#a good old-fashioned cowboy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onmyyan · 1 year

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Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

A/N: here comes the boy NOT EDITED

TW'S: FEM READER, YANDERE, STALKING, MANIPULATION, MURDER, MENTION OF PIGS EATING CORPSES NOT GRAPHIC 👁️👄👁️, READER GETS CALLED PRETTY GIRL

Ashley Hunt HC's

The idealized western cowboy in a modern man's body.

6'6 and wide as a barn, Ashley is an old-fashioned type of beautiful, looks like someone straight out of an Old Western.

His sandy hair has a habit of falling in his eyes when he's working so he often wears a brown leather hat he'd gotten from his Father to prevent this.

He has this habit when he's thinking where he plays with his lips, it's very distracting.

Smells and looks like he's just come running from somewhere- never unpleasant though, it's a mix of sweat and the country air.

Always has that saccharine smile on his handsome face.

Has a loud, goofy laugh, his eyes light up when he does it and his nose scrunches in the cutest way.

He's polite to everyone he meets but he is far from a pushover.

Hates bullies of any kind. Takes on the hero role whenever he's confronted with injustice.

If he sees something wrong he can't just sit by and not do something.

Which isn't hard considering this big mf hauls farm equipment around for a living, he's had to wrestle rowdy bulls into their pens before, he can take another person down easily.

Holds the door open for you every time. Don't even think about touching that handle.

His go-to look is a pair of denim Levi jeans (man's got serious cake when he's working all the strong muscles in his thighs bulge), a white tank that sits on his flesh like a second skin, if it isn't too hot he'll throw on a flannel.

Got a BAMF belt buckle as a gag gift one year but he unironically loves it.

Does this thing where he stands at his full height, stares down at you, his hat casting a dark shadow over his heated stare, both of his big, strong hands rested comfortably on the buckle, it made your knees weak every time.

Knows you have a thing for his voice so he likes to come up from behind and gently kiss just below your ear,

"Hey there Sugar Bear."

All his clothes look well-loved and worn, he don't care much for how he looks, which is ironic since the whole town calls him a pretty boy.

Looks like someone pulled him straight out of one of those sexy country man calendars.

He's a pretty confident guy, except when it comes to you, of course, then he turns into a bumbling teenager trying to talk to his crush without fumbling over his words.

Gets all red and blushy when you call him pretty. Literally has to fan himself with his hat.

You like to randomly shower him with compliments and he gets so flustered he has to stop what he's doing to kiss you.

"Good lord woman yer gonna' put me in an early grave."

For a while, you had to avoid the friendly farmer because the mere sight of him hauling hundred-pound stacks of hay like they weighed nothing had you feeling some not-so-platonic things.

Has you sweating like a sinner in church just from one well-timed boyish smile.

His wavy locks are a few different shades of dirty blonde, he's almost always wearing his hat in an effort to keep his bangs outta his eyes,

The times he took the damn thing off were your favorite cuz the way his hair fell around his face, framing it beautifully, you could really see all of his marble-carved features.

Takes his hat off inside, of course, his mama raised him right.

Works on his family's farm, he grew up working the fields with his Pa so hard work is in his blood.

When he starts something he finishes it. No matter what.

That includes pursuing you as his one and only.

Sun-kissed skin from being outside all day.

He can play the acoustic guitar and loves to sing to himself during his free time.

Voice is deep and warm.

Really good at puzzles.

Loves the idea of a big family but at the same time is so possessive of you and your attention that he battles with the idea.

Likes to draw for fun, mostly sketches and stuff is really good at it.

He likes to sketch you most of all.

Has dozens upon dozens of journals filled with your visage, he doesn't think he can ever truly capture your beauty.

Really self-sufficient if something breaks down in your house and you don't wanna spend a fortune calling some company, you called Ashley Hunt, and he never asked for anything in return either.

Whenever he goes to town people always stop him for something, be it for his help or to give him some goods as thanks, he never leaves empty-handed.

The whole town just adores him, so much so that if you ever tried to run from him, try to use the townsfolk to hide, they'd lure you into a false sense of security, convincing you they'd drive you outta town, only to hand deliver you back to Ash.

He's a protective/possessive/worshiper kinda Yandere.

The first time you meet you're just moving into your Gran's old farmhouse, he knows your Grandma well as she's the closest neighbor to his Farm, he'd been regularly helping her out with household chores or busy work whenever she asked.

The day he sees you hop out of her pick-up, he swore his heart skipped seven different beats.

Your delicious-looking form was clad in these little shorts, no doubt trying to combat that county heat. The black t-shirt you had on was rolled up at the sleeves showing off your arms, he watched them flex as you hauled a box over your shoulder like it was nothing.

His throat goes dry, sweat begins beading at his temple, and it's not the 90-degree weather, you helped your grandmother out of the car with a graceful smile and a certain kind of sweetness, the sight had a swarm of butterflies going wild in his belly.

He saw the remaining boxes stacked in the back of the truck and knew he'd found his ticket in.

You'd come back outside to the towering man at the edge of the yard, hat in hand, he'd shoot you that star-studded smile, voice sounding like melted butter.

"Hello there Miss, my name's Ashley Hunt, I'm your next-door neighbor, I just came on by to check if y'all needed a hand." He gestured towards the truck with his hat.

Then you had the nerve to shoot him that damned smile, so bright and full of life it nearly knocked him out of his socks.

He spends the rest of the day helping you move in, the conversation flowing so easily by the time you two stopped talking it was well past midnight.

He learned so much about you, just from this one convo he knows everything he needs to about you.

And you're perfect.

"I sure am sorry for keeping you up so late sweetheart." Running his hands through his hair he couldn't keep his eyes off you.

He watched you visibly light up at the pet name and couldn't fight the smirk pulling at his lips.

"Don't worry about it! I was having so much fun- again thank you so much for all your help today." You looked so sweet standing there next to him, he was a good head or so taller than you, you looked up at him with those beautiful (e/c) eyes and he had to fight the strong urge to hold you against his chest.

Knows from that night alone you're his Darling.

It's inevitable you spend time with him, as he was your closest neighbor.

He finds any and all excuses to come over in the beginning.

"This floorboard feels a little loose, I'll come by later n' fix her up."

"That window feels a bit drafty hun, why don't I get a handle on that."

Eventually, he runs out of stuff to repair and builds the courage to just ask you out for a romantic dinner at his place. He doesn't cook anything fancy, but it does taste good a real homemade meal.

He thinks long and hard about how to show you he's the one and comes up with a teeth-rottingly cute idea.

Leads you by a gentle hand out to his field where he'd prepared a soft blanket and several throw pillows, fairy lights were strung up on the fence nearest, casting a warm glow on the scene.

After you spend hours talking and giggling, you lay back against the soft blanket and stare up at the clear sky.

Well, you were busy with the stars, he was busy staring at you.

"Ain't you a pretty picture."

That night after he walks you home, just before you turn to say goodnight, cups your face in one hand, "Can I kiss you pretty girl?" And when you breathlessly nod yes, he brings his other hand to the back of your neck and softly pulls you the rest of the way in.

He kisses you the same way soldiers kiss their wives before war, takes the breath outta you both.

Loves when you do anything domestic if you cook at his place or oh my god for him? He's whipping out the ring before the plates are clear.

Or when you stay the night for the first time, he's immediately addicted to the way you feel in his arms, and literally cannot sleep without you by his side look what you've done.

His morning voice is to die for.

"G'mornin' pumpkin." He has the biggest grin on his face when he wakes up, likes to trace his fingers on your bare skin.

You put his hat on once as a goof but he freezes in place, his face is beet red and his breath gets all heavy.

"Don't move a muscle Darlin'- lemme get a good look at ya'."

"Mm mm mm- now that's a sight a man could get used to."

Sleeps naked, if you're uncomfortable with it he'd throw on some boxers but that's it.

Runs too hot for much else.

Sleeps on his stomach and likes to stare at you when he does it.

Hold his hand and he will giggle like a little kid.

He's a lot smarter than he looks so his Yandere tendencies are easy to hide.

"C'mere sweetheart, don't think we're leaving the bed yet."

He's slowly getting you used to the idea of being his housewife, just wants to take care of you.

Like I said before he's beloved by the entire town so if anyone ever tried something with you he didn't approve of (smile at you a little too hard, make you laugh, get too close for his liking) all he's gotta do is give em' that look and if they're smart enough they back right on off.

