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psychedelic-ink · 11 months

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𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

pairing: jack daniels x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 2.5k

summary: jack comes back home only to find you in a compromising position.

warnings: established relationship, female masturbation, getting caught, nipple play, pet names (darling, sweet/good girl, sweetheart), no y/n, bondage (i have dreams about that whip, i had to), edging, piv, come eating, some hurt/comfort vibes towards the end

additional warning: alright since I know not everyone can do this physically I'll just say it here just in case; reader does suck her own breast before jack catches her but there are no physical descriptions other than that, enjoy xx

a/n: this ended up being more filthier than I thought please don't look at me, my period is close

**divider by @firefly-graphics 💗

God, you missed him.

You missed the feel of his rough hands coursing down your skin. His soft plush lips going hungrily down your neck. His words laced with something dark and sweet whispered into your ears over and over again.

Jack has been gone for just a week and from what he’d told you, he might be gone for another week. You’ve been counting the days, waiting for the phone to call every night at 7 pm. He could hear the need in your voice, the ache. Jack had a sinful mouth. A mouth that could make the devil itself blush. Dolly enough you felt the tremors of hic vocal cord even more through the speakers, his hushed tone urging you to move your fingers faster, to bury them into the sweet pussy that he was missing around his cock.

You shiver at the thought of it.

You aren’t proud of your position right now. Your legs bare and spread, fingers drawing slow circles as you lift a breast to your mouth, ignoring the crick in your neck you suck. Your nipple hardens between the gentle bite of your teeth, a moan seeping into the flesh with the flick of your tongue. It shouldn’t feel this good. Despite being alone you feel embarrassed. How can you not? But in your defense, as you do it, you only think of him. His mouth, his tongue, his lips. You release the tight grip of your lips and flatten your tongue against the peak, your hot breath catches against the spit-slick skin, a whimper echoes from the back of your throat.

The familiar heat of your orgasm starts to build, it’s a slow climb, one that makes you raise your hips off the bed to meet the tantalizing brush of your fingers. Your eyes flutter closed and you drag your tongue around your nipple, gently biting into it.

“Jack,” you breathe out, unfiltered. “God, Jack, it feels so good.”

You don’t hear the door, you don’t hear the familiar steps nearing the bedroom.

You don’t hear him.

“What’re you doin’?”

You freeze. Your building orgasm dies between your legs, your fingers hovering helplessly above your throbbing clit. Your body screams, muscles grow taut and uncomfortable. Gently, you rock your hips forward and hope he doesn’t notice. Your eyes might be wide but you’re not looking at him. You can’t. His gaze is like hot iron pressed against your already burning skin. Your lungs shake.

You swallow, your answer comes out broken, “Nothing.”

“Really? Nothin’?” he steps closer, head cocked to the side. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, one that makes you squeamish. “Seems like to me you have a tit in your mouth darlin’. I wouldn’t exactly call that nothin’.”

“I—” You pull your hands away and draw your knees up to your chest. His eyes drop to your burning core, hunger dilating his pupils. “I missed you,” you mutter, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, I can see that.”

The bed dips under his weight, two fingers curl under your chin, and pull your gaze away from the spot on the wall. Your lips part when you meet his gaze, your body warming and melting like ice cream left under a summer shadow. His smile is crooked, his eyes growing soft the longer they stay on you.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he says. “That’s why I’m home early. But really, you should’ve just called me sweetheart, I would’ve loved to help you out. You know that.”

He removes his hat, exposing a messy mop of dark hair that curls right above his ears. A smile touches your lips. “I know that, it kinda happened spontaneously.”

Jack cups the underside of the breast that was still wet from your tongue. He slightly lifts it, weighing it under his palm.

“I liked you callin’ out to me. Definitely helps the ego.”

You don’t answer, only watch with a hungry gaze of your own. His eyes are fixed on the rise and fall of your chest, sliding his hand up, he swipes a thumb over the sensitive peak.

Heat drips down your spine, gathers at your tailbone, and warms you from the inside out. Your lips are pressed together when he pinches, your moan caught against your teeth. His grin is wicked, devilish.

“I wanna play with you, sweetheart,” his grin widens when your breath catches in your throat. He leans forward, lips only an inch away, breath hot across your skin. “Will you be good for me?”

Your sense of time and space has been completely destroyed by the man underneath you, his hips pressed snug against your own, lips latched on your collarbone. He sucks and bites, pulling you apart with nothing but his mouth. You want to touch him—Oh, how your body aches for it. To wrap your hands around his thick cock and pump him until strings of come drip down your knuckles.

But you can’t.

You fucking can’t.

The leather of the whip digs painfully into your wrists, your skin feeling raw and open. Every time he forces your hips into an agonizingly slow grind, the thick handle hits the soft curve of your ass with every move. And the most painful part, the part that makes you wetter than you’ve ever been—he’s not inside of you. His cock drags between your soaked folds, bulbous head catching your clit every time. A generous amount of precum is gathered at the soft swell of his stomach, trickling down to the sheets. He must be painfully hard at this point but he’s still going. He feasts upon your chest, tongue swirling and pressing hard against your nipple while his hand kneads the flesh from underneath.

It’s too much. Your head spins, a desperate sound twisting through you. His chuckle vibrates through your skin and he slides a hand up the back of your neck, fingers curling.

You’re shaking now. Trembling. Burning.

He kisses along your collarbone, wet lips leaving shiny streaks, his voice all gravel. “You know,” he purrs. “When I saw you like that, the desperation you had for me. . .” he cuts off, pressing his lips to yours and licking himself deep into your mouth before continuing. “I wanted to fuck you right that second, darlin’. Nearly lost all control. You drive me insane.”

“The feelings mutual,” you gasp, grinding down on him. His thighs tighten underneath you, a groan leaving his lips. “So why don’t you just fuck me. Please, Jack, I need you.”

“You need me, hm?” he smooths your hair, kisses your cheek. It’s incredibly tender compared to the tight grip his whip has on your wrists. Your back arches instinctively, pushing more of yourself into his hands. “I could keep you like this for hours. Just like this, writhing on my lap, beggin’ for me, achin’ for me. I’m very tempted you know? I did say I wanted to play.”

A whimper scratches your throat. Your head drops to his shoulder and you find solace in the crook of his neck. His scent fills your lungs, gunpowder, leather, and the earth itself. Safe. So safe. You kiss him, drag your lips across the tender skin, leaving goosebumps. His hands move to your arms that are tied behind, his nails skimming down until fingers curl around the knot of the whip.

“We can play,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I just want to make you happy.”

“You do,” he answers quickly. You can almost hear the frown in his voice. “Of course you do. You’re my sweet girl, you always make me happy.”

Jack’s fingers start working the knot, you quickly pull back, “Don’t remove it,” you blurt out. His brows raise with amusement, a toothy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Cheeks burning you look away, “I want you to fuck me like this,” you utter with a jutted bottom lip.

“God, I need to be inside you,” he drawls, accent thick, and everything in you grows taut. “Been jerking myself almost every night thinkin’ about this sweet pussy.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he smirks, helping you raise to your knees. “You’re not the only one with a vivid imagination.”

Jack positions his length against you, his fingers biting into your waist, watching the slow fall of your hips. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, biting painfully. You’re quick to move, dragging your nose down his, you lick at his mouth and urge him to release the abused flesh. He does so with a breathy moan, hips stuttering deeper into you as you suck it between your own lips, easing the pain of his bite.

He takes your neck in his hands, thumbs caressing over the sensitive skin of your throat. His touch grows more insistent as he continues to trace circles and feathery touches up your jaw and around your ear and back down again. You hear him groan, deep and low, sending thrills through your body.

Jack shifts his hips up into you, pushing himself closer to the entrance of your heat. He traces the curves of your body, pressing against you with every inviting motion. You can feel every inch of him pressing firmly inside of you. You groan at the stretch, you’ll never get sick of this. Never get sick of the feeling of being so full. He hooks a finger into one of the loops of the whip and pulls you down, hips flush against his. Your lungs convulse, breath hitching, pleasure burning you from the inside out. Your lips drop open and he shoves his tongue inside, ravaging your mouth and swallowing your cries.

He guides the jump of your hips, snapping his hips at the same time you drop yours. Tears blur your vision, overwhelmed. Jack’s gaze is fixed on where you two connect, watching his cock disappear into the tight fist of your cunt. His movements grow harder and more aggressive, pushing you to your limits. His breath tangles with yours, his hands alternately caressing and holding tight to your wrists while his hips rotate into you. The room is filled with the sounds of rugged breaths.

“Atta girl. That’s it, feels good don’t it?”

“So good,” you say hoarsely, rolling your hips. “Don’t stop.”

Jack fully laughs at that, it’s boisterous and loud, a small smile of your own makes its way to your lips. You would’ve laughed too if it wasn’t for his cock sliding in and out of you, a shudder rolls down your spine. He quiets down, eyes gazing deep into your own.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, voice dropping into something dangerous. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He moves inside you, pushing himself faster and deeper. His thrusts become more powerful, almost urgent as he works to take you to the brink of ecstasy. His hands reach for your wrists, tightening their embrace and pinning you down to him, hammering up into you. All your focus narrows on the feeling of him. Heat builds between your thighs, cock drilling into you without hesitation.

Finally, as the intensity builds to its peak, Jack's thrusts become almost frantic, and with each movement, waves of pleasure ripple through your body, leaving you gasping for breath. You’re both lost in each other.

Your moans become louder and higher pitched as he drives himself ever deeper into you. You feel his velvety hardness pulsing inside of you, his hands grasping tightly—and he breaks you.

Your entire body jerks, every fiber of your being coming to a sudden halt only to come back alive again. You think you cry out his name but your mouth is dry, your throat sore. He hisses at the way you squeeze him tight, your walls pulsing and gushing around him. You press your nails into your palms and a moment later Jack forces your hands open, the sharp ends finding purchase above his hands instead.

“That’s it,” he sings his praise. “I got you, sweetheart, you feel so good, so fuckin’ good.”

Jack withdraws slightly, still deeply embedded within you, before gently pushing you back down on the mattress. Your shoulders ache at the pressure yet you welcome it, pleasure still heavy in your veins.

“I wanna come over your tits, darlin’,” he nips at your chin. “Is that okay?”

With a moan, you nod. You manage to push yourself up, capturing his lips in a quick kiss before you fall back down again. He smiles down at you, eyes shining.

Your eyes grow wide at the sight of him, strong body straddling your stomach, his flushed cock in his fist. He strokes himself, thumb swiping the slit as he pushes the head against the swell. Jack groans at the added pressure, gently rocking his hips. Slick trickles down from your core, forcing a shudder up your spine. Jack’s breathing goes ragged, eyes finding yours as his chin drops with a moan rattling his chest.

He spills himself between your breasts, he grinds helplessly against them, cock twitching and throbbing as his come lands on your chest, throat, and chin. Your tongue slips from between your lips by instinct, sadly you can’t reach the traces of him.

