 🌶️

He’d called to wish you a happy birthday before anyone else.

Hungry Eyes 🌶️

Lucien thinks he probably gets to fuck you in that light. The lucky bastard.

Trying Something New 🌶️

“Back in town tonight. Sex? Pls?”

Marcus Pike (The Mentalist)

Hall Pass (Marcus x Reader x Dieter)

"I can't believe you're this innocent."

Kate & Leopold AU

Mr. Marcus "king of consent" Pike would ask if he could kiss you after sex.

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)

"Do You Want My Fingers?"🌶️

He pulled back enough to see your face. Studying your expression like he still needed confirmation that your wants matched his own.

The Bad Guy

Cleaning up after an alien invasion isn’t easy, but Marcus helps.

All That Glitters 🌶️

“Fuck. You’re perfect.” Marcus’s lips brushed your ear as he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Practice 

Marcus gets back into training but the administrative work never ends.

Villainous: Part One - Part Two

Nothing good had come of the Ogima infiltration, so why would working with their leftover alien tech go any better? Sucked into an alternative universe you’re faced with a man who looked exactly like the partner you had kissed goodbye that morning. His touch is impersonal and rough as your wrists are restrained and the look in his eyes is anything but tender.

Snap (Fat Reader)

"I know you're anxious to give anything that might work a try, but I really want to urge you to read the consent form thoroughly." Marcus says. The request is the dying gasp of his conscience that's burned away in the flare of satisfaction he feels when you sign the form after only a moment of hesitation.

Maxwell Lord (WW '84)

Fool's Gold (Fat Reader)

In a world where superheroes and villains need to be taken into consideration when planning your morning commute, crystals rank low on the “things to be concerned about” scale. A genie AU. 

Comfort

A simple touch of comfort in the night.

Give Me Strength

Maxine Lord attends her first Pride parade with her girlfriend.

Oberyn Martell (Game of Thrones)

Hands Off (Fat Reader)

"Do not think about how you were in the past. That you no longer exists."

Given a Name (Fat Reader)

"This would be your greatest indulgence?" He asks, the edges of his beautiful mouth curling into a pleased grin. How like a man to inflate his importance. It’s a pity that he isn’t wrong. This will be my greatest selfishness.

Pedro from Across the Street (Calls, Apple TV)

Dial Tone 🌶️

It hadn’t been difficult; knowing you as well as he does. Or the other you, the one who wouldn’t break your vows.

Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)

The Rain Still Falls

The rain still falls and his heart still beats.

The Thief (Casillero del Diablo)

What Strange Claws Are These🌶️

"Oh, I'm sorry, does it hurt?"

Tim Rockford (Merge Mansion AD)

I want to be between this man and the table.

My Best Friend's Wedding (ft Marcus Pike)

Choose your own Pedro Pascal Character

Seven Minutes in Heaven (Fat Reader)

[prolix-yuy]

Welcome to a fun little event where you get to ask for all sorts of filth! Spin the Wheel, Pick a Pedro Boy, and Get a Drabble! Bring your jammies, snuggle up in your sleeping bag, charge your favorite toys (just kidding) and come join me for some filthy fun with our favorite boys!

Bangathon requests are closed, thank you all for submitting your ideas!

Complete Bangathon Masterlist:

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Marcus Pike, Kneeling Reach-Around

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader, 69

Pero Tovar x F!Reader, Cowgirl

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Plus Size F!Reader, 69

Max Phillips x F!Reader, Reverse Cowgirl

Ezra x F!Reader, Spooning

Pero Tovar x F!Reader, Missionary

Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader, Cowgirl

Din Djarin x F!Reader, 69

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader, Snuggled Spoon

Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Wife Reader, Mermaid

Marcus Pike x F!Reader, Kneeling Reach-Around

Oberyn Martell x OFC, Sit on the Throne

Ezra x F!Reader, Advanced Crab Walk

Joel Miller x F!Reader, Blowjob

Javier Peña x F!Reader, Honey Bear

Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader "Ms Jackson", Seated Oral

Oberyn Martell x OFC, Snuggled Spoon

Ezra x F!Reader, Missionary with a Pillow

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader, Spooning

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader "Murch", Sit on the Throne

Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader, Honey Bear

Joel Miller x F!Reader, Snuggled Spoon

Dieter Bravo x M!Reader, Kneeling Reach-Around

Javier Peña x F!Reader, Octopus

Din Djarin x F!Reader, Sit on the Throne

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader, Honey Bear

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader, Froggy Style

Ezra x F!Reader, Honey Bear

[jolapeno]

i'm part of @pedroscouts, and i thought i'd share some of the things that have helped me earn my badges (like a fic recs/masterlist of sorts). i will admit some of these are things i've created myself to earn the badge, so i have included them.

I’d recommend all of these so highly, and ofc I’ll keep updating as I enjoy and collect ❤️✨

CHARACTER BADGES

JOEL MILLER

☰ oh, summer nights by @ozarkthedog

☰ warm bread & honey by @trulybetty [tiny angst]

☰ the beef by @beefrobeefcal

FRANCISCO MORALES

☰ let me by @polaroidpascal [frankie morales]

☰ transient nights by @pedgito [frankie morales]

also, i write a lot of frankie so 💁‍♀️ my masterlist

JACK WHISKEY DANIELS

☰ love at first...fight by @goodwithcheese [jack 'whiskey' daniels]

☰ palomino by @fuckyeahdindjarin [solo travel romance]

MARCUS MORENO

☰ afterword by @secretelephanttattoo [marcus moreno]

DIETER BRAVO

☰ taste by @huntingingoodwill

MAX PHILLIPS

☰ day four - teratophilia

by @palioom

GENRE BADGES

FLUFF/SMUT

☰ as you've always been by @ezrasbirdie, joel miller x f!reader

☰ paranoid heart by @goodwithcheese, javi p x f!reader

again, i feel this badge is my bread and butter so... there's me.

HURT COMFORT

☰ it's a scratch by me, joel miller x f!reader

GIFLET

☰hunted by @morallyinept, frankie m x reader

☰chase by @morallyinept, javi p x f!reader

☰ when his eyes open by me, joel miller x f!reader [giflet]

TROPE BADGES

FRIENDS TO LOVERS

☰ meet me in the city by me, javi p x f!reader [friends to lovers]

☰ i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine by @chronically-ghosted, frankie morales x f!reader

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

bluffing season by @beskarandblasters, frankie x reader

ONLY ONE BED

good morning by @nothoughtsjustmeds, frankie m x reader

SLOW BURN

☰ on call by @luxurychristmaspudding [frankie morales]

ROMCOM

☰ do me yourself by me, frankie morales x f!reader [i think it's fair i claim this one for my baby.]

☰ the kindness of strangers by @schnarfer, neighbour!joel x reader

FORCED PROXIMITY

☰ let us pretend by me, javi p x reader. ugh i hate self-reccing, but they do have to remain in the same hotel room and pretend to be married so...

[blakelysco-pilot]

The Very Thought of You

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

As the highly regarded twenty-fifth mission approaches for Rosie and his crew, he's faced with startling realities that may change the course of his future. While Jo is back home, waiting patiently for his return, she receives news that she wasn't expecting from someone even more unexpected, that 'tests their relationship even more.