However if their self-preservation doesn't kick in at that murderous glare, he gives em' one and only one warning to stay away from what was his. It's only polite.

If they did, Ashley would be all smiles and buddy-buddy. You'd never even know something was wrong.

If they don't back down though, well that's what he keeps pigs for.

Did you know pigs can eat a whole body in like three hours? Cuz Ashley knows.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x y/n #Ashley Hunt oc #my oc #yandere oc #yandere oc x y/n #Ashley Hunt #yandere oc hc's #onmyyan

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avastrasposts · 3 months

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A Baker's Dozen - Eight

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Pedro boy number eight is ready to swagger into the bakery and I've only got four more weeks of this! I realised the very final chapter would be posted on February 12th so lets delay it by two days and end this on Valentine's Day, seeing as this is the fluffiest, most romantic thing I've ever written. Feels very appropriate to end it with my favourite Pedro boy on Valentine's Day. 🥰

This chapter is dedicated to my lovely, sweet friend @ladybess-a03 who, in my world, is this Pedro boy's beautiful wife.

Series Master List

“Is the rodeo in town?” the kid who works extra over the weekends in the bakery asks, raising their eyebrows and nodding towards the window. You look over and catch a glimpse of the man striding across the street. The comment is pretty accurate, he certainly looks like a cowboy; a slick cowboy dressed up for the city in a well tailored suit that hugs his narrow hips and wide shoulders, topped off with a black Stetson and suede shoulder patches.

“Pretty good looking cowboy,” you say and the kid snorts, hanging their apron on the hook and giving you a quick wave goodbye. The cowboy reaches the bakery door and holds open the door for them before he steps inside.

“Afternoon, miss,” he says, greeting you with a polite tip of his Stetson, two fingers on the brim, as he saunters up to the counter, his lips quirking up in a smile.

“Afternoon, sir,” you reply, returning his polite greeting with a smile of your own. Internally you’re swooning and giggling, there’s a smoothness to the man that makes you want to twirl your imaginary braid and kick your heels.

“Sir,” he says, chuckling as he puts one hand on the counter, the other on his hip, pushing back his jacket and revealing a large belt buckle in the shape of a hip flask, “makes me feel about a hundred, darlin’. Call me Jack.” He offers you his hand, dwarfing your own as you shake it.

“Alright, how can I help you, Jack?” you ask as the warmth of his hand lingers on yours.

“Pie, sugar, I’m in a real mood for some pie,” he says, patting his belly with a grin, “And I heard you might be the best baker in town so I had to see for myself,” he winks, “if the rumors are true.”

“I don’t know about best baker in town,” you smile back, “but thanks for the vote of confidence. What kind of pie are you in the mood for?”

“Well, I’m an old fashioned cowboy, southern born and bred, so I doubt you’ll be surprised when you hear that I’d love some pecan pie, sugar,” he says, pointing to the one pecan pie you have in your display.

“Not old fashioned,” you say, crouching down to slide the pie out, “but maybe traditional. And it’s a great pie,” you put it on the counter and Jack chuckles.

“Honey, I’m anything but traditional, but I have a soft spot for pecan pie,” he says, putting an arm up on the display case and leaning in, his mouth pulling up in a crooked grin, “Sweet pecan pie, and sweet bakers,” he winks at you again and you feel your cheeks heat up and busy yourself adjusting the pie on the counter, trying to bite back the grin that’s threatening to split your face in half before you look up at the smiling cowboy again, his dark eyes twinkling under the brim of his Stetson.

“Would you like the whole thing, or just a slice?” you ask and Jack grins.

“Oh, sugar, I want the whole damn thing,” he replies and you swallow loudly. He keeps his eyes on you as you squirm under his gaze, your cheeks burning up as you quickly duck under the counter and grab one of the take away boxes. You’ve never met a man who so shamelessly flirts with anyone and you hear him chuckle as you look for the right sized box.

Jack is still smiling as you pop back up and start folding the flat cardboard, butterflies fluttering in your stomach under his gaze.

“This pie sure smells wonderful, darlin’,” he says, leaning in closer and drawing a deep breath, his arm still on the display case as he puts a hand on his waist, but he’s got his eyes on you, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile under his neat mustache.

“I hope it’ll taste as good as it smells then,” you reply, just to reply something. His over the top charm shouldn’t be getting to you so easily, but you’re practically a puddle at this point, any coherent sentence from you is a win and Jack seems to notice your reaction to his flirting and clearly loves how he’s getting to you, judging by the size of his grin.

“I’m absolutely certain it will be every bit as sweet as you, sugar,” he purrs, his hand coming up to rub over his smooth jaw.

You manage to slide the pie into the box and close the lid, pushing it over the counter to Jack, giving him a flustered smile.

“Here you go then, enjoy,” you say, “Please let me know what you think, if you’re passing by again.”

“And what do I owe you, honey?” he asks, reaching back and pulling out a slim black wallet from his pocket.

“Uh…umm…” you stutter, the prices, that are usually seared into your brain, have wandered off under the onslaught of Jack’s charm and you fumble for the price list next to the till, “Twenty-four, ninety-nine,” you finally get out and Jack pulls out two twenties and hands them over.

“Keep the change, sugar, you’re undercharging for both the pie and the company,” he says, grinning as he winks at you again.

“Oh thank you, sir-Jack,” you reply, “but that’s really not necessary.”

“I know, but I want to,” he smiles, softer this time, “And I’ll be sure to let you know how much I like it,” He slides a hand under the box, carefully lifting it up as he tips his hat at you, two fingers on the brim again.

“Have a good evening, darlin’,”

“Same to you Jack, enjoy the pie.”

“Oh, I will, I’m sure,” Jack grins, pushing the door open, letting a new customer in.

“Ma’am,” he says, giving her a tip of his hat before he disappears with a final smile at you.

“What a handsome man,” Mrs Morales says as she comes up to the counter, “and such good manners.”

“He was very well mannered,” you smile at her as she comes up to the counter, “What can I get for you today, Mrs Morales?”

…

When the doorbell jingles in the middle of the morning a few days later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Jack’s smiling face above the small crowd of customers. He gives you a two fingered salute, tipping his hat, before he sits down at one of the café tables to wait. The crowd slowly thins out and eventually it’s Jack’s turn, and you notice that he’s choosing to wait until he can be served by you and not your shop assistant.

“Hi Jack,” you smile at him as he comes over. He’s opted for a more casual look today you notice, a black leather jacket and white t-shirt instead of his slick suit, but the Stetson is still on his head as he gives you a crooked grin.

“Hi there, sugar,” he drawls, his southern twang even more pronounced, “you’re looking real gorgeous today, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He winks as he leans on the counter, giving you his most winning smile and you can practically hear the eye roll from your assistant down by the till.

“Thanks, you’re not looking to shabby yourself,” you smile back at him and he puffs his chest, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“How was the pecan pie?” you ask and Jack grins widely.

“Just as sweet as the gorgeous baker girl who made it,” he croons, “I may have eaten the whole thing already.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” you smile, your cheeks heating up at his praise and Jack chuckles, taking off his Stetson and fanning you with it.

“Is it hot in here, darlin’, or is my praise heating you up there?”

“Oh shut up,” you reply, trying to give him a scowl but failing as he runs his free hand through his dark hair, smoothing out the unruly locks that have been hidden under his hat, before he puts it back on. The simple action shouldn’t make a shiver run down your spine but you feel your mind go temporarily blank as he adjusts the brim to his liking. As he cocks his head and gives you a playful smirk, the corner of his lip curling up, you try to snap out of it.

“So what can I do for you today, Jack?”

“How about another pecan pie, darlin’?” he asks, glancing over the display cases and spotting the one you made this morning.

“Another one?”

“What can I say, your pie is calling my name, sugar,” he grins and winks at you, hooking his thumb into the pocket of his tight jeans.

“I’ll make sure to keep making it for you then, Jack,” you giggle and slide the fresh pecan pie from the shelf and into a carton.

“I’ll be a steady customer for sure,” he says and reaches back for his wallet, handing you his card with a smile, “no other bakery has better pecan pie.” You fight the grin on your face as you charge his card and go to hand it back to him, but he gently takes your hand instead, pulling you closer to him over the counter, “And the most gorgeous baker to make them,” he whispers, his low voice rich and warm as you feel his warm breath slip over your cheek.