“Fuck,” he rasps, deftly bending over. He leaves you short of breath as he cleans you up with his mouth, licking himself clean off your skin. “Come here,” he utters, holding you by the shoulders and pressing your mouths together. He slips his tongue between your lips along with the remnants of himself. You groan at the taste. Bittersweet. Filthy. You swallow him down, tongue searching for more. “Greedy little thing,” he mutters between breaths.

His kiss lingers for a moment until finally, he pulls away and smiles. Then, once again, your surroundings shift. You find yourself buried in his chest, your arms and legs angled awkwardly.

“Let me get you out of this,” he says, untying you. “And then let’s shower, put some ointment over these marks.”

You hear a hint of remorse at the end, brows furrowing, you cradle his face between your sweaty palms. With smushed cheeks, he gives you a confused look.

“I wanted this, Jack,” you say clearly. “Don’t feel bad.”

“I don’t,” he grunts. When you give him a look he relents. “I don’t, really,” he tenderly touches your wrists and gathers your hands between his own. “I enjoy it but I can’t help feelin’ a bit bad. It just happens.”

“Come’re.”

You pull him into a tight embrace, ignoring the soreness of limbs and burns. Jack buries his nose in your neck and inhales you, deep breaths raising goose bumps over your skin. Your fingers snake into his hair and you gently scratch his scalp, he hums, laying a kiss on your shoulder.

“You take plenty of care of me. Just know that, okay?” his arms tighten around you. “Feel what you’re feeling but just now that I’m happy and satisfied.”

“Okay,” he swallows, pulling away from you. “Now let’s get cleaned.”

By the time you both climb into the bath, you’re both smiling, giggling (more so you rather than Jack), and briefing each other about all the things that happened while Jack was away.

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #kingsmen golden circle #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒 — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 ‘𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘’ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐒

↳ summary: sick of sharing your lover, you pull out a master plan to convince him to stop 'seducing' his targets.

↳ pairing: jack 'whiskey' daniels x f!reader

↳ [2.1k words] content:18+ MDNI, jealous reader, soft!domme/sub dynamics, tying wrists, sex toys (m receiving), orgasm denial (m receiving), cum eating. This is a @beskarbabs remaster -- original post date 2021.

jack masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

The last thing Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels expected to see when he returned home from his essential field mission was indisputably what he walked into as soon as he came in through the front door of your shared apartment in New York.

You had been distressed by Jack's mission plan from the get-go, given the precariousness of him going undercover, but even more so when you were informed that he would need to... liaise with one of his targets. You'd told Champagne that he needed to get rid of those shitty "condom trackers" immediately after seeing the multiple disputes it had caused between other agents and their partners. Still, Champ had insisted that it was the most efficient way of tracking targets and that this was a matter of national security; you'd simply have to put your faith in Jack.

And you did have faith in Jack. You had complete assurance in his devotion to your relationship. However, that didn't mean you had to agree to share him with a target. He was a lady's man, a charmer. You knew he could flirt anyone, man or woman, into bed if he tried hard enough. But given he had no choice, and he always came home to you rather than running away with another woman, you didn't allow your jealousy to seep through until AFTER he came home.

Your distinct lack of clothing results in Jack's frankly amusing expression as he walks in from work, lips parted and eyebrows raised with shock as he looks you over. You wear nothing but the lacy lingerie set that Jack bought as a gift for your anniversary a few weeks ago. Bare, bar for the lace, you stand patiently in the middle of the hall, looking Jack over from head to toe with an expression of indigence.

"Well, well, Sugar. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He breaks out in that signature smirk of his, walking forward to wrap his arm around your waist. You put up your index finger, stopping the brash and self-assured agent in his tracks. He glanced down, noting the lasso in your hand.

"Darlin'-" You reach up, taking the knot of his tie in your hand and pulling it down and off, the fabric making a soft 'wooshing' sound as it slipped from his linen button-down. You then push your hands under the lapels of his blazer jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and onto the floor. He holds your gaze, his normally earthy-hued eyes dilated almost totally black.

You lean on your tiptoes, and Jack closes his eyes, expecting a kiss. Instead, you move your lips to his ear and whisper one word.

"Upstairs." It's not a request, it's a demand, and Agent Daniels looks like you'd just given him whiplash. Gawking at you, it takes him a minute to register precisely what you were telling him. He blinks in an attempt to shake himself from his bewilderment.

"Yes, Ma'am..." He finally responds, in somewhat of a daze, as he makes his way up the stairs. You knew your plan would catch him off guard, but his reaction had been priceless! He glances over his shoulder, ensuring you're following behind before he makes it up the stairs.

"Go sit on the bed," you command him. He does exactly as he's told with no argument, a rare occurrence for Jack, who could never seem to keep his smug and blustering mouth shut. You put it down to him being so shocked by your little surprise that he couldn't form a sentence. He sits pretty on the bed, palms awkwardly placed on his thighs as he watches you. He's not used to you taking control. You were always the one to do as you were told.

"Wrists together," You adjure. He does that, too, eyebrow arched slightly.

"Sugar, what are you up t-" You just give him a look, one that silently orders him to shut up. He presses his lips into a thin line, not saying anything more as you loop his lasso around his wrists. His eyes follow your movements, glad to see that you had, in fact, picked up a standard rope rather than his spare Statesman weapons.

You knot the rope tightly, pulling at his forearms to ensure he can't break free from his binds. The agent arches his brow in yet another querying gaze, and you respond by simply putting your palm to his chest, pushing him backwards so his back hits the bed and knocking his hat off in the process. You smirk at his obvious shock, trying to wiggle from his bonds.

"You gonna ride your cowboy?" He teases you, but finds himself speechless once again as you move onto your hands and knees, crawling up the bed until you're straddling his hips. He hadn't expected you to actually do it! You take his chin roughly in your hand, forcing him to look you in the eye.

"I don't like sharing you, Jack," you whisper. You're turned on by the level of power you now hold over him, and he can hear it in your voice, see it in your dilated eyes. He stumbles over his words, and you feel his cock stir in his jeans.

"Darlin', I was just doin' my job," he finally splutters as you pull open his button-down shirt, the clattering of those buttons hitting the floor making his eyes wide in utter shock. You smirk at his expression, noting the way his adam's-apple bobs. Have you made him nervous?

"You were," you agree, musing as you trail the tip of your index finger down from between his collarbones, tracing his sternum and finally slowing when you reached his belt, "But that doesn't mean I like it, Whiskey." His eyes flick to your hand, now in the process of unbuckling his belt. He's once again uncharacteristically bereft of speech, utterly dumbstruck.

"I need to remind you who you belong to, Jack." Your honeyed tone has his hands curling into fists in their confines. You've never been like this with him; it's such a pleasant surprise. You slip his belt out of the loops of his jeans and unbutton them in quick succession.

You shuck his jeans from his hips, taking his boxers with them. His breath hitches in surprise, muscles tense and assuming you would take him into your mouth. He closes his eyes slowly, tilting his head back into the pillows as he waits to feel your lips around his already throbbing cock- so when he feels the pressure of your weight on the mattress shift away from him, he snaps his eyes open in confusion, looking to see where those lips had gone.

He finds you leaning over the end of the bed, searching in the bedside cabinet for something.

"Whatcha up to, BabyGirl?" He queries, eyes following your hand as you dig around. A self-satisfied smirk stretches across your lips as you find what you are looking for. You feel Whiskey stiffen at the sight of the pink bullet vibrator in your hand. You had been sure to charge it fully when Jack left a few days ago, and it had sat in the cabinet waiting to be used.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson, Mr Daniels," you hum, holding the button down until it starts buzzing in your hand. You can see Jack begin to panic a little, realising how much control you have over the situation.

"What d'ya mean, a les-" Jack breaks off into a broken moan as you place the vibrator against the head of his leaking cock. It's red and angry already, throbbing with the intensity of the vibrations. He pushes his hips backwards into the bed in a futile attempt to escape the torture you inflict upon him, giving him a delicious arch in his back that has the crown of his head pushing back into the pillows.

"F-Fuck!" He chokes out as you trace the vibrator down his dick achingly slow. His entire body shudders at the warmth that spreads like tendrils in his lower abdomen. You smirk, watching his composure melt away.

"What is it, Jack? You speechless? I highly doubt that," you mock him, enjoying this display of dominance over your egocentric lover. But, funnily enough, he is indeed speechless. His moans had caught in his throat, arching his back further as you ran the tip of the vibrator over his balls before making its way back up to the end of his throbbing cock.

"You know I won't share you anymore, right?" You coo, watching as he tries to struggle against the lasso's bindings. It's fruitless, you both know, but his mind is so hazy with desire that he just can't think straight. He just nods desperately in response to your question, trying to form words.

"Fuck- I'm-" He chokes out another strangled groan as you circle the tip of his head, making his hips sloppily buck upwards into thin air, "I'm sorry."

You have to swallow your own moans; Jack wholly lost in this hedonism causing a subtle warmth to settle in your lower tummy. He convulses with a gasp as you lean forward, collecting the precum on the tip of his dick on your tongue. "Nghhh fuck!"

You can feel his thick thighs trembling already, and he starts babbling mindless garbage as he hurtles closer and closer to his climax.

"I wo-won't touch anyone again! Fuck-! Fuck Champ, fuck those st- shit!" He gasps out, body jerking as you trace his balls with your tongue, "fuck those stupid trackers!" You smirk, noting the deterioration in his self-control.

"You gonna only touch me, Agent Whiskey? Fuck me when you come back from your missions instead?" You murmur before brushing your tongue from base to tip. He shudders, barely able to hold it together.

"F-Fuck Darlin', I-I'm gonna-" He's cut off by a desperate and uncharacteristic wail as you pull away from him altogether, the vibrator still buzzing in your hand. Jack looks wounded, balls drawn up tight, and a pained expression cast across his face. You just give him a flirty smirk, eyebrow arched.

"Answer the question, Agent," You purr, watching his eyes roll back slightly into his skull. He seems to take a few shaky breaths, deep enough that you can see his ribcage expand on the inhale. You assume he's trying to gather his thoughts, so you press the vibrator's button again, turning it up to a higher setting before pushing it to the tip of his cock again.

If he hadn't had his arms tied in front of him, Jack practically would have folded in half with the way the upper half of his body jumped up from the bed. His whine is almost pained, knuckles white with the fists he'd made.

"I'm waiting," you drawl as he grits his teeth, trying to combine words into something like a sentence.

"I- Jesus!" He growls out, forcing his words out in that deep vibrato that sends chills up your spine, "I promise!" You coo gently, running the vibrator up and down the shaft of his angry red, veiny cock at a brutally slow pace. He's so close to cumming; you can see it in the way his abdomen muscles tense and his cock bobs.

"Good. You're mine. No one else's," You clarify, pressing the button to its highest setting and watching as Jack threw his head back with a ragged gasp as he came. Hard.

Ropes of cum coat his stomach and chest, dribbling down onto your fingertips as he bucks his hips into thin air again. The customarily composed Jack can barely breathe, coming undone at the eviscerating orgasm ripping through him. The moan that once again caught in his throat slips into something akin to a whine, all the muscles in his body tight and cramped.

