#agent jack whiskey daniels
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sweetest heidi!! congrats on 1000 my lovely 🤍
can I request a main dish blind drabble?!
Pedro character: let’s gooooo Javier Peña or Jack Whiskey Daniels! chef’s choice 😉
numbers: 3 and 283
😘😘😘😘
losin’ you | jack ‘whiskey’ daniels
pairing: bull rider!jack daniels x barrel racer f!reader
word count: 1287
content warnings: 18+ blog: some angst, reader and jack have history, some forgiveness but he has to work for it, reader has a rebound fling, reader rides a horse but no other physical descriptions, this is an AU, cursing, I think that’s it.
notes: Kay! I’m sorry it took so long for me to get to this!!! I hope it was worth the wait 💕 Shoutout to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for a specific line (I won’t give away which one it is)
It’s not a world you think you’ll ever be used to. Roaring crowds and blinding lights accompanied by the adrenaline rush as you race against the clock doing what you love. It goes against the quiet life you dream of having on some land, miles outside of the bustling town and an even longer dirt road entrance to deter solicitors. But it pays the bills enough to get by for now.
Bouncing from rodeo to rodeo can be lonely, even with all the cheering from fans and their undying support. All in the name of making a living and a name for yourself with the hopes of becoming a champion barrel racer.
Tonight is a little different. Run after run chasing the fastest time. Arena dirt kicked up straight out the gate. Weaving around the three strategically placed barrels, all sharp turns and calculated verbal cues to carry you past the line. 13.58 seconds was all it took to secure the top place at the end of the event.
Instead of hiding out in your trailer with one of your two closest friends Bravo, who both happen to be a 15 hand Chestnut Quarter Horses, you allow yourself to revel in the celebration and enthusiasm fans are showering you with.
The vibrancy in the air is palpable after leaving Miller to rest up in your trailer. An effervescence pounding in your chest— all your self doubt and fears dissipating into a plume of contentment.
It’s a feat in itself meandering through rodeo dust and small crowds wanting pictures and messy signatures on your walk to pick up the grand prize shiny buckle and winner’s check, hoping to get on the road before the announcer calls the last event for the night.
The sight of a cowboy loading your tack and saddles in their proper compartments has you stopping in your tracks. Watching as he moves about with familiarity. Feeding Miller his favorite treats, already loaded and secured in his trailer stall. Bridles and lead ropes hung on their designated hooks. Gooseneck hitched into the bed of your old pickup truck.
Seemingly taking care of your long list of tasks effortlessly.
“Congratulations, Sweetheart.” He says as he latches the tack room closed, his hand giving it a good shake before turning to look at you.
“Jack—“ You’re sure he doesn’t miss the way your face almost lights up at the sight of him. Quickly controlling your expression to something a little more neutral despite wanting nothing more than to run into his arms.
“The boyfriend ain’t around is he?” His voice tempered as he took a look around, expecting a six foot something man to walk out of the shadows swinging.
“Benny? Why? You wanna compare buckles, see whose is bigger?” You snark at him, tossing your earnings in the front seat of your truck.
“Don’t wanna step on anyone’s boots if I’m not welcomed, is all.” Such a stark contrast from the man who would go toe to toe with anyone who so much as looked in your direction.
You roll your eyes as you stalk past him to open the small trailer window to allow Miller to hang his head out.
“No he ain’t around. Fell for some cute buckle bunny over in Austin. Besides— he wasn’t my boyfriend. Just a fun rebound, ya know since you broke my heart and all.” He can sense the hurt in your voice, looking to where you’re running your hand over Miller’s velvet nose
“Sweetheart, ‘M sorry.“ Jack says meekly looking to where his boot is dragging over the dirt, his tone barely audible with noise coming from the stadium cheering on the roping finals.
You know he isn’t referring to Benny and the whirlwind of a fling that he was. Seeing other people, serious or not, was part of the agreement. Benny Miller was a good time for a short time, long enough to keep you distracted from the way your heart ached for Jack.
“It’s fine. Besides, it got a little weird with his last being Miller, too. I was losing track of the amount of times he used the line ‘wanna take Miller out for a ride? And I don't mean your horse!’”
“That wasn’t what I was referring to Sweetheart and you know it. I was talkin’ about that night. I’m sorry—“ Oh, so this is a real apology. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him sound so defeated in all the years you’ve known him.
“Surprised you were able to get that big time ego of yours through the front gate. Now that you’ve got nothin’ holdin’ you back from all those sponsors and big money.”
You chance a look over to him, propped sheepishly against your trailer, hands tucked in his pockets, too ashamed to look at you directly as you call him out. Not sure how long you want to drag this out and tell him how much you’ve missed him.
“I came here to see you race. Watch you win big— jus’ like we always wanted.” He turns to meet your gaze.
“We? I think what we wanted were two very different things, Jack. I wanted to win big doing what I love with the man I love. You wanted— what was it you said that night ‘take a break a break so you could figure things out’ among the other shit that spilled from that stupid mouth of yours.” You throw his words back at him as you stomp the short distance to him, causing him to straighten up in preparation for more of your own words.
“I thought that’s what I wanted. Guess it took me losin’ you to realize I was wrong. I want you. More than the sponsors. More than the fame. I need you more than all of that shit combined, Baby.” He confesses sincerely.
The warmth of his touch has your knees nearly buckling when he brushes some dirt with his finger off your cheek.
“And so you thought you’d waltz your Mr. Professional Bull Ridin’ ass in here? Lookin’ all handsome wearin’ those blue tight jeans and my favorite denim jacket of yours. Hopin’ I would just take you back just like that?” You sound harsher than you intended to.
“Well, I didn’t even think I would make it this far. I was sure I’d already be staring at your tail lights by now.” He quips, giving you a glimpse at that lopsided smile of his you’ve missed more than you should.
You study him for a beat. Your eyes flitting across his face, each one of his beautiful features still as heart melting as always.
Against your better judgment you kiss him. His lips molding perfectly over your own. Like a puzzle you once had and misplaced. Now found and situated where it belongs.
“It’s gonna take more than an evening of groveling to get you outta the dog house— but it’s a start.” You flick the brim of his black felt hat, turning on your heels in the direction of the passenger side of the truck.
He’s amused by your candor. The tip of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, watching the way your hips sway a little more deliberately until you’ve reached the truck door.
“If I remember correctly, the 8 second ride time only applied to the arena?” Biting at your bottom lip at the remembrance of the way he took care of you in so many ways.
“Yes, ma’am!” His hat tipping with a slight nod.
“Well, this truck ain’t gonna drive itself home, Cowboy.” Giving him a wink as you hoist yourself into the cab, watching the dust kick up behind him as he sprints to the driver’s seat.
#agent jack whiskey daniels#jack daniels#jack whiskey daniels#pedro pascal#wildemaven writes#pedrostories
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special delivery for @pedrostylez may your workday get over fast ♡
#here have some whiskey smashing it#and yes the last one is special to my heart#pedro pascal#myedit#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#kingsman#kingsman the golden circle#agent whiskey#jack daniels#agent jack daniels#agent jack whiskey daniels
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COWBOY CHRISTMAS - A Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) Christmas One Shot
Summary: Your husband Jack takes you out on a snowy Christmas Eve horse ride around the ranch, then helps you thaw out after.
Pairing: Husband!Jack Daniels x Wife!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)
Word Count: 5k
Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
Warnings/triggers - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering.
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.
If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author’s Note: Husband Jack hits differently and I'm here for it. Horsey speak researched because I'm not a horsey person. Neigh. I hope you enjoy spending Christmas with Jack. 🎄
Tagging @ladybess-a03 as Jack is her husband 🤠🖤
12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤
“Now, you hold on tight to them reins there, sugar. Don’t want ol’ Thunder here gallopin’ off into the breach.” Jacks says to you with a wink.
You watch as he buttons up his denim jacket; a woolly sheepskin lines the collar inside around his neck. “Hoo, it’s a chilly one this mornin’!” He exclaims in that Southern twang making sweet, unbashed love to his vocal chords.
“Remind me why I let you talk me into this?” You say, feeling the cold rake it’s sharp fingernails down your spine.
“'Cause I can talk you into anythin'." He grins. "Besides, you’re gonna love it.” He assures.
“I love our warm bed more.” You mutter, trying not to smirk.
You grip tight on the leather reins with your gloved hands as the horse snuffles gently; the cool air wisps out of his large, wet nostrils in gossamer tendrils, floating into the air.
The snow is fresh and crisp on the ground; the Ranch is covered in billowy marshmallows heaped on the roof like someone let the powdered sugar pour overnight. The whole scene looks as though a snow globe has been shaken up and long since settled with the coarse glitter of it all glimmering under the pallor of the winter sun; a pale blue orb lingering in the sky.
A Christmas Eve morning horse ride with your husband Jack sounded appealing when he suggested it, but now that you’re the one in the driver’s seat so to speak, you're not so sure, as your stomach tosses about with the anxiousness of it all.
It’s not that you’re not a keen rider, it’s just that Jack’s array of Appaloosas and Mustangs from the rodeo show - that’s been a lucrative business for you both, if not but a hectic one - can always seem to sense your trepidation, and do everything they can to keep you from venturing near them, let alone mounting them.
But Jack’s a determined son of a gun to get you used to it, and a few lessons with a deep brown Lusitano named Thunder, seem to be paying off, as the two of you bond the more time you spend with the stallion.
Thunder stands at a regal sixteen hands, his physique a perfect blend of strength and elegance. His coat is a rich chestnut, gleaming under the dappled sunlight like polished mahogany. He's probably the most handsome thing you've ever laid eyes on, aside from your husband, of course.
Jack had assured you that Thunder’s physique, combined with his gentle demeanour and keen intelligence, made him not just a stunning horse, but also an ideal companion for you.
And that smooth talking cowboy hadn’t been wrong yet.
Jack hoists himself up, grunting with a steely puff as he settles on the double saddle behind you. Not brave enough yet to go it alone in the snow, Jack rides tandem with you this morning.
The front of his Stetson knocks gently against the back of your head as he adjusts, and the horse pads his front hooves in anticipation to get going.
“Easy, Thunder,” he soothes as he reaches around and checks the reins. “You good to go, sweet thing?” Jack asks you.
“What are you going to hold on to?” You query as he lets go of the reins, turning to glance at him over your shoulder warily.
You’ve seen Jack ride plenty of times, to the point he trusts his stallions and mares implicitly. There's some magical fluidity between them as you watch from the sidelines of the paddock when they practise together.
Although each time he rides free and un-reined, you can’t help but grimace and worry, especially when he shows off in the rodeo ring.
“Why, your gorgeous self, of course!” You feel him pinch your hips playfully and then his arms wrap around your waist. He pats your belly softly.
“I got you, nice n' tight.” The wetness of his lips are cold as they squish against your cheek where he kisses you affectionately. You giggle as his fuzzy moustache tickles against your skin.
“Now, you’re the one in control, remember. Just like I taught you. Pull back gently if you want him to slow down.”
“Okay.” You nod, taking in a deep breath and sounding much more confident than you actually feel. And Jack picks up on it and rubs your arms down.
“You’ve got nothin’ to worry about, sugar. He’s infatuated with you.” Jack reassures. He holds you tighter and runs his nose against the side of your face. “And he ain’t the only one.” he murmurs.
“You keep doing that and we’re never getting out of this damn paddock,” you groan as he nips against your lobe, tonguing it slyly.
Despite the cold, you suddenly feel the warmth creeping up under your jacket trying to strangle you.
He chuckles and pulls back, sitting himself upright and placing his hands together around your waist again.
“Let’s skedaddle.” He instructs.
You breathe out, clicking your tongue twice and squeeze your legs gently against the underside of Thunder. He immediately trots forward languidly.
“There you go, nice n' easy there. See, he ain’t so buck wild after all, is he now?” Jack says.
“No, he’s a good boy,” you say, leaning forward and patting Thunder’s head as he strides forward out the paddock. “A good boy that’s going to go nice and slow, okay?” You whisper, imploring the horse.
Thunder simply snorts in response.
You settle into it; a gentle trot across the acres of the Ranch on this wintery morning. You can feel the cold biting against your face as you tuck your chin into your scarf to ward off the nip.
The scene is magical; treetops covered in plumes of glittery white, and every sound seems more muted somehow, wrapped up in a bundle of snow that acts as a cosy insulator.
The soft pads of Thunder’s hooves against the cold ground, and Jack's breathing just behind your ear, are the only sounds you can hear around the exquisite peace.
And you lose yourself to it, closing your eyes and resting back against Jack’s chest as you relax into the ride together.
“You doin’ alright there?” Jack asks, and you feel his gloved hands rubbing back and forth against your stomach creating fluttery wings to beat and flap around inside of it.
“Mmm,” you reply. “This is just beautiful.” You confirm feeling more taken with it all. “This was a great idea.”
“I’m mighty glad you feel that way, darlin’. We gotta get you out ridin’ some more.” Jack suggests.
“I do plenty of riding, cowboy.” You toss a hot smirk at him over your shoulder.
“Christ. Ain’t that the truth.” He chuckles.
You feel his hands squeeze your hips again and his breaths are felt warming in the crook of your neck.
“Wanna kick it up a notch?”
“Go faster?” You peep with alarm.
“Sure, you can handle it.”
“But the snow, isn’t that dangerous?”
Jack scoffs. “Snow’s fresh, darlin’. No ice.”
“But-”
“Gotta trust in your horse.”
You make an uncertain noise in the back of your throat.
“Ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to you.” Jack reassures and your uncertainty begins to waver as you feel yourself melt in the sincerity of his eyes.
“Okay.” You nod, smiling.
“That’s my girl. Go on, now. Squeeze your calves against him. That’s it, you’re doin’ real good.” Jack praises as Thunder ups his paces to a gentle canter, full of brio and a little faster than his previous meandering.
He bows and nods his large head, whinnying.
“Oh see, he likes that. Our boy here was bred for speed.” Jack pats the back of the stallion’s neck and Thunder snuffles in response.
You can feel your fingers gripping tighter on the reins, your body tensing up.
“You trust me, sugar?” You hear Jack pollute in your ear.
You turn to look at him incredulously.
“He wants to run. Gotta give it to him.”
“Oh God.” You wince.
You steady yourself as Thunder nickers and snuffles again. Jack takes your hand and weaves it around Thunder’s mane. A trick he does himself whilst on the rodeo to be sure to stay on if the horse should suddenly veer off.
Your gloved fingers hold tightly through the silken hair whilst your other hand grips on the reins as tight as you can.
“He’ll take care of you. We both will.” Jack takes a hold of the reins with you, his arms either side. “Hold on tight, darlin’.”
You steady yourself, holding on tightly as he instructs and bracing yourself.
“Hup! Hup!” You hear Jack instruct Thunder with a sharp command, and the horse bolts forward.
He attacks the gallop at full speed, like he's running for his life. Like he was born to do nothing else other then run.
“Shit, Jack!” You gasp, as he takes full control.
The sounds of Thunder’s hooves are louder and feel like they crack and echo across the sky. Your body is forced into a galloping rhythm; your butt bashing up and down against the saddle as you try to find some comfort with it.
You rise up, remembering to anchor yourself in the stirrups, leaning forward like your body is floating as Thunder moves under you.
You can feel Jack’s body against yours, moving with you. He has both hands on the reins, but has manoeuvred so you're safe inside his arms too.
“See why I named him Thunder now?!” Jack muses as he bears down on the reins and the horse’s speed increases furthermore.