He gives you a wink and lets go of your hand, stepping back from the counter and letting the next customer step forward as he tips his hat to you.

“What a charmer,” Mrs Levinson says, pulling your attention away from Jack as she puts her handbag on the counter. “But I always preferred a man in a suit, and a bit less forward if I may say so.” She wrinkles her nose at you, dismissing Jack as you try to stifle a giggle.

“I think he was just the right amount of forward, Mrs Levinson,” you reply with a smile, “Would you like your usual order today?”

“Yes please, dear. But add one of those Lemon Meringue Pies please. I’m going over to Mrs York’s place later,” she adds the last part with a sigh. “So sad, her son and his wife have just split up, they have two such beautiful daughters.”

“Didn’t they divorce last spring, Mrs Levinson?”

“Yes, at Easter, but he’s still single and she’s found some new man,” Mrs Levinson shakes her head as you place the pie next to her usual bread order, “he’s such a handsome boy, always wears a suit too, he’d be a real catch for you, my dear.”

“I’ve got plenty on my plate already, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, thinking of Jack’s flirting and tight jeans, “I just don’t have time for any more right now.”

“You have to let yourself have some fun too, can’t be all work,” the old lady scolds you mildly as you hand her the change and she puts everything away. “I’ll tell Mrs York to send him here for some time soon, I’m sure you’d like him.” She gives you a cheeky wink and waves goodbye, letting the next customer in line step up.

The next time Jack comes by the bakery, he’s back in his sharp suit, and tips his Stetson at you with a wink as he comes up to the counter.

“Seeing as I was found lacking last time, I thought it best to suit up,” he chuckles and you can’t help but roll your eyes as you laugh.

“Mrs Levinson has a sharp eye for handsome men, but might be a little bit old fashioned,” you reply, “But I do like your suit, it’s very ‘you’, Jack.”

“Thank you, sugar, I do like to dress the part for work,” he straightens his impeccable hat again.

“So what brings you back here, Jack? You can’t possibly have eaten two whole pecan pies in just a few days?”

“I certainly could’ve,” he chuckles, patting down the front of his suit jacket, “but I was kind enough to share it with my colleagues and told them you have the best pie in town, and I think you might be getting more customers soon.”

“That’s very nice of you, and thanks for the recommendation”, you smile, but Jack shakes his head.

“Only telling the truth, sugar,” he winks, “and I’ve promised them to bring another pie tomorrow so could I trouble you?”

“Of course, I’ve been making extra just for you, Jack” you smile and Jack’s face lights up, a wide grin making a dimple appear in his cheek as he rubs a hand over his neat mustache.

“Honey, you’re spoiling me rotten, how can I ever repay you?”

“Well, I’d say twenty-four, ninety-nine, but this one’s on the house,” you scoot the box with the pie over the counter towards Jack who’s furiously shaking his head.

“You know I can’t accept that, sugar. You’re already undercharging as it is,” he says, pulling out his wallet from inside his suit jacket as you raise your hand to stop him.

“Jack, if you pull out that wallet any further I’ll have to ban you from the bakery, it’s on the house.”

Jack’s eyes go wide, “You wouldn’t?” he exclaims with mock horror as you nod emphatically.

“Oh I would, Jack,” you grin, pointing to the door, “Now take your pie and leave that wallet in your pocket.”

Jack shakes his head as he picks up the pie box, “I’ll pay you somehow, sugar, but thank you very much for the pie.”

“You’re very welcome, Jack,” you smile at him as he carefully brings two fingers to the brim of his Stetson and gives you a nod.

“‘Till next time, darlin’.”

You do sell a couple of more pecan pies over the next few days and you wonder if your new customers are Jack’s colleagues as you add extra pecans to your online grocery order. Thanks to Jack you’ve gone through your stores of pecans in record time, and as you tap your pen on your notebook you toy with the idea of making variations of it for Jack to try. The jingle of the bell above the bakery door pulls you out of your thoughts and you look up. Your heart skips a little beat when you recognise the black Stetson.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Jack calls to you as he spots you in the kitchen, “I’m not too late am I?”

“Not at all, I’m closing in about five minutes, I’m just ordering next week’s groceries,” you wave him in behind the counter and he comes to the door into your kitchen, putting an arm up over his head as he leans on the frame.

“More pecans?” he winks and you laugh.

“How did you know? I’m running low on them, someone keeps buying all my pies.”

“A few of my colleagues said they’ve stopped by and bought a couple of pies,” he says as you try to discreetly glance at his tall frame as he leans against the door post. He’s back in his white t-shirt and black leather jacket this evening, and the way the shirt rides up over the edge of his tight jeans as he stretches his arm, a sliver of tanned skin peeking out, has your mind going blank.

“Oh, y-yeah,” you stutter as your brain slowly comes back online, “A very nice woman with short black hair and glasses came in and bought one, but it was busy and I didn’t get a chance to ask if she worked with you.”

“Ginger,” Jack smiles, “she’s the one who asked me where I got it. Tried telling her I made it myself but, funnily, she didn’t buy it,” he chuckles and comes into the kitchen, leaning over your shoulder to look down at your notes, “What are you working on there, sugar?”

“I was thinking of making some variations of the pie,” you say, “maybe one with a hint of lemon, or a bourbon chocolate one?”

“Now you’re talking my kind of language, sugar,” Jack grins, tapping the ridiculously large belt buckle in the shape of a hip flask that sits on his belt.

“Don’t tell me you actually have bourbon in that?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up and Jack nods and grins.

“Of course, sugar! Never know when I might need a shot,” he laughs, unclipping the hip flask from his belt and flipping open the top, holding out for you to smell. The rich, warm aroma of the bourbon wafts up and you inhale deeply. “That smells so good, Jack, it’s giving me ideas!”

“What kinds of ideas, sugar?” Jack drawls, winking at you as he leans on your workbench, his eyes suddenly level with yours, all chocolate brown and warm. Your cheeks heat up as he takes a swig from the hip flask, his eyes never leaving yours, and then offers it to you.

“Baking ideas,” you force out, almost jumping out of your skin as his fingers slip over your hand when you take the flask from him. The warm whiskey goes down smooth and warm, heating you up from the inside as it lands in your belly, and your eyes come back to Jack’s. He’s looking at you with a smile, one corner of his mouth pulled up as he takes the flask back from you.

“Are you making me a new pecan pie straight away, honey? Because I absolutely have room for dessert…” he trails off with a quirk of his eye brows. You bite down on your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot, little hot sparks are erupting in your stomach and they have nothing to do with the bourbon. Jack runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of his lip, catching an errant drop of whiskey and you follow the movement with your eyes, his plush bottom lip disappearing for a moment as he sucks it in, wetting it.

“Cream!” you blurt out.

Jack raises his eyebrows questioningly, “Cream?” The tone of his voice has dropped about an octave and there’s no mistaking the suggestion in his voice.

“No! Yes! I-I mean, whipped cream, with bourbon, for the pie,” you flounder, pointing to Jack’s hip flask as his smile widens.

“That sounds like the most perfect addition to your pie, sugar. Right now?”

“Yeah, if I can use a few tablespoons of your whiskey?”

“You can have whatever you want, darlin’,” Jack replies, unclipping the bottle again and handing it to you.

“Grab the pie from the display case,” you tell him as you open the fridge to pull out the whipping cream. You hear Jack go back to the front and bring the pie back to the workbench, as you pull out a hand mixer and a bowl, he shrugs out of his leather jacket and hangs it on the back of your chair before he comes back to the table. The white t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders as he leans on the workbench next to you.

“So I finally get to see you in action,” he says as you measure out two tablespoons of whiskey from his flask before handing it back to him.

“For about the two minutes it’s going to take to make this,” you smile and start the hand mixer. Jack grabs the bowl and holds it steady while you slowly start whipping the cream, adding powdered sugar as you go along with the whiskey. Soon the cream has transformed to pillowy clouds and you stop the mixer. You can smell the bourbon and so can Jack, he leans forward and inhales deeply.

“This smells gorgeous, sugar, just the thing for the pie I think.”

You giggle as he stands up again, a small dollop of cream clinging to the tip of his nose.

“You’ve got some cream on your nose there, Jack,” you smile and Jack laughs, going cross eyed as he tries to spot it. With a swipe of his finger he catches the dollop and puts his finger in his mouth.

“Mmm…delicious,” he says, grinning around his finger as you smile back at him, grabbing a couple of plates and a knife for cutting.