Read part 5 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

The officers club was, for the first time in a few weeks, filled. The new replacement officers were enjoying the whiskey, music and watching the Red Cross girls as they flitted around the room. Harry and Rosie were tucked away in a corner by the fireplace, nursing their drinks as they watched the fresh faced kids that had just shipped out, eager to join the fight, try and navigate their surroundings. Rosie wondered how they would fare- remembering the first night his crew had been in this very room. The atmosphere had been vastly different, a celebration of Captain Glenn Dye’s twenty-fifth mission. The faces of the original crews that had flown in from Greenland were intimidating. He had panicked so badly upon meeting Major’s Cleven and Egan that he had divulged to them that he and his crew had trained and flown in their skivvies. Pappy still hadn’t let him live it down, and he had a very strong feeling that once he was back stateside, Jo would end up hearing all about it from Croz. 

The irony wasn’t lost on him, sitting there now, his twenty-fifth on the horizon, one of the few people here now, who had been in the room months prior. Of the rest, so many were gone; he would wager that a good deal more men had died in this war, while the rest were being held as POWs in the Stalag. The two Majors, now no longer at Thorpe Abbotts; it was Rosie and Croz who were the old timers, along with James Douglass, Everett Blakely and Jack Kidd. It stirred up a cornucopia of emotions as he tried not to think about the possibility of what the next flight would bring. He was so lost in his own mind he didn’t see the three replacements at the bar, didn’t hear them talking about him specifically, nor did he hear Kidd setting them straight, 

“So, are you going to request Florida or Texas for your assignment?” Croz’s voice brought him out of his own head, eyes finding those of his friend. 

“I’ve already been to Texas, before my tour,” Rosie nodded, thinking back to those hot days of training in Laredo. “Training pilots in Florida just sounds better.”

“What I wouldn’t give to train pilots somewhere sunny after a year in this pea soup.” Croz sighed, leaning back in his chair. 

“Ah, your time will come.”

“But that’s the problem with being kicked up to operations. I hardly get to fly anymore.”

He was about to reply when the red light went on, the men around him sighing in disappointment of a night cut short. Glasses coming to rest on the bar and on tables, Rosie made to move as well, before Croz’s hand came to his shoulder, pushing him back into his seat. 

“Your crew’s on stand down for this one.” 

“Oh…”

“So, Florida huh?  Tell me you’re at least going home for a few days before.”

“Ma would be on the first train down if I didn’t.” He huffed out a laugh. The image of his Jewish mother from Brooklyn pushing her way through officers and The Brass in Florida just to give him a smack on the back of the head for not going home first brought a smile to his face. Mostly because he knew she’d do it too. 

“Just your Ma?”

He feels his cheeks warm instantly at Croz’s indirect mention of Jo, and realizes that it’s quite literally on the horizon. The day’s are trickling down to near zero before he’ll see her again and it makes excitement and nerves bloom in his stomach like the annual floral show at Brooklyn’s Botanical Gardens. The thing’s he’s said to her in writing, moments of bravery shared on paper, those are all quite rapidly approaching reality. He’ll soon be able to hold her in his arms, and finally have her in all the ways he’s dreamed of for so long. 

“When did you hear from her last?” 

“Hmm?”

“Jo. When did you last hear from her?”

“About two weeks ago. Said she was going upstate for a few days with Jean to visit with Brady’s girlfriend, Juliet.”

“Yea, Jean mentioned that in her last letter. I think it’s good for all of them, especially with Brady being stuck where he is…”

“They’re all just stuck there,” Rosie’s mind wandered back to those first three missions, all the esteemed pilots that had come before him, sitting out the war in a German POW camp while he was a hair’s breadth from home. “They’ve got to be going stir crazy.”

“At least they’re together, from what I’ve heard,” Croz pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought of his friends. “Brady writes to Juliet, who writes to Olive, who updates all of us.”

“Chain mail,” Rosie chuckled. “Val writes to Jo, who sends things from home in exchange for updates on how we’re both really doing.”

“I think it’s neat that they all talk, indirectly or otherwise.”

He was about to reply when the chair opposite him was suddenly occupied, a bright red smile turned on him and Harry. Valencia grinning at them, her usual French 75 in one hand, a cigarette between two fingers of the other. Settling her drink on the small table to her left, she leaned back in the chair, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. 

“Evening Val,” Harry offered a wave over to her. “You by yourself tonight?”

“Croz,” She returned his greeting before shifting her gaze to Rosie. “Rosie. Not alone, just waiting for Everett to get back. Wanted to say hi.”

“Well, you’re both welcome to join us.” Harry gestured to the empty chair next to Val. 

“Thank you, but I think we’re heading out in a bit,” Val focused back on Rosie before speaking again. “I got a letter, and lipstick, from Jo last week. She’s a real sweetheart Rosenthal. I hope you plan on marrying her once you’re back.”

Rosie couldn’t help laughing at Val’s serious expression; she was known around base as the feisty Red Cross girl, so to see her be so serious was actually quite funny to him. 

“I plan on it, Valencia, I promise.”

“Good; I owe her a letter. I know she mentioned taking a trip upstate with Jean to visit Benny’s girl, I want to hear all about that.”

“Thanks for being a friend to her, Val. I know she enjoys your letters, and I appreciate it. A lot.”

“No need to thank me,” Val stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray next to her drink. “Us Brooklyn girls need to stick together. Jean too, Croz. I owe her a letter as well.” 

“I have a feeling the three of you are going to be thick as thieves once we all get home.” Harry chuckled. 

“We might be already.”

“Are you?”

“I can’t give away all our secrets, Croz.” She winked. 

Draining her drink, she stood, offering both men a wave as she caught up with Ev Blakely and the pair exited the Officers Club together. 

“We’re in trouble…” Harry sighed with a shake of his head, Rosie readily agreeing with him 

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

“Thank you!”

Jo handed the cab driver a few bills, the man placing her suitcase on the sidewalk next to her feet before closing the trunk. He wordlessly got back in his car and pulled away from the curb, leaving her in front of her house. She picked up the suitcase, heels clicking rhythmically on the sidewalk as she ascended the front steps of the house. She made quick work of the front door, the air still carrying a bit of winter’s chill if the sun wasn’t out, and entered the house. She could hear the radio on in the living room, the sound of the nightly news report and her parents talking. 

“Hi! I’m back!”

“We’re in here dear!” Her mother called out to her. 

Leaving her suitcase by the door, Jo quickly shrugged out of her coat, leaving her hat and gloves on the credenza by the door, coat on the hook. The house was warm and sent a cozy shiver up her spine, a feeling of contentment after a day of travel seeping through her bones. Her father was in his chair next to the radio, her mother on the sofa with her needlepoint in her lap as they dutifully listened to news from the frontlines. 

“Josephine, welcome home!” Her father grinned, offering her a smile as she leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. “How was upstate?”

“Oh it was so beautiful,” She took the seat next to her mother on the couch, greeting her the same way she did her father. “So much quieter than the city.”

“How was Juliet? Did she seem okay when you girls were there?”

“She seemed as okay as could be, considering where poor John Brady is.” 

“Poor thing, she must be worried sick.”

“She gets letters from him, though not as frequently as when he was in England. I think she takes comfort that he’s with so many of the men from his squadron and not alone.”

“Well, you and Jean did a nice thing going up there to spend her week off with her.” 

“It was a nice couple of days, and her parents were so welcoming.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Mrs. Harris gave her daughter's hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you hungry? There’s leftovers on the stove for you if you want.”

“Jean and I ate on the train, but I’ll cover it and put it away for you before I go up.”

“Oh, thank you honey. I left your mail on the vanity in your room.”

“Thank you mom,” Standing from the couch, Jo made a quick stop in the kitchen to put the leftovers away, before picking the suitcase up that she’d left by the door. “I’m going up, goodnight!”

