wineandwhisky - Tumblr blog

[wineandwhisky]

I love you "boring" female characters. I love you ingenues. I love you female characters who aren't "modern" enough. I love you female characters who aren't "badass" enough. iI love you female characters who aren't "empowering" enough. I love you quiet female characters. I love you unappreciated female characters. I love you polite female characters. I love you female characters who "can't appeal to modern audiences." I love you frightened female characters. I love you female characters labeled as not complex just for being nice. I love you female characters who get criticism just for not being their tomboy or femme fatale counterpart. I love you silk hiding steel trope.

[wineandwhisky]

is this fic self-indulgent? yes. but what you're failing to consider is that I can write whatever I want so it's fine

[wineandwhisky]

Gasoline

( hitman!Billy, canon typical violence, blood, jealousy, possessive behavior (both Billy and reader), oral (f receiving), kissing, manhandling, explicit language, nsfw, minors DNI, f!reader )

548 words.

He stood there in his green sweater, and black combat boots, glaring at you, making your heart skip a beat.

Your secret lover had come to see you after a job.

He remembered feeling adrenaline as he killed the opposing senator to another. Billy didn’t give a shit what side of the aisle someone was on, just the money. And as he slammed the knife into his back over and over, listening to him choke on his own blood, he was thinking of you. Feeling aroused and keyed up after a hit made him decide to pay you a visit.

Your sweetness, and tenderness always drew him in.

“Are you screwing him?” Billy asked hotly now, breath blowing across your face, eyes burning into yours as you both stood in your dining room in front of the window, the last dredges of winter on your lawn.

Your heart jumped knowing Billy was a professional hit man. The thought of him taking his jealousy out on your neighbor was wrong, but god it made you press your thighs together, feeling an ache, as you soaked yourself.

The thought of him fucking you in a pool of blood. You’d always been attracted to things of the dark, and Billy was no exception. You were sure you were going to be a butterfly he ripped the wings off of.

“No, he’s just being nice.” You said sweetly about your neighbor offering to help with your garbage, and Billy had seen the way you giggled at whatever the guy said, and how he’d looked down your dress. You gasped as Billy lifted you onto the table, a dark look on his face.

“You’re so goddamn naive, daisy, he wants to get in your pants.” He husked dodging your hand, but you grabbed a fistful of his hair, bringing his lips to yours, tasting the hot coffee you’d given him when he’d first appeared early this morning.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip, before he let go, fingers bunching up your pretty spring dress with daisies on it, pushing you back roughly. His manhandling of you made you clench around nothing.

“Billy, people will see.” You whined, fingers going to his hair, as he settled between your thighs, looking like he was sitting down to a feast, yanking your hips to the edge of the table, and yanking your panties down.

“That’s the point, daisy.” He growled seeing your glistening cunt, before burying his face into your wet heat, his tongue pressing against your clit, making you arch into his mouth, your fingers pulling so hard on his hair, he thought you were gonna pull it out. You’d always been sensitive.

You looked out the window, cheeks warm, and legs parted for Billy on your table, your straps slipping down yours arms; and found your neighbor watching with clenched teeth, clenching a slightly crushed beer can in his hand, and all you could think was you prayed Billy wouldn’t stop, as your thighs closed around his ears.

“This pussy’s mine. No one gets to taste it but me.” Billy said, teeth dragging across your clit, calloused fingers digging into your thighs.

“Your cock is mine.” You shot back, squealing when he spanked your cunt.

You were ruined, but didn’t you love it?

&&&&

Tags; @danzer8705

[wineandwhisky]

sometimes all you can do is lay under 3 large blankets while holding onto a stuffed animal

[wineandwhisky]

love when cats hear that you've woken up even just a little bit and they're like hiiiiiii oh my god oh my god!!!!! i wrote some poems in the night let me recite them for you. this one is called: screaming and knocking your water bottle off your nightstand

[wineandwhisky]

Look at this kitty ♡

[wineandwhisky]

A Deal With God #2

Part one, here.