You can feel Thunder’s muscles bunch and release. You can feel and hear his hooves hit the ground in heavy thuds that ricochet through your skeleton, and see the hypnotic, rhythmic motion of his head, which you’re following with your hands.
It’s exhilarating.
The cold wind whips through your bones, despite the jacket and scarf’s protection. You hear Jack holler and chuckle behind you.
“Alright now!” He cheers triumphantly as Thunder takes a sharp turn, effortlessly, and you cling on for dear life grounding down on your teeth and steadying yourself with your stirrups.
“Oh my God!” You wail as the exhilaration begins to twist that fear into utter elation.
Your teeth feel the cold as you can’t contain the wild smile opening up your lips as you giggle and holler alongside Jack; his enthusiasm and passion for the ride infecting you.
The wind is blowing so hard that you really can’t see or hear very clearly and Thunder’s ears twitch up as you holler an enthusiastic woo! Into the air. It feels like you're flying as the wind streams tears from your eyes.
Thunder’s hooves beat frantically against the snow and the ride through the acres soon comes to an end as Jack instructs you to slow Thunder to a steady trot once more.
You can sense Thunder’s reluctance, he would run forever if he could, but you pull on the reins and announce for him to slow and he does.
“Woah, easy. Easy…” you soothe as he tries to resist, but eventually settles back into that steady canter as you all catch your collective breath.
You wipe your eyes with the back of your woolly hand and Jack smiles at you.
“That was amazing,” you admit, your body shaking, not just from the cold now.
“I knew you’d love it.” He replies, grinning. “Your husband knows you better than you think.”
“Sometimes,” you tease.
“Sometimes?” He scoffs and stamps another kiss on your cold cheek.
Once in the paddock, Jack jumps off and helps you down. You lunge for him, planting a heavy kiss on his lips and slip your tongue into his hot, wet mouth.
“What’s got you so hot n’ bothered, hmm?” He murmurs against your lips.
“Adrenaline.” You shrug giggling, as you stroke the back of Jack's nape where his brown curls gather under his suede Stetson.
His hands sweep through your hair, messy from being wind-whipped and he studies your face with chocolate mocha eyes. You shiver as he pulls you to him.
“Fuck, sugar.” He groans as you press your mouth to his again; your kiss mutating into something desperate and untamed.
You both stumble backwards and Jack loses his footing and pulls you down with him in the muddy slush around the paddock.
“Ah shit,” he groans, chuckling.
You squeal as you feel the cold and wet instantly soak into your jeans. Scrambling, you try to get up, but slip further into the mud as Jack gives up and howls loudly at your plight.
He’s rewarded with a glop of mud thrown at his chest.
“Need a hand there, darlin’?” Once he’s contained himself enough, he helps you up and you both head back to the Ranch to warm up.
“Go on n’ get yourself inside. I’ll wrangle Thunder back into the stable. Reckon it might snow again soon.” He glances up at the sky, the sun long since besmirched by clouds of grey.
“Don’t take too long, handsome” you smirk.
“Lickety-split.” Jack breathes into your mouth as you kiss him again.
You look at the state of you both, covered in freezing mud, and Jack has some splashed up on his forehead, and you can’t help but laugh at the state of you both, despite shivering.
“Why don’t you run us a bath?” Jack suggests with dark eyes, and you nod as if under a captive spell.
You leave your muddy boots on the porch and head inside. The warmth hits you immediately and you shimmy yourself out of your wet jacket, blowing into your hands that feel like icicles, despite the gloves.
You pace up the stairs, wading somewhat as your jeans stick to you, to the bathroom and fill the large jacuzzi-style tub with hot water, stripping as you notice snowflakes starting to billow lightly outside.
“Missed your calling as a weatherman, Jack.” You snicker to yourself.
You toss in a fragrant bath bomb and light some incense filling the bathroom with heady notes of sandalwood, patchouli, and exotic florals; the swirling tendrils evoking a sense of tranquillity as your skin starts to perspire.
You step into the sizzling, enveloping water that seems to wrap its arms around you with the inviting warmth as you succumb to it wholly.
You breathe out slowly, moaning in relief as you slide your shoulders under the water, the temperature burning you slightly and relishing the feel of it.
You swill the water around; lavishing yourself in the foamy remnants of the bath bomb. You eventually lay still in the water and breathe in and out a few times, keeping your eyes closed.
Your cold, aching muscles from the ride find some sedated bliss in those first few moments; like someone has slowly squeezed the angst and stress out of you like juicing an orange.
You close your eyes and relax, feeling the weight start to drop from you.
The invigorating peace is interrupted by the bathroom door slowly creaking open and footsteps pad in lightly on the tiled floor.
You turn your head, smiling at Jack as he unbuttons his plaid shirt and drops it to his feet.
You sit up, watching him, and try not to obscenely salivate over your husband as he unbuckles his belt with a slow, deliberate simmer at you, but it's hard not to. He’ll always have that effect on you when he gets naked.
Your eyes roam over tan, sculpted arms, a svelte waist and long legs smattered with dark hairs, before you settle in on the thick, hardening cock between his legs.
“Scooch on forward, sugar,” he says softly with a wink, standing at the side of the tub; that semi hard-on already taking shape and protruding out from his lean, muscular body.
He steps in and sits down in the water behind you; his long legs running parallel either side of you.
“Couldn’t resist,” you hum.
“You gettin’ started without me, hmm?” Jack queries as he pulls you back into his chest, wrapping his arms over your stomach again.
You feel him plant kisses into your crown as you nuzzle into him.
“Scrub my back for me?” You question coyly over your shoulder, and flutter your eyelashes at him.
The steam in the bathroom makes the mirror frost over with condensation and the air seems to vibrate around you both and stick to your clammy skin.
You sit upright; the water making your back glisten at him and he licks his lips as he regards you.
“Well, how can I resist such a tempting offer?” Jack smiles and reaches for the soap on the side of the bath behind him, lathering it up in his big hands.
You feel his hands massaging into your shoulders; his fingers kneading away all the tension and the slippery feel of the soap foaming on your back, squelching through his thick digits.
“Mmm,” you sigh as he works his thumbs down either side of your spinal cord.
“That feel good, hmm?” Jack husks from behind you, squeezing and manipulating the muscles under your skin. He knows it’s good - knows it will drive you wild.
“Real good…” You utter, eyes closed and lost inside of his hypnotic rhythms and magic hands.
You can hear him breathe in your ear and feel him plant lascivious kisses down the side of your damp face. The faint scratch of his shaven jaw runs prickly against your skin; the soft fuzz of his moustache counteracting it begins to tickle again.
It begins to wake your nipples up; sending goosebumps to bloom around your areolas pulling them tight and tingly.
He runs his fingers down your back and up under your arms sitting forward himself, and slathers the soapy lather in his hands across your collarbone and down towards your breasts.
Your breath hitches as his roaming fingers tease your nipples, pulling and rolling them gently, and you sink back into his chest once more as he massages. He runs the open palms of his hands all over them; cupping, squeezing, fondling.
“That’s so nice,” you groan as he kisses the side of your temple.
“I told you, I know you well.” You can hear him grin, a graze inside your ear.
His wet, soapy fingers continue to work their way down your torso, gliding across your navel before he gives it a gentle squeeze and strokes gently.
“What’re we gonna name this lil’ dill pickle in here, hmm?” Jack asks, and you glance down at your tummy, still flat, but in a few months time it’ll be swollen and rotund as the baby grows.
“Depends what he looks like when he comes out. Hopefully not like a dill pickle. I hate pickles.” You say, crinkling your nose.
You hear Jack snort behind you into your hair. “Hates pickles. I married me a mad one.”
“You knew what you were getting yourself into, cowboy.” You chuckle.
“Mmhm. He?” He queries.
“Feels like a he.” You say, placing your hands on top of Jack’s. The light of your wedding band shimmering in the wet. “What do you think?”
“I think,” Jack breathes in, his lips grazing your skin behind your ear “as long as it’s healthy, darlin’, it don’t matter. Gonna love it all the same.”
You smile, reaching up behind you to stroke his face. You feel him peck your fingers.
“When he's out, I’ll put another one in there.” He confirms.
“Woah, hold your horses,” you say.
“You just try n’ stop me, sugar. Got yourself a virile man. Gonna have a whole bunch of lil’ rodeo riders gallopin’ about the joint.” Jack pinches your hips gently and you giggle when he hits a ticklish spot as he gruffs another chuckle in your ear.
He feels you flinch and the top of your buttocks push against his cock that has long since hardened completely under the water.
“Besides, I'm waitin’ for these to grow nice n’ big, too,” Jack smirks.
Jack kisses down the side of your face once more; his lips searching yours out and finally making contact with them as you twist yourself in the water to reach them.
His tongue darts into your mouth as he squeezes onto your right breast, and a satisfied grunt escapes into your mouth from him.
You splash water at him as he growls playfully into you, moaning as you kiss him again.
It makes all the hairs of your body stand tall to order, hearing him moan like that - moan for you. Warming you as you inhale them in; oxygen to your lungs.
Filling you deep with sweet images of him teaching your child - or several of them - to ride horses and take care of them. The thought of Jack’s paternal instincts rile you up even further.
Although it doesn’t take much with the hormones either.
His kiss is hungry; swallowing you up and you raise your wet hands to finger inside of his hair, weaving through it gently at first, but becoming fiercer with tugs as he reacts to it.
You wonder what else it’ll be that you’ll crave this much as your pregnancy advances, because you're constantly craving your husband inside you, night and day it seems.
And neither of you are complaining about it.
He follows the track of bubbles down your body with his hand, slides down over your torso and abdomen until his fingers reach forward and disappear between the middle of your legs inside the bubbly pool.
You gasp, breaking the kiss as you feel them instantly finding your clit and shudder as he swipes across it with the pads of his tips. They tease between your soapy folds. His middle finger starts tapping and rubbing against your hub, making you gasp into his mouth.
“Suck, darlin’... just like that.”
His other hand grips gently around under your face, stroking your jawline as his digits run over your lips when he breaks the kiss.
Hooded brown eyes regard you before inserting his index and middle finger into your mouth.
You suck on them gently, and run your tongue over them as his other fingers thrum heavier on your clit under the water, causing it to swill around you as you fidget, grinding against his fingers as he slowly teases you with them.
He can still feel the viscous slickness of you around them, feeling silkier in the water.
“You feel that, sugar? What you’re doin’ to me? Got my cock all big n' hard for you.” His fingers move off your clit and begin to take a walk inside of you, and you gasp again in delight.
Jack marvels with mud coloured eyes as you lap at his fingers, imagining they’re his cock. They taste slightly salty like it; rough and calloused skin being soothed by your tongue.
He groans into your ear nipping at your lobe, as you feel him pressing against your lower back and getting harder by the second.
“Mmm, Jack…” His name escapes out of your mouth, dripping in honey and all things sweet.
The fingers you’ve been sucking on run across your throat and he kisses you more forcefully as he slides his digits in and out of your pussy, gaining momentum.
Your part your legs wider so he can delve in further to you, arching back up against him as the sensation of tingles flood outwards from your core all over your body and skin, crackling outwards like fuzzed lightning.
“Fuck!” You pant as he works you up and pushes you closer and closer to the edge until you finally leap off.
An electrifying sensation courses through you, sparking an intoxicating blend of satisfaction and euphoria as you gasp out.
“Jack!”
“Fuck, darlin’, that’s it.” Jack encourages as the heel of his palm grinds heavily against your clit as he fingers you through your pulsing orgasm.
Your thighs jolt and shudder as he strokes gentler now, teasing circles around your sensitive bud after withdrawing his slick soaked fingers.
You twist around in the bath completely to face him. You want him; want him hard and are going to take him - hard.
“Fuck,” you moan, taking him in.
He lays back in the tub, knees open wide with plumes of suds, and cock resting heavy and thick against his stomach.
It makes you salivate to see him like this; so fucking gorgeous and wet, and all yours.
“See somethin’ you like?” He smirks.
You run your drenched hands over his cock, nodding. Feeling how he pulses and the veins throb around your grip as you jerk him slowly.
“Show me again how well you can ride, sugar.” Jack challenges, as you grin.
You straddle him, sliding up and down against him; your lips teasing him as you rub against his hard, thick length.
“Gimme that pussy, darlin’.”
“You want it, cowboy?” You utter as you slip back and forth over him.
“Oh, you know I want it.” He hisses through his teeth as you rub your cunt up and down his length, groaning as it still tingles on your clit. “Always want this fuckin’ gorgeous pussy.”
You sit down on his thick cock that’s poking out of the water at you, inviting you onto its swollen, wet head. The water sloshes around you both as he grabs at your hips and grinds you down onto his throbbing dick.
“Fuck,” he grits as he fills you.
You balance your weight on your arms, holding onto the edges of the tub, sliding up and down him; bouncing that pussy of yours off of his cock.
“C’mon, sugar. Ride me. Ride your cowboy.” Jack tempts.
Jack thrusts his hips upwards to meet you halfway as you thud back down on him, making you both cry out.
“Fuck, like that!” He hollers, the water now splashing over the sides of the tub onto the floor with your intense determination to get off.
“That feel good, darlin'? Lemme see you. Eyes on me, sweet thing. Christ, look at you... So fuckin’ gorgeous on my dick. That's it now, work it... Like that. Aw, hell yeah, like that…” he croons, panting.
He can feel himself becoming more and more frantic with you and you love it. You grip onto his hands, anchoring yourself as he bucks underneath you; lifting his hips as you ride him deeper and faster.
“Jack! Fuck!”
You’re wailing as your head snaps back, suds flicking up the tiles, and the water in the tub is nothing more than a swirling whirlpool around you both.
You can feel the brewing of your orgasm; the tightening inside your stomach and the deep pull of your cunt cinching around him.
It’s a delicious feeling as you unwind yourself completely. The air in the bathroom carrying a heavy, languid heat, wrapping you in a heady cocoon of sensual bliss.
Jack gorges on the vision of you, sitting atop him; breasts shiny with the soapy water dripping down them, jiggling up and down. Panting and groaning for him as your body runs slick with water and bubbles.
The blooming feeling, like a sunlit daydream, unfolds with gentle intensity that bathes you in a soft, golden glow as it builds from within.
A velvet touch of warmth that lingers dreamily through the marrow of your bones, leaving you submerged in a haze of dizzy serenity, where time slows and the world takes on a muted hue around the fuzzed edges of your vision, condensating your eyes as you enjoy the deep thrusting inside you.
“Darlin’. Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groans. He can feel himself beginning to lose it, grunting and getting ready to fill you up.
You let go of his hands and slap them down on his chest, riding him ragged over the final hurdle; cunt tightening and pumping his cock.
He can just about bear it as your position means he’s gone that little bit further inside you still, and your walls are rubbing deliciously against him.
“Ah shee-it!” Jack curses out with a snarl pulled around his beautiful lips. “Gonna fill you up, sugar. You’re close now… I can feel it. Want you comin’ all over my cock as I fill you, okay?” He drawls in that thick, Kentucky squall.
Nodding, you go faster; twerking on his dick and feeling the build up inside you reach epic proportions - your own release imminent. You want this; crave this from him, as you let yourself let go.
“Come for me, Jack!”
“Fuck, yeah!”
He shudders against you, cursing out and biting his bottom lip as he begins exploding inside you. Veins in his neck twitching and bulging as he howls.
You slump forward onto him, kissing his wet, smooth chest delicately. The water finally comes to a still as you lay in the hot suds with him.
You combust around him; calling his name out over and over; your rocking takes on a slow and steady pace until its eventual stop as you both shiver and judder from the come down.