As he finally comes down from his blinding high, Jack pants heavily, trying to stop the dizzying feeling in his head from the inability to inhale for a solid minute. Not ready to stop playing with this sexy, confident alter ego, you dip your fingers in the cum on his stomach, lifting them to your lips and tracing your tongue over it, moaning at the salty taste.

"Fuck, Sugar..." Jack pants, struggling against his binds again, "Let me out of these so I can kiss you." But much to his surprise, you don't answer him. Instead, you just shimmy your way up his body. He blinks, still in a daze.

"Darlin'-" He begins to question, but you just press your index finger to his lips as you straddle his pelvis, smirking.

"I'm not done with you yet. I still need to ride my cowboy."

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ninebluehearts · 1 year

Text

Good time, sugar

Warnings: Dry humping ig? Bit of cock blocking. mdni. Agent Whiskey (he needs his own warning)

Summary: You can never just dance with Jack; it always spirals into something more..

A/n: First fic in forever and of course it’s about Pedro Pascal 💀 Please enjoy; I’m a bit rusty 🤷🏻‍♀️

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The music that blasted from the bar’s speakers would have seemed overwhelming to you in any other setting, but tonight? It was just what you needed. The way the bass vibrated throughout your entire body along with the many shots of tequila you slammed back not even twenty minutes ago, allowed your body to move in ways you didn’t know it could.

Your movements were completely fluid at this point. Your hands haphazardly thrown up in the air, your hips slipping from one side to the other. Many other drunk girls tried to copy your movements, growing jealous when their dates were more focused on your dancing than theirs, but they lacked the one thing you had: confidence.

Many men tried to join you, their hands grabbing at your hips with their pelvis grinding against your ass, but none of them were the one you wanted. No, you had your sight set on the man in the corner of the room, sitting at a small table by himself, sipping from a little crystal class filled with an amber liquid. His gazed burned right back into yours, though he never moved from his seat, which made you all the more interested.

It wasn’t long before you pushed yourself off of the man that was grinding against you from behind, deciding that you couldn’t wait any longer. You didn’t know why, but you just had to have this man. Right here, right now.

You stormed over to the corner of the room he was sitting at and grabbed his glass, slamming back the dark liquid he had been nursing on throughout the night. “Dance with me.” You shouted over the loud music, holding your hand out for him.

“Sounds like I ain’t got a choice, sugar.” The man hollered back, taking your hand as he stood up. If his southern accent hadn’t given it away already, then his outfit sure did. He wore the classic cowboy boots with dark bootcut jeans, paired with a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket with a tan collar, topped with an ebony cowboy hat. A good-looking outfit for a good-looking man.

You pulled him back onto the dancefloor, the remix version of some popular pop song thundered from the speakers as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the sway of your hips syncing together with his perfectly.

He seemed to be respectful at first, keeping his hands firmly placed on your waist, but as the song went on and the more you grinded against his thigh, the lower his hands ran down your body.

His lips dragged along your shoulder to your neck, the stubble on his chin sending chills throughout your body from the stinging prickles. “Dancing like this and you haven’t even told me your name yet, sugar.” He murmured against your ear, his voice like velvet.

“You haven’t told me yours yet either.” You countered, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, nipping at the skin ever so slightly. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, pressing your body closer to his as though he needed you to breathe.

“Agent Whiskey at your service, ma’am. But you can call me Jack.” Suddenly Jack twisted your body over his arm, dipping you towards the floor, the smirk on his face making butterflies erupt in your stomach. “And you are?”

There was a brief pause in between songs, giving you the opportunity to tell him your name without having to holler back and forth over the music. You wrapped your leg around his hip, pulling yourself up and away from him, dashing over to the bar to ask the bartender for another round of shots.

Jack sauntered over to hold you from behind, his hand running along the front of your hip as his lips ghosted over the most sensitive parts of your neck, causing you to press back into him with a breathy gasp. “Drink with me.” You said before pulling away from him completely, holding out the shots the bartender just poured for you.

“How could I say no to a pretty little thing like you?” Jack said with a wink, slamming the shot back at the same time as you.

You took the small glass back from him, setting them both next to you on the bar before turning your attention back to him. “Wanna go somewhere quieter? I can’t hear anything in here.”

Jack responded simply with a nod, grasping your hand and leading you through the crowd of drunk college students and horny middle-aged women that grinded against anything that breathed.

Once outside, Jack pulled out a pair of car keys from his pocket and pressed one of the buttons, causing a cute little chirp to echo throughout the parking lot.

Following the sound, your eyes fell on a little white, topless 1970 Ford Bronco. “Oh, woah. Hey, I don’t get into stranger’s cars no matter how hot they are.”

“We ain’t gonna go nowhere, little lady. You said you wanted to go somewhere quiet, and I figured we could sit in there until your girlfriend’s wanted you back. S’up to you, sugar.”

Normally you would’ve walked away at this point, telling him to go fuck himself before trying to find your friends in the crowded bar, but there was something different about Jack. There was something about him that made you feel safe. Something a man hasn’t made you feel in a long time.

“Fine. But just for a moment.” You mumbled as you made your way over to the car, only slightly stumbling from the alcohol.

Jack hurried over, cutting in front of you to open the door. “After you, babydoll.“

You thanked him as you sat down, the cool leather seats feeling wonderful on your hot skin after being stuck in a crowd for so long. Jack slid into the seat next to you, his arm casually wrapping along the back of your seat. “Listen sugar, I hate to be all upfront and all, but I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout kissin’ them lips of yours all night long.. I was thinkin’-”

Though you cut him off before he could finish, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer to you, your lips crashing against his suddenly. Jack wasted no time in kissing you back, his lips moving against yours desperately as he hooked his hand under your thigh and in one fluid motion, pulling you into his lap.

You pulled away from him to catch your breath, sucking in heavy gasps of air as he moved down to kiss your neck, his hat obnoxiously knocking into your face. You breathed out a laugh, pulling the large hat off of his head and placing it on your own.

You gasped once he found that sensitive spot on your neck once again, your hands running through his hair and slightly tugging, causing you both to moan when he bit down on the spot.

Now it was his turn to pull away to catch his breath, his head falling back onto the back rest as soft pants escaped his lips. He noticed you were wearing his hat and couldn’t help but chuckle, his thumbs rubbing teasing circles on the tops of your thighs. “You gonna ride me, cowgirl?”

You hated yourself for blushing, wanting to think of a witty comeback to ease the tension between you both, but all you could focus on was how his voice made a warm, tingly sensation twist through your lower belly. “Might just.” You said with a shrug, grinding your hips against his, relishing the way his chest vibrated with the deep groan that escaped his lips.

His hands flew to your hips, pushing and pulling you against him again. “Fuck, just like that, darlin’.”

You pressed against Jack harder, both of you groaning as his hips bucked up to rock against yours perfectly. You could tell he was already so close, just a little more-

Your head snapped up at the call of your name from one of your obviously drunk friends; Jack eased his grip on your hips, muttering something under his breath.

“Fuck.. I should go.” You said as you plopped back into your own seat, pulling the edge of your dress back down your thighs.

“Listen,“ Jack murmured, turning his entire body to face you. “I really like you and I’d like to finish this sometime soon, if you’d like? Not just that, but I’d like to take ya out somewhere nice too.”

“Yeah, of course! Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Uhhh, check the glove box? But what’s that gotta do with anything?”

You dug around in his glovebox for a moment before pulling out a mostly dried out sharpie. “This should work.” You pulled his arm towards you and pushed up his sleeve, scribbling down your number on his forearm with a little smiley face. “Call me.” You leaned over, kissed his cheek, then climbed out of the car, running back towards the bar to find your friends.

You didn’t know if this spark you felt with him would grow into something more, but you knew that one thing was for sure.

He had to call; you still had his hat.

#jack daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #kingsmen golden circle #jack daniels x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #kingsmen #pedro pascal fanfiction #agent whiskey fanfiction

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sgt-morgan · 1 year

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Of Cowboys and Daisies🐎

Summary: Jack is assigned to watch over a mother and her adorable little girl. As they get closer and closer to taking care of their problem, Jack worries he won’t be able to let go.

Warnings: AFAB! Female identifying reader, talks of cannon typical violence, death of a spouse x2, really a fluff piece.

A/N: I wrote this because I have that stupid Tik tok edit song stuck in my noodle.

Masterlist

Follow up fic

Agent Whiskey wasn’t sure he was going to survive this arrangement. Champ said it was temporary, but his idea of temporary passed about two months ago. It was a fairly simple assignment, and with everything that’s happened, an easy assignment is a lot kinder than getting kicked off the team. So he took the job, even though the rapidly approaching end of it made him want to drink until he couldn’t see straight.

“It’s a simple protection detail.” Champ had shrugged, pulling the file out of his desk and smacking it down in front of him with a sigh. “She’s a youngin’, at least to me anyway. She’s CIA, talented too, once her life is out of the red zone, I’ll probably recruit her. Sharp as a tack, quick as a whip, and she’s got the mouth of a sailor, she’s right up your alley.” Jack studies the files with interest, running a curious finger over the picture of you that was attached to the file. You were a looker for sure, he listened to champ go on, reading over your impressive and extensive file, until he ran across a bit of information that shocked him half to death.

“She’s got a baby?” He huffed, incredulous.

“Yeah, little girl, her names Daisy May, she’s three. She’s sweeter than a peach, got Tequila and Ginger wrapped around her little finger already, and Momma is just as bad.” Champ chuckled, pouring them both a glass of Statesman’s finest while Jack stared at him intent on hearing every detail Champ was willing to offer. “Her late husband was a SEAL. Top ranking, special ops, very high up on the food chain. One day she goes out to grab dinner with the baby, comes back and he’s dead with a note pinned to his chest with her cover details written all over it. Tried to deal with it on her own, then after about two months she pulls the bottle her daddy- former agent Brandy god rest his soul- left her and called us up asking us to make her disappear. So we called our buddies at the CIA, got her cleared, and we’re doing it. She’s our-specifically your- problem until we can take out whoever blew her cover.”

Jack stared at the amber liquid in his glass and thought long and hard about that one. It’s a dark story, indicative of his own. “Where are we keeping her?” He sighs, swirling the liquid once more before shooting it.

“Well son, that’s up to you. If you wanna do a safe house, that’s fine. We can radio y’all in and use satellite to do the rest, or you can use the ranch. Familiar territory for you, plenty of security, and it means we can all look after her and the little one when necessary.” Champ sighs when Jack slides his glass back over to him.

“Where abouts they from?” Jack questions, “They gonna be ok living in a ranch or am I working with city slickers?”

“Oh no, She’s originally from Prestonsburg, she’s Floyd county born and raised. They were living in Texas though. Her husband was a Texan, moved to Austin to be closer to family and all that. She ain’t got anybody but an Aunt back home, but she’s an Eastern Kentucky girl. She grew up riding horses.” Jack’s eyebrows shot up to the brim of his hat at Champs little interlude.