( roommates au, vaginal fingering, angst, teasing, kissing, nudity, nsfw 18+!, reader grew up catholic, explicit language, implied drinking, mean!Billy, f!reader )

626 words.

You found yourself in the bathroom, as your roommate instructed you to strip. “Get undressed, sweetheart.” Billy husked, making you press your thighs together.

You were caught in the rain on the way home from work on your bike. "Don't wanna catch a cold," Billy had said. You peeled off your wet clothes, shyly, feeling them cling to your skin.

He got the tub filled with hot water, leaning over and testing it, “Get in, baby.” He told you once he was satisfied with the temperature, and turned to you. Your cheeks grew hot at your nakedness, so you scurried past him and climbed in.

He kissed the top of your head, fingers trailing down your spine. “Get your loofah soaped up.” He said, voice sounding rougher.

Excitement tightened in your gut as you squeezed some of his body wash onto the loofah, and his eyes darkened.

“You’re gonna wash up for me.” He said, kissing below your ear.

You shakily started rubbing your shoulders, hyper aware of his eyes on you as he leaned against the bathroom countertop, in a tight maroon sweater, and dark jeans.

You were no longer cold from the rain, but warm both from the water and his gaze.

You peeked at him as you moved to your breasts. His eyes were pitch black, not taking them off you as you scrubbed your breasts, your nipples pert, letting your hands stroke your breasts.

You wanted his hands on you, but at least you’d smell like him.

You moaned, fingers tweaking your nipples. You’d never fully explored yourself growing up in a catholic home. And doing so now in front of Billy was a thrill.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart.” Billy hummed, leaning over you and planting kisses down your shoulders and back. “Can’t wait to worship between those pretty thighs.” His nails trailed fire down your spine, and you arched, whimpering.

And then you were moving between your thighs, whining as the loofah touched your pussy, and his nostrils flared, looking over your shoulder. “You’re only gonna clean up. Makin’ you cum is my job.” He said, voice thick with desire.

“Billy—“ you said, squeezing your thighs around the loofah, and rubbing on it.

He kissed your mouth, his fingers pulling your hair, his other hand replacing the loofah, long fingers pinching your bud and pulling.

You cried out into his mouth, tasting whiskey on his tongue. “You’re a spoiled girl, aren’t you? Can’t follow instructions, dumb little bunny.” Billy purred against your mouth.

You undulated your hips against his hand, chasing his mouth. “You’re lucky I love you, bunny.” He said, scissoring his fingers inside you.

Your heart leapt at the implication of his words. Maybe he’d just been in the moment.

You whined, and he laughed. “I don’t think there’s a thought in your head, right now, is there?”

“Don’t be mean, Billy.” You pouted.

He hummed. “I’m sorry, bunny.” He said, not sounding sorry at all. He kissed you again, the water splashing with how hard he was fingering you.

“I think you like to play the part of a good girl just to rile me up.” He said, pulling back just as you were about to cum, and pulling his fingers away.

You pouted, “I’m a good girl. Honest.”

“Do good girls tease their roommates by touchin’ themselves?” He asked, grabbing a towel. “Get out, bunny. I’ll eat your pussy.”

“Thought I was a bad bunny?” You teased sassily, draining the tub.

Billy chuckled. “I like spoilin’ you.”

You let him dry you off, enjoying the sweet torture of the soft towel on your body.

You loved him, and it scared you knowing he wasn’t the settling down type.

But you’d enjoy him as long as you could.

[wineandwhisky]

“It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.” - Sylvia Plath

[wineandwhisky]

No rest for the wicked.

( no warnings, fluff. )

Drinking some wine the night before Thanksgiving and I got inspired by this. And I posted this on my side blog earlier without realizing. Fuck. It was supposed to be here. Oh well. I fixed it.

A microfiction.