“Goodnight Josephine,” Her father called back. “We’re glad you’re back safely.”

With a smile, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, the exhaustion from the day catching up with her. Her smile widened as she thought of the possibility of a letter from Robbie waiting for her in her room, something to read while she curled up under the covers. She liked the idea of his words acting as a bedtime story, and often found herself reading over old letters of his before bed at night; the last thing on her mind every night were his bright blue eyes and the promises that they made to each other. 

Closing the door behind her, she dropped the suitcase to the floor- tomorrow’s problem- and quickly crossed the room to see what was waiting for her on the vanity. She made quick work of changing into her nightgown, resolving to wash her face after reading her mail. She picked up both envelopes, and sat back on the bed, tucking her feet underneath her as she got comfortable. She grinned at Valencia’s elaborate cursive on the front of the first envelope. Her pen pal from Thorpe Abbotts; Val was a Red Cross girl who had become a friend of Robbie’s, and most importantly, a fellow Brooklyn girl.  

“Miss Val, what have you got to tell me today…” Jo murmured under her breath with a grin. 

She could always count on the woman to give her the facts of how Robbie was faring over there, and if he was truly looking after himself. She loved the little stories she would share about nights in the Officers club, or the weekend pass she took with her sweetheart, Ev. Val would send photos along if she could snag them from their friend on base,Joe, who was the regimental photographer. It would give Jo a sense of security, to know he was doing fine, that he had friends there, and a routine. He’d told her that Val brought a taste of home to the base, and he couldn’t wait to introduce them when they all finally came home. 

Sliding her thumb under the seal of the envelope, she quickly pulled the paper from its safe keeping. Unfolding it, she sat down on the bed and began to read. 

Hello Chickie! 

It’s been quite a moment since I’ve gotten to write you, and I hope by now you’re back safely from your adventure with Jean to visit Brady’s sweet Juliet. I want to hear all about how Upstate was. I’ve never gotten up that way myself, I’m a city girl through and through, but if you enjoyed yourself then maybe we should all plan a visit up that way as a group once this war is over and we’ve made it back stateside. I’m pretty sure I could convince Everett to take any vacation after this war! 

I saw your Rosie this evening in the club. He and Croz looked deep in thought when I joined them. Though as of late they’re always deep in thought. I think with Rosie approaching the coveted twenty-five, they’ve allowed themselves a moment to think of the future. I do worry that Harry without Rosie will be difficult on poor Croz; he’s lost so much already with Bubbles being gone, and the rest of the fellas stuck in Germany. But, Rosie should not skip out on the opportunity to get back home. We’re all rooting for him, Jo, and know that he’ll be well on his way back to you sooner than you think. 

I’ll certainly miss him and his crew around base- they brought a new happiness after so many of our fellas went down and were captured. Pappy may fight Croz to be best man at your wedding whenever that happens. Soon I hope! 

Before I forget, thank you for sending along that lipstick! Victory Red is so hard to come by over here these days. The town in East Anglia doesn’t have too many options, and I’m lucky I can get a pair of pantyhose when I need them. Meatball played tug of war with poor Helen’s last good pair a few days ago. The phrase Bad Dog is not one I thought we’d be using so frequently during the war. But boy, does that dog love Rosie. I wouldn’t be surprised if he looks to get a dog for you both once he’s back. 

Looking forward to hearing from you soon, Jo, and hope all is well back home in our favorite borough. I look forward to taking a walk through Brooklyn with you soon, and having a cocktail at the Automat over lunch. Stay well, my friend, and keep that chin up! 

Your friend, 

Val

Jo read the letter over again, chuckling at the thought of Meatball being so attached to Robbie, but also being such a menace of a pup that he destroyed pantyhose thinking it was playtime. She knew his twenty-fifth mission was on the horizon, if not happening imminently, and she was both worried and excited. She’d seen articles in the paper about the Bombers that were being lost and destroyed over German airspace, and knew that Robbie was in the thick of it. It made her sick with worry every time she opened a newspaper or listened to the radio. She knew he was capable, lord did she know, because he was still there. Still in the fight. But until he was home with her, safe, in her arms, she would continue to worry with every passing day. 

Putting the letter back in its envelope, she placed it next to her on the bed before picking up the second piece of mail. It was addressed to her in a handwriting she didn’t recognize, with a US Army Air Force postal stamp over the upper right hand corner. Her stomach immediately dropped, knowing what came in these random envelopes. There was no one else on base who would write to her, at least she assumed so. With a deep breath, and a silent prayer, she slid her finger under the back flap of the envelope, as she did with the first, and carefully slid the paper from its confines. Cautiously, as if it might bite her, she unfolded the paper and began to read what she felt in her gut was bad news. 

Hi Josephine! 

I thought I should introduce myself first. It’s me, Pappy! I’ve heard a lot about you from Rosie and wanted to send along a message because I’m sure by now, you’ve heard the news. 

Tears immediately springing to her eyes, Jo heaved a deep breath, prepared to read the absolute worst. Her Robbie was hurt, or worse… and his co-pilot, bless him, wanted to be the one to break the news himself. 

Please, don’t be too cross with him. He’s only doing what he feels in his heart is right. Rosie’s a fighter through and through with a heart of gold. He sees people being persecuted, and feels this unyielding need to fight for them because they can’t fight for themselves. His words, not mine. He’s good with the words, that one, so I’m sure he’s explained it to you a lot better than I ever could. But, remember, he loves you. We all can see how much, and he’d want nothing more than to be home with you. And he will be, soon I’m sure of it. 

Looking forward to meeting you one day! He’s really talked you up, and I’m sure all of it is true! I think it’s really neat that you’re best friends with Crosby’s wife! He’s a nervous wreck, that guy, but at least he has Rosie, and Rosie has him now that the rest of us are headed home. May have to come down to fisticuffs for the spot of best man when you two tie the knot, though. 

Keep well, Jo. He’ll be back before you know it! 

All the best,

Pappy Lewis 

A letter from Pappy? And to ask her not to be cross? And what hadn’t she heard that apparently Robbie had already told her? She’d resolved to believe that he wasn’t injured, or worse, because Pappy wouldn’t have sounded so enthusiastic in his greeting, however she felt more lost than she had when Robbie had first shipped out. With nothing to go on, she stood from the bed, slipped on her robe and shoved her feet into her slippers, before grabbing both letters and racing down the stairs. 

“Josephine!” Her mother hollered as she flew into the living room, stopping only when she was next to the phone. “Slow down, what’s wrong?”

Before she could respond, her mother noticed the letters crushed into her hand, and the nervous expression on her face, coming to stand next to her. 

“Josephine… what happened?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never gotten mail from Robbie’s co-pilot Pappy, ever, and now he’s sending me a letter telling me not to be upset and Robbie’s only doing what he knows is right… I’m just confused!”

“So he’s not…”

“No, I don’t think so. Pappy said he’d be home before I know it but, it still doesn’t make any sense.”

Picking up the receiver, she dialed the familiar line until the operator connected her call. She waited for the telltale voice on the other end to announce she’d reached the Crosby Residence. For the only person who could talk her down at this hour. 

“Jean…” Her voice wavered, and she tried, oh how she tried to breath through the tears stinging the back of her eyes, the nerves swirling in the pit of her stomach, but the shaky sound of her own voice sounded from her end of the receiver making Jean Crosby think the worst. 