“Well Shoot Champ, you really shot the shit with her huh?” He laughs.

“Her daddy was a friend, and she’s just like him. She’s a good girl, you’ll like her.” Champ nodded him to the door, and Jack took the dismissal in stride. Champ had high hopes, and Jack just hoped he was right.

Reflecting on it now, it’s laughable how skeptical he was. You were a picture of perfection. When he first met you, he knew, and Daisy put the bow on top of the package.

Funnily enough his horse introduced you, Tequila and Ginger were walking you around the distillery grounds, and had stopped to let you show Daisy the horses. He found you standing outside of a stall, specifically the stall of his horse, Coke. Coke is an Appaloosa with a blanket with spots. He’s not normally friendly with newcomers, having a stubborn streak a mile wide, but Jack was shocked to see you stood in front of the Horse’s stall with no issue. You had the baby propped on one hip, with her head on your shoulder and a thumb in her mouth, and Coke’s muzzle resting on the other. You were casually talking to Ginger while Tequila stared on shocked as you fondly stroked the horse’s muzzle. Normally, everyone knew not to turn their back on his horse, unless of course you were him. Coke was known to be a jester, and liked to nip at your hair or push you around with his muzzle, but there he stood, cozying up to a woman he just met today. He stood back and kept watching, seeing what the horse was up to. He heard the horse nicker and huff, moving his head to push towards the baby and you laughed, letting the curious animal nuzzle at the girl.

“Yeah big boy,” you patted his crest as he moved his head off your shoulder to let the baby stroke his muzzle, “yeah- gentle Daisy May, be nice- yeah big boy, that’s my Daisy, you like her? Yeah, that’s the baby, are you a good boy? hmm?” You talked to the horse and he watched as you pulled a sugar cube from the shelf next to the stall and let the girl feed it to Coke. The big horse oh-so-gently took the cube from the girl, tickling her palm and she giggled. The horse huffed through his nose and threw his head a bit and you laughed. “Oh ho ho! Well, you liked that huh? I’d give yah another big boy but I don’t know if your rider would take too kindly to me fattening up such a pretty stallion, bet you make all those pretty broodmares happy huh? Yeah.” You laugh as he whinnies.

“Well, He took a liking to you quick.” Jack called, making himself known and getting closer to the stall. “Ol’ Coke here is usually a temperamental fella.”

“Who, this guy?” You smirk as the horse huffs again at Daisy’s hair making her giggle. “Why no, he’s a sweet fella. Ain’t yah big boy?” The horse bobs his head as if nodding in agreement and Jack chuckles.

“Don’t let him fool yah,” Tequila grumbled, eyeing the horse warily, “That menace picks on anybody that ain’t him.” He pointed at Jack with a glare and Jack chuckled.

“Now don’t be bitter sunshine, you’re just mad that he pushed you into the water trough last summer.” Jack grinned at you with a wink and you laughed. Then the girl on your hip tugged at your hair a bit and whispered in your ear. Like most children though, Daisy was not a good whisperer.

“Mama, wook, Cowboy.” She mumbled around her thumb, pointing to Jack’s Stetson. Oh how his heart melted, he knew he was a goner then and there.

“Oh man,” you gasped, “you’re right! I bet this is his horsey.” You nodded and the girls eyes twinkled with wonder.

“Horsey pwetty.” She nodded sagely, “Ask him mumma, wanna ride him.” She had the biggest eyes, her tiny curls were barely contained by the pigtails her hair was in. She was a pretty little baby, and a carbon copy of her momma, dressed in little denim overalls and a pretty flowered shirt. She was cute, almost too cute, he didn’t know how he’d survive the next month or so with those big eyes pleading with him to give her anything she wanted, he knew he would be too weak to say no, he has a hard time picturing anyone saying no to her, not even her momma. Speaking of the mom, she was beautiful. She had on a beat up Vietnam tiger stripe jungle fatigue with a patch reading ‘Brandy’ rolled up to the elbows. Her T-shirt read ‘Kentucky Strong’ and he recognized it as one of those charity shirts that raised money for the flooding in Eastern Kentucky. She had aviators perched on her nose and two dog tags around her neck, one that was clearly older than the other, one for dad one for her husband if he had to guess. The best thing about the outfit though, was the shorts, those beautiful legs on full display, so good looking he had to pry his eyes off of her with the strength of ten men.

Jack jumped in all at once, “Am I a cowboy sweet baby? What gave me away? Was it the belt buckle?” He playfully tugged on it and gave an exaggerated frown, the girl giggled a no, and he pointed to his boots. “Oh, must’a been my boots!” He kicked up a heel to show off the worn brown leather boots. The girl squealed and laughed again, and you watched delighted that your baby was having so much fun.

“No!” Daisy laughed again clutching her hands together while she giggled. “No it was the hat!”

“Oh! Why silly me!” He breathed a fake sigh of relief, “I forgot it was up there sugar! Can’t be a cowboy without the hat!” The little girl laughed again in delight and he grinned back. Tequila and Ginger stared on shocked, Whiskey hadn’t been this carefree in a while, this little girl was working miracles. “Oh but I’ve gone and forgotten my manners,” Jack smacks his forehead dramatically “I never got your name Little lady! My name is Jack, what yours?” He extended a hand to the girl and she beamed, tucking her tiny hand in his.

“I’m Daisy!” She grinned, shaking his hand.

“Well, ain’t that just first class, you’re as pretty as a flower, so you must be Daisy!” He grinned at the delighted little girl, then whispered to her conspiratorially, “And who’s this?” He pointed at you and Daisy nodded, her mouth an ‘o’.

She introduced you and Jack smiled, tiling his hat to you, “Pretty name for a pretty lady, I’m Jack Daniel’s, code name Whiskey ma’am, pleased to make your acquaintance, and this here’s Coke.” He patted the horse’s flank as he stepped closer to you.

Your smile was just as magnetic as your daughter’s, and Jack felt his knees buckle, “Pleased to meet you Whiskey, Jack and Coke is my favorite combo, so I got high hopes this’ll be a good arrangement.”

And it was, y’all got on like a house on fire, and now he was very used to having you in his home. He hadn’t invited anyone into his space like this since his wife died. He couldn’t find the appeal in it, but there was something about you and this little girl he couldn’t seem to shake.

You were more than willing to tackle any task, and it was one of the things that he enjoyed most about you. In the months you had been there you helped around the Ranch any way you could. Jack had gotten used to doing the chores on his own, but he was suprised by how easily you worked yourself into his routine. It wasn’t a big Ranch, it was near the distillery in Oldham county, right smack in the middle between Louisville and La Grange. The ranch hosted his three horses, six chickens, two barn cats, and about 10 or so cows. In the mornings, you were up just as early as him, you alternated putting on the coffee, then he would deal with the horses (Coke, Julep, and Sazerac. You got a big kick out of their names, and he loved how you chuckled anytime he mentioned them.) and the cows, and you fed the chickens and the barn cats (Tom and Jerry, all the whiskey themed names). When you finished gathering eggs and greeting the cats, he would come back to you bouncing the baby on your hip while cooking breakfast.

“Well, you feed my animals and make my eggs, aren’t you handier than a pocket on a shirt.” He grinned one morning and you rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

“Well Cowboy, someone’s gotta feed you, black coffee and a Marlboro red aren’t breakfast, and they never will be.”

You were also a brilliant agent. Once you were settled, you and Jack started digging into anything you could find about the people who killed your husband, and you proved yourself an invaluable asset in intel gathering. You dug up more in a single hour than some men hoped to find in a lifetime, but it took its toll on you for sure. Day in day out combing over your husband’s files and trappings, staring at the inner mechanisms of his whole life and wonder what it would be like if he was here to finish all of his loose ends. He understood, and he hated that he couldn’t just take the pain for you, but it was a comfort to the both of you to have someone to talk to.

“Oh, the first week after his funeral was hell,” you sighed, playing with your daughters curls as she slept peacefully on your lap in the evening sun, “I kept trying to call him, to vent with him about how scared and tired I was, only to be reminded this wasn’t a deployment or a buissness trip, he was just… gone. Daisy was a mess too, cried for him every night, wouldn’t sleep until I showed her this video of him saying he loved her that he made her when he went on deployment. It broke my heart.” You sniffled and Jack felt his heart ache with sympathy.

“I know all about that hurt,” he sighed, handing you a beer and settling next to you on the big wrap around porch, “I’d keep rolling over and reaching for her in the middle of the night, I’d touch the cold sheets and I’d remember and it would hurt me every time.”

“Oh god yeah, took me weeks before I could truly sleep on my own again, I used to put one of his shirts on his pillow and sleep with it, it was the only way I could get myself to bed.” You sighed, nodding and sipping the drink.

“I used to spray her perfume on her pillow,” Jack nodded, “When I ran out I forced myself to sleep without it, It was months before I could get a full nights rest again.”

“I couldn’t imagine having to deal with all that alone,” you grimaced, “I at least had Daisy, I hate that you’re alone.”

“Well, I was alone, but I’m not anymore, I got you.” He slung an arm around your shoulder and you basked in the sun together until Jack felt you go lax in his grip. You had fallen asleep in his grasp, and he was shocked at how good it felt to have you be so vulnerable around him. It melted something in his chest. What was he gonna do with you.

You and Daisy just kept growing on him. His life was no longer just solitude and shoot outs, now it was a little more tea parties and tag and it was a very welcome change. You both had him wrapped around your fingers, every moment he wasn’t spending working on the project with you, or with Ginger and Tequila at Statesman, he was with you and your little girl.

One evening you were playing a game of tag, when Daisy just about caused them both a heart attack. You were running around and chasing each other in the small creek out the back of the ranch. Daisy was a doll in her little floral one piece, her wet hair plastered to her forehead and her little feet splashing away. You were a sight too, a black bathing suit with a cut out under your breasts showing off an ornamental tattoo that he really just wanted to-

“Come on Dada, catch me!” Time froze when the little girl said it and your jaws dropped, when you finally met each others gaze, you snapped out of it and turned to your daughter.

“No sweetie, that’s-“ you tried but the little girl cut you off.

“I know mumma. It’s otay though, Dada is no here, so this is my OTHER dada. It’s otay to have two dada.” She smiled and meandered to Jack, squeezing him in a hug. The little girl was barely knee high to a grass hopper, but she had hit him with that bombshell so hard she might as well have been a giant. Then, she just toddled off, finding interest in the stream once more, gathering rocks.

“Darlin I’m so sor-“ he began and you waved it away.

“Don’t worry Jack, she’s three. She adores you, and her only other frame of reference for a consistent male presence is her dad. Besides, if she had to pick another father figure, I’d want it to be you.” With that, you went to go stop her from tormenting a frog, and he stood there like a statue. The way you so casually said that amazed him, you put so much unwarranted faith in him, and it made the hardened cowboy turn to mush. Whatever this turns out to be though, one thing is for sure. He would do anything in the world for you and that little girl, and this just drove it home.