“Should be even better with the pie,” you say, giving Jack a generous slice and then cutting another one for yourself before spooning the bourbon infused cream next to both slices.

Jumping up on the workbench, you grab your plate as Jack takes a step closer, picking up his own piece. You swipe your finger through the cream on your plate, wanting to taste it without the pie first. But Jack beats you to it, his hand comes out and grabs your wrist, his calloused fingers closing gently around your soft skin as he pulls your hand to his lips. The wet heat of his mouth envelops your finger as he sucks it in, his tongue brushing over your digit, and you gasp.

The sensation of his tongue running along your finger shoots electricity through your body and you exhale sharply, your eyes locked on Jack’s mouth as he studies your reaction. As your eyes come back up to his he lets your finger slip from between his lips, leaning forward and capturing your chin with his hand. He pauses for a second, waiting for your permission, and as you lean into him, he presses a soft kiss to your mouth. A low groan slips from him and the taste of bourbon and cream fills your mouth as he tenderly dips his tongue in between your lips. Your hand comes up to his shoulder to brace yourself, his hot mouth on yours making your pulse rase. You lean into him, needing to taste more of his mouth and his arm comes around your waist, pulling you close.

“You taste even better than the pie, sugar,” Jack mumbles against your mouth, cupping your cheek with his large hand as you chase his lips.

“You too, Jack,” you moan, letting him angle your face so that he can deepen the kiss, fervently licking into your mouth as he pulls you closer to his chest, your legs wrapped around his waist where he stands between them. His body is warm through the cotton of his t-shirt, his muscles moving under your palms as you explore the planes of his back. Jack lets his mustache tickle across your cheek, your jawline, as he slowly moves his lips with small, wet kisses, along your sensitive skin, trailing a path down your neck. His dark hair is thick and soft when you curl your fingers into the back of it, Jack tilting your head back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his nose buried in your hair.

“So sweet, darlin’,” he mutters, his voice muffled, “smells like butter and sugar.”

“Come up here and kiss my lips again, Jack,” you protest, tugging light at his hair and he chuckles, inhaling deeply.

“Anything for you, honey,” he replies, his big hand cupping the back of your head as he drags the cool tip of his nose up your neck and jaw, bumping against yours. When you lock eyes again he’s smiling softly, all the confident cockyness gone, replaced by warmth and affection. His lips part slowly as you pull him closer, his tongue teasing yours, making you lick into his mouth.

He hums softly, his hand caressing your back, finding the divot of your spin and trailing his fingers up and down. In the quiet kitchen all you can hear are his low groans and your own gasps as each kiss traces sparks along your nerves. Jack’s fingers press into your back as heat builds between you, his hips slowly grinding in a movement so unhurried it’s as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. When his warm palms find their way up under your shirt, rough calluses stroking gently over your curves, you lean back, pulling him with you until you're flat on your back, Jack leaning down over you.

“Gorgeous…” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck again, his hands pushing further up your shirt.

“Oh no!” he suddenly exclaims, lifting his head up from your throat and holding up his hand, covered in mushed up pecan pie.

“You’re on top of it, honey,” he laughs, helping you sit up, and you hear the plate clatter to the bench behind you. Now that you’re up, you can feel the stickiness against your back, and you twist, trying to see how much of a mess you’ve made.

“Is it all over my back?” you ask and Jack looks over your shoulder and nods.

“I’m afraid so, sugar, your shirts covered in it. Do you have something to change into?”

“No, I took everything home to wash yesterday,” you grumble, twisting your arm up behind your back and feeling the remains of the pie.

“Here,” Jack says, standing up straight and swiftly pulling his own t-shirt off, “I’ll wear just the jacket, you take my shirt.” He holds it out to you and you hesitate, temporarily mesmerized by the sudden sight of Jack’s bare chest, tan and smooth with a trail of dark hair disappearing into his jeans.

You swallow and pull your eyes up to his face again, “I can’t take your t-shirt, Jack.”

“Why not? Take it, I’ve got plenty more, and I kinda like the idea of you in my shirt,” he winks and takes a step closer again, making you grab his shirt as he bends and places a wet kiss on your lips, “And this way, I can come by your place and pick it up. Or leave another one.”

He grins as stands up again, “C’mon, sugar, take that one off and let me see you in mine.” He helps you by putting his hands back on your waist and pushing up under your ruined shirt. You peel it off gingerly, trying to avoid getting pie in your hair, and Jack’s eyes darken as you sit in front of him in just your bra.

“Want me to put it on straight away, Jack?” you tease him as you watch him take in your shape.

“No..but yeah, or we’re not leaving this bakery anytime soon, darlin’,” he chuckles, and you pull his t-shirt over your head as Jack sighs in mock disappointment. The soft cotton is still warm from his body and smells just like Jack, you have to inhale as it slips over your head. When you pop out from underneath it Jack is watching you with a small smile.

“Beautiful,” he says softly, his hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Do you want more pie, Jack?” you ask, pointing to the remaining pie and Jack’s eyebrows quirk up.

“What do you think, sugar?” he smirks and you laugh.

“I think you’ve got three empty pie forms at home and an extra hole in your belt.”

“Not yet, but soon,” he grins, patting his small belly, “C’mon, sugar, let me drive you, make sure my shirt gets to its new home safely.”

“I’ve got my own car, but thanks for the offer, Jack,” you smile at him and slip your arms around his neck again. “Come by soon, I’ll have more pie for you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar.”

Part Nine

This week's recipe comes courtesy of @goodwithcheese who shared her own Pecan Pie recipe with me! Thank you Megan!

Megan’s Pecan Pie 3 eggs ½ cup/100g sugar 1 cup/250 ml dark corn syrup 3 tablespoons melted butter 1 teaspoon vanilla ¼ teaspoon salt 2 cups/approx 250g chopped pecans Whisk together all ingredients except the pecans. Stir in the pecans and pour the mixture into an unbaked pie crust and bake for 40 minutes at 350F/175C.

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfic

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fluoresensitive · 3 months

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FLUORESENSITIVE TAGS' LIST, JANUARY 2024

sound and color: afro/slash hood futurism; missy elliot and sun-ra, janelle monae's archandroid and alice coltrane

i saw things i imagined: surrealism, color and texture, fantasy worlds

i am king: knights and quests, arthurian legends, joan of arc and brienne of tarth

the turning wheel: images n quotes that remind me of an ursula k le guin novel, images and quotes that remind me of spellling

dark and hungry roots: fae + goblins + creatures, they're in the woods and they want your name

she screams!: catch all horror tag, blood and guts and slashers

laughing before god does: a more specific gore and fleshy gross horror tag, inspired by cao hui

kate bush's wuthering heights: love so intense and passionate it extends beyond the grave; i hated him, i never loved him more; you want them dead, you want them beside you, you know,

one of those crazy girls: mad and bad women, women with murderous intent, final girls, whatever didn't kill her had better start running

ain't no grave: ghosts + hauntings + the absence of something is still a sort of presence

desperado: the yeehaw agenda, cowboys

age of pleasure: sensuality + black joy and pleasure

les fleurs: black girl cottagecore, flowers and frilly dresses, sunshine on brown skin

does the poison drip through?: family dynamics, siblings + parents + ancestral rot, you need a shovel to bury your brother, does your mother love you all the time

i who bend the tall grasses: angels and demons, religious ecstasy, a god who devours

fear not!: angels and saints, gabriel comes to you with a thousand eyes and a message

my skin my logo: black skin, brown skin, brown leather, black braids, black days! these are black owned things! black faith (can't be washed away, not even in that florida water!)

the black gothic: the hood, the church, and the holy grandmother's house. daughters of the dust and eve's bayou and the work of toni morrison, deana lawson and gordon parks

pure/honey: it's giving cunt, it's giving sex, it's giving ballroom and pearls, sequins and rhinestones, eleganza!

oh bondage up yours!: black punk + leather and studs

i been on: (tell me who gon take me off!) ostentatious displays of wealth, logomania + dapper dan, gold ass watch, gold ass rangs

not yet lost all our graces: succesion-core, old money, lace-edged socks and penny loafers, your daddy's rich and your ma's good-looking

this house is empty now: haunted houses + haunted places + empty houses

what the water gave me: mermaids, sirens, and things under the sea

put me back in it: tender, love and passion + sensuality + you're in love and you're gonna shout it from the roofs

geyser by mitski: longing, needing, yearning so hard it hurts your stomach and makes you ill

secret life of plants: nature tag!