Her friend was at the Harris home in record time, the two women sitting up in the living room, late into the night. Long after Jo’s parents had retired to bed. The tea had gone cold, and the girls had read and reread Pappy’s letter half a dozen times before finally letting it drop to the coffee table. The paper was crumpled from being passed back and forth, and the envelope was nowhere to be found. 

“He’s… I think he’s gone and done something entirely stupid.” Jo breathed, standing from the couch to pull a bottle from the small bar in the corner. 

“If you start drinking now, we’ll never get to the bottom of this.” Jean scolded her softly. 

“What am I getting to the bottom of, though! Pappy didn’t say what he did, just, that I can’t be mad.”

“Which has made you mad.”

“Of course it has! Stupid boy. His mother raised a stupid, stupid boy!”

“Jo, honey; you don’t mean that.”

Sinking down onto the couch, Jo allowed herself for just a moment to think that maybe Jean was right. That maybe Robbie wasn’t a stupid boy, but someone who was just hellbent on always doing the right thing. 

“I don’t know what I mean…”

“I’m sure he’s written to explain it.”

“God, I hope so.”

“He wouldn’t not tell you something important,” Jean soothed, wrapping her friend up in a hug. “He loves you.”

For the first time, Jo let the sob that had been building in her chest out into the quiet of the room. The tears spilling forth as her friend tucked her ever so gently against her shoulder, doing the best she could to help her find comfort in what was still such an unknown situation. 

“Then why does it feel like he’s not coming home…” 

Mrs. Harris found her daughter, and Jean Crosby asleep on the couch when she came down the next morning. Head to foot, they had haphazardly thrown the blanket from the back of the couch over themselves, and fallen into what she imagined was a restless sleep for her daughter. She knew how it felt; when Josephine’s father had been away at war, Josephine only a little girl, she remembered waiting on letters and praying none of them harbored bad news. Now her daughter was doing the same and she prayed for her, and for the sweet boy from down the street who had stolen her heart and taken it to war with him. 

Setting upon making coffee, she left the pot on the stove to percolate before making her way into the living room to wake the two girls. 

“Josephine, dear…” Gently shaking her at the shoulder, she watched as her eyes tightened before fully opening to the light in the room. “Come on now, come have some coffee and a bite to eat.”

“M’not hungry.” She murmured, pressing her face deeper into the couch cushion. 

“You’re turning down coffee?”

“…no?”

“Good, now come on. You slept in your makeup and you’re all over my throw pillows.” 

As Jo moved to sit up, Mrs. Harris gave Jean a light shake, the other woman quickly roused from her light sleep. 

“Oh gosh… I fell asleep on your couch.”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Mrs. Harris chided her as only a mother could. “Now come on, both of you. Coffee and some breakfast.”

It was a quiet morning at the table, Jo and Jean sat in near silence while Mrs. Harris tried to make small talk with her husband. Neither were ignorant to the fact that Jo was hurting and didn’t have any answers. Both remained grateful for Jean Crosby and the friendship she offered to Jo- the two had found each other in dark times and it was refreshing to see something so lovely in a time of war. 

A knock at the door had all four heads turning at the sound, confusion on their faces as Mr. Harris gestured for them to remain at the table, while he went to see who would be calling so early. Josephine perked up slightly at the sound of Mrs. Rosenthal’s voice floated through the hallway before she was joining them at the table. 

“Mrs. Rosenthal…”

“Sorry to call on you all so early, I wanted to make sure you were alright, dear.”

“You know, I’m not sure, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to be alright with.”

“You haven’t gotten his letter?”

As she was about to reply, her father entered the kitchen, envelope in hand and relief on his face as he handed it over to Josephine. She immediately recognized Rosie’s handwriting scrawled across the front. 

“Where did you find that!’

“It was caught under the rug in the entryway,” He sighed. “Must have gotten stuck when you came in last night.”

“Christ!” She cursed, tearing into the envelope with a ferocity that shocked her mother, and had Jean laughing from her spot next to her. 

Unfolding the paper, Rosie’s familiar writing met her eyes and she sighed with relief. Nerves and fear still swirled low in her stomach, but less so at having his letter in her hands. 

My sweetest Jo, 

I miss you terribly. I know that’s not much of a way to start a letter, but it’s the truth. I miss you more and more each passing day, honey, and long to be back with you. 

This is not an easy letter for me to write, so please, try and understand that I’m not doing this for the wrong reasons. I’ve completed my twenty fifth mission, and I’ve reached the required number of flights to be discharged. I know you’re reading this and wondering what’s so uneasy about all of this. The day that I completed my tour, The Brass raised the number of missions required to complete a tour from twenty five to thirty. We found all of this out, unfortunately, in the Officers Club during what would have been a really nice evening celebrating with the crew and other fellas. 

The crew and I, we’re not required to stay for an additional five, they considered us safe from the new numbers. But sweetheart, it’s so hard for me to watch my friends, and replacement men come in, and have to try and beat higher odds. There’s still a fight to be fought, and a war that’s persecuting people who cannot fight for themselves. How can I just sit by while fresh faced, green, pilots come in and attempt to fly by the seat of their pants. It wouldn’t be right, and it would prolong the fight. You know I don’t like bullies, never have and never will. 

I’ve reenlisted for another tour, and have been promoted to Major. I know, you’re mad. I know Ma will be mad as well, and I understand if you stay mad. But please, I promise I will fight to help end this war so that I can come home to you. I hope you can forgive me for prolonging the start of our life together, and see the reasons for what they are. I just…I want to save the people who cannot save themselves. 

I love you, so terribly, Jo, that every day I find that I love you more than the last. I’m simply existing here, until I can finally take you in my arms and call you mine. I will continue to count down the days, my sweetest girl, and I hope you are too. You’ve got my heart, always, Jo. And I promise to return home, with yours, safely, very soon. 

All of my love, and millions of hugs and kisses.

Robbie 

Jo heaved a deep, ragged breath, before placing the letter down on the kitchen table. She wordlessly slid the paper over to Jean, the other woman looking between Jo and the paper as if the words might have jumped off the page and slapped her into stunned silence. 

“He’s reenlisted.” Jo spoke, the words almost inaudible, her throat thick with what could only be described as sadness. 

The anger that Rosie predicted might come, was not there. Only sadness, that he held such a strong moral compass inside of him, that he couldn’t bear to see the job left unfinished. His need to be there for others, something she knew long before he had even enlisted, had outweighed his longing and desire to come home. To be with his family, to be with her, and make good on all of the promises that he made. 

“Josephine…” 

When she looked up, her mother was no longer sitting to her right, but it was Mrs. Rosenthal. Her parents and Jean had left the room, leaving her alone with the woman she considered as much a mother as her own. Her eyes bore the same sadness that she felt, and when she didn’t think she could stand it anymore, she collapsed against her in tears, and wept. She wept for his mother, his sister, herself, for Robbie, for all the people who continued to suffer and lose during this unforgiving war. For the men who felt such duty to their country that they would remain overseas long after their time had come to go home. For the mothers, sisters, wives and sweethearts who just longed for the missing piece in their life to come home. 

“He’s doing what he thinks is right, dearest.”

“Damn him for being so good.” She cried. The tears trailed hot down her cheeks. “He’s so good! And he’s so, so stupid!”

“I know, sweetheart,” Consoling the girl she already thought part of her family, Mrs. Rosenthal’s tears fell in sync with Jo’s. “I raised a boy I’m proud of, you should be too, but hell if he’s not thick headed sometimes.”