Weeks passed and you all just continued to get closer. Daisy asked for him as often as she did for you now when she’s upset, and he was now totally attached to their evening ritual of snuggling on the couch and watching Bluey. Every day you got closer and closer, and every day you found out more and more about your husbands killer, which ultimately led you to today.

Jack had left early, sun not even being up and the morning dew had just barely settled over the grass. Jack had gotten the mission from Ginger last night, and you had prepped and planned with him until he swore the plans were tattooed on the back of his eyelids.

It was over quick, he took them out and got his necessary intel and now you were safe. No blown cover, no second attempt at murder, just efficiency.

You’re free. You could go anywhere you want and you’d be safe. Where would you go? Your aunt was in Pburg, not too far off, a couple of tolerable hours away. Your late husband’s family though… they were in Texas, and that was more of a stretch.

This was miserable, thinking of all the ways you would leave him, though you weren’t even his to begin with. You were never his, you were just his charge, someone he was meant to protect, you and that perfect little girl. He got so caught up in it, he forgot to protect himself, and now he was faced with an old companion he never wanted to see again, loneliness.

He finally pulled up to the ranch, and Coke and the others were grazing in the first paddock near the front of the house, until the clever horse sees him and trots over with something in his teeth. It was a little stuffed rabbit, Coke had it by the ear and dropped it in his outstretched palm. It was like another painful reminder of what comes next. What would he do when his life was no longer bows and bunny rabbits. How would he go back to the way things were before. He sighed and made his way into the house, he was somewhat confused to see the front room totally empty. Normally, you’d be feeding the baby at this time, she would be sat in in the booster seat he’d bought for the kitchen table, in the little pink bib she always wore, probably making a mess, but then she’s squeal and wave at him and tell him to ‘come sit cowboy! I share!’ You’d laugh and tell her he had his own to eat, and she would frown and say ‘mine better!’ Today though, the kitchen was quiet and he felt his heart hammering in his chest, had you already gone? Were you so excited to be rid of him? But no, there was the sound of a shower, his shower specifically. He wandered into his room, and the sight there strengthened his resolve and told him that he needed to buck up and tell you how he feels, because he never wanted to sacrifice this.

Daisy was laying on his pillow, the stuffed horse toy that was an exact replica of Coke was tucked up under her chin, and she contentedly snored away on top of his quilt. The only light in the room was from the lamp on his bedside table, and a sliver leaking out from the cracked door to his bathroom. He carefully tucked the little girls blank is up over her chin, and listened to you humming from the shower. He was used to sharing his bathroom with you, normally you used the one near your room, but when you needed to shower and Daisy was napping, you preferred to use his so you could hear her if she cried. The warm smell of your shampoo was wafting from the bathroom, and your clothes were laid out on his bed. He ran a hand over them with a soft smile, the whole thing just felt so domestic. The sleeping child, the woman in his shower, the three sets of boots by his door, the pictures on his fridge. They all just felt so natural, filling his empty space with the feeling of home.

“Jack? Cowboy? Is that you?” You called from the bathroom.

“Yeah Sugar, it’s me.” He called back softly, padding his way into the bathroom and leaning up against the sink.

“How’d it go Whiskey? Did all go to plan?” He heard the hopefulness in your voice.

“Yeah sweetness, we did it. You’re free.” He could hear you pause at the melancholy in his voice and he was kicking himself. ‘Don’t ruin this for her Jacky, she should be happy.’ He heard the water kick off and handed you your Terry cloth robe and a towel. Once you were decent, you opened the curtain.

“You say that, but why does it sound like you just signed my warrant?” You asked curiously, squeezing the ends of your hair with a towel. He hadn’t realized how comfortable you had gotten around each other, but he supposed he shouldn’t be all that shocked. All the small touches, the snuggles, then tender moments. He was addicted to them now, and he never wanted to kick the habit.

“Well, I reckon you’d wanna get back to your life now there ain’t a target on your back.” He sighs, removing his hat and running a hand through his hair.

“Oh Jack,” you chuckled and his head whipped up when your palms came to rest on his cheeks. “These past few moths have been some of the happiest moments of my life since my husband passed. My daughter loves you, you are so good with her, she’s had nothing but smiles and laughter. You make my days better, you make me happy.” You caressed his cheek and he was hanging on to your every word, staring into those beautiful eyes he dreamed after these days. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it clearer baby, you’ll have to pardon me for that, Lord knows I’ve been a little scattered, but I have my life, it’s right here, with you. That is, if you’ll have me.”

He was stunned, here in his arms he held everything he never thought he’d have when his wife died. A beautiful woman, a sweet baby, laughter, light, and maybe even love. “Oh honey,” he gasped, pulling you in and finally kissing you like he’s wanted to since he saw you that first day in the stables. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me from you and that little girl.” You giggled and kissed him again, and again. When you finally broke away, you grinned up at him, and in this moment if you had asked him to kill an army of a thousand, he would have asked you what time you wanted him home for dinner.

“Well then cowboy? Why don’t you get gussied up and we can celebrate our new beginnings. Together.”

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Kingsmen #Kingsmen and the Golden Circle #Spotify #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal character fanfiction #whiskey #whiskey x reader

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year

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Sweet as Sugar

Pairings: Agent Whiskey x Reader Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pining, cunnilingus, blowjob, slight dirty talk, slight praise kink, cowboy rule, swearing (this is basic smut, I think), Whiskey’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit... A/N: I have a writer’s block toward the end of writing this, so what should have only take about a week took, like, a month. Hopefully, I’m back to writing again but I will make no promises bc it’s too gloomy outside for any good serotonin boost to write with. Thank you and enjoy this peace offering bc Pedro Pascal had found a way into my brain!

The mall was bustling with people, men and women coming and going, passing through to look at all the booths and tables showing off all the different organizations to one another as the convention continued on through the day. It was not just any convention, either. Secret services from all over the world, interconnected and soon-to-be, gathered that day to listen and learn and hopefully form closer partnerships to other companies. The entire building was rented out for this function.

Agents continued to pass by the big booth decorated with rhinestones and flowers, which advocated an elegant simplicity to represent the business they ran. Displayed on either side of the booth were two dresses: one a simple, yet fashionable wedding dress with intricate detailing sewed into every stitch, the other, a woman’s business suit with a flower pin carved from what looked like sapphires. Along the table were pieces of jewelry—watches, bracelets, rings, necklaces, just samples of what the company had to offer—and pamphlets of what exactly it was the business they were running.

And displayed proudly on the sign over their booth was a symbol, a renaissance style ‘Q’ that twisted and curved in classic cursive.

You sighed as you ran your hands along the sleeves of your blazer, your fingers grazing the cufflink on your wrist that matched the symbol of your agency. You had been standing behind your booth with one of three of your coworkers for about an hour now, waning the daylight in shifts between handling the booth and exploring the convention for food or company that was not the women running your station.

You looked over your watch as you awaited the return of your colleagues so you could switch off again, so you could leave the confines of advertising your business. Your outfit—a delicate gold satin button down that loosely tucked into your perfectly tailored white dress pants, which flowed along your legs and matched with white blazer to create your formal attire suit—was a perfect representation of your agency: distinguished and efficient. Your partner, though she wore silver and blue, stood beside you to match.

You smiled and shifted the clubmaster frames sitting at the edge of your nose as Pearl and Jasper returned, both women sending you nods and smiles as they took your places behind the booth for your switch. “We found the Kings just that way,” Jasper said, pointing in the direction they’d just come from before shifting the cloud of coiled black hair away from her face and securing it in a poofy ponytail. She then slipped her hands back into the pockets of her dark red suit, glancing back at Pearl as she spoke.

“They’ve got a nice booth. We might have some competition,” she quipped, smirking as smoothed her fingers over the thin chain of her necklace.

Opal, your own partner, laughed and shook her head. “Don’t we always have competition with the Kings?” she retorted, playful as she turned to walk with you. You agreed with her joke and headed in the direction Jasper had pointed in.

On the way, a pair of eyes spotted you and you offered a large grin. One of the agencies you partner with were the Amadoda Amafulege, the Flagsmen. They were a company set in Africa who you counted on for certain resources: information, jewels or gemstones, fabrics. They were reliable friends.

You and Opal approached them with wide grins, pointing them in the direction of your own booths to greet Jasper and Pearl. The interaction was short but warm hearted, and you were off again before you could be sidetracked by some other business you happen to work with. You both continued on walking, greeting physical bodies and holographic forms with waves and nods.

The large sign of the Kingsman symbol sat atop a booth as two well-dressed gentlemen with glasses stood behind their booth. One of them spotted the both of you, recognizing the likewise fashion choices as you came closer. Opal grinned, a mix of amusement and adoration in her tone at the company which both allied and competed with your own. “The famed Kingsman.”

The younger one smiled, offering a nod to you both. “Hello,” he greeted. When you finally stood in front of their booth, he reached out and handed each of you a pamphlet. You glanced over it, disinterested in absorbing information you already know. Both agents held their hands out for you. “Agent Galahad. This is Agent Merlin.”

The older man, Merlin, gave a courteous nod, “Pleasure to meet you.”

You nodded, shaking his hand confidently. “Back at you,” you responded. “We didn’t know if you’d be coming.”

Merlin gave a nod, smiling with a slight chuckle at your words. The Kingsman had not shown up to the last convention, business had gotten in the way and they were greatly missed. “We pulled some strings.”

You looked over their table at a few gadgets, some disguised as ties or watches, and then looked over at the two suits they chose to display similarly to your own booth. “Good to have the famous Galahad and Merlin,” you said, “and with a good booth.”

Your tone offered your impressed attitude toward their well-decorated station. Some of the booths here had not offered a lot of effort, simply their symbols on a sign and some pamphlets and gadgets on their tables. Plain. Boring.

“Some of these are severely lacking,” Opal said, practically reading your mind. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the black curls out of her face so she could see as she offered her smile. “You’d think a secret service could put together a decent booth.”

Galahad extended a hand with his suggestion, "You should stop by the Statesman. You'd probably be impressed."

"We'll keep it in mind," you agreed, picking up one of the fancy watches on display. You examined it, the Kingsman symbol hiding under the glass, the gold lining on the band, the knobs and secret accesses embedded inside.

Merlin smiled, "In the meantime, we shall take a stop by yours."

Opal nodded, "Down by the Krispy Kreme. Can't miss it."

Your thumb pressed against the button on the side meant to wind the hour hand. It obeyed, pushing down and revealing a hologram of the Kingsman symbol once more.

"Very nice toy," you commented, pushing the button again to make the symbol retreat.

Merlin hummed, "You haven't found the kill button yet."

You shook your head, still examining the watch. "No, I have. You've got the poison dart here–" you tapped the near-invisible button on the side, "and the tranq dart here," you tapped the button next to it.

They raised their brows at you, impressed. "You've got them too close together, you should separate them a little more," you suggested. "Wouldn't want someone trying to knock an important target out and end up killing them instead."

The agents glanced at each other under Opal's watching gaze and your diverted one as you set the watch back down. Galahad nodded, "Right."

"Opal," you said as you turned to your partner. She hummed and you held your hand out.