commes de garcons: fashion tag, looks, i know that's not the french way to spell it.

the more general tags like 'on writing' and 'on horror' are pretty intuitive, but just in case.

on horror / on writing / on literature / on womanism / on blackness on sundays, she picked flowers / my writing /my mewdboards / my mixtapes / my collages / recs

#🦢#tags' list #save; reference

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determunition · 8 months

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sometimes you just have to put old people in the most bonkers fashion you can find on pinterest

p03's of course got a combination of corny tech aesthetics and cowboy vibes (as soon as i saw those CD pants i knew i had to put him in them); mag's got an eye-searing cosmic 80's-core thing going on, as he should; grimora's rife with goth/punk statement pieces that were equal parts fun and annoying to draw; and leshy is a goblincore nightmare

i hope you all enjoy gazing upon these fashion crimes as much as i enjoyed throwing them together lmao

(pinterest boards for poe, mag, grimora, and leshy are linked here if you'd like to see my references, pieces that didn't make the cut, and also a handful of cursed vibe pics thrown in for good measure)

#inscryption #retyrement au #p03 inscryption #magnificus inscryption #grimora inscryption #leshy inscryption #i've had the world's most cursed pinterest boards for these guys sitting around for too long #now we all suffer the consequences of my actions #you probably haven't seen the last of the pics on those boards either #if something didn't work out for these pieces i'd wager i'll find an excuse to draw it another time lmao

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dear-ao3 · 5 months

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who are the 20 f1 meow meows?

max verstappen (fast but an asshole on the track. lives in fear of his cats. winning everything.)

checo perez (might lose his spot. had two separate did not finishes in the same race. kissed another car at the hairpin)

sir lewis hamilton (fashion icon, classiest mother fucker you’ll ever see, knighted, just wants a comeback and to win his 8th world championship)

george russell (walking meme, looks like he belongs in the window of a tommy bahama, says crikey and blimey unironically, the most british person ever)

charles leclerc (the poorest little meow meow, is a millionaire but has a cracked back of his phone, either is fighting for the podium or crashes on the first lap, please dear god let this man win something he has the worst luck i’ve ever seen)

carlos sainz (smooth operator, dunks on everyone’s golf game especially landos, aparently doesn’t eat his pancakes with toppings, drives a volkswagen golf at least sometimes)

lando norris (usually getting told by carlos he sucks at golf, chronically online, has a blanket with george russell’s face on it, gets in trouble for being too sarcastic, please give him a win it’s been 5 years)

oscar piastri (has never once looked like he’s having a good time but almost did once while building a house of cards, hates horoscopes, almost got sued by alpine when he said he wasn’t signing with them after alpine announced he was signing with them, has an iconic mom)

fernando alonso (old man, retired and then came back for some reason, tad villain and he knows it, don’t mention taylor swift around him)

lance stroll (still waiting for his tennis career tbh, his dad bought aston martin to guarantee him a seat, rage monster)

esteban ocon (french, monster of a teammate aparently, once got beat up in the garage by max verstappen, besties with stroll and mick schumacher)

pierre gasley (also french, terrible awful haircut, did i mention he’s french, had his brain chemistry permanently altered by being teammates with yuki, photo dump king)

nico hulkenberg (looks like that one penguin with the weird hair from penguins of madagascar, dad, has raced in over 200 races and never been on the podium)

kevin magnussen (was kicked off haas because they wanted younger drivers only to reappear the next year after they fired one of the drivers for probably funding the russian ukrainian war, once fok smashed a door, has the cutest child)

valtteri bottas (unproblematic king, cyclist, makes his own alcohol, is ass out on netflix and has his own naked calendar called bott ass, mullet mustache man)

zhou guanyu (baby fashion icon, trying his best in a medium shit car, first chinese driver ever in f1)

daniel ricciardo (class clown, made the worst career mistake of leaving red bull and is now trying to get back in, from australia but is a texas cowboy, usually fucking shit up, just wants to tickle his scrotum and touch his nutsack)

yuki tsunoda (wants to chef, was forcibly moved to italy by his team cause he didn’t want to work out with his trainer, short king, usually gets sacrificed to the luck gods, cursed radios)

alex albon (so insanely barbie coded, filmed a cereve commercial in his hotel room with his girlfriend, definitely dyes his own hair with box dye, incredible oldest sibling energy, single-handedly carrying williams)

logan sargeant (what the fuck is a kilometer!!!! only american in f1, usually found in dead last or kissing walls, one of his essential items is heinz burger sauce, says mate with an american accent)

#f1 #not a tag #from saph #i need 1-3 business weeks to recover from vegas

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hypnoneghoul · 28 days

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Welcome to Sundown

WC: 2,6k

Relationship: Pre-relationship SwissAlps

Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, First Meeting, Fluff, Protectiveness, Discussion About Being Transgender, Transphobia (warning for that if someone's sensitive to it), not from swiss tho he's supportive!!!

Swiss has been travelling for a while. He finally gets to a place he can rest in and meets an unique individual. He's immediately enamored.

Notes: commission for @jazz-bazz, first part of their au. i'm so happy to be the chosen one for writing it, thank you bex <3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

He’d been sweating his ass off for three days before something resembling civilization had finally come along. He was half dead, his chick was half dead, and all he wanted was to get a pint of cold beer and a damn bed.

The town—barely big enough to be called such—was obviously sparsely populated. Swiss had doubted it was even inhabited at first, but the closer he got the more signs of life he’d noticed and the hope in him grew. He leaned down to pat his chick’s neck and sighed at the puff of dust coming off of her.

“Soon, girlie. I’m gonna give ya a good brush, you deserve it.” The mare nickered and the pair continued their slow walk toward the town. It didn’t take that long for them to make their way into the shadow casted by the town’s buildings. It smelled like cow’s shit, but the people obviously had more water and food than they really needed, which meant there was a chance Swiss and his horse would get some. If not given freely, he’d take it, but he was tired and he hoped their visit in that place would go smoothly.

Swiss didn’t see any heads peeking out of doors or windows to look at him, neither threateningly nor curiously, as he looked around searching for any sign that would indicate where he could find a bar. He really needed a beer.

His knees cracked when he jumped down from his mare. The ground was dry and a cloud of dust arose as his boots touched it. He found something that could've been a spot for travelers’ horses and as he left his chick there he hoped nobody would shoot her off if he was mistaken. It was a solid roof over a spot covered in a thick layer of straw, with buckets full of fresh looking water hanging off of wooden beams and cubes of hay under them. Inviting enough.

Swiss pulled the reins over the mare’s neck and pulled the bit out of her mouth before tying her to one of the beams by the water. He hoped she wouldn’t be too picky. “Drink, girlie, I’ll be back soon.”

He patted her on the ass on his way and walked away, heading into the adjoining building. The batwing doors’ hinges squealed loudly as Swiss walked into what indeed was a saloon. It was nearly empty, only two men were sitting in a corner and talking quietly over drinks. Swiss scanned the space and even though it was empty, it seemed nice. The men from the corner didn’t acknowledge his presence, but he didn’t crave attention this time, so it was fine by him. It was a bit colder there than outside and he already felt some relief.

Swiss went straight to the bar and just as he was sitting down on one of the squeaky stools the barmaid walked out from behind a dark brown curtain hanging between the shelves. A gorgeous, tall wo…man? They would be a very pretty man, if that would be the case. He shrugged, though, it was none of his business.

They were wearing a long, light green dress—a little old fashioned in style, but it was a good piece. Little dirty-white apron covered the dress from their waist down to where their knees were under the skirt. The dress didn’t have sleeves, only straps digging into their shoulders and going down to create a laced neckline that made their tits look very compelling. Their hair was long and wavy, a beautiful shade of dark amber flowing down their back and over their shoulders.

Their eyes, though…oh, their eyes were what made Swiss’ belly swoop and his mouth go even drier than it already was. Big—adorned by thick and long lashes—and in the color of the healthiest, most fresh, summer grass ever. Swiss hadn’t seen grass as green in years.

“Anything to drink for you?” They asked, picking up a rag to wipe the bar. More to busy themself than because it was dirty. If anything it was dusted over from unuse.

“Well, ain’t ya a pretty thing?” Swiss winked, his head tilted to the side. He knew he most definitely looked like a creep, but he couldn’t stop staring.