Pulling back, Jo quickly wiped at her eyes, the tears mixed with the previous day's mascara causing black streaks to decorate her face. Eyes bloodshot and nose fire engine red, she nodded furiously in agreement with Rosie’s mother. Of course she was immensely proud of him, he had gone to England and done amazing, brave things, to keep people safe. She’d be a fool not to be proud of him. But the pain of being so close to that dream they both shared, oh that pain ripped through her with the fury of a river wild. Uncontrollable and on a path all its own, with no actual destination and nothing to stop it. It just kept running its course. 

“You know him, Josephine. You know that once Robert gets something in his head, nothing can change his mind.”

“Stubborn…”

“He is very stubborn,” Mrs. Rosenthal chuckled, handing the girl next to her a tissue to clean up with. “But he also worships you, and wants to protect you. So, he continues to fight.”

“I miss him so much, ” She sucked in a ragged breath before continuing. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel.”

“I feel what a mother is supposed to feel. I worry, and I pray, and I repeat the process over again day after day.”

“Then we will worry, and pray for him together. I think if both of us do it, he’ll come back safely.”

“Yes, he will,” Rosie’s mother gave a smile that Jo knew was forced. She gave the same ones when people asked her about Rosie. “And you keep writing to him. Those letters, he looks forward to them more than mine.”

“That can’t be true…”

“A mother knows these things.” 

If what Rosie’s mother said was true, then she should have been able to formulate something, anything to write to him. But as she sat at the desk in her bedroom that night, no tears left to cry and the blank sheet of paper in front of her, she found that the words were not coming as easily as she had hoped. What was she supposed to say? What was he expecting her to say? Did he expect a response from her, or was he banking on her being angry with him? It seemed silly to her to be in a fight, of sorts, when she was here and he was all the way over there. With all her might, she put pen to paper and hoped that she could formulate her thoughts properly, and convey her feelings in a way that might make him understand that she wasn’t angry. Simply put, she was sad. 

My dearest Robbie, 

I must admit, I’m finding it very hard to write this letter. I’ve been trying to find the words to put down on paper all day, and now it’s bedtime and I can’t bring myself to find sleep just yet. It’s no secret that you’re always on my mind, my love, and today has been no exception. I was quite surprised to come home from upstate to a letter from Pappy. I think I was more surprised that his letter was asking me not to be too upset with you. I spent all of last night trying to figure out what it was that I was not supposed to be upset about. When your mother called over at breakfast today, I knew it had to be something serious. My father found your letter in the foyer, stuck under the carpet by the door. It has been, to say the very least, a very exhausting day. 

Robbie, I’ve known you for so long, yet it took your mother to remind me that once you set your mind to something, there is quite literally no talking you out of it. It’s one of the endearing qualities that I love so much about you. Your determination to always do the right thing, and a moral compass that always points in the right direction. Don’t think for one second that I’m not proud of you for completing your twenty fifth mission safely. Please know that I’m proud of you for reenlisting, though it may not be my favorite of your decisions. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, though. But I think I can be proud and sad at the same time- never mad. How could I be mad at you for doing something you feel deep in your bones is the right thing? 

Please, tell me, will Pappy and the boys be staying with you? Have they decided to reenlist as well, or will they be going home? I must admit, you flying without Pappy by your side is such an odd idea to me. I don’t know that I will ever trust someone so entirely to be your right hand man in the sky. The Bald Eagle and the Legal Eagle- yes, I know of your nicknames for each other- are a pair, and should not be separated. As is the case for me and you, we are a pair that should not, and will not be separated. 

I promise you, I will be here waiting for you while you fight for those who cannot stand up and fight for themselves. I find sadness in that we must postpone the start of our future together, and continue to share this love on paper, with an ocean between us. I was looking forward to meeting you at Minton’s darling, and I know that absence makes the heart grow fonder, which can only mean that my heart is so very fond of you Robbie, and my love for you grows every single day. 

I love you so much, Robert Rosenthal. New York feels empty without you. I will be here waiting, counting the days until there are no more keeping us apart. 

Yours forever and always, with all of my love 

Jo 

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

Rosie was exiting the hut that served as the barber shop on base, the cool English air a welcome change as spring seemed to be settling in at Thorpe Abbotts. Rosie had been making it a point to spend time with each of the Riveter’s crew before they were sent home and today it was Bailey, the navigator keen on getting a haircut before the journey home. Around them, Officers and Enlisted Men passed them on their bikes, each one saluting the newly appointed Major as he walked by. 

“Jeez, you’re the top dog now.” Bailey’s thick Long Island accent broke the silence around them. 

“No, that would be Colonel Bennett,” Rosie rolled his eyes. “I’m just Rosie from Brooklyn who happens to know how to fly a plane.”

“Bullshit,” Bailey laughed, giving him a half hearted shove. “You’re Major Rosenthal now, and your new crew is going to fall at your feet.”

“I don’t want anyone falling at my feet.”

“Nash isn’t here to make the lewd comment so, you’re off the hook.” Bailey shook his head.

The indirect mention of Jo caused Rosie to tense up. He hadn’t heard back from her after sending his letter with what he could only describe as bad news for her. He wouldn’t blame her if she called this thing between them off, no matter how many times his crew tried to convince him she would do no such thing. 

“Still nothing back?”

“Not yet,” He sighed. “Can’t say I'd blame her either. I pretty much threw a wrench in our plans without so much as discussing it.”

“You did what you had to do. What you thought was right.”

“But did I?”

“You’re not second guessing yourself now, are you? It’s a bit too late for that, pal.’

“No, I know staying in the fight is the right thing to do, but isn't going home to her also the right thing to do?”

Bailey was silent a minute,  thoughts of his own wife back home surely moving to the forefront of his mind. Rosie had made it clear to each member of his crew that he didn’t expect them, nor would he blame them, if they took the out and went home after twenty five. They had all earned it as much as he had, and he wanted them to do what was best in their eyes. Pappy had waffled on it for a few days, until ultimately Rosie had decided for him that he should go home and be with his family. So now he would await a new crew, green Airmen who had yet to even see combat, and he prayed every day that he was enough to keep them alive. 

“You are doing the right thing, you know” Bailey spoke up again. “It might feel funny for a bit, but we’re all damn proud to have been on your crew. And we’re damn proud of you for seeing this through.”

“Since when are you the sentimental type?” Rosie turned to look at him, the shorter man trying to hide the emotion on his face. 

“Shut up and take the compliment, alright?”

“Alright, alright, I hear ya.”

“Good, now let's go. Almost chow time.” 

As they made their way to the Officers mess, Pappy was waiting outside the doors for them, a smug smile on his face, hands stuffed in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. 

“Why do you look like you just got done having the best time of your life?”

“I hate to agree with him, but you do look entirely too happy for someone about to eat whatever they’re serving for dinner.” Rosie chuckled.

“Oh, no reason,” Pappy smiled, nudging Rosie in the shoulder. “Just delivering the most coveted piece of mail since March to one, Major Rosenthal.” Pappy pulled the envelope from his pocket, and Rosie could hardly believe his eyes as Jo’s cursive adorned the front. 

“How long have you had that!” Rosie swiped it from him, immediately tearing into it. He couldn’t be bothered with privacy or waiting to read it when he was alone. 

“Helen dropped the mail off while you were getting a shave.” Pappy grinned. 

Nodding, Rosie let his eyes fall on the paper, the letter much longer than what he was expecting. He had been expecting a brief note to stop writing, or something along the lines of how much she hated him, and never wanted to see him again. But what he saw on the page was a declaration of love, of how proud she was of him, and one sentence that caused him to stand up straight and fix his co-pilot with the wildest of eyes. 