Your body tingles all over and legs feel like wobbly jelly.
“Fuck me...” Jack sighs contentedly, grabbing a hold of your ass and squeezing it gently between the wavy, foamy froth.
“I just did.” You titter and he chuckles.
“And then some.” He tilts your chin up to him and plants a lingering sensual kiss on your lips.
“Jesus Christ, I love you, darlin’.” He wraps you tightly in his drenched arms. “You n’ that lil' dill pickle in there.”
You smile contentedly. “We love you too, cowboy.”
A little while later, you’re both dressed in warm clothes by the fireplace, as Jack sips from a glass of honey coloured whiskey.
You’re both exchanging cosy, satisfied smiles as you both wrap the gifts in coordinated teamwork, that you’ve picked out together for the staff that work at the Ranch.
You crease the folds of the metallic paper, and he tears off the tape strips holding them out to you on a lone finger. He holds the ribbon in place, whilst you tie it into a bow over his digits.
He writes out the cards in a messy scrawl, whilst you place some food down in front of him, and he leans up to kiss you, patting and rubbing your tummy gently.
He lifts up the chunky knit of your sweater to reveal your soft, clean skin. You run your hands through his deep chocolate locks as he beams up at you.
“Happy Christmas, sugar.”
“Happy Christmas, Jack.”
You watch, smiling fondly, as he then runs his nose against your belly, inhaling the perfume of you, and you giggle at the tickle of his moustache.
Jack gazes up at you before pressing his soft, pursed lips below your belly button. A lingering little smooch sinking into the layers of your skin.
“Happy Christmas, lil' dill pickle.” Jack says.
12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
#pedro pascal x reader#jack daniels x reader#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey smut#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey kingsman#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#christmas stories#jett's writing
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Treat Me Like A Slut - jack "whiskey" daniels x f!reader
warnings: explicit 18+. *MDNI*
a/n: I got the title of this from the Kim Petras song with the same name. It inspired the filth below.
y'all already know by now my sister in smut @katiexpunk helped me flesh out deets & all that. couldn't do it without you bestie babe. <3
word count: 4k+
summary: Jack returns home from a mission. You have a surprise and a request for him.
tags: Jack calls reader a slut multiple times (at her request), masturbation (m and f), size kink, unprotected P in V, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, orgasm denial, codewords, dom/sub dynamic, pet names for reader (sugar, baby, sweet girl, kitten), reader calls Jack cowboy, references to Jack being a trained killer, reader buys and wears lingerie, established relationship, brief mention of anal play, Creampie !!!!, no physical descriptions of reader, excessive use of Daddy, rough sex, ankle biting, toe sucking, a whip gets mentioned, size kink, spanking, one (1) titty slap, Jack has some funny lines in this one, bruising, and finally Jack is just a menace in this one – sweet and kinky AF.
smut after the cut.
Jack hates jerking off.
Well, he hates jerking off when he could have you. Nothing can replicate the feeling of your lips on his cock or being buried deep inside your pussy. He fucks his cock in his fist anyway, not that he has much of an option at the moment. Sweet, salacious memories of you flood his brain as he tries to melt deeper into the mattress and he attempts to forget the past few weeks. This mission has been long and drawn out; time he would rather spend with you.
You’ve been dating for three months now and can’t stay away from each other. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Jack wants to constantly be in your orbit. When he first asked you on a date, you both agreed to take it slow. “I don’t wanna pressure you, sugar,” he said, and you had agreed that slow is good. You quickly learned that neither you, nor Jack, know the concept of the word. Your first date turned into an entire weekend together. Once he had sampled a taste of your sweetness, there was no going back.
It’s been an agonizing week for Jack. He’s always had a flair for the dramatics, but you can hear it in the tone of his voice that he isn’t exaggerating when he says this week has nearly killed him. Sure, being a Statesman is dangerous and he flirts with death on the daily, but being away from you? He’d rather be given the Old Yeller treatment than to have to be without you.
“Fuck, fuck,” he moans, taking a final few tugs at the silky smooth skin of his hard shaft before cum erupts out of him and onto his toned belly. “Fuck,” he says, letting out a long sigh, hand still on how pulsing cock as he stares at the ceiling wishing you were here to lick the spend off of him.
***
You were able to keep yourself busy and enjoy your alone time at first, but as the week went on, you became more impatient. Needy.
Tonight, your apartment feels smaller than usual, the air thicker, as you pace back and forth across the hardwood floor. The book you had been engrossed in lay forgotten on the coffee table, its characters suspended in a world you couldn’t quite bring yourself to re-enter. Your mind was too focused on Jack.
You check your phone for the umpteenth time, the minutes ticking by at an excruciatingly slow pace. The silence in the apartment echoes the restlessness in you. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach, a want, a need, a feeling of unease.
An orgasm might help, you think, but no matter how hard you try, your methods of self-pleasure never seem to fully satiate you. Sure, you’ve made yourself come a dozen times this week, but it’s not the same. You’re spoiled now; Jack’s expert hands, mouth, and god his cock have taken your pleasure threshold to new heights. He’s given you the best orgasms of your life, and now what you’re able to accomplish on your own is slightly abysmal. It’s infuriating or splendid, you can’t decide which, that he seems to know your body more than you do.
Despite knowing it won’t help, the siren call of your cunt wins over. As you lay on your shared bed, engulfed in the smell of his cologne still clinging to the pillowcases, the faint buzz of your vibrator and your sweet little sounds that drive Jack crazy add new noise to the silence. You imagine Jack and the slow, tantalizing drag of his cock in and out of you as you fold like a house of cards letting the aftershocks of your orgasm lull you to sleep.
Just one more day until he’s home.
***
The first light of morning filters through the curtains, kissing the room in a soft glow, you stir from your slumber. You let out a big good morning stretch, and clear the sleep from your eyes. As you sit up, the duvet cascades from your shoulders and you take a moment to bask in the quiet beauty of the morning. Today’s the day.
The list of things you have to do before your cowboy comes home already starts running through your mind like the end credits of a movie, and you spring out of bed and get ready for the day.
As you stroll through the downtown area, with only one bag in hand, you just so happen to walk by a lingerie store. Call it chance or fate, but the sexy tight number in the window catches your attention.
“Hey there sweet pea, what brings you in today?” the older woman greets you as you walk through the doors to the shop. She doesn’t particularly fit the vibe of the store, but her presence is a bit disarming. Of course, you’d shopped for lingerie before, but always online and never in person, so you’re a tad nervous.
“Oh, hi – uh, well I was just out running some errands,” you say, slightly lifting your bag as if to signal this isn’t planned before continuing, “the piece in the corner caught my eye, would it be possible to try it on?” you ask, your eyes dropping to the floor as you tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear.
“Oh sure, honey, that’s a gorgeous one!” You smile and give her your size, and she tells you to look around the shop for anything else you might like to try on. You grab a handful and she leads you to the dressing room, telling you her name is Darla and to holler if you need any different sizes.
You save your favorite, the one from the window, for last. As you slip into the ensemble, the fabric feels luxe against your skin. It’s a lacy, scarlet red babydoll with a thong to match. You admire yourself in the mirror, letting your palms playfully dance over your curves. Any nervousness you feel walking into the store is slowly replaced with a new sense of confidence. Lost in the fantasy of how he’ll respond, there’s a little flutter in your stomach.
“How’s it going in there? Need any help with the laces?” Darla asks. You’re not sure if it’s in her job description to be so kind to her customers, but you like her.
“Great – I, I think I found the one,” you say, opening the curtain to let her finish fastening you into the fabric.
“Oh honey, you’re a knockout,” she says, and you feel your skin warm at the compliment. “Your man’s in for a real treat.”
Yeah. He really is.
***
Once home, the hours seem to pass by slower than molasses, as Jack would say.
You decide to take an ‘everything’ shower to kill time and to compliment your new purchase. You have the time, so you decide to go the full nine; you put on a hair mask, exfoliate, shave, and gua sha your face. You giggle as you remember Jack watching you do it once, except he couldn’t say ‘gua sha’ correctly, mispronouncing the ‘gua’ as ‘goo’.
You moisturize your body in your favorite body butter, the one that Jack thinks smells delicious, and paint your nails to match the lacy number you’ll be donning this evening. Pampering yourself like this, giving yourself the self-care you’ve been needing, amplifies the arousal that’s been brewing all day.
You illuminate the room with a warm flicker of candles, their soft glow creating an ambiance to the room around you while the dulcet tones of your favorite vinyl grace the air at a low volume. You slip into your red number and put the finishing touches on your look as you admire yourself in the mirror. You look hot, and you know it.
You’re ready to pounce on Jack as soon as he walks in.
Suddenly, the unmistakable jingle of his keys in the lock alerts you that he’s finally home. You hear the little creak of the door as he pushes it open, and then the commanding cadence of his boot-clad footsteps, a sound you could identify any day. You feel a buzz course through your body at your excitement as you take your place on the bed.
“Honey, I’m home,” Jack echoes through the entryway.
“In here!” you respond, throwing your voice in his direction.
As Jack swings open the bedroom door, his jaw practically descends to the floor in sheer astonishment, his bag meeting the ground with a resounding thud. A stunned silence envelops the room, his dark brown eyes riveted on you, unblinking and filled with an intensity that leaves him momentarily speechless, while a palpable hunger reflects in his watering mouth.
Holy. Fuck.
“Hi baby, I missed you,” you purr, your eyes locked on his, as you crawl on all fours like a tigress to her prey to finish greeting him, “did you miss me?” you ask, all flirt and no question in your voice, rising to your knees on the mattress to give him a better look at your body.
He must have died and this is heaven. There’s no other explanation for the beauty that is you before him.
He approaches you, his broad hands finding your hips as you interlace your fingers behind his neck. With his body pressed against you, you can already feel his rock-hard cock twitching in his tight, nearly painted-on jeans.
“You have no idea…” he growls in the nape of your neck before pulling away to eye you in a ravenous manner that makes your heartbeat in your pussy.
One of his hands leaves your side, and he reaches up to angle your chin towards him. He looks you in the eyes in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world, his eyes saying all of the things his mouth isn’t. He smiles at you for a moment before he leans in and plants his lips on yours. He begins to kiss you languidly, and you both let out soft moans in unison at being in each other’s presence again. His groomed mustache tickles your lips, making you giggle into his mouth.
He pulls back, fiddling with the hem of the baby doll. “You wear this just for me?” he asks, his warm hand splaying on your tummy.
“Mhmm,” you respond, but it comes out sounding a little more like a moan than a reply. “I wanted to surprise you,” you confess while looking down at where his hand meets your stomach, “wanted to look sexy for you, Agent Whiskey,” you look back into his eyes, giving him a little wink, your allure calling out to him; snatching him up faster than any lasso ever could.
Jack normally doesn’t like his work to bleed through to his personal life, but hearing your honeyed voice call him Agent Whiskey is enough to make him abandon all the rules.
“Darlin’, ya always look sexy to me, like a goddamn sex kitten,” he drawls, leaning in to plant tender kisses on your neck, his grazing his teeth over the soft skin of your neck. You giggle, playfully swatting at him. “‘M serious, you are divine,” he adds, divine coming out more like deevine.
You may be the sex kitten in his eyes, but he’s the one lapping you up like a bowl of milk. His hands roam over the tight fabric that graces your body, and you get lost in the feel of his touch. His grip on you is tight, even though you’re fully pressed against him, he wants you closer. His need, his lust, awakens something carnal in you, causing you to lose control of your tongue as you all but word vomit, “Treat me like a slut.” Well, we probably could have eased into that conversation.
He pulls back and eyes your face in disbelief – this must be heaven – before a knowing smirk washes across his face. “Is that what you want, hmm? Want Daddy to get rough with ya, baby?” The hand that’s gripping the soft flesh of your hips begins to migrate down to your ass.
You whimper; becoming putty-like in his hands, more than ready to worship at his altar.
“Tell me, baby. Use your words like a big girl,” he urges, squeezing your ass with more force.
“Yes, daddy,” you choke out, “I want you to be rough with me, please…please.”
“My pretty girl wants me to treat her like a slut, then that’s what she’ll get,” He removes the hand on your hip, and the other from your ass, before guiding them to find yours. He interlocks your fingers together and looks at you a bit more seriously this time. You see the darkness that flickers behind his eyes. You know Jack is a dangerous man – a trained killer – but he’d never hurt you. No, this darkness is something different, it’s an insatiable desire to consume you in every way possible, to give you anything you desire.
“Wanna set some rules first, ‘kay?” he says, his voice low. You nod.
“If at any point you want me to stop, slow down, don’t like something, whatever, you tell me, alright? You remember our code word?” he asks, and you nod again. “Good. Now, you don’t get to touch me unless I tell ya to. You don’t get to come ‘til I tell ya to. Got it?”
“Yes, daddy, I understand,” you respond. He lets out another knowing smirk and palms himself through his jeans.
“‘M gonna take good care of ya, baby girl. Now, you gonna show daddy what a good little slut you can be?” he asks.
“Yes, daddy. Wanna be a good slut for you.”
You’re a little surprised at how quickly you slip into submission, although you shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to Jack. He’s a master at getting what he wants, and you’re not sure if there is anything that you wouldn’t do for him.
“Good girl. Now, off the mattress and get on your knees,” he orders, already unbuckling his jeans to free his wicked big cock.
You do as he says, feeling yourself sink your weight onto your shins and the coolness of the hardwood beneath you. “Open your mouth,” he says, his heavy cock in hand, stroking it to get it to full length.
You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, patiently waiting for your next instructions.
He continues to stroke himself, looking, admiring, the gift of a woman that sits before him. As he pumps himself, he takes a few steps forward so that he’s hovering above you. Your big doe eyes look up at him, and you’re drooling at the sight of him like you always have.
His thumb ghosts over his red and weeping tip, and he uses it to collect the dribble of precum that has beaded through his slit to wet the tip of his cock. He taps the mushroom head of it onto your tongue a few times, a sticky string of saliva trailing between him and your tongue with each lift before he eventually plants the tip fully in your mouth. Your lips lock around him, and you begin to moan, reveling in the heady taste of him. You want so badly to move, to take him deeper into your mouth, but he hasn’t told you to do so. He tangles one of his hands in your hair, firmly pulling; not too gentle, but not too rough, either.
Jack slides your mouth off of him. He’s admiring your present state; spit and precum smeared across your mouth and down your chin, hair disheveled and your eyes delirious from lust.
“Change of plans,” he says, offering no explanation as to why he’s suddenly depriving you of sucking him off.
“Don’t worry ‘m gonna take of ya, like I always do,” he says, kicking off his boots and shucking the rest of his clothes to the floor, “hands and knees on the bed, baby.”
You don’t need to be told twice. You’re clambering over yourself to follow directions, legs unsteady from your agonizing need.
Jack drops to his knees behind you, takes his thick finger, and slips it into your crack, under the lacy string situated between your cheeks. He pulls back on the thin string and releases it, the snap causing a pleasant sting against your skin.
“Soaking wet,” he hums, ‘always so fucking wet, you perfect girl,” he rasps, running that same finger through your seam, along the drenched lace, causing you to whimper. “Who’s got you so wet, baby, hmm?” he asks, knowing the answer, he just wants to hear you say it.
He lands a light swat on your ass when you don’t answer him. It sends a shiver through your spine, more arousal dripping into your thong.
“‘M not gonna ask you again. So tell me, who’s got your pretty pussy so wet, baby?”