"Oh, yes," she mumbled, lifting the lapel of her jacket to reach into a pocket. She handed it to you for you to present to both Kingsman. The box was lengthwise, a thin, golden thing housing a watch made by your agency.

"This is for Galahad—Harry—sent by our boss. She was hoping for us to run into you today. You'll give it?" You said, handing it over to the two.

"Of course," Merlin said, peeking inside of the box with a nod.

The two of you left again to go look at some other booths, or to find food. They sent you off with the directions to the Statesman, waving and wishing you farewell.

As you walked next to Opal, you recounted the booths you'd seen and the ones you hadn't on the way. You motioned toward the restaurant in the distance, smiling at the waft of good food as you got closer to it. You would all have to stop and eat there later today.

Your thoughts came to a halt when you heard someone's voice speaking to you, an unfamiliar voice that had you turning your head at the two figures approaching you.

"Hey there, sugar."

The voice had a Southern twang, smiling and confident as the owner slowed to stand in front of you. "Here we go," Opal mumbled beside you with an amused grin.

He was a handsome man, charming in the right ways. The black hat on his head accompanied his accent and his outfit, a suit that screamed professional cowboy. The mustache above his lip was kept and clean, and he wore it well, along with the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He looked at you with his dark eyes, his tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip as he smirked. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?"

There was a woman next to him with short dark brown hair mostly shielded by her own western hat, her skin shades lighter as her own glasses sat at the bridge of her nose. She held her hand out, "Hi, I'm Ginger Ale. This is Whiskey."

"Nice to meet you," you greeted her warmly, taking in the sight of her with a look that could only be described as an evaluation.

You turned to Whiskey, raising an amused brow as you held your hand to shake his. He grabbed it gingerly, bending at the waist to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"How do you do?" he winked, holding onto your hand a little longer before letting you go.

Opal chuckled, "He's cute."

He smiled at her, satisfied with her assessment as he grinned at her like some excited pup.

You tilted your head, nodding slowly. "Yeah… In a flirty toddler kind of way." His demeanor did not shift, your words were no dagger to his ego. "Just want to pinch his cheeks and pat his head," you chuckled, half-reaching like you would actually do it.

You might, his skin looked soft and you want to see his hair underneath his hat.

He winked again, licking his bottom lip, "You can do whatever you want, sugar," he quipped.

You chuckled. Cute.

"You think so?" you asked, tilting your head as you pitched your voice a few octaves to sound as sweet as the nickname he kept calling you.

He shifted so he was standing beside you, careful with his arm in case you didn't want to be touched. Thoughtful. He walked a little with you, leaving Opal and Ginger to stand next to one another and watch him guide you a few feet away.

"I know so," he chuckled. "What's your name?" He said "your" in that way only cowboys can say it: that slurred 'u' that made the 'r' slightly bleed into the last word.

You licked your bottom lip, offering a teasing gaze as you looked at him through your lashes. "Why don't you guess it?" You turned to him, setting your hands on his chest and playing with his tie.

He seemed charmed, entranced by your little gestures and looks. "Probably something pretty like that necklace," he smirked, motioning to your chest as his fingers brushed the golden locket around your neck, resting just between your breasts.

You took it in your hands, stroking the sides. "You like my necklace?"

"It's beautiful," he agreed, staring back at you with a gaze that matched the lovestruck puppy vibe he'd given you earlier. "Just like you," he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles once more.

"You wanna take a look inside?"

"I'd be delighted," he breathed, leaning forward just a little as his face huddled closer to you. You offered a tiny giggle as you undid the clasp, slowly opening the locket as you built the suspense of what could possibly be presented inside.

A bright light flashed quickly into Whiskey's eyes, there one second and gone before a full one could pass. Whiskey's hands rushed to his face as he made a slight groan, and he stumbled backward. You reached forward, pressing a hand to his chest, and watched him fall to the ground.

He made little sounds of discomfort, laying on his back as he brought his hands away and blinked rapidly. He stared in no clear direction, looking around blankly for…something.

Opal chuckled from her spot, Ginger stared with a mix of amusement and concern, and you just looked down at him with a smile as he tried to see.

You approached him, bending at the hips and looking down at him with a smile. You brushed some hair out of your face.

"This is my partner, Opal," you gestured toward her, though you knew he could not see. Your necklace had a device within it that temporarily blinded those on the unfortunate end of it—temporarily.

You pressed a hand to your chest, "My name is Diamond," you reached out and picked up his hat, which had fallen off his head. "Agents of the Queensmaiden."

You brushed the fabric of the hat, setting it over his face before straightening your back. You looked at Ginger Ale as you rejoined Opal's side. "Nice to meet you, Ginger."

She smiled and dipped her hat at you once, waving. "You, too. Feel free to stop by the Statesman."

You nodded, looping your arm with your partner's, paying the blind agent no mind as he struggled to his feet. "We were just headed there!" you smiled, amazed at the turn of events as you pointed it out. "We'll stop by later…when he can see again."

You turned with Opal, looking over your shoulder and grinning gently. "Bye, Whiskey," you giggled before taking your leave.

Whiskey reached out hastily, grabbing a hold of Ginger, just to make sure she was still there. The way she could have rolled her eyes and shook her head as a dopey smile spread over his lips. He motioned in the direction he thought you walked out in, sighing dreamily.

"I need her."

This time, Ginger did roll her eyes and shake her head. She took his outstretched hand and started pulling him back to the booth. "Come on, lover boy."

You did visit the Statesman’s booth—where you met Scotch and Tequila—but did so while Whiskey was away. You wanted to tease him, make him anticipate your arrival for you not to appear and leave him wanting more.

As the night waned, the booths were taken down to make room for the afterparty that had already begun. You were standing at one of the tall, narrow tables with Opal and Tequila, enjoying the music playing in the background as people mingled through the night.

As you laughed at a sarcastic comment made by Tequila, you heard the familiarly smooth voice of his colleague fill the space between you and couldn’t fight your smile.

“I see you’ve met my associate,” he announced himself, sidling up next to you as he leaned on the table. The look on his face held no defeat or upset, he was just as smiling as before as he took in the sight of you, once again entranced.

You chuckled, looking him up and down as you watched each other. “Oh,” you smiled, “so you can see again…”

He laughed heartily at that, amusement seeping into the sound and painting your stomach with butterflies, a light, airy feeling that bounced off the bones of your ribcage. He clasped his hands together, motioning with his head toward your chest, where your golden locket still lay idly by.

“Very nifty gadget, that necklace of yours,” Whiskey smiled, his eyes never leaving yours for long.

You picked it up, tracing your thumb along it like you had done before in a slight tease. “I’d like to think so. I designed it,” you confessed, setting it back down and looking at him, your head tilted up as you straightened your spine with pride. He tilted his head to the side, his grin deepening at your clear genius.

Tequila and Opal shared a look as they took in the interaction, chuckling lightly. “I’ll go ahead and step away now,” he said, doing just that and glancing back at your partner standing by his side.

She nodded her agreement, holding her hand out to the offered crook of his arm. “And I’ll join you.” She walked away with him, shaking her head and smiling as she left to go hang out with her own new plaything—of sorts.

Whiskey’s eyes looked you up and down as he thought over something for a moment before he simply spoke again. “Can I buy you a drink, sweetness?” he offered, holding his own arm out for you as Tequila had done.

You considered him, raising a brow. “I’m still sweet, huh?”

He flashed his teeth with his next grin, dipping his head down in a nod as a gesture with his hat. “Like sugar,” he hummed.

You sighed. “Okay.” Your arm looped through his own, and he smiled triumphantly as he gently tucked you into his side. You gave him a similar gaze to the one you’d given him before he ended up walking around blindly for an hour: your head tilted down as you looked up at him through your lashes, your smile soft, and your eyes teasing—the perfect demonstration of the less eloquently put “fuck me eyes”. “Lead the way, Whiskey.”

He walked you to the bar that had opened earlier on for the convention. The liquor was all top shelf stuff—they wouldn’t dare give low-quality alcohol to these highly respectable representatives of these agencies. He made sure you were sitting comfortably on your stool before he took his seat next to you—a true gentleman.

A bartender came down to the pair of you and smiled, waiting for your orders. “Scotch, neat,” you nodded, adding a “thank you” on the end as you looked away, anywhere but Whiskey while your eyes examined the many options behind the bartender.

“Actually,” Whiskey held his finger up, “I want you to try something.” You looked at him, narrowing your eyes teasingly at what he could be doing now. He turned to the bartender, pulling his hat off and setting it to the side to reveal the neatly kept hair underneath it. “Kentucky Statesman, whiskey,” he nodded.

They nodded back before stepping away to grab the bottle. You looked at him with a smirk as he gazed back at you, self-satisfied before you’d even tried the liquor he’d suggested. The bartender returned with the bottle of the amber liquid, showing off the label to ensure it was the correct one. When Whiskey nodded, they grabbed two glasses from under the bar and set it on the table, pouring the appropriate amount into each one.

You picked up the glass as it was given to you, swishing it around and examining it. You picked up the bottle in your other hand and looked at the label as you brought the lip of the glass to your nose to smell the heady scent of liquor. “Whiskey from Whiskey, huh?” you quipped, still only sampling the scent.

He laughed, sitting back with his glass in his hand, refusing to take a sip until you had. “Give it a taste.”

You smiled suspiciously, bringing the glass to your lips and sniffing it once more before finally tasting it. A sigh escaped you as whiskey lingered on your tongue before burning delightfully down your throat. It was magnificent, like liquid gold.

"Oh my god," you whispered under your breath, closing your eyes and shaking your head.

He smiled proudly, "Good, right?"

You looked at him, composing yourself once more as you straightened your back and too-slowly set your glass back down. You let out a long, calculated breath and just nodded too hard. "It's…It's good, yeah."

He finally drank from his own glass, hiding his chuckle as he beamed. "Go on," he said as he set his glass back down. "Have some more. On the house."

You looked at him, raising a brow. "I thought you were buying me a drink," you pointed out, taking another generous gulp.

He leaned back, motioning widely to the large selection of fine liquor. "Be my guest, get whatever you want."

You inhaled the intoxicating scent of the drink already in hand, your eyelids fluttering for a split second before you just shook your head. "I suppose I'll settle for this," you told him, sipping your drink and setting it down again.

Whiskey grabbed the bottle and refilled your glass. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes playfully and smirking. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He shook his head, "Of course not. Just tryna show you the plus side of a Statesman." He set the bottle down and winked at you.

You scoffed, anything but annoyed. "What, think I'll find you?" you swirled your drink around. "We'll hook up over some good liquor?"

His laugh was nearly explosive as he shook his head, seemingly amused in the deepest degree. "Oh, no," he said. "I intend to do more than simply 'hookin' up' with you."

You hummed your response, examining him for far too long and looking away before his dark gaze could override your self-restraint. You crossed your legs, turning your body to face away from him again.

"So," he breathed, "tell me about the Queensmaiden."

You took in a long breath and blew it out to think, reaching out and grabbing his hat discarded on the table. Feeling the fabric under your fingers, you tilted your head. "What do you want to know?"