“Pappy… you didn’t…”

“Don’t worry, I introduced myself properly.” The co-pilot grinned. 

Bailey immediately burst out laughing, knowing just how worried Rosie had been about Jo’s response, and now knowing that the poor girl knew from Pappy before Rosie, he couldn’t contain his laughter as he watched Rosie pull at his normally immaculate curls, blue eyes wild with disbelief. Just as Rosie made to turn on him, they spotted Harry Crosby strolling up to them, his own envelope in his hand and a sour look on his face. 

“Croz?” 

“Jean is mad at me because I didn’t stop you.” 

While one navigator heaved a deep sigh, brows furrowed in confusion at his own wife, the other continued his raucous laughter, the sound echoing around them as they stood outside the mess hall. 

“I’m glad you two are going home. Pains in my neck.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll miss us and you know it!” Pappy chuckled, Bailey’s laughter seemingly contagious. 

“Oh sure, I’ll definitely miss this.” Rosie rolled his eyes, sharing a look with Crosby as they entered the hut, leaving the two laughing Riveter’s outside. After dinner, he’d spend a moment in his hut, and put paper to pen, and talk to his sweetheart. 

My Dearest Jo… 

Read part 7 HERE

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know! A big huge thank you to @hephaestn for the stunning new mood board.

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel @beingalive1

[ladamedusoif]

An Inspecteur Calls

A Visiting Pedrotober One-Shot - Day 20, Merge Mansion

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Lyd is stressed and frustrated, and hit with a bad dose of Parisian nostalgia. Thankfully, Ben knows of a detective - sorry, inspecteur - Roquefort, who is free to investigate the cause of her woes, shoulder holsters included.

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (series/one-shot specific): Visiting fic one-shot; Professor Ben College AU; Ben and Lydia are contemporaries; canon is not a thing here; smut; fingering; oral sex (f receiving); safe PiV sex; enthusiastic consent; strong language; praise kink; references to stress; bad French; terrible French accents; role playing; these two are fucking dorks; extreme silliness

A/N: This is @jack-whiskey-daniels' fault. I wrote up this smutty little vignette, heavily inspired by the photo of Tim Rockford above, last night. Today, Luce informs me that it's Merge Mansion day for Pedrotober and I should post this. Well, who am I to say no?

With apologies for Ben's deliberately terrible attempts at role-playing a cliched French detective (inspecteur is the more common title). No apologies for me using Lydia to work through my love of Tim "Shoulder Holsters Tight Shirt Undervest" Rockford.

(And, seeing as it's his birthday and these two are film nerds, I had to throw in a reference to a film by the French director Jean-Pierre Melville, creator of several exceptional French crime dramas in the 1960s and 1970s. Le Cercle rouge is one of his finest, but they're all brilliant and highly recommended.)

Read the main story on the series Masterlist.

Usual Visiting taglist: @jack-whiskey-daniels , @julesonrecord , @tessa-quayle , @vermillionwinter , @iamskyereads , @tieronecrush , @perennialdoll247 , @love-the-abyss , @imaswellkid , @intheorangebedroom , @javierisms , @fuckyeahdindjarin , @littlemisspascal , @khindahra , @pedrostories , @readingiskeepingmegoing , @rhoorl , @red-red-rogue , @princessanglophile, @katareyoudrilling @survivingandenduring, @trulybetty @fictionismyreality @sunnywithachanceofjavi, @joeldjarin , @lahoozaherr, @s-u-t, @its-nebuleuse, @lizzie-cakes

His warm, broad hand rests lightly on your shoulder as he passes you at the dining table. You turn to look up at him, handsome face full of concern.

“You’re not yourself. What’s up?”

You sigh and stare into your coffee. “It’s dumb.”

He pulls out a chair and sits down, quirking an eyebrow. “If it’s bothering you, I doubt it’s dumb. What’s wrong, love?”

“It’s this stupid essay I’m trying to get finished. I’m missing some of the stuff that would be really useful for it, and I should have gone to see it last time I was in Paris, and I’m frustrated with myself.”

“That’s not dumb, darling. Even if you are being too hard on yourself, as usual.”

You slump forward on the table, mumbling against the wooden surface. “And then I thought about how easy it used to be to just…pop over to Paris, whenever I could, and then I started thinking about it and how much I love it.”

He pats your arm affectionately. “Still not dumb.”

“And then we watched Le Cercle rouge last night and even all those dodgy cops and inspecteurs in their trenchcoats and hats and crime were making me miss Paris. See? Dumb.”

Ben shakes his head and smiles softly. “Not dumb at all. It’s a part of you, of who you are.” He traces a circle on the back of your hand. “And anyway, didn’t you once tell me you had a thing for dodgy cops with moustaches?” He looks at you mischievously and you grin.

“You, Benjamin, are a very tolerant man.” You reach out and trace your fingers over the coarse hair on one side of his face, and he closes his eyes and hums happily.

“I love you, Lyddie. It’ll be okay.” He pushes himself away from the table and heads towards the hallway. “I gotta go for my early seminar, but keep Hemingway in mind.”

You laugh and roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course, the answer is in literature.” He pauses at the door, waiting for you to acknowledge the quotation. “‘Wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.’”

He does that half-smile that never fails to make you melt, blows you a kiss, and heads off to work.

You meet him later for lunch, having worked at home for most of the morning. In between bites of his sandwich, he excitedly talks about the graduate seminar he’d taught, and you discuss your plans for your workshop on gender and visual culture that afternoon while Ben listens attentively.

“You feeling any better?” he asks, as you brush a stray couple of crumbs from his moustache. 

“A bit. I’m sorry, I just spiralled. Probably mostly stress and frustration at my own shitty work ethic and crap ideas.”

He kisses the tips of your fingers swiftly and discreetly, and you giggle. “You have to be kinder to yourself. You’re working too hard, thinking about it too much.”

You clear your table and bring your trays to the designated area, hands brushing lightly against each other as you stroll out of the cafeteria and back towards your building and your offices. You smile to yourself at how, even now, the slightest touch from him sends a current of electricity sparking through your body.

Ben opens his office door and pulls you in for a quick kiss before you have to go and teach. He pulls away reluctantly as you whine softly. 

“Please be kinder to yourself, Lyd.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as you move into the hallway. “I’m happy to help distract you, you know.”

“I’m home, love!” 

You drop your bag beside the hall table and hang your coat up on the rack before kicking off your shoes and stretching upwards as you walk towards the kitchen, where you expect to find him. On days when you have a later teaching schedule, Ben likes to get home earlier, finish his work in his attic study, and then get dinner started for both of you.

Something delicious is cooking away in the CrockPot, but there’s no sign of your boyfriend. You pass into the dining room, noticing the light from the living room coming through the glass-panelled doors. 

Ben is sitting on the sofa, wearing his glasses - nothing out of the ordinary there. But he’s also clad in the trenchcoat he wore for his Dave Toschi costume on Halloween, which is decidedly weird. 

“Uh, baby? You okay?”

He turns to face you, arching an eyebrow and running his eyes up and down your body as if he’s appraising you. 

“Ben?”

“Bonsoir, mademoiselle.”

You scrunch your face up in absolute confusion, and wonder if you should call Jen. Maybe some kind of accident happened at work? Did he take a knock to the head?

“Ben, I’m…what the fuck is happening?”

He holds a hand up to one side of his face and does a sort of stage whisper. “Go with it, Lyd! Just an attempt at cheering you up. You want to stop, just say the word.”

You burst out laughing and shake your head. “No, I’m… I’ll see where this leads, monsieur.”