“You, Jack, always wet for you, only you,” each word comes out shaky, so aroused you might collapse if Jack doesn’t alleviate the ache soon, “Daddy, please,” you cry.
Kneading the flesh of your ass he grunts in approval. “S’right baby, you’re mine. All mine.”
Jack pulls the thong to the side, revealing your dripping cunt to him. He spits down, trailing from your asshole to your clit, your legs clench in response. You’re using all your might not to move. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him, after all, it is his job to notice things; even on the subtlest level.
Ghosting a fingertip over your tight ring of muscle, rousing you, “You like it when I touch you like that? Touchin’ your other slutty lil hole?”
“Y-es, fuck,” gritting out through ragged breaths. He files that information for later, a smug grin plastered on his face.
He swipes his tongue from your clit up your entrance. He moans in response to your taste like you’re the best dessert he’s ever had; you whimper from the spark of pleasure of the warmth of his tongue. He teases you a few more times by lightly skimming up and down, licking you from your clit down to your aching hole. You can’t help but squirm, rocking your hips back to meet his mouth, chasing your high. He smacks your ass again, a reminder to keep still.
“Need more,” you whine pitifully, his grip on the back of your thighs is now ironclad, blocking you from gaining more stimulation that isn’t provided by him.
He halts his movements and pulls his face away from your pussy, but still close enough that you can feel his hot breath when he speaks, “I know I don’t need’ta remind you to use your manners.”
“Please, daddy, I need more, fuck, fuck, fuckkk!” you desperately cry.
“Good girl, askin’ so nicely,” punctuated by shoving a thick finger into your weeping entrance.
Jack pumps his finger in and out at a steady pace, all while flicking his tongue across your throbbing clit. When he thinks you’re relaxed enough, he slips in a second finger, and the added sensation and drag against your soft walls has you barreling towards the edge of your orgasm.
He can tell you’re close by the way your cunt grips down on him, tightening like a trap, one you never want him to leave. He slows his pace, edging you until you’re writhing in his grip. “Daddy, please, please let me come,” you’re heaving, covered in a sheen of sweat.
“My little slut gets to come when I tell her she can,” he torts.
Once he senses you’re no longer as close to finishing as you were, he slowly picks up his tempo once more and the attention he places on your clit brings you right back to the boiling point. Your fingers card through his dark locks as you hang on to him for dear life, doing your best not to come without permission.
“J–Jaa-Jack,” you cry, “I can’t hold on much longer, I’m going to come, I need to come.”
He wants to continue to edge you all night, but the growing ache from his neglected cock begins to get to him. As much as he wants to continue to devour you, his blood-filled shaft has other plans.
“Alright, you can come, let me hear you, pretty girl,” he whispers against your mound before his lips find their home around your clit, and his tongue begins to circle against it in just the right way. With his permission, you let out a sigh of relief; your orgasm washes over you like the ocean onto the shore, it’s loud and strong.
Jack gathers the slick seeping out of you onto his fingers and sucks it off, his eyes fluttering shut as he savors the final taste of your release. “That’s finger lickin’ good, baby,” he says. You might feel inclined to cringe at that, but you’re too fucked out to mind, but a little giggle escapes your chest at the comment. Only Jack could find the perfect balance of vulgarity and humor.
He drops both of his large palms to your thighs and begins to massage them with a soothing amount of pressure, grounding you through your floaty, blissed-out state, and it’s not before long that the need for more returns. He gently pecks soft kisses on your lower back, murmuring praises against your skin. Such a good girl, you did so good for me, my sweet and pretty girl. He’s sensual and sweet amidst the dominance he’s displaying, the duality makes your heart beat fast and your pussy flutter.
He rises to stand and positions himself behind where you’re bent over. He strokes his heavy cock as he marvels at how good you look like this, bent over, ass up, just waiting to be stuffed full of him. He lines the tip of his cock up against your wet and waiting cunt to gather a little bit of your slick on the head of him before he begins gliding his cock up and down through your messy folds. The sensation on your somewhat sensitive clit makes you let out a small little whimper.
“Want daddy to fuck you, pretty girl?” Just like before, he already knows the answer, he just wants to hear you beg for it, beg for him. His ego is as big as his cock. His words are as much of a tease for him as they are for you; his resolve begins to crumble further with every moment he’s not buried to the hilt inside you.
“Yes!” nodding your head despite the way it’s still spinning, “please—”
“Think she can fit it,” he asks, not giving you a second to answer as he drives the length of him inside you with no restraint. Your body jolts forward on impact and he clutches your waist, pinning you in place. Both of you are unmoving, gasping to catch your breath as you adjust to his size. It’s a stretch every time and you delight in it. “Course she can, cuz my girl is a perfect little slut,” he says, dragging his cock in and out of you with ease as your wetness coats him.
‘Fuck, baby. You feel so good, it’s like this pussy was made for me, just fuck, just for me,” he says, willing himself to not bust inside of you already, but it’s hard. Having you like this, at his mercy, coupled with the time he spent away from you, he’s shaking in his proverbial boots.
You start to reach your hand behind you to hold onto his arm, but stop, remembering the rules. You don’t get to touch me unless I tell ya to.
Jack beats you to the punch, “Go on, darlin’, grab hold’a daddy. You’re gonna need it.”
Just as soon as you wrap your hand around his forearm, he pulls almost out of you entirely before slamming back into you, the tip of his cock punches your cervix and you let out a little welp. The intensity of the relentless pace he has set has you breathless, keyed up, on the edge of another orgasm. He continues to fuck in and out of you, plowing into your pussy at a devastating pace; no mercy to be found.
Lecherous sounds echo through the bedroom; Jack’s hips slapping against the flesh of your ass, the wet squelch of your pussy, guttural groans and whines.
“Such a good fuckin’ slut for me, kitten… you take this cock so good, so fuckin’ tight, Jesus…” Jack rambles in between his thrusts.
“Tell daddy how it feels,” he commands, landing a sharp smack against your ass. “Feels so good, daddy, mmm, feel so full,” you sputter, an octave higher than you usually speak.
“Yeah I know, baby girl,” he pulls out, manhandling you onto your back, jerking your legs over his shoulders before he slams back into you in a matter of seconds, the intensity of it causes your tits to bounce and Jack loves the sight of it. The angle has his cock punching your cervix brutally and deliciously. Your cunt grips him tighter as you watch the way his jaw goes slack as he pummels in and out of you. He can use you like this forever and you’d be fine with it.
Jack turns his face to graze his teeth across your ankle, then bites the soft flesh, eliciting a yelp from you. The look in Jack’s eyes is voracious. He’ll never have enough of you.
“Eyes on me, baby,” he growls, gently slapping one of your tits through the cups of the babydoll to redirect your eyes into his. Locking eyes with one another while Jack ravages you has you hurling into another orgasm.
“Fuck, I’m so close, daddy,” just shy of shouting.
A cheeky grin breaks out on his face as if he’d gotten an idea just now. Jack lifts one of your legs off his shoulder and holds it steady, your foot now directly in front of his face. Without warning, he shoves your middle two toes into his mouth.
“Jack!” You actually shout this time. A mix of surprise and bliss.
“Scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar,” he teases, but admittedly, he loves seeing how loud he can get you to cry out his name.
He runs his warm tongue along your ticklish toes and you’re done for. “Can I come daddy? I’m so fucking close, please I need to come…” panting like a dog in heat.
“C’mon give it to me, pretty girl, gimme another and I’ll fill you up with my cum,” he encourages. He’s not far off from where you’re at. “Been such a good slut for me tonight, soak this fuckin’ cock…”
He’s rutting into you with such great force, you know you’ll be sore tomorrow. That thought is the last push you needed; you’re clenching around Jack while you’re coming; entering a rapturous daze.
“Oh fuck, Jack—fuck, ah!” mewling loudly. Your juices drip out of you onto his cock and the sheets. He loves how messy your pussy is.
“That’s it baby, mmmm such a sweet mess you made for me…” cooing at you.
He slows his speed way down, but keeps the thrusts deep, helping you ride out your second orgasm of the night.
A few hard, deep, slow thrusts and Jack is spurting his spend in your pussy.
“Fuuuuuuuuuck, baby,” halting his movements, resting his forehead against yours. The sticky sheen of sweat clings in the air; the distinctive smell of sex permeating the room.
He showers your face in tender kisses, leaving no patch of skin untouched. You adore the way Jack will fuck you within an inch of your life and will be caring and attentive afterwards.
***
Both of you lie still tangled in each others’ arms, Jack breaks the silence, “Maybe I should leave more often,” in that post-sex-husky-raspy voice you love so much.
“Nuh-uh, this week sucked without you. Leave for that long again and it’ll be you getting treated like a slut,” you taunt. You giggle uncontrollably, still under the effect of your climax.
He puffs out an exhale of relief. He’s not convinced you have a dominant bone in your body until you reveal that you purchased something else in addition to the red number still lingering on your body.
“You should see what else I bought,” you say, your voice suggestive enough to perk Jack’s ears up from his nearly fucked out comatose state.
He opens one eye and looks at you with an inquisitive face. You let out a smirk, and jump up from the bed, a bounce in your step, as you walk over to the dresser across the room.
Jack’s jaw actually falls to the floor this time when he watches you reveal a long, black, leather whip.
“My turn, cowboy.”
#jack daniels fic#jack whiskey daniels#jack daniels x you#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels smut#fanfic#clawing at my cage#fanfic writer#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey smut#agent whiskey fic#agent whiskey#agent whiskey x you#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x female reader#pedro fics#pedro characters#pedro pascal#fanfiction smut#smut#fic writing#pedrostories#pedrohub
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ride cowgirl! ★ (agent whiskey x reader)
(18+ mdni)
pairings : agent whiskey x afab!reader
summary : you like to make bets with your coworker for simple things, what happens when he decides he wants to raise the stakes?
warnings & tags : no use of y/n, smut, sort of dubcon there's reluctance but everything is consensual, porn with plot, this ended up actually being mostly plot lmao, p in v sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, light bondage, use of restraints, fully clothed sex, pet names, size kink, praise, whiskey big dick truther
word count : 2.3k
a/n : first new fic post on the new blog!!! I had so much fun with this thank you so much to the person who requested it !! one of my google forms anon requests was for anything whiskey!! (I put the request at the end) this was the direction I went in >:) this was meant to be a drabble but I got carried away immediately. enjoy!! (this was edited super fast bc i'm tired after work lmao, so apologies for any mistakes)
It was a stupid deal.
And you never should have made it.
Of course it’s a little late for that now, when he’s already tying your hands behind your back with his ridiculous flask belt.
“This wasn’t a part of the original agreement.” You grumble as he pulls the leather tight. That smug smile on his face.
“You said, anyway I wanted it. This is how I want it.” He leans back against the headboard to admire his work. His eyes focused on the way your chest pushes out now with your arms forced behind you until you cough to get his attention. He takes his time before letting his eyes crawl back up to your face, still grinning ear to ear.
“Can we just get this over with?” You groan.
“Oh come on, gorgeous.” He’s loosening his tie, his smile never falters. “I already told you we don’t have to do this. I’ve offered you several outs and you keep turning them down. Besides,” He flashes his teeth at you in a toothy grin. “it’s no fun for me if you don’t want it.”
That’s exactly what he’d said when you’d made this deal a week ago.
“I think I want your hat.” You said rather confidently. The two of you had a long standing rivalry. You were placing bets nearly every week at this point. The winner was whoever had the most successful missions. It had started off simple. The loser has to take the other out to dinner, or pay for drinks after a night out.
After a few months of that you’d gone out with Whiskey more times then you’d gone on any dates.
Then you decided to raise the stakes.
The other person's paycheck that week, a piece of tech the other had, at one point your mothers phone number was on the line. (Thankfully that week you had won.)
This week you were feeling lucky. So you pointed at his cowboy hat, he was never seen without.
“If I win I want your hat.” You cock your head to the side, smirking.
“You have a hat already.” He was typing up a mission report, you had come in as you always did on Monday mornings.
“Nice observation agent, how’d you figure that out?” You took a pen from the mug on his desk, rapidly clicking it in an attempt to get under his skin. “That doesn’t change my mind, I don’t want my hat. I want yours.”
He sighs in irritation, taking the pen from you and moving the mug to the other side of his computer.
“And if you win you can have mine.” You flick the rin of his hat as you say it and he finally turns to glare at you.
“I don’t want your hat, I already have a hat.”
“Someone’s in a bad mood today.” You whisper theatrically as he turns back to his work.
“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through darlin’ so let’s hurry this up.”
“I already told you. I want your hat, if you don’t want mine then pick something else.”
He turns in his desk chair completely to face you now. Annoyance visible on his face.
“If I win, then you wear my hat.” As he speaks he cracks the first smile you’ve seen on him all morning.
“You aren’t making any sense, are you still waking up? Do you want me to go get you some coffee?” You laugh but he leans forward. Even though you were up on the desk and he was in his chair he was still nearly face to face with you.
“Darlin’ you can be so cute sometimes.” You have no idea what he means but his voice has a condescending tone that makes you scowl.
“Stop being coy and just clarify.” His first signs of a smile turn into a full blown grin.
“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” He whispers, you’re about to slap him for making such a crass joke but he looks completely serious.
“That’s not funny. What do you really want?” You pray he doesn’t see the goosebumps on your arms at his words, you spend so much time with him yet he’s never made a pass at you. You’ve watched him hit on countless women these last few months but he’s never turned his attention towards you quite like this.
“I told you. You win, you get my hat. I win, you wear it.” He has to be messing with you. You want to believe that he’s just trying to push your buttons but you know purely based on the way he looks at you that he couldn’t be more serious.
It’s an insane offer. But it’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Who wouldn’t be curious about what he must whisper to get women to come home with him, what he must promise them.
Stop. You can’t seriously be considering this.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously I’m not doing that.” You get up to leave. Embarrassed by the entire situation.
“You win, you get my hat and the Bronco. I win, you wear the hat.” You’re already walking out when he says it and you stumble a bit before turning back to stare at him slack jawed.
“You’d give me your car?” The disbelief in your tone is palpable.
“If you won.”
And you just couldn’t say no. It was too good of an offer.
So you set up ground rules.
You wanted your clothes to stay on, at least as much as possible for the situation. Which he agreed to, so long as the two of you did it “how ever he wanted.” You didn’t realize until much later what that entailed. And of course there was the fact that he wanted you to enjoy it. An odd request all things considered, but he said it was important to him that you had a good time.
“It's no fun for me if you don’t want it.”
He had insisted that if you weren’t into it that he would stop, especially if he thought you were faking it.
Once everything was decided the two of you shook hands.
And then, by some cruel trick of fate, you had fumbled not one, not two, not even three, but all of your missions that week. A feat that has never happened to you in the entire history of your employment with Statesman.
So that’s how you ended up like this.
Fully clothed other than your discarded panties, straddling your most annoying coworker, who’s sitting underneath you, dressed the same as always except his pants are unzipped, with his belt around your wrists.
“Just let me know when you’re ready darlin’, take your time. I can wait all night, I've got nothing else planned.”
You could tell him no. You should. You just don't want to.
The second you did he would take the belt off your wrists, hand you your panties (the ones you pretended you didn’t see him shove in his pocket when you threw them on the bed,) and send you on your way. And he’d do it all with a smile.
Of course you can’t let that happen, that would just mean that he’s won, again.
He wouldn’t even tell anyone, not that anyone knew about the deal to begin with. But he’d never tease you for bailing, he’d just make you live with the knowledge that you bit off more than you could chew.
And worst of all, if you had won, you know for a fact that he would have handed over the keys to his car with zero hesitation.