“Oh, me? Uhm–thank you?” they stuttered as blush creeped up their cheeks, coloring them a light rosy pink. Gorgeous. “What…what about that drink?”

“Get me a pint of some good ole beer, sweetheart. Pretty please.”

“Mhm,” they nodded, obviously flustered, and turned to disappear behind the curtain again. Swiss sighed—he really was exhausted—as he rested his chin on his fist, his other hand scratching at his stubble. Well, more like a beard, he didn’t have much time or opportunities to take care of it, so it was a bit unkept now.

Soon enough the bar…person returned with Swiss’ beer and handed it to him with a light smile. “There you go.”

“Thank you kindly,” he muttered, nodding, before pressing his lips against the chilly mug and tipping it back. He moaned at the refreshing feeling washing over him the moment beer poured into his mouth.

“Is it that good?” the person chuckled, leaning against the wall with their hands crossed over their chest. Their beautiful, full chest and it was–Swiss shook his head. He ain’t seen no tits in ages but he wasn’t an animal, damnit.

“Nah,” he snorted before taking another gulp. “It’s piss, but I’ve been dry as a desert, sweetheart.”

The person curled their lips into a little amused smile and turned, grabbing the rag and starting to wipe the bar again. Swiss tried to not be obvious in his staring—looking from under the rim of his hat. The stranger was so captivating, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Listen, I don’t mean any disrespect, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta ask–” Swiss started after clearing his throat, but was cut off. The other probably expected it to go that way.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve encountered in a long time,” they said with a smirk and Swiss bowed his head, grinning. “Phrase your question as nicely and there’s a chance I won’t take out the revolver from under the bar and shoot your hat off.”

“Damn, sweetheart.” He recoiled dramatically, raising his arms defensively. “You’re too pretty for me to offend, don’t ya worry.”

“So?”

“Are you a boy or a girl?” The question landed, but no offense did show on the person’s face. Swiss continued. “Cause if you’re a boy, then you’re the prettiest one I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a lot—and if you’re a girl, then…well, then you’re the prettiest one of those.”

“I’m a woman, kind sir,” she laughed, fully this time, and the melodic sound of it went through Swiss’ ears right to his heart, “you haven’t proven yourself worthy of permission to call me a girl. Yet.”

“Understood. I'd love to try and prove my worth.” He winked and lifted the mug nodding, as if in a toast. “You’re a gorgeous woman, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I do understand the confusion, though, even my own body didn’t get the memo.” She sighed, fidgeting with her hands and worrying her lip between her teeth. Swiss got a sudden urge to gently pull it free, lest she breaks the skin and paints her mouth with blood, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t, they’d just met. Swiss didn’t know what possessed him.

“Huh, that’s so…” He mumbled, staring holes into the already rugged wood of the countertop. With the corner of his eye he saw the barmaid pulling up a chair on the other side of the bar and sitting on it, right before him.

“Unnatural?” she finished for him, but her guess of his thoughts couldn’t be falser.

“No, I wanted to say it makes you unique. It’s amazing,” Swiss said—confident—looking up at her again. She was so much closer now and so many more details of her beauty were visible to the man, and if she’d let him he’d count all the golden freckles adorning her face a hundred times over.

“Oh…” she whispered. Swiss didn’t count her freckles, but he did follow the path of a blush crawling up her cheeks. “Well, uhm, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel amazing most of the time.”

“That must be tough,” he replied, wondering. “Is it like…like you don’t feel right in your body? Like it’s not yours?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” she had no idea why she was suddenly spilling her innermost thoughts to a stranger she had met not even half an hour prior. There was something about him, though, that made her feel safe and maybe carried a chance of finally being understood. Even if just a bit. “And sometimes I just feel…wrong all around.”

Swiss hummed in acknowledgement and leaned down to his mug, swallowing down a few gulps. Once his mouth was unoccupied again, he asked, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“It’s Mountain,” the barmaid said, “but I prefer just Mounty.”

Swiss snorted at that, but immediately regretted it upon seeing Mounty’s brows furrow in confusion and her eyes fill with a tiny bit of hurt. “Sorry, sweetheart, I ain’t laughing at you! My horse’s name is Monty, that’s why!”

“Oh. Oh, okay,” she relaxed and chuckled, too, a bit embarrassed at her immediate defensiveness. “Yeah, that is funny.”

“Nice to meet you, Mounty.”

“Won’t you give me your name?” the barmaid’s eyelashes fluttered and Swiss wouldn’t be able to refuse or lie to her even if he wanted to.

“Swiss, sweetheart,” he said, lifting up the mug again. “My name’s Swiss.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Swiss,” Mounty replied, her face lighting up with a soft smile, and if Swiss was standing it would make his knees buckle. Still, his insides warmed up and twisted and he’d never felt like that, so stupid and…vulnerable.

Swiss felt himself blush and he quickly hid behind his mug.

“Would you–” Mounty was about to ask him something, but a squeak of the doors and heavy steps interrupted her.

“Afternoon!” a stranger called out, walking into the saloon as if it was his own ground. Swiss looked up at the barmaid and saw her tense up—her lips turned into a thin line and her brows furrowed. She knew the man and she wasn't fond of him in the slightest.

Swiss didn’t like that look on her.

“Afternoon, sir,” Mounty muttered, standing up. The man didn’t reply, just walked over and sat down by the bar next to Swiss. He was alert after Mounty’s reaction, one of his hands close to his gun.

“Get me some whiskey, girl,” the stranger grumbled, spitting the last word out like it burned his tongue, like an insult. Swiss realized it was supposed to be one and the knot inside him tightened, this time with something resembling anger. How could someone treat such a gorgeous, brilliant and kind creature without utmost respect?

“Hey, she ain’t your girl,” Swiss hissed as Mounty disappeared to get the man’s drink. He wouldn’t sit there and pretend he was okay with what was happening right next to him. “Bark orders at your wife like that. If you even have one, it don’t seem like you’ve got a lot to offer.”

“Why do you care?” the stranger scoffed, “he’s a freak.”

One second Swiss was sitting relaxed, sipping on his beer, and then in the next he was up with his back straight, looming over the other man and staring down at him with fire in his eyes.

“I suggest you either apologize to her when she gets back,” he growled, reaching behind himself, to his revolver, “or get out now so neither of us have to see your ugly face any more. Or else…”

“Or else what!? Ya one of them, too, hm?” the man—clearly an idiot—snarled, craning his neck to look up at Swiss, pretending to be brave. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had no balls on you.”

“Oh, I’ve got enough balls, asshole,” Swiss laughed and that seemed to hit. He pulled his revolver out from behind his belt, twisted it on his finger and watched the other man hesitate about his next words. “You wanna lose yours?”

The man scoffed as if there wasn’t fear in his eyes. He was a coward and he stormed out accordingly, because it was unlikely he knew better than to actually challenge Swiss. He doubted he knew who he was.

Just as the man disappeared outside, Mounty returned with a glass of whiskey intended for him. There was no smile on her face and her rather neutral expression turned to confusion as she saw only Swiss by the bar. “Where did he go?”

“Oh, he realized he left something at home.” Swiss shrugged, returning to his stool.

“And what would that be?”

“Respect for women,” he said with a smirk and Mounty returned it, knowing and thankful. She sat again and looked at the glass in her hand before pressing it against her lips and cringing as she tipped it back to drink. “Not a fan?”

“Not at all,” she coughed and Swiss chuckled. She was adorable. “All I drink is tea.”

“Tea is good,” he said and looked into his mug—there was still some beer left. He lifted it again and silence fell for a moment.

“You really are nice to talk to,” Mounty spoke after a while. “I get called a freak and other names all the time, usually the moment I come into someone’s view. It’s nice to be treated normally, have my feelings acknowledged…and be protected. You know?”

“I can only imagine.” Swiss smiled at her fondly. It must’ve been hard living like that. Trying to live right by yourself and offending others by simply existing, just because they were too thick-skulled. If he could, he'd sit on that creaky chair every damn day and chase off every single man who'd as much as look at Mounty wrong.

It was quiet again, Swiss finishing up his beer and Mounty drinking her whiskey—frowning at every single sip. They had just met, but the silence was comfortable. It felt like not only did they know each other for ages, but that they had a…special connection, of a kind.

Swiss snorted at his own thoughts. He was stupid for them, for thinking this was anything more than…than what, exactly?