He grins in satisfaction and stands up. “Je suis Inspecteur Timothée Roquefort, and…uh, I mean, et je suis un…Parisian police homme.”

“Baby, I know your French is better than this.”

Ben holds up a hand and continues speaking in what can only be described as one of the worst comedy French accents you have ever heard. “Mademoiselle! Do not interrupt moi.”

You bite your lip, body shaking with laughter. “D’accord, monsieur.”

“I received une message at the commissariat de police that une jolie femme was…” He looks away as he thinks. “Triste parce que she is not in Pareeeeee.”

“D’accord, mais je ne sais pas pourquoi les flics doivent intervenir dans une question personnelle, en fait, et alors -” [Okay, but I don’t know why cops have to intervene in a personal matter, really, and anyway -]

Ben looks panicked, and starts to rub at one side of his moustache with his pointer finger.

“Uh… HON HON HON. OMELETTE DU FROMAGE.”

That does it. You collapse against him in a fit of laughter, eyes creased and tears rolling down your cheeks. He holds you close against him as you look up at his open, handsome face. 

“You are a very goofy man, Benjamin Morales, and I love you for it. Though I don’t really understand how I want to fuck you this badly even with that accent.”

He grins. “You want to fuck moi because je suis a sexy Parisian police homme, non?” 

He plants a kiss to your forehead as he hugs you tightly. “L’Inspecteur did have une question de plus, Lyddie.”

“Eh bien?”

You can see him struggling not to laugh as he makes a cheesy, cliched “sexy” face at you. 

“La question, s’il vous plait.”

“Well, mademoiselle…” Ben shrugs off the trenchcoat to reveal the shoulder holsters he’d worn at Halloween. The ones that had helped show you just how beautifully broad he was. The ones you’d held onto as the two of you sat as close as it was possible for two friends to sit, both taking any opportunity to make contact with the other’s body. 

The ones you’d asked him, a while back, if he’d kept. “Just because,” you’d explained. “They were kinda hot.”

You reach out and trace your fingers over the leather of the straps, biting your lip and feeling the flame of your desire building steadily into an inferno.

“La question, monsieur l’Inspecteur.”

He arches his brow and gives you his most seductive smile. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

You make it to the bedroom in record time, laughing as you race up the stairs and sit down on the bed as he stands in front of you. 

“Where do you want me for the, uh, investigation, monsieur l’Inspecteur?”

Ben grins delightedly and leans forward, encouraging you to lie back on the mattress as he shifts his broad form over you, arms caging your body as you run your hands over his warm, solid chest and that tummy that makes you absolutely feral. His white shirt is perfectly snug, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, and your hips are already shifting upwards to meet his crotch, desperate for him.

You grip the shoulder holsters as Ben chuckles, bringing his head lower and whispering in your ear. “Je think that les clues are hidden dans your body.”

You both burst out laughing, but your eyes stay trained on each other, never breaking the intense intimacy and erotic power of the shared gaze. 

“You should probably do some searching, then, Inspecteur.”

Ben kisses you deeply as he moves you towards the middle of the bed and loosens his tie before unbuttoning your blouse, bringing his mouth to every new area of skin exposed. “Might be here?” he murmurs, lips brushing off the velvety flesh of your breasts before sucking on your nipples through the pink lace of your bra. 

Your back arches as you gasp. “No, don’t think so…sir.”

You feel his cock twitch in his pants at that and you smile wickedly. “Liked that, did we? Sir?”

Ben hides his face against your tummy and laughs. “Maybe.” His broad hands roam up to your shoulders as he helps you out of your blouse, before tracing the outline of your waist and the curves of your hips and ass as he unbuttons your dark green pants and slips his fingers into your panties. 

“Fuck, Ben, fuck, that’s -”

“Maybe the clues are here? What do you think, mademoiselle?”

He shifts his body down the bed and looks up at you lasciviously, eyes burning black with lust as he pulls your pants down and discards them. He eases your legs apart and you react with a gasp and a giggle as he works his way up your thighs. 

“Looking for treasure, sir?”

He laughs, low and warm, and brings his face to your core. “Found it, mademoiselle.” The heat of his mouth hits your pussy through the fabric of your panties, and you moan loudly. He hums happily as he kisses your soaking cunt, pulling the fabric aside to grant him more access before he drags them off you completely and buries his mouth between your legs. His tongue moves between your folds, flicking your clit every now and again before diving into the warm wetness of your entrance while the strong line of his nose keeps the pressure on the sensitive nub. 

The first orgasm hits you hard, and your hips bear down on Ben’s face as he groans with pleasure. He slips two fingers inside you to sustain the climax a little longer, and with the other hand unbuckles his belt and undoes his zipper, slipping off his pants and boxer briefs while he continues to massage the spot inside you that he knows, having had you so many times, will deepen the orgasm and build to an even stronger one next time.

“Need you, baby,” you whine, eyes drifting to his hard cock, tip glistening with pre-come. “Need you so badly.”

You reach up as he shifts his weight over you, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his white undervest, clinging perfectly to his gorgeous, solid form. He makes as if to take off the holsters. 

“Don’t you fucking dare take those off. They’re staying on, sir.”

He raises his eyebrows and laughs. “Oh, mademoiselle likes them, does she?”

You giggle, feeling his warm breath against your lips, and slip your fingers under the straps around his shoulders. “She really likes them, monsieur. Liked them from the first time she saw them on you.”

He kisses you hard, one hand groping your tits while the other gives his cock a few strokes as he shifts into position. “Sometimes I wish you’d told me back then, that night,” he murmurs, sucking lightly on your neck and making you cry out.

“Think we made up for lost time, though,” you gasp, tilting your head to look at his hard length notching at the wet folds of your cunt. “Please fuck me, baby.”

He slides into you in a fluid motion, moaning long and slow as he bottoms out and the tightness of your pussy takes hold around his cock. He drags back out of you slowly, luxuriantly, savouring every bump and ridge inside you and trying to restrain himself from driving back into you too quickly.

“Jesus, baby, your pussy is fucking incredible. So warm and tight for me.”

He starts to fuck you, picking up pace quickly as you keep hold of the shoulder holsters.

“Tell me, darling.”

He closes his eyes, face a perfect expression of ecstasy. “It’s just fucking perfect. Like you’re made for me, made for my cock. Made for each other.”

You tilt your pelvis slightly so that he’s grinding a little more on your clit as he moves in and out of you, and before long the friction has you coming again. Ben groans at the sensation as your pussy clenches around him and you ride out your orgasm on his cock. 

“Fuck, Lyd, I - oh, fuck.” He seems surprised at how quickly his own release comes, spilling into you while he buries his face against your neck, muttering a litany of curses and praise. 

“Oh fuck fuck fuck baby, that’s fucking it, that’s - my good fucking girl, fuck.”

When he lifts his head again, his face and upper body are drenched in sweat, dripping onto your neck and chest. He kisses you slowly, deeply, before he pulls out. You whine with pleasure at the taste of yourself, of your cunt, on his lips.

He flops back onto the bed, turning to kiss you again and stroke your cheek as he whispers his love for you, over and over.

You return the gesture, nuzzling against him, sated and feeling completely loved, completely adored, completely safe. 

The sight of the shoulder holster makes you giggle affectionately. This beautiful, goofy, sexy man, who would come up with something so silly and so sweet and so insanely hot, just to make you feel better.

“Can the inspecteur come by another time, baby? I think there might be more cases to solve.”