So you roll your eyes and nod.
He clicks his tongue, leaning forward, his hands rub your thighs, pushing your skirt up further.
“Tell me you want it sweetheart.” He taunts, making you sigh loudly.
It’s not that you don’t want it. God knows you want it. You crave it. But you can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
“I want it.” You say, almost comically emotionless which has him frowning, sitting up straighter.
“Let’s just call it. You clearly don’t, and I’m not interested in an unenthusiastic partner.” He begins to lift you off of his hips but you push against him, properly sitting yourself in his lap.
“Give me a second, Jesus. I’m not even warmed up, just- I need a minute. We’re doing this.” There’s a determination in your voice that stops his efforts.
There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again.
“Do you want me to… warm you up?” It’s the first time he’s dropped the cocky facade since you started this ordeal.
“No. I think I’m okay. Let’s do this.” You nod a few times, almost like you’re hyping yourself up. The two of you hadn’t factored in a lot of the logistical details of this deal, more specifically foreplay.
As he pulls himself out of his jeans you’re starting to wish that you had. He isn’t even completely hard yet and you aren’t entirely sure how you’re going to take all of it.
He unceremoniously spits into his hand before gripping himself at the base, steadily stroking himself.
It’s like he’s a porn star and you’ve got front row seats to a private show.
You’re close enough that when he leans forward, softly grunting, his face brushes against yours. His cock becoming fully erect in his hand, you hope he doesn’t hear you gulp.
As he jerks himself off, his free hand reaches up, removing his hat before placing it onto your head. It’s a little too big for you so it tilts to one side. He gives you a lopsided grin before picking up his pace. You watch with wide eyes.
He’s too big.
In every way possible.
He’s too long, he’s too thick, he’s simply too much.
And you can’t tell him that. He’s smug enough as is, if you say “actually nevermind. you’re dick’s too big I couldn’t possibly fuck you.” he’ll be even more insufferable than he already is. But much to your chagrin he already knows what you’re thinking.
“You still sure you don’t want me to warm you up?” His nerves are clearly gone as he chuckles before hissing through his teeth. His thumb brushes over his pink, weeping tip.
“I’m fine. Ready when you are.” Not true.
“Maybe I could free your wrists. You can do it yourself if you don’t want me to do it.” He’s reaching behind you and you once again halt his efforts.
“No. We’re doing this your way.”
You’re certainly overestimating your abilities, but he doesn’t need to know that.
You scoot forward in his lap until his cock is resting between your thighs. You sit up on your knees and he lines himself up at your entrance.
“Last chance to back out, sugar.” With that final taunt from him you sink down onto him without warning. Barely taking more than an inch before you drop your chin to your chest so he can’t see your face as he simultaneously leans back to rest against the headboard once more.
It feels like he’s splitting you in half.
His hands return to your thighs. His palms splayed against you as his thumbs rub comforting circles against your flesh.
The sting is all you can think of but buried beneath it all is a heat that threatens to consume you.
You lift your head to look at him. He’s lost a bit of his bravado as he runs his fingers through his hair. You don’t give him (or yourself to be fair) a chance to adjust. You have a desperate need to watch him unravel despite the ache between your legs.
You take a deep breath before you take nearly half of him in one rock of your hips.
The stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, the heat in your stomach is bubbling over as you let out a moan you’ve never heard from yourself before. His grip on your thighs is tight enough now that you’re certain you’ll have to wear a longer skirt tomorrow.
“Christ darlin’.” He stutters out, his eyes are squeezed shut and you couldn’t be more proud.
“Is this enthusiastic enough for you?” You manage to grunt out between your small gasps.
He mumbles something that sounds like a yes.
You have to wait longer this time before moving again, you wait until the pain eases itself away and is replaced with that heat you’ve been pursuing. Only then do you try taking more of him, you don’t manage all of it but you take most of him after a bit of effort. The entire time his eyes are trained on you, a look of admiration on his face.
“You are something else, gorgeous.” He whispers.
His low drawl shoots straight to your core and god you’re sure he knows it. He whimpers when your walls clench around him.
You haven’t even started properly riding him and you’re close.
The way he fills you has you seeing stars. You would love to try and banter with him right now, tease him, but you’re too far gone. Too focused on the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he lets out a soft whine before squeezing your hips.
“Let me touch you, please.” He mutters breathlessly.
You aren’t one to deny good southern manners.
You give him a nod and he wastes no time as he rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers frantically, like he’s trying to make you cum as fast as possible. You’re confused as to why for only a moment because your climax approaches so rapidly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. Your hips stutter as you sit, finally fully impaled on his length, in an instant your vision is a searing hot white. His hat tilts forward on your head, briefly covering your eyes. You’re left breathless in his lap, when you come down from your high he’s grinning at you.
“I win again darlin’.”
You groan as you recall the conversation you’d had right before he had tied your hands behind your back.
“If I finish first you can have my hat, if you do, then I get to finish inside you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“If I finish first you can have the Bronco.”
“...Fine.”
a/n : requester ily, thank youuu
#lincolndjarin#agent whiskey#jack whiskey daniels#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey smut#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x you#pedro pascal#agent whiskey fic#agent whiskey / reader
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buckles and barley {new series masterlist}
Fandom: Kingsmen - The Golden Circle
Pairing: Rancher! Jack Daniels x Ranchhand! Reader
Summary: You seek out a secluded ranch outside the city limits at the behest of your ill father. In search of one of his old friends he had lost contact with after returning from a deployment and a catastrophic fallout. But instead you find the charming, dedicated, and rather handsome son of the man who had already passed, Jack Daniels. A night of bonding over the iron wills of your fathers and you find yourself falling into bed with him, only to be called away by the hospital that your father had been rushed too.
Devastated but free from the ties of your former life, you return to the ranch a changed woman. With the help of a man who holds his own grief, you learn how to tend to the horses and maintain the land. Together, you dance around each other as the seasons change. Cultivating a life that you never envisioned for yourself.
Wordcount: undetermined
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, death of a loved one, strained family dynamics, grief, implied verbal abuse, implied anger issues, allusions to past relationships, reader finds herself, reader takes control of her life, minor injuries, accident prone reader, allusions to infidelity, miscommunication, pining, mutual pining, protective jack, adult content, sexual content, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), more to be added as the story develops!
A/N: excited to delve into this once {by the grit of sandpaper} is concluded. will be doing a little bit of a different approach with this one, it's a new pedro character for me and i wanted to try writing a majority of this one before i begin posting to help establish a solid posting schedule!
ao3 link || navigation || main masterlist || ko-fi
sneakie peek || fic teaser || chapter one header
#dev writes#fic: buckles and barley#kingsmen golden circle#kingsmen secret service#kingsmen golden circle fanfiction#jack daniels#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels x you#rancher! jack daniels#jack daniels smut#jack daniels fanfiction#jack daniels fanfic#agent whiskey#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x you#agent whiskey smut#agent whiskey fanfiction#ao3#archive of our own#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction
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yee yee
#jack daniels#agent whiskey#agent jack whiskey daniels#kingsman#kingsman the golden circle#pedro pascal#fanart#my art#verkomy#verkomy 2023#clip studio paint
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Gentleman Cowboy
Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader
Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader
Word count: 3500
Summary: A solo getaway. A fateful glass of whiskey. And a very charming cowboy, ready to explore the big city.
Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI
Warnings: Alcohol references and consumption; non-canon compliant as is right and proper because that man deserved better; oral sex (F receiving); safe PiV sex; little bit of strong language; no physical descriptions of Reader other than her blue dress and red lipstick; fluff; Jack-typical pet names (sugar, sweetheart, darlin’).
A/N: A belated birthday fic for @agentjackdaniels, who deserves all the nice things - including a certain, irresistible, (retired) secret agent turned ranch owner.
Follow my writing blog, @ladameecrit, and turn on notifications to keep up with my writing.
Charisma.
The jury’s out on whether you’re born with it or can acquire it. For some people, it’s just there. Natural, easy, instantaneous. Doesn’t mean they’re more attractive, necessarily, or more successful. Just… charismatic.
Hard to explain, but you know it when you see it. And you’d seen it today, checking into the hotel for your solo birthday getaway. A staycation, of sorts - this is your home city, after all - but an escape nonetheless, a break from work, from stress, and a chance to mark another turn around the sun.
He was in the lobby while you were queuing to check in, sitting on one of the hotel’s chi-chi armchairs leafing through a city guidebook. By chance, you glanced in his direction at just the moment he raised his head.
He was all brown eyes, bright smile, dimple set in a tanned handsome face. More than that: he exuded charisma.
He nodded. You nodded back. By the time you’d checked in and secured your room key, he was gone.
***
He’s been to this city many times before, but always for work. Never any time for sightseeing or getting to know the place. In retirement, he made it his business to return to those old stomping grounds he wished he’d seen more of, joyfully embracing the life of a tourist for a few days before returning to the horse-breeding ranch he owned and ran back home in Kentucky.
The hotel bar is elegant and modern, wooden accents and brushed metal fittings perfectly in line with his own taste. He’s settled in a cosy corner alone, whiskey tumbler in hand, when he sees her again.
Her casual outfit from earlier has been replaced by a diaphanous, layered dress in midnight blue, printed with a pattern reminiscent of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He half-expects to see a companion, joining her for a post-prandial nightcap. But she’s on her own.
Just like him.
The bar is quiet. He can’t help but overhear her at the bar. “It’s my birthday,” she tells the bartender, grinning happily. “They said I could have a complimentary drink.”
The bartender smiles and nods. “Sure thing, ma’am. What would you like?”
Jack watches as she peruses the gleaming shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar, noting the adorable way she chews on her lower lip while she’s thinking.
“I’ll make it a whiskey. A Gentleman Jack, please.”
His ears perk up in spite of himself.
Thing is, Jack’s pretty good at reading other human beings. Part of the job, after all, and pretty hard to let something like that slide when you’re no longer an active agent in the field.
He knows, then, that it might be a bit much for him to launch a typical come-on attempt at the bar. You seem like the type to find that too heavy-handed, disconcerting - cheesy, even.
Not that Jack minds cheesy, as required.
He returns to his book and when he looks up again, you’re taking your Gentleman Jack over to a small table in the other part of the bar. He taps his glass to get your attention.
“Hope you don’t mind me overhearing, miss, but I just wanted to wish you a very happy birthday,” he says, Southern drawl as warm and as authentic as the Bourbon in his glass. He raises the tumbler to you, and you reciprocate.
”Enjoy that whiskey, now. Fine choice, if I may say.”
***
He’s definitely not flirting with you. Right? Right. Just a Southern gentleman of the kind that’s all “manners maketh man” and “yes ma’am” and opening doors for ladies. Probably illegal for him not to wish you a happy birthday.
Just a gorgeous man with the twinkliest, kindest eyes you’ve ever seen in your life, dressed in a beautifully-tailored western-style shirt and perfect dark denims, wishing you a happy birthday. Move along, nothing to see here.
You settle in with your birthday drink and your copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude, immersing yourself back in the world of the Buendia clan. Occasionally, you glance back in his direction, and sometimes, he’s looking over at you, too.
Coincidence.
As the alcohol hits you, you adopt a more cliched “mysterious woman” approach, as befits the slick of vintage-style dark red lipstick you’re wearing for the occasion. Let’s see what happens. No more looking over again, just you, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Gentleman Jack. A good time to be had by all - handsome guy or not.
He’s gone the next time you raise your head. Empty seat. Empty glass. And your heart sinks, against your better judgment.
“Fuck it. Another whiskey’s in order - for the room.”
You nod over to the bartender, ordering another of the same and asking for it to be put on your room bill.
He returns swiftly with another crystal tumbler of the amber liquid and what looks like a business card. “Ma’am, the gentleman that was just here asked if he could pay for your next drink. Seeing as it’s your birthday. He just had one condition - that we pass this on.”
He hands you the business card, and it’s embossed on one side with a name:
Jack Daniels, Esq.
Some promotional thing, you assume, connected to the whiskey in your glass. But there’s something written in a clear, determined print on the rear of the card.
A number - a room extension number - and a message.
Happy birthday, miss. If you want to say howdy, this is where you’ll find me - J.D.
You quirk an eyebrow. This seems…insane. Like a set-up waiting to be revealed. But you take the card and head to your room with the whiskey, half-expecting that the next time you look at the little business card it’ll be blank - the note gone, imagined, the product of your own febrile brain and the power of Gentleman Jack.
Still there. Still metaphorically winking at you, daring you to call.
***
One finger of whiskey down. Enough to give you the courage to dial that number.
If it’s him, and he’s not a creep, just say thank you. That’s all you want, right? And he wouldn’t possibly want anything else.
He picks up almost immediately. “Well, hello there. Glad that barkeep gave you the card, miss.” His voice is low and honeyed over the line.
You clench your thighs together involuntarily.
”I, uh…I wanted to say thank you. For the drink.”
He chuckles. Oh, fuck. That voice.
”Wouldn’t be any kind of gentleman if I didn’t buy a lady a birthday drink. Specially when she’s drinking one that bears his name.”
You pause for a second. This is…weird. Pinch yourself, once, twice.
”So that’s your actual name? Jack Daniels?”
”The one and same, at your service.”
The whiskey has emboldened you. “Ah, but are you a gentleman, Jack?”
You swear you can hear him inhale sharply. “Well, well. Guess you’d have to get to know me to find out.”
”Birthday or no birthday, Mr Daniels, I’m not in the business of inviting strange men into my hotel room.”
”Fine by me, sweet girl. How’s about I meet you in the lobby in five minutes? Might be cold but it’s a nice night for a walk. You know the city?”
”Lived here my whole life.”
He chuckles again. Oh, girl. You are in trouble.
”Now, ain’t that something. Perfect person to show a lonesome cowboy around. Grab your coat, sugar.”
***
He’s already waiting in the lobby when you walk out of the lift, wearing a black leather jacket with a corduroy-trimmed collar and a dark brown, felt broad-brimmed hat. Not quite a Stetson, but still perfect for a cowboy visiting the big city. His dark brown boots are impeccably polished, you notice.
”Well, hi there, birthday girl!” He grins, laughter lines around his eyes crinkling and emphasising the handsome contours of his face. “Guess we should introduce ourselves properly.” He extends his hand. “Jack Daniels.”
You introduce yourself and find yourself chuckling at the strange coincidence of his name. “Are you anything to the whiskey brand? I feel like I should know, just in case this is some insane promotional stunt.”
He laughs, a bright, genuine chuckle that makes your heart sing. “Sadly, I’m not the JD. But Whiskey was my…nickname. Once upon a time.”
”Makes sense,” you say, as he holds open the hotel door for you and you step out into the night. “Now, Jack Whiskey Daniels, where to?”
“I’ll leave that up to you, birthday girl. You’re the native and the expert. Happy to surrender myself to your capable hands. Only thing is…” He pauses, looking a little sheepish. “I’m hungry enough to eat a stable door. Mind if we pick up a little something on the way?”
You giggle, noticing the little flecks of grey among the dark hairs of his perfectly-trimmed moustache. “I’ve got just the thing, Jack. Come with me.”
***
”I cannot believe that delicious slice was two dollars. Two dollars! And they always say this city’s expensive.”
You swallow the last bite of your own pizza slice and laugh. “It is expensive, but the dollar slice still reigns supreme. Even if it’s two bucks these days.”
You wander companionably in the direction of the elevated garden walkway, your chosen destination for this stroll through your home city. “So this your first time here?”