++++

He felt your gaze on him while he worked on paperwork—bureaucratic bullshit—for Anvil. He hated it, but it was a necessary evil. He looked over at you, and you were peeking at him from the winged armchair, slouched in with your book between your arms, a cheeky smile on your face.

“You look like Scrooge, working hard even the night before Christmas as the candle burns down.” You said, pulling your dress up, it kept pooling at your feet. You’d kicked your heels off, toes hurting from being squished in them.

Billy huffed, “No rest for the wicked, as they say.” He said, smirking at you, admiring how pretty you looked in red.

You sipped from your wine glass, as the snow raged outside, rattling the windows, but you were warm by the fire. “As long as I get to cuddle with you, tonight.”

Billy hummed.

Later that night, you both laid side by side, your leg thrown over his hip, fingers tangled in his hair, stroking at the nape of his neck.

His eyes fluttered, feeling warm despite the storm. He felt comforted by your closeness. He tilted his head down to look at you lazily, while he stroked your hip. You were dozing contentedly, soothed by touching him—you always had to be touching, desperate for affection, having so little of it growing up in foster care.

And he was soothed by you after a lifetime of being unwanted, cast aside, chosen last. He yanked you closer, burying his face in your neck, before his body relaxed and gave into sleep.

Tag list;

@danzer8705

[wineandwhisky]

Routine

( established relationship, fluff, separation anxiety, loss of a parent, kissing, f!reader )

576 words.

You busied yourself, getting the bed ready for when Billy got home. Salem made putting on fresh sheets difficult as she climbed underneath laying there and chewing on a catnip mouse, looking frisky. She meowed angrily when you shooed her out, batting at you, and leaving scratch marks on your arms.

You fluffed the pillows and sighed exasperated when Salem stepped on them, kneading them, and trying to get them just right for her.

You gave up shooing her away, and put the duvet on next while she cleaned herself on the pillows.

You brushed your teeth, and dressed in one of his shirts, and your shorts for bed, and applied lotion. Billy’s lotion. You liked to smell like him, something that amused him.

It had become routine for you to wait for Billy to get off work, looking at your phone and then the door continuously as you sat on the couch, as though you could make him walk through the door with your will alone.

You always got like this, your stomach sick with separation anxiety, something you’d suffered with since your mother had died, leaving you alone in the world. But you pushed your feelings away, telling yourself Billy was okay, and resisting the urge to call him.

Salem had forgiven you and was curled up on your lap, snoozing while you petted her behind her ears, making her purr. You winced as her claws dug into your thigh as she kneaded.

And then, he came through the door, looking exhausted, as he set his keys in the bowl on the counter, and removed his coat. He looked at you as he kicked off his shoes by the door. “It’s late, sweetheart. You coulda gone to bed.” He said, as Salem jumped off your lap and stretched, before rubbing on Billy’s legs. His eye twitched at the amount of cat hair on his pant leg. You giggled, you couldn’t wait till he saw his pillows.

“I’m not tired.” But your yawn gave you away, making him raise an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe a little. But I can’t sleep without you. I’ve gotten used to your warm body behind my back.” You said, softly.

He grinned, “You’re so goddamn cute.” He said, leaning down and kissing your mouth. “Have I spoiled you?” He husked, pulling back and loosening his tie.

“Maybe.” You smiled coyly.

He smiled wryly, “C’mon then kitty, let’s go to bed.” He said, straightening up.

He undressed in the bedroom and you helped him, undoing his tie for him. He watched you, eyes hooded and content, as you moved to his belt. He was surprised he was simply content to let it go no further than trading kisses, before he pulled you onto the bed with him, and pressing up against your back.

Salem snoozed at the end of the bed, tail lazily flicking.

You sighed, finally giving into sleep, your body finally relaxing from all the anxiety. “Love you, Bill.” You slurred, touching his arm that was wrapped around your waist.

You said it every night as you went to sleep, never fussing that he hadn’t said it back.

Billy’s fingers tightened around your waist, kissing your neck, his beard tickling you, making you giggle sleepily. “Your beard tickles.” He chuckled and felt his stomach fluttering at your words.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get them out.