(tape warning by @cafekitsune; star dividers by @saradika)

[trulybetty]

Sunday | Week In Review I

So in order to try and be consistent with this, I’ve kept a running Notes page open to keep track of my week.

As I mentioned last week, I don’t expect this every week, I am me. But I am going to keep trying to make an effort to support my fellow creators.

If there’s something you’ve enjoyed this week, please feel to reblog this and tag me so I can check it out and share 💙

Also, not that I feel it needs to be said, but this is a reflection of what I have personally read and enjoyed.

B x

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

New York Part I (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

Conversations with a Movie Star | Chapter 1 by @gnpwdrnwhiskey Even if you’re not a fan of Dieter Bravo, the dialogue in this alone is worth checking out this opening chapter for this new fic. Ava is an OFC down on her luck after being fired, from her families paper no less, and has stumbled across the Bravo Inn… I’ll let Lellen’s writing do the rest

Stripper Jack Trilogy | P. III by @psychedelic-ink The conclusion of maybe the definitive trilogy of trilogies? I don’t think anyone had Stripper Jack on their 2023 bingo cards, but he’s earned his space and I won’t have any arguments on it. 

Hungry Hearts | Chapter by @atinylittlepain Not many Joel AU’s I’ll jump into, but Bruce Springsteen and Joel Miller? Signed myself the fuck up for that as soon as it was announced. The unfolding of Joel and Cherry's relationship in the summer of '86 against them running back into one another 17 years later is such a great dynamic. 

Fall Apart Again | Chapter 1 + 2 by @wildemaven Heidi spoiled us this week, with not one, but TWO chapters of her new Joel fanfic. I don’t think I’ve gotten so emotional over an opening chapter to a fic before like I did with this one! Then the second chapter? Just bury me now… but actually don’t, I want to see the end of this fic first!

The Layover | Chapter 9 by @goodwithcheese How did Megan describe her fanfics? Hallmark movies with smut? She's not wrong. This whole series so far has been a rollercoaster of emotions and keeps delivering each week without fail. Not only are you rooting for Reader + Frankie, but Jules and Santiago anyone? Or maybe just Jules herself because she's just the boss.

Late Night Texts | Chapter 9 by @mvtthewmurdvck I think it's safe to say it's fanfics like Late Night Texts that have got me back in my rom-com/hopeless romantic era. I don't want to give too much away if you've not had the pleasure of reading this - but it has all the hallmarks of a good rom-com set on the backdrop of the early 2000s and with Javier Peña. If you're like me and still trying to make your way through Narcos or haven't watched it yet - please don't let it stop you, you won't be sorry!

A Little FaceTime by @stardustandskycrystals I’m still thinking about this fic days later and may have gone back to read it again. Trust me, just read this - you don’t need an explanation or reason, just read it. Even if Javi isn’t your jam (wasn’t on my list before, that’s all changed now) - it won’t disappoint!

Things I’m Looking Forward to Starting…

Decoherence by @prolix-yuy Westworld and Jack ‘Agent Whiskey’ Daniels crossover, yes, please! It is also reminding me that I never finished season one and should do something about it…

Pleased to Meet You by @intheorangebedroom This is a constant on my dash and on my TBR pile for a while with so many good comments - also getting into my Frankie era, so it’s perfect timing!

The Pilot & His Girl by @avastrasposts Been waiting to savour this one! So you’ve got the Last of Us and you’ve got Triple Frontier, two of my favourite things… what happens when you mush them together? You get a wild ride through the outbreak with Frankie & Reader - I cannot wait to get into this!

Visiting by @ladamedusoif This is another regular on my dash and on my TBR that I’m hoping to get stuck into this week. A college AU of Mr. Ben from the SNL sketch. Fully fleshed out and on the backdrop of New England, I’m ready to get swept away with this promise of a slow burn.

The House by @gemmahale A Jack Daniels x OFC (Best Friend) series coming soon focusing on a long-lost friendship, an inheritance, and Jack sounding like the scallion he is? Cannot wait.

Posts I Enjoyed This Week…

@rhoorl’s announcement of their Triple Frontier AU, Delta Landscaping with mood board and logo! The residents of Tumblr won’t know what’s hit the neighbourhood when they roll into town! 

Thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey I will never look at baby hippos without thinking of Dieter Bravo

Everyone’s participation in the WIP poll tag game, it was so fun to see my dash just filled with so many creative people and so many amazing ideas! It was a neat peek into everyone’s draft folders!

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week…

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse - FINALLY got to see it this week, and it did not disappoint. Have not stopped thinking about it since!

My rom-com era has returned, and I’m deep into embracing my forgotten love of a good rom-com. So far this week it’s been The Lake House, You’ve Got Mail & Always Be My Baby. Also it gave way to a Keanu Reeves appreciation post, come share your favourite Keanu!

This Week’s Song… Went waaaayyyy back for this one, an amazing album too - the Sterephonics are one of my favourite bands of all time 🩶

Hope everyone has a great Sunday & here's to a new week!

Please feel free to share your own favourites from the week or what you're looking forward to this week - not a tag game, so no pressure for you to share if you're not feeling it ❤️ xx

[radiowallet]

Radiowallet's Masterlist

Hello All! Welcome to my masterlist! My name is Cat. I am but a humble little nerd just pushing my silly stories out into the world. Please come in, have a look around, and leave a reblog or a comment if you find something you like. This is an 18+ blog, so please minors, turn around and I’ll see you on the flip side. All smut will be denoted with * at the end!

Please always feel free to jump into my inbox! I'm harmless and stupid, like an overactive hamster! I am here for laughs and fun and any kind of clowning about you’re up for!

If you prefer reading on AO3 you can find my account here.

To receive notifications of any new writing I post, please follow me at my writing library @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

To learn more about my original writing, please follow me at @catepagewrites

Thank you for stopping by!

Sub-masterlists containing all writing related to the characters including multi-chapter fic, one-shots, drabbles, and extras.

Marcus Moreno

Din Djarin

Frankie Morales

Javi Gutierrez

Dieter Bravo

Ezra (Prospect)

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

Dave York

Bucky Barnes

Oberyn Martell

Joel Miller

Shortcuts to my multi-chapter fics and series. These stories also have links on the above character masterlists.

Like a River* - Marcus Moreno x F!Reader x Frankie Morales (on-going series)

Radiant* - Thief!Marcus Moreno AU (on-going, loose fit series)

A Good Man* - Western!Marcus Moreno AU (on-going series)

Tied* - Doctor!Din Djarin AU (on-going, loose fit series)

You Weren't Mine to Lose - Din Djarin x F!Reader (ongoing series)

To New Friends - Javi G. x F!Reader (slow burn, ongoing series)

First Assignment - Bucky Barnes x F!Reader (on hiatus)

To Sleep - A Moonknight drabble series (ongoing)

Meant to Be* - Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (Complete)

Eyes Open* - Marcus Moreno x OFC (Complete)

Pretend Alleyways* - Marcus Moreno x Dieter Bravo (on going)

Miscellaneous Character Drabbles

In the Middle of the Night - Selina Kyle x Batman (2022 The Batman)

You Know You Love Me - Max Phillips x F!Reader

I'm Going to Ruin You - Pero Tovar x F!Reader

I Can't Get Enough of You - Javier Peña x F!Reader

Iced Tea and Pink Skies - Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Fic Collections

300 Follower Celebration Prompts

500 Follower Celebration Prompts

31 Days for Marcus Moreno

Cat’s Horny Canapés

Kinktober 2022

MoodBoards

Pedro Character Assigned FOB songs Parts 1 2 3