Jack shakes his head. “Not quite. Been here a few times over the years, but…never got to see much. Always workin’, in and out of our headquarters. No time for just getting to know a place.”
You nod sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation, sometimes it’s harder to see the good in a city when you’re there all the time. So it’s nice for me to get to be a tourist tonight, too.” The two of you climb the stairs and emerge on the walkway, you pointing out key landmarks to Jack as you stroll along together.
”So are you on a break from work this time?”
He looks at you with a soft smile. “Retired. These days I spend my time on the ranch, down home in Kentucky.”
You clap your hands excitedly when he explains that it’s a horse-breeding ranch. “Oh, wow. I just love horses - truth be told, I think there’s a cowgirl streak in me somewhere. City girl or no city girl.”
He laughs that gorgeous, warm laugh, and you feel your heart skip a beat. “Always happy to welcome a city slicker cowgirl on a tour, sweet girl. You just say the word.”
***
As you walk, you realise just how attentively Jack is listening to you. He takes in every detail, every word that leaves your lips, whether it be about the city or about you.
With a pang you realise that it had been a very long time since someone really and truly seemed to listen. To see you.
Or maybe he’s just like that with everyone. You are equally rapt, revelling in the melodious rhythm and comforting timbre of his baritone as he tells you about his ranch, his favourite horses, his fascination with the city.
You’d always assumed that you might be too overwhelmed in the presence of a man so incredibly handsome and charming to do more than just gape at his beautiful form. With Jack, though, you’d never felt more at ease.
And, dare you say it - he seems pretty darn comfortable, too.
The wardens on the garden walkway announce that it’s about to close, and you find the nearest exit and return to street level. It’s almost imperceptible, but for an instant you swear you can feel his broad hand on your back as you cross the street, heading back to the hotel.
“Now I’ve got a confession to make, Jack.”
He turns and raises his eyebrows.
”I’m hungry again. You want another slice?”
His smile feels bright enough to power half the city. “A two-buck pizza slice with the prettiest girl in town? Count me in, sugar.”
***
Your whole life, you’d assumed it was safer to wait until they made the first move. Helped avoid any embarrassing moments where you’d read the vibe wrong. Easier, too, to assume you would want someone more than they wanted you.
The electrical charge that’s crackling between you and Jack Daniels as you stand side by side in the hotel lift is a little too powerful for the “wait and see” approach. You look at him again, in side profile this time.
Fuck. That is a beautiful man.
”Jack?”
He turns his head and smiles. Your hands find first his shoulders, then the light stubble on his jaw. He closes his eyes as you caress his face, dark lashes resting on his cheeks. You move closer, feeling his breath on your face, tilt your head, and lean in to find his lips in a slow, gentle kiss.
The lift pings as he pulls you tight to him, tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. His floor.
”I sure hope this ain’t too forward, sugar, but… would you like to come to my room?”
You’re already walking out of the lift, holding his hand as you pull him down the corridor that leads to the guest rooms.
“Thought you’d never ask, cowboy.”
***
No sooner have you got to the room than he’s pushing you against the wall, your hands hastily unbuttoning his shirt and jeans while his broad hands grope your tits through your favourite dress.
“Goddammit, sweetheart, these are damn gorgeous,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the outline of your hard nipples under the light fabric. “You are damn gorgeous.”
”So are you, cowboy,” you purr, slipping your hand gently inside his boxer briefs as he moves you away from the wall and over to the king-size bed. Even half-hard, you are impressed by the feel of his cock in your hand - thick, heavy, and velvet-soft around the head.
He lays you down on the bed and quickly peels off his shirt, revealing a broad, tanned body clad in a white undervest that clings lasciviously to the muscles of his chest and back as well as the softness of his tummy. It’s a tantalising sight: Jack, his dark, silver-streaked hair slightly mussed and falling forward over his brow, propped up above you on the bed. You trace your fingertips over the pattern of freckles that peeks over the neckline of his vest.
”Can I taste you, pretty girl?”
You nod, throwing your head back and whining with pleasure as he gets to his knees at the edge of the bed and lifts up the skirts of your dress. He hums and moans contentedly as he buries his nose and mouth against your aching pussy, still wearing your panties.
”God-fuckin’-dammit. You’re gonna taste so sweet.”
With a swift tug your panties are off and his head is between your legs, stubble tickling deliciously over the sensitive skin on your inner thighs as his moustache presses against your wet folds.
”Taste me, Jack, please.”
The first long, slow, lick of his tongue up your slit is enough to have you moaning.
“Fuck, sugar suits you. Sweet as fuckin’ sugar down here.”
Another long, slow lick, tongue flat against you, and then the tip finds your pussy, flicking over the hole and dipping in and out until you feel like he’s fucking you with it. His nose rubs against your swollen clit in time with the thrust of his tongue.
”You’re gonna make me come, Jack…keep doing that, that’s it.”
You focus on the sensation, the sounds that fill the hotel room: your gentle moans, Jack grunting against your pussy while his hand works his own cock, the lewd wetness of your soaking cunt as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm.
”C’mon, sweetheart, come for me - c’mon, good girl. Got you so nice and wet, darlin’, I know you’re close.”
He rests a hand on your tummy as your hips start to buck upwards, the orgasm building and building inside of you until, with a scream of his name, you come hard on his face.
”Think you enjoyed that, sweetheart.”
”Fuck, Jack, that was…fuck.” You sit up and he helps you out of your dress, eyes roaming over your body and settling on the curves of your tits inside the dark blue lace of your bra.
”Can I take this off, sugar?”
You nod, reaching for the hem of his undervest. “Sure, cowboy. But you have to be naked too.”
He is only too happy to oblige. Undervest discarded and boxers on the floor, Jack climbs onto the bed beside you and sits you up. He takes his time with your breasts, unhooking your bra and tossing it to one side before bringing his mouth to each nipple and lovingly kissing and sucking and caressing them in turn.
“What do you want, baby?”
It’s a rhetorical question. You both know what you want. He breaks away and you lie back on the bed, spreading your legs, moaning delightedly as you feel his gorgeous weight settling on top of you.
“Want you, Jack. Want you to fuck me until this whole city knows who’s having me.”
He flushes visibly and chuckles, standing up to retrieve his wash bag and returning with a packet of condoms in hand. “And there I was thinkin’ you were a shy little thing, sweet girl.”
You laugh. “I’m shy until you get to know me, Jack Daniels. Shy, until…”
He positions himself back between your thighs, carefully rolling the condom over his impressively thick cock.
“Until?”
You pause for a moment to look into his eyes. “Until I feel like I’m safe with someone.”
He melts a little, leaning down to kiss you softly and slowly.
”That’s a heck of a compliment, sugar. A nice thing, to know you feel so safe with me.”
You smile and look up at him from under your lashes. “I think it’s your charm, cowboy. Not bad for two people who were strangers until a few hours ago.”
He hums happily and kisses you again. ”Not bad at all. Can I have you, sweetheart?”
”Yes fuckin’ please, Jack.”
He takes you slowly, carefully, stretching you steadily until he’s fully sheathed inside you. He takes a moment, squeezing his eyes closed as he fights the urge to go straight to fucking you as hard as he wishes.
”Feel good, Jack?”
”Feels out of this world, baby. Perfect tight, wet pussy, perfect pretty girl.”
He pulls his hips back slowly before snapping back into position and you whine, wrapping your hands around his shoulders.
“That feel good for you, baby?”
You nod frantically. “The best. Fuck me, Jack. Want to feel you.”
He builds up the pace slowly, steadily, taking you deeper and deeper before moving to take you harder and faster. Instinctively you hitch up your legs, finding your calves wrapping around his lower back as he starts to fuck you at just the right angle.
He babbles as he fucks you, praising you, promising you things you remind yourself not to see as anything more than sex talk. How he’ll bring you home with him someday, come back up to see you here, make you all his, how he wants to be all yours.
With a swift shift of his hand he finds your clit again. You come harder, again, crying out his name as he fucks and talks you through it.
“Good, good girl, my good girl,” he murmurs, eyes locked on the place your bodies are joined as he watches you ride out your orgasm. “You’re so beautiful, you know that? Prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
His long fingers press hard into your hips and you can tell he’s about to come. For a brief, sudden, vivid instant you fantasise about throwing all caution to the wind and letting him finish inside you: filling you, claiming you for his, all his.
Jack comes hard, groaning and crying out your name. He rests on your shoulder for a moment, catching his breath, before pulling out and nuzzling in beside you. You turn to face him, fingers trailing through the dark, damp strands of wavy hair clinging to his brow.
”Good, darlin’?”
You kiss him. “Very, very, very good, Jack Daniels.”
He chuckles against your kiss. “And do you think I’m a gentleman now?”
You pull back and flit your eyes over his face, as if making an assessment.
“Let’s see. Gentleman cowboy on the streets, gentlemanly demon in the sheets. Sounds perfect to me.”
***
You sleep soundly that night, nestled safely against Jack’s warm body. He wakes you with the gentlest of kisses to your forehead, and for a moment you can’t remember.
And then those coffee-brown eyes, that smile, and you know you’re right where you’re meant to be.
#gentleman cowboy fic#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey#agent jack whiskey daniels fanfiction#jack daniels x f!reader#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x female reader#agent whiskey fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfiction#kingsman the golden circle#pedro pascal#pedrostories
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A Smutty Little Jack Daniels Imagine
I've tried to do a Jack "Whiskey" Daniels fic several times, and I just can't get beyond the idea phase...
Maybe I just can't find him, his voice, something unique I can bring to him... I don't know.
Here is one, still just in an imagine/idea phase, I have literally posted and taken down, and I just don't know if it's something... but chatting with @oonajaeadira , she reminded me who I write for and why, so decided to post it again. We write for ourselves but we share for community. I hope you enjoy.
Warning: poorly executed oral sex (f receiving) it's a pity really
Okay, Ginger pretty clearly lets us know that Jack is not the best lover. But generally speaking, as a fandom, we have decided that Jack is a far more generous and skilled lover than canon tells us . Maybe because it's Pedro (and we literally can not imagine it), or because he has such a sincere and tragic love for his high school sweetheart wife and their little baby whom he has lost... idk. So I was thinking, what if we allow the canon to stand?
Jack Facts:
Fact #1: Can't find your clit to save his life
Fact #2: No foreplay to speak of
Fact #3: He's just terrible, just really bad
Until he meets you...
maybe even at the very same Music Festival that he got swiped left at
You see him go up to Coachella Girl with all his corny swagger and get rejected
But look at him, that dimple, that pout, those jeans, did he say 'what's tinder'?? Adorable
She instead goes for the guy in the track suit jacket and ball cap, cute for sure, but a boy
So you decide chat up "Stetson"
After some flirting, you conclude he is incredibly corny and bit of a goofball, but there's an undeniable charm
You like him and take him back to where your staying
He really talks himself up
All "Ride a real cowboy" "have you calling my name as loud as you want" yada yada
You wonder if he's all talk
But he's a good kisser, a very good kisser, and him calling you "sugar" does something to you
Alas, when you get down to it, his head between your legs, broad shoulds keeping them open wide, he is enthusiastic but sadly incompetent
Every once in awhile he brushes your clit with his mustache or that gorgeous nose and it's a fleeting glimps of heaven but he completely misreads every moan and gasp and does more of what ever the hell his mouth is doing
It's bad if you want him to slow down he speeds up, more to the left he does to the right, no instinct
Finally, you pull him up with sigh
Oh my Gods, he is looking at you with puppy dog eyes. With all his big talk, you'd think the problem is that he is a selfish lover, but you can see he wants to please you
So you are kind and ask him about his experience
He can't tell you about the spy aspect of his experience, of course, but what he does tell you gives you the picture of a whole lot if one-off experiences
You ask if there has been anyone he's reslly gotten to know and experiment with
And his high-school sweet heart - love of his life - wife comes into the conversation
He doesn't say, but you can tell she was somehow taken from him, tgeres a bittersweet shine in his eyes
He admits they were each others first- shy and inexperienced and pretty straightforward in their lovemaking but enthusiastic
You nod and tell him if it were you in high school and he simply put his hand on your knee, you would have melted
He looks down with a crooked smile and then up at you with those hopeful big brown puppy eyes
"Okay," you say, "can you be a good listener, Jack?" He nods enthusiastically. "Get down there, cowboy, I think we can sort this whole thing out."
#jack daniels#jack daniels imagine#jack daniels x f!reader#jack daniels x female reader#jack whiskey daniels#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey
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Please Whiskey don’t teach the kid how to be a womaniser 🙏🏼
#my art lol#obsessed with cowboy grogu#star wars grogu#star wars fanart#star wars art#din grogu#kingsmen golden circle#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey#grogu fanart#grogu#sw grogu#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal fanart#pedrotober#droiddraws
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soft ✨️
#pedro pascal#the last of us#joel miller#the mandalorian#din djarin#tlou#star wars#mandalorian#prince oberyn#oberyn martell#game of thrones#javi gutierrez#the unbearable weight of massive talent#javier peña#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey#kingsmen golden circle#jose pedro balmaceda pascal
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Undercover with your partner Whiskey to uncover a underground gambling ring in Vegas— leads to a night of letting loose and early morning I do’s
Inspired by What Happens in Vegas..
#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent jack daniels#agent Jack Daniels imagine#pedro pascal#wildemaven moodboard#wildemaven moodboard Jack
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hand. just hand. 🥰🥰
#pedro pascal#his hands 😫😫#scenarios in my head#hands under my shirt#hands skimming fingers ghosting over my skin#hands around my throat#hands inside of me#jeez someone please put me down#kingsman#kingsman the golden circle#myedit#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey#jack daniels#agent jack daniels
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Two Fingers Of Whiskey - An Agent Whiskey GIFLET
Uh, Jett, what the heck is a GIFLET?
Just a short 500 words or less drabble, based on inspiration that I got from a GIF. Simples.
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)
Word Count: 496
Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶 "It's the emergence, of."
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here
GIFLET MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Enjoy! 🖤
This GIFLET was inspired by the below GIF 👇🏻
"That feel good, sugar?" He croons at you, with a knowing grin under the fuzz of his moustache.
He knows it feels good. He makes sure of it.
"Jack… Oh God, Jack!" You whine, nodding languidly, hardly able to keep your head up as it rests against his.
Forehead to forehead. Stuck to him like glue. Pushing his black Stetson up so it's almost falling off his head. His breath coats your eyelashes warm, as he chuckles.
"See now, it's just a couple of fingers. And here you are losin' your pretty head."
Jack pushes them in deeper, fapping harder as his wrist flexes and twists. Your slick sounds obscene; gushing sticky around his thick digits buried to the hilt in you.
"Jack!" You gasp, your hands fisting in the shoulders of his denim jacket.
You can feel the bottom of the wheel pressing against your ass, and it soon pushes against the horn as you buck and jolt, eagerly fucking those fingers.
"Woah! Letting everyone know ol' Jack's makin' you feel good, hmm?" He snickers, the thick caterpillar over his lip tastes good on your tongue as he kisses you deeply.
He rubs against that spot; that spongy hub of nerves deep inside you. His thumb strokes at your clit expertly, and your thighs shake - as does your voice box - as he pushes you closer to the edge.
"I'm-m gonna-ah c-come!" You tense and shudder, your joints seizing and locking up. Eyes rolling back, back arched and moaning and gasping wildly.
"Yeah you are, sugar. Come on now, don't be shy. Let it all out. You know I want it." He coaxes, and the Stetson is finally lost somewhere behind the seat.