He shrugged, "Where did it come from?"

"Well," you began, "It was formed some time after Kingsman, 1952, by a man named Bobby Gold." They way you said it, with reverence and sass, Whiskey's lips twitched in a smile. "He's like… in his late eighties now, looking good." You shook your head to get back on track. "He founded the Queensmaiden to be an all-women agency, picked a protégé to take his place and run it after he stepped down."

You turned to him with a boastful smirk, "She's the first Diamond—was the first Diamond, she retired. I knew her, worked with her when I first joined. I got her name, promoted from Quartz."

He nodded, deeply invested in the way you spoke as you played with his hat, made of sturdy, soft fabric. "Fascinatin'," he smiled.

You nodded. "Gold ran a really popular jewelry business of the same name, had a younger sister who ran a tailor shop for women's clothing with her husband. He founded it, she later partnered as co-founder. Now we're a boutique found in most countries…all over the world." You shrugged your shoulder so nonchalantly, like your boast wasn't a real boast. "It's very efficient, dare I say, more efficient than the Kingsman itself."

He snorted, "Don't tell them that."

You leaned forward, too close within his space, "They probably already know." You sidled up closer to him, a clear flirt as you smiled. You raised his hat to him and set it atop your own head.

Whiskey's eyes darkened as he watched you down his nose. "You know…" he said slowly, "there's this rule where I come from… Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

You licked your bottom lip as your eyes flicked up and down his face. "Oh, I'm well aware." His hand reached out and grazed your arm, daring to bring you closer before you pulled away from him again with a sweet smile. "What about Statesman?"

It took a beat for him to recover before he was shaking his head. "Not as glamorous," he sighed thickly. "Agency in the south full of cowboys and rascals."

You traced the rim of your glass with your finger, picking it up again and bringing it to your lips. "Well, I love me a nice cowboy," you said as you looked at him over your cup.

"Lucky for me, huh?"

"We'll see." You took a sip from your glass.

Suddenly, the music which had been in the background shifted into something else. Country music blared through the speakers and caught the attention of everyone in the area. Some excitedly stood to go join the small group ready who may have recognized the music, but one look at the jukebox provided by one of the agencies here proved that it was, indeed, a southerner who'd started the music.

Tequila stood there with his hat on his head as he smiled, one hand held out and grasping Opal's hand as he spun her into his chest. He glanced up at Whiskey and nodded once before hopping off to the large space cleared to dance.

He was the one to determine what dance was being done as he twirled Opal around into a half amateur-half professional swing dance. People joined in with their partners and allowed themselves to be swept away into more amateur dancing—a dance Whiskey suddenly seemed confident to prove himself in.

"C'mon, I've never missed a swing," he smiled excitedly.

He took your hand and pulled you to the floor before you could protest. He swung you, making you stumble into his chest as you breathed quickly. "I've never swing danced before," you confessed.

He looked you dead in the eye, his own sparkling with excitement and hints of giddiness. "Just follow me," he breathed, his kissable lips forming the words in a way that made it impossible to deny him this.

You sighed, "You better know what you're doing."

He smirked, this one more sly than the last. "Trust me, sugar," he leaned in. "I know what I'm doin'."

You tilted your head, standing up a little more and placing your hands in his. Once you were situated, you smiled and let out a breath of courage. "Well," you whispered, "show me how a real cowboy does it."

Whiskey beamed before he pulled you into the music, quick steps and swinging arm making it impossible to keep up. He twirled you out, he twirled you back in, he switched you to one side and swung you to the other. He spun you under his arm and into his chest. Just when you thought he might slow down, he dipped and held you in his arms with heavy breaths.

He caught the hat as it fell from your head, lingering there and staring at your lips. You stared into the depths of his gaze, catching your breath as they mingled between you in soft puffs of air. He slowly straightened his spine, standing you up and setting the hat atop your head once more, admiring its place there.

You smiled, leaning forward oh-so slowly. His eyes fluttered until they were closed. He looked so calm, so gentle and pretty. You pulled his hat from your head and put it back on him, lingering there a moment before pulling out of his arms and missing his warmth.

He felt you leave and refused to watch you leave him behind. When he opened his eyes again, you were gone. When he turned his head to a mystified Tequila, Opal was gone.

A breath poured from his lips as he couldn't help but smile. He smiled at your charm, at the way you left him starstruck, at the way he'd slipped his number in your pocket in the hopes you called him, finding him again and leaving him with a little more closure as he looked down at his boots and shook his head.

"Fuck me," he cursed, chuckling to himself.

That was the last he saw of you for months, the last you saw of him for months.

You hated how much you thought about him—his puppy-like flirtations, his darkened gaze, his fascination, and the way he moved you like a tornado on the dance floor. You stared at the crumpled up piece of paper with his number scrawled on it all the time, considering, thinking, wanting to call.

But you never did. Never once did you pick up the phone and dial his number. Never once did you talk about him to your colleagues or your partners—not even with Opal, who was totally smitten with her own cowboy.

You missed him, but you were determined not to.

But that didn't mean a crossing of paths would hinder a good reunion.

You smiled at the receptionist at the front desk, who granted you a smile of his own with the tilt of his head. Walking up to the desk, you adjusted the purse on your arm and spoke. “Hello, I’m here for an appointment with Mr. Sullivan. I’m his three o’clock.”

He hummed, “I wasn’t aware Mr. Sullivan was taking appointments today. Name?” he asked, turning to his computer.

“Davis. We made an appointment together over the phone,” you stated in a sickly sweet voice. “Oh, I hope I marked the right day.”

He looked at you and just smiled, shaking his head. “No worries. I don’t see you in the database, but I’ll just give him a quick call to confirm. Alright?”

You nodded, thanking him kindly as you wiped your hands down your light suit. He picked up the phone and dialed the number to his boss’ office, giving you another large grin. When the phone was picked up, he began to explain the situation, and his reaction was full of wide eyes and stutters. “Yes, sir,” he answered, setting the phone back down.

He looked back at you regretfully. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Sullivan will not be taking any appointments today. You are welcome to reschedule, if you’d like.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Great.” He reached down under the desk to grab some papers before wincing. “I’ll have to go make some copies. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Not a problem.”

He disappeared behind a door behind the desk and you sighed, turning anyway to go up to the elevator on your right. As you were walking, you noticed a group of men walking down the hall, dressed in black with shades over their eyes. Security guards. You straightened your spine and merely kept walking. You were just at the elevator when you heard shots firing behind you. You groaned loudly and ducked for cover. Their gunfire was loud and thunderous, making couch stuffing and wood splinters fly through the air as you hid behind a desk behind a sofa in the cushy lobby.

You cursed under your breath as you dug through your purse. “No, no, no,” you mumbled as you selected which weapon you would use. You dug out a little silver disc and smiled. “Yes,” you declared as you pulled a little pin out of the side.

You threw it behind you where the guards were still shooting, and ducked down, waiting for a blow that never came as the gunshots continued. “Talc!” you yelled, shaking your head at the newbie in the weapons department and one of her faulty weapons making its way into your arsenal.

You huffed as you looked behind you before you suddenly heard a body drop. You looked over and your eyes widened in shock and surprise. Hiding behind a couch a little farther away from your own was a person who definitely was not on their side. He locked eyes with you, and your expressions became mirrors of the other.

“Diamond?” “Whiskey?”

The simultaneous ringing of your names only escalated the confusion as you stared at one another. “What are you doing here?” he questioned in as low a whisper he could manage to ensure you still heard him, holding a sleek, golden gun tight in his grip as he paid no mind to the small cavalry currently shooting at you.

“I’m on a fucking mission. What are you doing here?” you countered.

He shrugged, “On a fuckin’ mission.”

Shit. “Shit,” you huffed. You thought for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “What’s your objective?”

Whiskey pressed his gun to his temple, tilting it up as a gesture of his assassination attempt. You let out a breath of relief, pulling a drive with the Queensmaiden symbol on the side from out of your bra and showing it off to him. He sighed as well.

“Cover me?” you asked.

He smiled and nodded, sending you a flirty wink. “You got it, sugar.”

You grinned and counted down for him before ducking out of your cover and rushing to the elevator closest to you. Whiskey stood, grasping his gun as he shot. You pressed the elevator door button and glanced over your shoulder, gripping your gun tight as you waited impatiently for the elevator to open.

When you heard the ding, you had half a second to celebrate as a loud shot came too close to you. You looked down at the elevator button, flashing and sparking as it sat destroyed in the wall.

You pried the door open and shouted Whiskey's name over your shoulder as he retreated back. You got inside, jamming the button closed without missing a beat or waiting for him to get through.

The doors were already closing when he finally slipped through, a bullet missing him by an inch. In the safety of the elevator, you let out a breath and calmed.

There was silence, besides the breaths blowing through the space of the elevator. Whiskey looked at you as you raised your hand, looking at the clock face of your watch.

"You never called," he accused, looking at you with a raised brow and a look on his face that wasn't mad, but not entirely giddy with joy.

You shrugged, still not looking at him. "Been busy."

He chuckled, "With what?"

You missed his voice, that smooth Southern lilt that could lull you to gentle sleep or drive you insane with desire. With the adrenaline pumping through your veins, it was the latter.

"My job," you laughed, pressing a button on your watch as a hologram arose from it, circling the Queensmaiden symbol.

You turned to him, granting him a smile. You were more happy to see him than you should have been. "Did you miss me, lover boy?" you winked. "Tequila says you did."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You've been talking with Tequila?"

You smirked, nodding. "Of course," you told him, swiping the hologram aside to pull up some files off of some computer. "He's with Opal. They hooked up after the convention."

He sighed longingly, leaning on one leg as he set his gun back in his holster. "And to think," he breathed. "That coulda been us."

You snorted, "Don't get ahead of yourself, cowboy."

You tapped away from the files you'd been scrolling through, pulling up some surveillance footage. There was a hall through the camera, one full of guards with more numbers than the ones downstairs.

"Aww," you muttered. "We have a whole welcome party waiting for us." You turned him with a grin, swiping away the hologram and returning your hand to your side.

He reached behind his back as he smiled. "How sweet."

Whipping his jacket to the side, he grabbed some sort of fancy handle, intricately detailed with gold and silver. You nodded, impressed as you looked at its design.

"Nice," you commented. You opened your jacket, sliding it off your arms and reaching behind you to grab a hold of a handle of your own. It was blue, a shining color that sparkled as Whiskey's eyes scanned over it.

The elevator dinged and you stood beside Whiskey with a smile. The sea of guards on the other side watched you with stern faces, ready for the inevitable fight as they stared down two people who didn't stand a chance.

"Well, howdy, fellas," Whiskey greeted, tipping his hat.

You tilted your head and smiled, "How do you do?" You pressed a small button on one end and the handle began to unfold, expanding into a dagger on one end of a strong rope and a heavy hammer-like weapon on the other.

At the sight of the weapon, the fight began. With drawn guns and angry glares, the guards were quick with their guns as they cornered you in the elevator.