But for now he’d loved you silently.

[wineandwhisky]

[wineandwhisky]

THE PUNISHER 1.10 “Virtue of the Vicious”

[wineandwhisky]

“Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."

― Cyril Connolly

[wineandwhisky]

If you want to write a dumb little story with a dumb little plot and ridiculously silly characters. No one's stopping you. Genuinely, no one should be allowed to stop you. Write that dumb story with your whole heart and don't hold back.

[wineandwhisky]

Whisky | 34 | she/her | ao3

//Drabbles

Confessions

A Deal with God // #2

Routine

Gasoline

//Microfiction

No Rest For The Wicked.

Blood in the Water // II //

[wineandwhisky]

A Deal with God

( roommate au, roommates to lovers, sexual frustration, teasing, overstimulation, kissing, smoking, implied alcohol use, slight degradation, fluffy and slightly angsty ending, f!reader )

607 words.

“Billy,” you begged your roommate desperately, leaning back against the fire escape where anyone could see your undoing, a sweat breaking out despite the cold, every touch of the fabric of your clothes on your over sensitive body, had you keening.

You didn’t know when you had started this game with him, but god he liked to overstimulate you, until you were a mess begging for him, a babble of words.

And god, you wished you could do this forever. The only partner who had made you cum, multiple times.

He hummed, taking out a cigarette from his pack slowly. His lighter clicked, as he lit up, puffing on it, looking at you over the smoke with a raised eyebrow.

Goddamn, he looked so cruelly beautiful, so casual in his dominance, and his confidence had you squeezing your legs together.

He hummed again, and reached for his phone, and you thought there would be relief, but he increased the toy’s speed. You whined, gripping the edges of the fire escape, your knuckles turning white, the cold biting at your skin.

Billy Russo was going to kill you. You could see it now, a woman dies by orgasm, roommate suspected.

He leaned forward, kissing you, and you moaned into his mouth tasting Tennessee Honey and cigarettes, as he kicked your legs apart, touching you. His long fingers stroked your folds, making you whimper into his mouth. “Jesus, sweetheart. You’re soaked.” He groaned against your mouth. “Like the way your roommate teases you?” He hissed, fisting your hair, “You’re a little slut under all that lace.” He kissed you briefly, before saying, “Are you gonna have your pretty little orgasm for me?”

He yanked on your head when you didn’t answer, too lost in the pleasure. “God, yes. Please Billy.” You answered, not sure what you were pleading for, your jaw gripped by his hand. He watched you, as you squirmed helplessly against him, at his mercy.

He smiled, exhaling smoke away from you into the crisp night air. “Oh, pretty girl. I'm going to make you beg me to end you by the time I’m done with you.”

It didn’t make much sense, but you were too far gone to care.

x

Afterwards, you found yourself dozing in his arms on his bed, fingers playing with the hem of his sweater. You looked so vulnerable and sweet, and it made something squeeze in Billy’s chest as his nose brushed your hairline, and down your jaw.

You mumbled tiredly as he pressed his mouth to yours, lazily kissing you. “You’re my best girl, you know that?” He husked, pulling back spit following.

You blinked up at him tiredly. “You’re my best guy.” You replied, wiping your eyes.

Billy laughed, “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wanna, like being warm in your arms.” You said softly, fingers tightening in his sweater.

Billy’s brow furrowed, many women had claimed to love him. And maybe some did. But something about you had him hung up on you, even though he pretended otherwise.

Maybe it was because you wanted him, and the boy in him who’d been abandoned, felt loved.

“We can tomorrow night, too.” He said.

“Wish we could do it forever.” You replied, pulling at a loose thread on his sweater.

“Why can’t we?” He asked, tilting his head to look down at you.

“A beautiful man like you won’t stay single forever.” You said, looking up at him, looking sweet, and honest. No deceptions would he find from you.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not the settling down type.” He kissed your mouth.