You grab onto the lapels of his jacket harder now; twisting the denim up as you combust. You can feel it, slick and wet, and Jack smiles accomplished.
"Now look at that, you've gone n' soaked up my jeans." Jack says smirking, he pulls his fingers out.
He sucks them with a squelchy pop and groans as he licks them clean. Deep, mocha browns stare at you as he does it and it drives you mad with need.
He watches keenly as you reach for his buckle, fumbling and hungry for him so much that your hands are a clumsy mess.
"Let me help you out there." Jack pulls himself out; thick and glistening with his own secretions that you long to taste and swallow down. "Now what are you gonna do with that, hmm?"
You lean in and kiss him hungrily, as you wrap your hand around his fat length and pump slowly. You can taste the little groan at the back of his throat.
"Gonna ride you hard, cowboy," you whisper to him as you line him up with your sodden slit.
He leans into your face, smirking eagerly. "Giddy up, sugar."
Jack kisses you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, as you slide all the way down onto him.
🖤
#agent whiskey#agent jack whiskey daniels#agent whiskey kingsman#agent whiskey smut#agent whiskey x female reader#agent whiskey x you#agent whiskey fic#pedro pascal characters#jett's writing#jett's giflets
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Do It For Me | Treat Me Like a Slut, Part 2 | jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader
For the greatest experience, recommend reading part 1 here. Can also be read as a standalone.
Summary: Jack returns home much later than he said he would. You punish him as you see fit.
Warnings: sub!jack, dom!reader, edging, safeword, some religious undertone references (Christ, taking the lords name in vain, “the Almighty”), a little angst in the beginning, alcohol, inability to tell the truth, mentions of Jack possibly being dead, blood, yelling, crying, anxiety spiral. Excessive, excesssssive use of pet names, (1) use of MOMMY, use of daddy, Jack is called a pretty boy and a good boy. Jack uses pet names for reader too (baby, sweetheart, sugar, etc.) Dirty talk, fingering, masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), face riding, Jack’s big cock, breeding kink if you squint, creampie, size kink, handcuffs, cowboy/southern references, mentions of pain and punishment. Reader has no major physical descriptions. And finally…your honor, they’re in love. LMK if I missed anything.
Thank you @milly-louise for the encouragement.
And of course, y’all already know that @katiexpunk put her sexy magic touch on this and is the best cheerleader and Slutty Smutty Sister. Katie is seriously one of a kind and it is a privilege to know her.
I truly have the best smut support there is. :’) Hope y’all enjoy!
smut below the cut.
Jack busts into your apartment like a force of nature, opening the door like a saloon door in the Wild West. He’s gasping for breath from rushing home to see you – climbing the stairs three at a time, testing his agility harder than any training ever did, simply from the fact that most of the blood is in his cock, eager to see you, rather than in any other part of his moving body.
“Hey baby, sorry I’m late—“ he trails off as he takes in the scene before him.
He finds you sitting at the dining table; candles lit, a bottle of red open on the table, one wine glass full, the other that’s smudged with lipstick empty, and his favorite meal waiting for him. His eyes flutter to you and he’s met with a pair of misty, red scleras staring back at him.
You rise from the table and storm off to the bathroom, your humiliation unbearable. Since you were a little girl, you have always been self-conscious of the way you look when you cry. Like one allergy attack short of an ER visit. Not beautifully poetic the way the girls in movies cry. Full on hyperventilating and snot running out of your nose. Once inside, hot salty tears stream down your cheeks. The pang in your chest knocks the wind out of you, disappointment burning through your body like wildfire, heating your skin.
You thought it might be nice to surprise Jack, to welcome him home from his two-week mission; the longest you’ve been apart since you’ve been together. Be home in a jiffy, sweetheart. Can’t wait to see you. I’ll be home around six, he assured you this morning over the phone, his voice smooth and silky.
Six turned into seven thirty, which turned into eight-thirty, and now here it is – nearing 11 o’clock, each passing hour without hearing from him only made you more upset. You wouldn’t be this mad if had he just called, texted, or hell, he could have sent a carrier pigeon to let you know he’s fine and that’d be late. All of your calls and texts to him went unanswered. You’re not unused to this, given his job and everything, but every time it happens it irks you in a way you can’t control.
But no, he didn’t – his absence acted like a tour bus, giving your mind an entire tour of all of the things that could have possibly gone wrong. What if he was hit by a car? Trapped in an industrial-size freezer? It’s not logical, but like…what if.
Or worse, what if he was dead? Jack wields around his mortality as if it were immortality in his line of work, meaning you worry about him like you get paid hourly to do so. The waiting, the worrying, and the not-knowing spreads under your skin like a fever with each passing minute. You don’t even care about the dinner getting cold, or to be honest, the fact that he didn’t respond to you. You’re past that, you’re emotions thick like a blanket. You just need to know he’s okay. He’s safe. He’s still alive, for fucks sake.
As you waited for him, your knee bobbing under the kitchen table, your thoughts oscillated between the worst-case scenarios, your stomach swirling in unease and dread.
And then –
There he was, swinging the door open, a shit-eating grin on his face as if he had no idea that you’d been expecting him for hours or that you’d made yourself sick wondering where he was.
You pat at your blurry lashline with a tissue, trying not to smear the makeup you worked so hard to put on earlier in the evening. Hurried and heavy boot steps echo outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock.
“Baby, can I come in, please?” He gently coos, his voice almost a little desperate, forehead leaning against the door. It’s not locked, but Jack is a gentleman above all and wants to respect your space. Even if it’s his fault you need it.
“Oh, fuck off,” you spit back, your voice wobbly. His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach; you’ve never spoken to him like this before. Normally you’re fairly carefree, and understanding, but the talons you like to keep hidden away are now on full display, brought out by a mix of worry, hunger, and anger.
You look in the mirror again, and your feigned attempts to prevent your mascara from running are useless. Your eyes are now puffy, beyond anything Benadryl or Clear Eyes could help, and even a bit raccoon-like. Great, a cherry on top of an already shit night.
You step back from the counter and lean back against the wall, allowing your legs to slightly give out as you slide down the expanse of it, the fabric of your dress riding up as you do. Your bare thighs hit the cool tile below you, cooling your hot skin. The tears that well in your eyes fall one by one, and don’t seem like they have any plans to ease up anytime soon. You run the back of your hand under your nose and move it to wipe away some of the moisture on your cheeks.
“Sweetheart?” He calls to you through the door, but he’s met with silence. “Baby, I’m so sorry I’m late. I can see how much this night meant to you, and I can tell you worked hard to make it special. I’m sorry I ruined it. Baby, please, open the door – let me see you.”
The sincerity in his voice causes your temper to simmer down. You plant your palms on the ground and push yourself up to stand. You know you look like a hot mess, but you don’t care. Let the fucker see how much he hurt you. Your palm finds the brass doorknob, and you quickly pull the door open, almost taking Jack with it, not realizing he was leaning up against it.
You stand there, arms by your sides, your fists rolled into little balls. Your cheeks are damp, and the stray hands of your hair are plastered to them, glued on by your tears. At first, you look at the floor, before lifting your gaze to face Jack.
His heart sinks when he sees you. “Oh sweetpea…fuck, I am so sorry baby,” he tells you once more.
“You’re late, Jack. Like really fucking late!” you cry out to him, not quite yelling, but not quite not yelling, either.
“I know I am, but baby –” he replies, looking at your lips, avoiding your eyes, before you cut him off.
“Why the hell didn’t you call me or text me? For fucks sake, Jack. I thought you were hurt! Or worse, dead. You could have been lying in a ditch bleeding out and I would have had no idea,” you spill out, spewing fire with your words. “Where were you anyway? Hmm? What had you so preoccupied you couldn’t even bother to tell me you were gonna be – oh I don’t know, five hours late?” You ask, a twinge of snarkiness behind your voice.
You’re only so keyed up because you care about him so much; trying to mask your pain with anger.
He inches closer to you, instinctively pulling your body into his. You resist as first, body rigid, not embracing him back. You’re still mad, but with the way he feels against you, you can’t help but soften. You wrap your arms around his middle, resembling the way a koala bear clings onto a tree. The firmness of his arms envelops you in a protective blanket, pulling you tight to him so you can see the pulse in his neck, lowers your cortisol levels, and cools your heated blood.
“I’ll tell you, but have to promise you won’t laugh,” he says, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. Fuck, he missed you.
“I’m not going to laugh, Jack. Where were you? What the hell happened?” you demand to know once again, stepping back from him, disconnecting your embrace.
“I uh – well, I was trying to save a kitten that was trapped on the train tracks on my way home. I managed to grab it, but as I was hoisting it back up onto the platform, my phone fell out of my pocket. By the time I went back down to grab it, the train was right around the corner…and well, it was crushed. Then I had to navigate my way home without GPS, and I saw an old lady get robbed, so I had to help her. And then there was a runaway stroller…” he says, smiling. He knows your upset, but he tries to lighten your spirits with humor.
That’s his thing. Well, your thing together, you suppose. You’d always ask him how his day was at work, how his missions went, knowing he couldn’t ever tell you the truth. You jokingly said to him one night, “Well if you can’t tell me the truth, make something up, like rescuing a kitten in a tree or something.” You were half-joking, but it just sorta stuck.
You look at Jack and can tell from the look on his face that he is sorry.
“Spy stuff, then?” You ask, clearing the remaining tears from your cheek.
“Spy stuff. I’m sorry baby, I want to tell you, I do, it’s just…the more you don’t know, the better. I don’t ever want to tell you anything that could compromise you, I couldn’t bare it if you got hurt,” Jack says, a sincerity behind his voice.
You see it then – for as much as you love and worry about him. He loves and worries about you, too. He knows his work is a lot, and he can see the weight of him not being able to tell you the full truth has on you. The worry, the pain that lingers behind your eyes.
Your shoulders relax and your face softens. You won’t push him.
You know he’d tell you if he could. You run the pads of your fingers under your eyes once more, clearing away some of the fallout from your makeup. The anger from earlier dissipates.
He’s here. He’s safe.
You reach your hand out to him and allow your fingertips to curl around his pinky. You look up at him with doe eyes.
“Gonna have to make it up to me, cowboy,” you whisper, a seductive tone to your voice. “Behave for me and I won’t be too mean.”
You unhook his pinky and curl your full hand around his wrist, rounding around him, pulling him to the bedroom.
You push Jack so that he is seated at the edge of your shared bed, using your foot to wedge his thighs open, granting enough space for you to stand between them. His sable eyes are the size of saucers, his heart thrums at a rapid rate in his chest. He’s no stranger to it all, hell, he’s a trained killer for Christ's sake, and yet here he is – defenseless under you, at your total mercy.
You could tell him to get on all fours and bark, and he’d fucking do it. He doesn’t know what your end game is, but he’s itching to find out, much like the hard cock that’s quickly eating up all of the space in his jeans.
“You’ve been a naughty, naughty boy…” you say, stroking your finger along the razor edge of his chiseled jaw. A little tsk, tsk sound escapes your lips, and you move to grab his jaw with a firm grip. “What am I gonna do with you?”
He gulps hard, the prominent Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he does. You’re not wrong – he has been a naughty boy, oh god, if you only knew, but hearing you say it has him bricked up; hard, and desperate for you, and whatever you want to give him. He’s ready to worship at your altar, ready to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness.
He’s well-versed in taking charge and fucking you til you see The Almighty, but reversing those roles, having you boss him around for a change? He’s never experienced anything quite like it. The Statesman surely didn’t train him for this.
“Remember the safe word, baby?” You ask in a serious tone, momentarily pausing your sexual prowess.
“Oh fuck,” he chokes out. “Y-es, I remember, baby.” Your pussy throbs at the sight of your tough cowboy submitting to you.
“Good boy. Now, you’re gonna keep your hands to yourself. Can you do that for me?” You respond, your voice smoky, laced with pure desire.
He nods and a faint whimper escapes his lips. You squeeze his jaw with your hand, “Use your words like a big boy,” you scold, reciting similar words he used on you not too long ago. Use your words like a big girl.
“Yes ma’am,” he says, voice trembling with need, a twinge of submission behind it.
You can’t help the smirk on your face, taking over the reins and being in charge gives you a new thrill. Now you know what all the fuss is about.
You start undoing the buttons of his Western-style shirt. You’re taking your time, enjoying how each undone button reveals more of his lean body that gets softer the further down you go, but for Jack, it’s painstakingly slow. He squirms where he’s sitting and fights the urge to take over. He’s trying not to paint his jeans just looking at you being a minx.
Rip my fuckin’ heart out baby, is the only thought that crosses his mind.
“Patience, baby,” you purr and give his face a few playful smacks. You reach for his belt buckle, and he hisses when it presses against his rock-hard cock. You retreat, remembering the recurring fantasy you’ve been having for weeks now.
“Pants off, lay on the bed, and wait for me,” you order and he does as he’s told. Truthfully, he’s a little afraid of what you might do if he doesn’t. You walk over to your closet space, which is thankfully out of view from the bed. You take the opportunity to strip down to the silky black bra and matching panties you’ve been waiting to show Jack all evening. You gather the items you came to the closet for and step back into the bedroom.
Jack is lying with his back under a cloud of pillows, his head resting against the metal headboard. He’s almost naked, just like you asked, his thick bulge pronounced in his underwear. You swear you can see his heart thump out of his chest from across the room when his eyes trail over your nearly bare body. His breath catches in his throat when he sees what you retrieved from the closet. Fuzzy handcuffs, and one of your fluorescent pink dildos. He doesn’t mind when you use it on yourself, but he’d much rather give you the real thing. The silicon shape of it taunts him.
You lay the agents of eroticism next to him and crawl up his body to hover over him. He cranes his neck to kiss you but you pull back and place your index finger over his lips.
“Nuh-uh,” you scold. He whines, actually whines, and you have to compose yourself from melting on the spot. You pick up the novelty handcuffs and dangle them in his face, a mischievous and somewhat amused look on your face.
“Gonna put these on ya, pretty boy,” you say with a delicate cadence, almost questioning; giving Jack the room to protest. He’s never been restrained before, at least not in this context. He’s restrained you plenty of times, but you understand he might not like it; especially given the nature of his profession and his need to always be on guard.
But fuck it, if he has a problem with it, he can safe word out.
He doesn’t.
You lock eyes with him as you fasten the handcuffs around his wrists, one end on each, the other tethered to the metal bed frame. Your chest is so close to his face, close enough that his tongue can’t help but dart out and give your tits a little lick, the temptation of it too strong.
You pull away from him and look down at him. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough the first time. You’re gonna keep your hands to yourself, and that includes your tongue. You’ll take what I give you when I give it to you. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack nods, a smug look on his face. He thinks you’re cute when you’re demanding.
“Better wipe that little smirk from your face right now or I’ll leave you chained up all night, fuck myself silly with this plastic cock, and moan your name the entire time I do it. You won’t get a single taste. That what you want?” You ask, a condescending tone to your voice.
He doesn’t answer you, he just looks at you with lusty, glossy eyes. “What’s the matter baby, cat got your tongue?” you say, and a low growl leaves his chest.
“No, baby. I don’t want that. Wanna fuck you, wanna show you how sorry I am,” he says. You know he could bust out of the handcuffs with a swift tug if he wanted to. You know he could pin you to this bed and have you crying for him, following his every demand. What’s more, you know you’d like it.
But he knows he fucked up, and he knows this is his penance.
You let out a little purr of satisfaction when you see him tug at the cuffs, the rattle of them against the metal of the bed frame. His lack of somewhat self-imposed freedom shows you that right now he’s at your mercy.