“A’ight, sweetheart,” he sighed after a moment, breaking the dead silence. “I should get going, find somewhere to sleep.”

“We’ve got beds,” Mounty perked up, immediately shying away as she realized it might’ve been a bit too enthusiastic, “if you want…”

“I’d love a bed, but I don’t have much money,” the man shrugged. He’d rip anyone off without any remorse, but not her. He’d never gotten a soft spot for someone as fast as he did for her. “And I’d rather get a place for my horse than myself.”

“And if it’d all be on the house?”

“What, like me so much already you don’t want me to leave?” Swiss laughed, winking.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mounty scoffed, but her own wink said something else. “You’re clearly exhausted, who would I be if I let you go back on the road without a proper rest?”

“Will you at least accept my help in here and in the stables as a payment?”

“I can consider it,” she mumbled, smiling softly as she stared at Swiss through her lashes.

“Alright, then. I’ll stay, sweetheart.”

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #hypnone's commissions

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campingwiththecharmings · 8 months

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*These weren’t necessarily written and/or posted in June, but that’s when I read them 😊

(thanks for your patience with this y'all, i'm so sorry it took so long to post. working on getting july and august recs out as well ❤️)

🔥 - explicit/mature content

Star Wars

🔥For Your Entertainment (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

Gardens of Babylon (Cowboy!Din Djarin x Cowgirl!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch (yes i'm rec-ing this again)

You Are in Love (Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader) - @alwritey-aphrodite (i will rec this every time i read a new chapter, try and stop meeee)

🔥Clandestine (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @the-little-ewok

🔥Good Morning (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @whirlybirbs

🔥favor (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces

Rookie Mistake (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @groguspicklejar

🔥Never Before (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

Moon Knight

🔥Prized Possession (Marc Spector x Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

🔥The Best Kept Secrets - Marc's Story (dbf!Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

🔥Kisses on your lovers lap (Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @sweetly-yours-and-mine

🔥Let Your Fingers to the Talking (Jake Lockley x F!Villain!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

Spoiled Rotten (Marc Spector x Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Sprite: Savior (Marc Spector x forest nymph oc Nikini) - @spacecowboyhotch

Bubble Bath (Marc Spector x Reader) - @shewhohangsoutincemeteries

Domestic Fluff (Steven Grant x Housewife!Reader) - @xbellaxcarolinax

Fluff and Kisses with Marc (Marc Spector x Reader) - @sweetly-yours-and-mine

Her Hair Reminds Me of a Warm, Safe Place (Marc Spector x Layla El-Faouly) - @romanarose

🔥Forever Bittersweet (Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

🔥Please (Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

🔥take it (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces

🔥apology (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces

🔥willing to give (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @graysonshaven

🔥take my breath (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @whatthefishh

🔥burrowed under my skin (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @dameronscopilot

🔥Cállate (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @xbellaxcarolinax

🔥Impatient (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

🔥Little Bug (Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

Every You, Every Me (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @astroboots (i haven't finished this yet but i cannot recommend this fic enough)

🔥Soothe & Sleep (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

🔥Wandering Hands (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @loganlermanstanaccount

tousled, stubbled, tired (Miguel O'Hara x Reader) - @eyelessfaces

🔥Virgin!Miguel w/a huge cock and fucks both of u dumb (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @xbellaxcarolinax

🔥Take It All (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @romanarose

🔥Make Me A Liar (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @groguspicklejar

🔥coming home (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces

Triple Frontier

Blurring Out (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

Being Will's Girl Would Include (Will Miller x F!Reader) - @missdictatorme

🔥Look What the Cat Dragged In (Santiago Garcia x F!Thief!Reader) - @missdictatorme

For Better, For Worse (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @bullet-prooflove

The Last of Us

To the Rescue (Pre-Outbreak!Joel x F!Reader) - @romanarose

Waffle House penance (Joel Miller x F!Reader) - @softlyspector

Sucker Punch

🔥Needy Little Thing (Blue Jones x F!Reader) - @melodygatesauthor

The Two Faces of January

🔥The Oxford Comma Series (Rydal Keener x F!Reader) - @whatthefishh (will never stop rec-ing this fic ❤️)

Ex Machina

🔥heavenly praises (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @leoluved

🔥old fashioned (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @leoluved

🔥chase and pull (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @leoluved

🔥indulge me (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @leoluved

Thank you to all the wonderful writers for sharing their stories with us 🥰❤️

*For more recs, please feel free to check out my fic rec tag.

**If you’d like to have your fic removed from the list, I completely understand, just let me know

#poe dameron x reader #rydal keener x reader #santiago garcia x reader #joel miller x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #din djarin x reader #blue jones x reader #nathan bateman x reader #will miller x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #marc spector x layla el faouly #marc spector x oc #fic rec

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asphalt-cocktail · 2 months

Text

Lead Us to Temptation- Masterlist

Summary: In the small town of Eden Ridge, you knew several things to be true: church happened every Sunday, the saloon served free lunch with the purchase of a drink on Thursdays, coal miners left work at 7PM sharp, and Bucky Barnes was a man sent from the depths of hell dangling the threat of temptation and sin right in front of your face. All you need to do is reach out and grab it.

Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Warnings: Cowboy/western/outlaw AU, religious themes, Midwestern Gothic, dark themes, guns, violence, misogyny, crass language, alcohol, smoking, explicit content, mature content, overall mature themes. The story takes place a little further north than the typical wild west setting because I am a Midwestern girl at heart. Bucky is going to be 10 years older than reader (i am trying not to use Y/N). The time line is the late 1880s/1890s. As always my reader is most likely plus sized/curvy. If you see any Red Dead Redemption references no you didn't

DNI if you are under 18 or if these themes upset you.

Read me on AO3

A/N: Well howdy there folks! Isn't it crazy when you say you're going to retire from writing fanfictions and then are possessed to write one? Anyways I'm back and better than ever and I hope you all enjoy the ramblings of someone who is terminally H word if you know what I mean. As always, likes and reblogs are immensely appreciated. There will be no tag list because i am far too lazy to do that, but feel free to turn on notifications for me or bookmark it on AO3 where it will also be posted per usual. Also I'm sorry if its not 100% historically accurate, I'm doing a lot of research in fashion and what not but at the end of the day I'm just a girl. The tag to find this in my blog will be #LUT

🔥- Smut

Chapter 1- Precious Lord Take my Hand

Chapter 2- Good Old Fashioned Catholic Guilt 🔥

Chapter 3- Hell Hath No Fury

#bucky fanfic #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #LUT #marvel mcu #bucky barnes x plus size reader

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absurdthirst · 9 months

Text

Birthday Wishes {Agent Whiskey x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Jack being absolutely besotted, public sexual activities, vaginal fingering, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms

Comments: Jack promises to make your birthday a night to remember.

💝🎉🎊🎁Happy Birthday @wardenparker!!!!! You are an amazing friend and co-writer, I am lucky that you want to spend time with a nut like me! I hope you have an amazing birthday today. 💝🎉🎊🎁

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Agent Whiskey MasterList ||

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

“Sugar, you are as pretty as a picture and twice as sweet.” Your eyes shift from the mirror where you had been carefully touching up your makeup under the bright bulbs of your vanity to where Jack’s warm brown eyes are watching you. They darken slightly and on edge of that cock mouth curls up and lifts his neatly trimmed mustache. You know what is about to come out of his mouth. “We can always stay home and have our own celebration right here, sans clothes.”

It shouldn’t be tempting, but when Jack Daniels is your lover, your partner, it’s always on the table. The man could talk you out of plans and out of your clothes so fast, your head would be spinning. And not just from that talented mouth eating your pussy like it was nectar of the Gods.

“You always say that, Jack.” “‘Cause you always tempt me to keep you for myself, sugar.” Strong, warm arms slide around your soft stomach and he squeezes you tight as his nose and mouth burrow in at your shoulder. Giving you a view of his artfully combed hair. The cowboy hat hadn't gone on his head, just yet. “Fuck, you always smell so good.”

It was the perfume he had bought you. One of the first gifts he had brought from a mission when he had decided to ‘court’ you. His words, although you find the old fashioned vernacular charming and very fitting. Jack might be crass at times, but at others he is the height of a southern gentleman.

His mustache tickles and makes you shiver, followed by his hot mouth ghosting over your pulse and pressing petal soft kisses to your skin. Making gooseflesh pebble your skin and your eyes slip closed as you sigh out his name.