But god if he was, it’d be you.

[wineandwhisky]

Confessions

( bffs to lovers, cheating (Reader’s boyfriend), mutual pining, angst with a fluffy happy ending of sorts, Reader has been brought up catholic, hinted abuse from the boyfriend, f!reader )

744 words.

Feeling unknown

And you’re all alone

Flesh and bone by the telephone

Pick up the receiver, I’ll make you a believer

Take second best

Put me to the test

Things on your chest

You need to confess

I will deliver, you know I’m a forgiver

-Personal Jesus, Depeche Mode.

x

It’s three in the morning when Billy’s phone rings. His heart leaps into his chest when he realizes it’s you. When he answers, he can tell you’ve been crying. “Billy?” You ask, voice watery.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks calmly, but tinged with a violent intent to hurt whatever has made you cry, to gut whoever it is, and he has an idea who it is.

The pause on the other end has him itching to demand you to speak, but he knows rushing you won't help. He hears your sharp intake of breath, the shake of your voice.

“I keep thinking about you, even though I’m with him, I’ve been dreaming about you.” You confess, shame coloring your tone.

Billy feels him grow excited that you’ve been dreaming about him, “What did you dream about, baby?” He husks. He knows your boyfriend is cheating. You know it, too. Billy doesn’t understand why you stay, other than catholic guilt. He’s spent so many nights letting you cry into his shoulder, lamenting how you’d caught your boyfriend fucking his secretary.

How many nights has he fantasized about making you his? Tasting you until you’re an overstimulated mess? The feel of your fingers tugging on his hair, and the feel of your thighs squeezing his ears?

Too many.

His desire for you scares him, because he knows if let’s it, it’ll consume him.

“He’ll never let me go.” You’d confessed once, while having a beer with him. You looked miserable as you peeled the paper off the bottle.

Billy’s fingers had tangled in your hair in a hard grip, making you look at him. “Then I’ll cut his fingers off so he can never touch you again.” He said, and god he meant it. He hated Carter. He was a rich, pretty boy, and an abuser.

Billy had never kept a woman, but he’d always let them know up front that he didn’t want a relationship with them. That it was all in fun.

But god, he wanted you.

You were surprised how unafraid you were, how his words excited you, as you pressed your thighs together, aching.

He noticed, eyes briefly watching you as he sipped his beer, almost tempting you to kiss him like you had that summer.

“About you teasing me, tasting me.” You say, your tears subsiding, he can hear the need in your voice.

Fuck, Billy thinks as palms himself, aching for you. “Is that all, baby?” He asks.

“You settled between my thighs, made love to me.” You whine softly, and he can imagine you pressing your legs together, like the time he caught you watching him and Frank topless one summer, fixing Frank’s truck. You’d been sitting on the porch with a lemonade watching Billy, the sweat glistening off his back. Frank might as well have not been there.

But he always watched you too, in those pretty sundresses or short shorts. He remembered sharing strawberries with you at a picnic, tasting them in your mouth. You’d felt ashamed then, you were with your boyfriend. But you couldn’t stop tasting Billy’s mouth too, both of you content to lay on the blanket, kissing.

For a while, he was wanted.

“Yeah? Is that what you want, baby? For me to make love to you?” He’d always hated the term, but it’s different with you. It always has been.

He can hear noise as you shift on your chair, “Yes. I want to be your good girl.” You tell him.

Billy groans audibly. “Good girls don’t tease their best friend.” He says, thinking of all the ways he could punish you, for your pleasure and his.

“I want you so bad, Bill. I want to be yours.” You sigh dreamily.

“Then leave him, and be mine.” Billy says darkly, making you whine low again, you can imagine his eyes dark and intense.

“Will you be mine, too?” You ask, shyly.

“Yeah, baby. I’m yours.” He’s never wanted to belong to anyone, but he realizes he wants to belong to you.

You let out another shaky breath, “Come take me away then.”

Billy stands up from his bed, “I’m on my way.”