You rise to stand on the bed, both of your feet on either side of him, positioned just above his head. The view you’re giving him is obscene, the sheer lace of your panties just barely covering your wet and glistening cunt. You dip your hand below the hand of them and use your fingers to gently nudge the soiled fabric to the side. You run your finger up your dripping seam, collecting your slick on your finger, gently passing over your throbbing clit as you do. A little gasp trickles over your lips. Jack can see the glisten on your fingertips and his mouth salivates, conditioned like Pavlov’s dog at the sight of your juices. He can smell you from where you’re positioned, the sweet scent of your arousal, and the groan he lets out is animalistic, primal. He’s kicking himself for the predicament he’s in, but at the same time, relinquishing control has never felt this good.
“Bet you wanna stuff your thick cock in this pretty pussy don’t you, Daddy. Wanna split me open, stretch me out, and claim me,” you taunt him, your fingers continuing their ministration against your clit, nearing you closer to your release. The filth spewing from your lips is mostly just to tease him, but fuck, if it doesn’t do something for you, too. Mostly because it’s true. You want him so bad, you can only imagine how he must feel.
“Answer me, baby. Tell me what you wanna do to this pussy when I finally let you,” you rasp out, your fingers alternating between slipping in and out of your wet and waiting hole.
“Fuuuck,” Jack growls. He can barely form words, too drunk off the sight of your pussy, watching you work yourself above him. “Such a pretty fucking cunt,” he hisses, “gonna fucking ruin you when I get out of these cuffs.”
“Yeah? Keep being a good boy for me and I’ll let you fuck me however you want baby,” you rasp, a little breathless, sprinting to the cliff of your orgasm,“But, you’re gonna make me come first,” you say, falling to your knees, holding the panties far off to the side of your slit. You position yourself right above Jack’s face, holding your glistening cunt inches away from his face. So close he can almost taste it, but not quite close enough.
“I wanna hear you beg,” you tell Jack, your hands threaded through his hair, pulling it back so he’s face-to-face with your pretty pussy. “Tell your mommy how bad you wanna taste her cunt.”
And shit, it’s raunchy, straight debauched. You don’t even have time to ponder the words that just left your lips, but it felt right. You can tell Jack likes it too by the way he practically falls apart under you, a whimper leaving his chest for the second time tonight, his eyes dark as the sea at night.
When he doesn’t answer you, you tug his hair and head back a little farther, dipping just a little bit lower, close enough this time for him to land a little lick on your wet center.
“Holy fuck baby, shit I need you so bad, please sit on my face,” he begs, “please let me taste you.” You’re more than happy to oblige, chasing reprieve from your aching core. You sit down on his face, your wet folds completely covering his mouth, his nose nudged right up against your awaiting clit. You don’t put all of your weight onto him yet, not wanting to cut off all of his airflow. He pulls away slightly, “Fucking give me all of it, baby. Don’t hold back,” Jack muffles against the skin of your pussy. His voice reverberates, his hot breath is ticklish against your sensitive cunt.
As much as you’re in control right now, old habits die hard, and him telling you what to do for the first time tonight coils the spring of your nearing release tight. You let out a slew of fuck, yes, oh my god daddy, yes, and taking the lord’s name in vain a few times. You’re riding the wave of your orgasm, and it’s so intense, to the point of dizziness. “Oh wait, fuck, think–” you lift off him slightly, just in time to see your release splashing over his face, completely drenching him. You fully move off of him, and look down at him, and he’s a mess. He looks at you with a primal grin to his face, his pupils so wide they edge out the color of his eyes.
“Oh fuck, Daddy. Look at you,” you moan, “covered in me, aren’t ya? Looks good on you. Now swallow it,” you demand.
You don’t have to tell him twice. He drinks up what he can while being restrained and you decide to gift him more by catching the stray droplets on his chin with your index finger and pressing it into his mouth. Jack savors your taste, eyes fluttering shut and practically growls. He’d argue it's the nectar of the gods.
“Shit, baby. You come for me like that and I’ll let you do whatever you want with me, this cock is all yours,” Jack rasps, thoroughly fucked out and under-touched. His cock throbs under the fabric of his boxers, waiting for you to touch him, to milk the soul right out of him.
“Think I’m gonna keep you restrained like this for a bit longer, baby. But don’t worry, since you’re being so good, I’ll put on quite the show for you,” you say, shimmying and kissing your way down the center of his stomach, leaving goosebumps in your wake. You nip across the neatly trimmed hairs that rest at the top of his cock, until you come to over them, your lips hovering just above the band of his underwear.
You look up at him through your lashes, and give him a little knowing smile; you love what you do to him and you’ve barely touched him yet. You slip the fabric off of him, releasing his thick cock; it’s bigger than normal right now, pumped full of so much blood, the prominent vein that runs down the side of it bulging, the tip of it shiny with his pre-come.
Your mouth waters at the sight of him. You’ve always admired his thick, delicious cock, but having free reign over it right now, the power to do whatever the fuck you want with it is almost overwhelming. You dart your tongue out and lick the tip of him, the taste is a little salty and heady. You moan and smile, before opening your mouth wide, releasing your tongue so it’s wide and flat. You grab his cock by the base of him and tap the mushroom head of it over your tongue, little thin strings of salvia trailing between your body and his as you do.
“Fuck, baby. You’re such a tease, killin’ me over here,” Jack moans, fighting his fuzzy restraints.
“Oh Jack, my love. Have you learned anything tonight? You’re mine. I’ll do what I want with you when I want to,” you rasp, opening your mouth wide, diving down deep on to the thickness of him as you do.
“Ah shit –” he cries out, happy to finally be touched, but not expecting you to deep-throat him from the get-go. “So good baby, so good oh my god,” he cries out as he juts his hips up, trying to nudge his cock deeper into your wet and waiting throat, chasing the warmth and wetness of it. You keep working him, it’s sloppy and intense, but so damn satisfying. You’re just happy to have him deep inside one of your holes, filling you in just the way you like.
But you want more. As happy as you are to keep up this teasing, taunting, and kinky show, at your core you just need him to fuck you. You need to feel him deep inside of you, deep enough to remind you that he’s here, he’s alive, and he’s yours. You need him to fuck you so hard that the sadness from earlier in the evening spills out of you, retreats into a corner, runs away, and hides, never to be found again.
“Want me to ride you, pretty boy?” You ask, though you already know what the answer will be. He nods furiously, and if you don’t put him out of his misery soon, he has half the mind to punish you.
“Sorry, baby. I didn’t catch that – use your words, I know how good you are at that; prove it to me,” you command, running your palm up and down the length of his wet cock, working him within an inch of his life.
“Yes, fuck, please ride me. Need to feel your pussy squeezin’ my cock,” he pleads, his patience wearing thin, “Don’t wanna come like this, sugar. Need to fill up that little pussy of yours, know how much she likes that, my come spilling out of you,” he moans. “Look so pretty when I’m spilling out of you, my girl,” he adds.
As soon as he finishes his last syllable, you line him up with your entrance and sink slowly. You gasp when he’s fully inside, your ass flush against him. From this angle, his cock punches your cervix in a way that deliciously teeters on pain and pleasure. You’re seriously considering uncuffing him, letting him ravage you, but ultimately you’re not ready to end your fun.
Your hand finds purchase on Jack’s sweat-slick chest as you bounce up and grind back down on his vicious cock. Your other hand between your legs, rubbing your clit in tandem with the plunging movement of your hips. Each movement fuses both of you together in shared ecstasy.
The flurry of emotions and sensations you’re experiencing at once is overwhelming; your second orgasm impending, the still raw and pent up feelings from your catastrophizing thought spiral that lasted for hours, and the sweet relief of having your cowboy back home with you. Exactly where he belongs.
He’s close and you’re both a little surprised he’s lasted this long. His honey-like drawl spewing out filthy words. The closer he gets the mouthier he gets.
Atta girl, ride this cock like you mean it. Look like straight up sin like this, baby. Fuckin’ goddess. Fuck fuck fuck. Thank fucking Christ you’re mine. Shit. fuck. damn. All mine, all mine.
Furling headfirst into euphoria, you roar out at a decibel that the neighbors on each side of you won’t appreciate the way that Jack is right now. A new flash of heat spreads throughout your body and you see stars behind your fluttering eyelids. You gush around his cock, pussy pulsating and immersing you both in your release.
“Fuck I’m—“ Jack is cut off by his own hoarse shout as he’s bucked into his own bliss, painting your insides with spurts of cum. He’s pretty sure he has died and went where cowboys go; he’s never come this hard in his life. He’s dizzy, borderline disoriented, chasing his breath like it’s a greased pig and he’s the poor chap pursuing it. You lean down and capture his lips in a frenzied kiss, another way of tethering yourselves to each other and back down to earth.
With trembling limbs you reach over to the nightstand and grab the tiny keys to the cliche cuffs still locked around Jack’s wrists. You fumble through unlocking them and you’re grateful that he is still hazy, otherwise he’d be giving you shit for it.
You dismount off of his softening shaft and feel your spent pussy leak down your inner thighs. A filthy idea pops into your fucked out head, your last act of dominance for tonight. You glide two fingers through your combined juices and bring them to Jack’s lips. The second time your fingers have been in his mouth tonight.
“See how good we taste together, baby,” you command, smearing some onto his plush lips. He sticks out his tongue, waiting for your offering. Much to your delight, he is still pliant under your control after you removed his restraints. He swirls his warm tongue along your fingers, lapping up every last drop.
You move off Jack’s chest in favor of tucking yourself into his side. Even though you were in control tonight, the need to be held post-coitus is still present. When he holds you in his strong arms, it’s your sanctuary. He’s not sure you know, but you’re his sanctuary.
Moments of tranquil pass and Jack breaks the silence.
“So…. Mommy, huh?”
END
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Hello Gorgeous
Agent Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Wife!reader
Summary: Your husband, Jack, has been out on the field recently. He was constantly travelling around the globe, leaving you and your four year old daughter on the ranch.
Warnings: fluff, angst but not really, no use of y/n, hottie cowboy is your husband, grammar and spelling mistakes (I'm dyslexic), you have a 4 year old daughter called Sophia, after the events of Kingsman Golden Circle, Jack isn't meat ;), slight sexual innuendo, reader is a housewife (don't we all want to be Jacks housewife???), Reader is referred to more “feminine” terms such as mom, mommy, wife that sort of stuff
A/N: Short little one shot. I wanted Jack to be happy. Also writing this I got distracted by roblox colour or die, and I won so :). Then I got distracted by work at a pizza place; this is probably what people mean by me having adhd. But I'm in denial, so I wrote this the day after :)
WC-1014
Masterlist
Pedro & Characters Masterlist
During the four months, your husband was away, you and your four year old had done multiple things to distract each other. In the beginning, you were just distracting Sophia with her dad not being home. This shortly changed when you started to miss him, meaning you had started hugging your little girl more often. Sophia had no objections to this. If her daddy wasn’t there to hug her, then she would have her mommy.
With the summer heat coming down onto your ranch, you made sure to spend every moment outside or have the curtain open. The driveway was filled with the multicoloured drawings of chalk Sophia had drew, accompanied by your handwriting for the “Sophia, Mommy, Daddy and the horses’ names”. Along the edges of the driveway, there used to be plain old boring grey rocks. The vast majority of the rocks were now coloured in many different mixes of paint.
Since Sophia was born, she was constantly being creative. This had carried on through to her being almost five. You and your husband learnt that to distract or make Sophia happy was to get the paints out. It's what you had been attempting to do throughout the four months. There hadn’t been any tears, not even when your clumsy girl had bumped into something, only the amazement of a purple bruise forming. Whilst your mothering skills were going overdrive being alone with some animals being bigger than you, and a small inquisitive child. Keeping the latter away from being unsupervised was hard with a massive land going so far out.
Today, you were brought with a surprise. Sophia was down in the dumps.
You had tried countless times to find what the problem was, but your mother's intuition only went so far. You started the morning with Sophia’s favourite; french toast, with extra sugar. This was enough to get a small smile and what the two of you were doing today. With Sophia always wanting to be creative and messy, she chose fingerpainting.
Setting up a blanket with a mat for the activities, Sophia brought the paints and paper. When Sophia was pressing her adorable small hands onto her ‘masterpiece’ it slowly clicked what the issue had been. Sophia had made a drawing of her dad riding on a horse with her or attempted it. Nevertheless, she was showing how she felt instead of telling you. Wiping your hands down, you shuffled towards your daughter.
“Is this what the problem is?” You quietly asked as you wrapped your arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple, much like what her father does to the two of you. “Are you missing Daddy?” Knowing that she had been caught she pouted her bottom lip and nodded.
After wiping the paint off of her fingers you lifted her into your lap, practically surrounding her with your body. “It's okay to cry, baby.” You comforted her, giving her more kisses. “I miss Daddy too, and when he comes back you can go out on the horsies again.” Giving her another kiss you started to see the smile that could light up a dark night sky. “There's that gorgeous smile!” As the smile got brighter, you came up with a solution to the horse problem. With being married to a cowboy, you had never learnt how to ride a horse. This was harsh for your little girl who wanted to do nothing more but ride them, even with her dad away, but the thought of you falling even with Jack there terrified you.
“How about we have our horsie fun?” You asked, seeing the confusion written across Sophia.
“Mama, you can’t ride the horsies. Silly!” Sophia was trying to figure out what you were thinking.
“Who said I was riding?” You got a shriek of enthusiasm from Sophia as you bounced your legs up and down. You carried on until the only thing you could hear from your baby was laughing her head off. “Let's finish our paintings and give them to Daddy when he comes home, how does that sound, sweetheart?”
Pulling up to the drive, Jack could see the pretty drawings he knew his little girl had spent time drawing. The sight of the rocks had also changed, there were pretty colours. He felt happy that his girls had kept themselves occupied in his absence. Walking through the ranch, no one was in. Checking in all of the rooms, and he couldn't find his girls.
Walking outside he could hear the laughter of what could be compared to angels singing. Looking out he saw the most beautiful sight known to man, his girls laughing and enjoying themselves. He was pulled out of his daze by himself and his inner voice, telling him to go see them.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
A familiar southern drawl spoke, alerting you and Sophia. His eye contact with you was broken by his little cowgirl running full speed at him. “Daddy!”
“Hiya, what’s my cowgirl been doin’?” He asked repositioning her onto his hip, still walking towards you.
“Me and Mommy drew you pictures!” Only this is when Jack noticed the paint on his clothes, as well as his princess's clothes and face.
“Oh, that's wonderful,” the mess didn't stop him, Sophia was happy and that's all that mattered. Taking a seat next to you, he instantly received a bundle of kisses. “I missed you baby.”
“I missed you more.”
Making dinner that night was the best feeling in the world for you and Jack. Sophia had her chicken nuggets whilst you and Jack had spaghetti bolognese. Stirring the bolognese, you felt a presence come up behind you. Sliding his hands along the sides of your waist, you were pulled into him.
“I really did miss you, Sugar,” Jack muttered into your ear. That's when you felt something growing against your ass. “Really missed you.”
“You can show me how much you missed me when Sophia is in bed.” You spoke into his neck, gazing your eyes up at your cowboy.
“Don't tempt me with a fun time, mama.”
#pedro pascal#pedrohub#fanfic#fanfiction#jack daniels#wife!reader#slight angst#mostly fluff#jack daniels x reader#jack whiskey daniels#jack daniels x you#jack daniels x female reader#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey#kingsman the golden circle#agent jack whiskey daniels#jack daniels fanfic
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