He’s good at distracting you. Those large hands sliding over your stomach and traveling up to cup your breasts. His groan against your skin is low, already husky rumble even raspier as he slowly massages the flesh in his hands through your bra. You hadn’t dressed yet, waiting until your hair and makeup is done before you slide your dress on.

“Jack.” You whine, eyes half closed and your lips poised in a pout as you instinctively lean to the side to give him more room to do whatever he wants with your body. “You planned tonight.” You remind him.

“Next time, smack me upside the head.” He huffs, reluctantly pulling away from where he was nibbling on your shoulder to send you an playfully unhappy look in the mirror. “For being such a fool to think I wouldn’t want to keep you home and to myself.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you smirk and lift a brow. “Finish getting ready, Mr. Daniels.” You chide. “You promised me a night out for my birthday and that is exactly what I am getting.”

Letting go of your tits, Jack winks at you and grins. “Of course you are, sugar.” He promises with a smirk. “Tonight is going to be a night you never forget.”

****

“Jack!” Your surprised squeal is muffled against his jacket, although you shouldn’t be surprised. Jack’s fingers, push aside the material of your panties and those thick, nimble fingers quickly find your sex slick with desire. “We are in public!”

“So?” His chuckle fans out warmly over your skin and he rubs your bundle of nerves before his thumb presses against it and two fingers push slowly inside you. “No one is paying attention and I can’t help myself.” He defends. “You are too appealing, sugar. Sittin’ here lookin’ like an angel wrapped in sin.”

The pressing curl of his fingers steals your ability to answer. Mouth dropped open in a soundless moan, only the tiniest squeak manages to sound, barely even reaching his ear except he’s listening for it.

“Hmmmm.” He rumbles, making sure that he curls his body around you in the booth in the most intimate corner of the restaurant. While he loves pushing the boundaries of propriety, he doesn’t want anyone to actually see you. Your pleasure is his alone. “What’s that, sugar?” He coos softly. “I didn’t hear you.”

Turning your head, you feel the way that he is absolutely playing your pussy like it’s a stringed instrument. Moaning softly into his ear, your body pulls taunt and starts to roll with the plunge of his fingers. It’s wicked and filthy, letting him finger you right here in the middle of the trendiest restaurant around, the possibility of anyone catching you running high as waiters and guests run around. Still, your fingers grip the fabric of his suit coat and you let him do whatever he wishes to your body as you respond to him.

The drag of his fingers in and out of your velvet walls makes you hiss in pleasure, the way they pulse around his thick digits similar to how he feels when he is working his cock inside you. Nerve endings firing in pleasure and making the knot in your belly grow every time he pushes them deep.

“Jack.” You pant softly, trying to keep your voice down as your eyes dart around the room. It makes him chuckle, but the pressure against your clit and the movement of his fingers never pauses.

“You’re gonna cum for me, sugar.” He promises. “Your pretty little pussy is gonna weep around my fingers and give me a little treat to suck on that will be more delicious than the best dessert in this place.” His chuckle is low and raspy. “Hell, I’d rather set you up on the table and feast on you.”

He would probably do it, if you were at home. Your table has often been the scene of countless couplings. Now he just intends to make you whine and whimper, shaking with pleasure in public.

Your finger nails dig into the fabric of his suit, clutching for purchase, to ground you so you don’t go floating away on a cloud of ecstasy while the entire restaurant watches. The wine on the table is barely touched and yet you feel like your head is swimming, thoughts fuzzy to everything but the press of his fingers.

Jack’s dark eyes watch you, sparkling encouragement from their dark depths. His lips pulled into a smirk as every pass of his fingers rockets you closer to having to muffle a cry. He’s enjoying your pleasure. If you were to reach down and take a squeeze of his cock, you would find him hard as a rock.

“Just a little more, sugar.” He coos, leaning in and kissing your jaw. “Just a little more and your sweet pussy will be singin’ for me. Can you do that? Can you cum in my fingers and let me have a little taste of you?”

The raw, rough pitch of his voice and the next swipe of his finger pushes you over the edge. Turning and burying your face against his neck, your muffled moan is barely heard outside your little booth, breathed into the fabric of his suit. “Jack, oh God, Jack.” You whimper, the quiver of your cunt following the molten slick that coats his fingers and makes him hum in satisfaction.

“That’s it, sugar, cream on ole Jack’s fingers for me.” He whispers in praise, working you through it and humming as your flutter walls start to slow. “Good girl,” He likes the way you pant against his collar, looking just for the world like a woman who is snuggled against her man. “Ride it out.”

Jack’s fingers work you until he can sense that you want him to stop and slowly pull out of your wet heat. The sticky sounds make him grin and his napkin comes up with his hand to cover him discreetly licking his finger clean with a small groan of pleasure.

Your face flames hot when the server glides back over to the table, either unaware of what had just happened or the soul of discretion to not mention that you are still slightly panting from the way he had just turned your world upside down. Clearing your plates and assuring you that dessert was already on the way.

Turning towards Jack with a surprised look, you can tell that he had pre-planned this by the very pleased look on his face as he nods and picks up his champagne glass. “To another year that we - and I mean all of us - have been graced with your presence and blessed by your existence.” He taps his glass to yours. “Happy Birthday, sugar.”

You take a sip of your frothy, bubbly champagne and he winks at you. “This is only the beginning.” He promises, having planned out the entire night out to make sure you know how special you are to him and how much he loves you.

“Jack.” You huff, almost embarrassed having his attention centered on you like you always are. When Jack is focused, that is the only thing that matters in the world and right now, that focus is on you.

“Baby girl, you deserve a night that is all your own.” He insists, lips pushed into a pout and winks at you. “I’m going to make sure of it.” A promise that you know that he will not be satisfied until he makes good on.

****

“Jaaaaaaaack.” Your hips jerk and lift under his firm grip, not going anywhere but where he wishes for you to. Completely in control and taking you apart lick by lick as his tongue curls and flicks over your swollen clit. Wrenching moan after unhinged moan out of you as he builds you up for yet another peak.

You don’t know how long it has been since you last shuddered apart under the coaxing of his tongue, it might have been thirty seconds ago or an hour. Time is suspended when you look down to see his mustache pressed against your mound and his sharply curved nose breathing in the heady scent of your pleasure.

Jack is meticulous. Bringing you into the house and starting to strip you down. His lips covering every inch of your body and making sure that he whispers praises into your skin as he scatters them artistically on your skin. Fingers trailing as he slowly drags your dress down to let it pool at your feet before sliding under the straps of your bra to pull them down your arms. Stripping much more than your clothes as he undresses you, he’s stripping away the layers of protection and armor until there is nothing left but you and him.

That is when Jack’s true talent comes out. That mouth. It can be used for quick witted banter or issuing threats that he has the training to back up, sarcastic quips or for smooth reassurances. The best use for it though is when he puts his mouth on you.

Jack Daniels is a cocky son of a bitch, but he knows what he is doing. He spends the time making sure that he knows every spot on your body that would make you sing his name. Carefully and meticulously mapping your pleasure points to use against you.

Smirking against your cunt, Jack chuckles and flicks his tongue against your clit once more. Pushing you over the edge and you come with a wail of his name. Watching as your entire world explodes and your eyes flutter while you gasp out. Working you through it with a slow suckle on your sex that keeps extending the pleasure and twisting it higher inside you.

Your fingers tangle into the sheets, the only thing keeping you from floating away as your body shakes and heat floods your system. His name is the only thing that you can manage to say over and over again. Falling off your tongue in gasping praise while your thighs press around his ears and squeeze them tight.

By the time that he is kissing up your body and settling between your thighs, you are finally floating back down to earth. Cognizant of the smug smirk that rides on his face as he slides up to kiss your lips and nudges his nose against yours. “I love you, sugar.”

The sentiment is perfect for the moment that he slides inside you. Filling and stretching you out the way that only he can. Your head tilts back and your moan is soft, your legs starting to wrap around his waist. Enjoying the weight of him on top of you and surrounding you. Consuming you.

Every thrust is slow and measured, letting you feel him. Experience the slow pulses inside you and the sharp twitches as he rocks you both higher. Words of love and praise passing between you with languid kisses.

“I love you sugar.” Jack groans, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

Nothing on earth could ever beat birthday wishes from Jack. Nothing.

#pedro pascal #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey fanfic #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels smut #jack daniels #jack daniels imagine

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