The handle in Whiskey's hand extended into a lasso—a silver whip that he swung out into the small army. It wrapped around the gun of the man in the front of the group, holding on tight as he pulled it taut and sent him falling forward.

You took your rope dart and began swinging it, smacking a bullet out of the way as it hurdled toward you. You threw it and Whiskey watched, amazed, as it wrapped around some man's neck and the dagger embedded itself into his chest. You pulled it, and he spun around to the floor.

The other guards were distracted long enough for the both of you to retreat from the elevator and into the fight.

Ropes flew through the air, daggers pierced bodies, and electricity had them writhing in pain before dropping to the floor. Whiskey's rope wrapped around someone's neck as he pulled him in, punching him hard in the face and sending him to the floor.

He heard a pained yell behind him and turned to see some man falling to the floor with a blue knife in his back. You stepped forward, setting your foot on his back and pulling the dart out.

"That's cool," he said, admiring your weapon of choice.

You smiled, pulling a gun and shooting someone coming toward Whiskey from behind. "Thank you. It's made of sapphires."

"Oo," he smiled. "Duck." You did so, dipping down as he raised his own gun and shot another man aiming his gun at you.

He looked down at you, knelt on one knee in front of him, tightly gripping your rope tight. "What an interestin' position we've found ourselves in."

You scoffed, standing up too close to him. "Keep it in your pants, hotshot."

You turned on your heel, returning to the fight as the few guards who were left brandished their guns. The last of them were easy to take out, and you did. As you swung your rope at the last man standing you noticed a different rope do the same.

You turned your head to Whiskey as he smiled at you. "Looks like we made a connection."

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up." You grabbed your gun and raised it to the man, shooting him instantly and collecting your rope as he dropped to the floor.

You walked over to the body, bending down and wiping the blood from your blade before stepping over him and toward the grand office door down the hall. Whiskey was more than happy to follow you.

You take a card you'd snatched from one of the bodies and swipe it along the reader, the door sliding open to allow you inside. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you heard the sound of a gun click.

You both looked up at Mr. Sullivan pointing his gun at you, dressed in an expensive suit with hands that trembled only slightly with fear for his life. You sighed, looking back at him. "Well, you caught us," you said as you stood beside Whiskey. "Props."

"Question is…" Whiskey added, "who're you gonna shoot?"

Sullivan tilted his head. There was no amusement in his face, but he gave you a look that said "really?". He motioned between the two of you and raised a brow. "You've got some rope. I've got a gun. I can shoot both of you."

Whiskey nodded, agreeing with his logic. "Well, you caught us fair and square," he sighed dramatically. Then he smirked, "Pull the trigger."

Sullivan didn't like how calm you both were. He was holding a gun to your face, and you were telling him to pull the trigger. Why the fuck would you tell him to pull the trigger if he had the upper hand? Were you suicidal?

"There's just one little thing," you spoke, shifting on your side. "You brought a gun to a knife fight."

Sullivan missed the way you passed your rope dart to Whiskey, who took it with too much excitement and, with a few mighty swings, threw it at the unsuspecting boss. The rope wrapped around his neck, and he dropped his gun to grab it and force it away to no avail. The dagger came back around after its loops, and he had no time to process as it lodged in his chest.

Whiskey smirked before he pulled roughly on the rope, spinning the man round, unwinding him like a yo-yo. The dagger yanked from his chest and Whiskey caught it as it flung back. Mr. Sullivan dropped to the floor, choking on his own blood as it spilled from his wound.

You walked past him dismissively, stepping up to his desk and grabbing your drive. Sticking it in the computer, you began typing away as Whiskey admired your weapon.

"I needa get me one of these," he muttered.

"I've got plenty. I'll send you one," you suggested.

He looked up at you, his eyes glittering, "Really?"

"Why not?" You shrugged your shoulders. Leaned over the desk, you watched the loading bar slowly climb toward completion before you were able to withdraw the drive and stuff it in your pocket.

You grabbed a butterscotch from the bowl on his desk, helping yourself as you walked back over to Whiskey. You smiled at him and tilted your head. You hold your hand out to him, making a grabby motion.

"Can I have it back?" you asked.

He tilted his head up, smiling down at you with narrowed eyes. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" you questioned.

"Can I get something in return?"

You sighed and thought for a moment, continuing to smile at him as you returned your hand to your hip. "What do you want?"

He shrugged, pretending to think. "How about a pretty please?" he smirked, his eyes dark and inviting, his voice quiet and deep.

"You want me to say please?" you asked, standing too close as your eyes flickered to his lips for half a second.

Again, he shrugged, but his smile became more wicked. "A kiss on the cheek might suffice."

You chuckled deeply, standing on your toes as you leaned forward. You got closer, closer, and closer still until your breaths mingled. You shifted to his cheek, turning your head just enough so your lips nearly brushed his ear as you whispered to him. "You're going to have to try harder than that."

You took the rope from his grip and backed away from him, watching him watch you with lidded eyes. You backed toward a private elevator in the office, pressing a button on the wall as the doors opened. You looked toward the door you came in and smiled. "You've got company."

You stepped back into the elevator and the doors closed, shielding you from him as you waved.

Whiskey stood in the office, looking toward the door that was currently being beaten against by his visitors. Smiling and shaking his head, he laughed heartily. "Clever."

You stepped out onto the roof, taking the drive from your pocket and tossing it to the ground. You pulled your gun and shot at it once, destroying it entirely as you made your way to the jet waiting for you. You boarded it, climbing into the pilot's seat as you started it up and left.

As you flew away from the building, you glanced back at it and smiled when you saw a figure climbing up the side of the building to the roof. He looked over his shoulder at you, and you could make out the distinct sight of him waving his arm at you. Not to grab your attention, but to say hello.

You saluted him before departing for a second time.

Your next encounter with him was not so far in the future. In fact, it was later on that night.

You walked into the large house you were staying in after a long day out. Between your mission, your flights, and everything in between, you were about ready to pour yourself a drink and go to sleep early.

The house was owned by the Queensmaiden, a mission house for meetings or get-togethers or just a place for agents to crash after long days on missions. Since your trip today was done alone, your partner back at home serving as your tech that day, you were in this big empty home alone. You didn't mind much, it was a lot of space, you could turn on the stereo as loud as you want, there was plenty of expensive booze. You were all set for the night.

As you walked through the loud house, which was filled with the classic voice of Frank Sinatra, you made your way to the open bar. As you poured yourself a drink, you glanced at the label with a smile. Statesman whiskey.

"So you did like it."

You didn't turn around, but you smiled at the smooth tone of your cowboy behind you. You grabbed a second glass and poured him his own. You set the bottle down, picked up both cups, and walked over to him with a smile.

"It's alright."

You stopped in front of him, making a bad habit of standing too close. Passing the glass over, you looked up at him through your lashes. He wasn't wearing his hat, giving you a view of his tousled hair. Likewise, he was stripped down to a white button down with the sleeves rolled up, his shirt still tucked in his pants fastened with his belt. His tie was gone, and the top buttons of the shirt were undone. He saluted his glass to you, and you gladly clinked them together in a quiet cheer before taking a sip, your eyes never parting from his.

"You know," he sighed. "This disappearing act of yours is starting to get a little old, Diamond."

You shrugged a shoulder, "I can spice it up if you want."

He simply shook his head, "I think I'd rather pick a different act. It would put us in much different positions."

"Oh?" You smiled, reluctantly turning on your heel and stepping away from him. "What positions did you have in mind?"

You lounged on the couch, kicking off your shoes. You looked back at him with one hand on your glass and the other under your chin as you rested your head on the back of the couch.

He sighed once again, his whole body moving with him as he looked at you in that way that reminded you of a lovesick pup. He set his hands on his hips, leaning on the side as he contemplated.

"You never called."

His words from earlier pricked your heart in a special kind of way this time. You sighed and just shook your head, "No, I didn't."

The song playing through the speakers in the house faded out to welcome another. Sinatra's "I'm a Fool to Want You" was sharp in your mind.

You set your glass down and looked up at Whiskey again. You reached your hand out to him, wiggling your fingers in the hope that he'll hold your hand.

He did, and you smiled.

"I did miss you," you confessed.

That offered him some solace. "Honest?"

"Honest." He sighed, stepping closer. You sat up, settling on your knees as he still towered over you. He looked at you for a long time before suddenly smiling. He bent down, wrapping his arms around your body and surprising you as he hoisted you up, spinning you over the couch and setting you on your feet. You held onto him, laughing as he pulled you close to his chest. He slid his hand into your own, entwining your fingers as his other hand rested on the small of your back.

"Dance with me?" he asked.

You tilted your head, "Do I have a choice?"

He laughed and just shook his head. "No."

You laughed. He took a side step, swaying you in time with the gentle rock of the music. It was slow and steady, filled with too much emotion than should have been allowed for a couple who had only met once a few months prior. You rested your head on his chest, your eyes closed as you blew out a long breath.

His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke, low and quiet. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?" he smiled.

You chuckled, recalling those words from when you first met. "Am I still allowed to do whatever I want?" you asked, looking up at him.

He spun you out, twirling you before spinning you back in, your back pressing against his chest. He leaned down to your ear. "Never revoked the privilege."

You twisted your neck to see him, smiling at his face so close to yours. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his own as you considered it. For a moment, you considered it.

You swerved to hover your lips near his ear, "Catch me."

You stepped away from him, walking backwards as your eyes stayed glued to his. You watched him with the same dark, teasing eyes as you had used before. The naughty look on your face, the proximity at which you once stood, the tingling of your lips never grazing his but teasing him with the possibility of such a sacred union…the thought of never sealing that fate with you and leaving once again for another wild goose chase where he never knew if he would see you again due to the dangers of the lives you both lived. They were possibilities that made his heart ache in ways it shouldn't have.

He just shook his head, deciding then and there that he wouldn't let you have another swift get away, wouldn't let you slip through his fingers with nothing to remember you by but the ghost breaths against the shell of his ear where you exhaled your secrets. "Not this time."

He took a few long strides toward you, taking you in his arms and crashing his lips down upon yours. You gasped into his mouth, melting instantly into him as your legs turned to jelly. He held you close to him, supporting your neck with one large hand as he consumed you in a passionate embrace.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down and swaying gently as you finally kissed the cowboy you'd been craving for months. He bent down, wrapping his arms under you and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He held you up with strong arms, walking you back until he was pushing you up against a wall.

When he pulled from the kiss, heavy, hot breaths were exchanged between the two of you. His hands roamed your body, drinking you in desperately. His mouth pressed against your neck, his tongue darting out to lick along your thumping pulse. You moaned, feeling the heat between your legs igniting with a fire.

His name fell from your lips as he nibbled on your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled on his messy strands.

He rolled his hips into yours, pulling a shaky breath out of you. Your leg tightened around him, bringing him closer as you mirrored his own movement from before, drawing out your pleasure with grinding hips and breathless sighs. He groaned as one of his hands gripped your waist to stop you.

Whiskey unwrapped your legs from him as he set you back down on your feet. When he sank to his knees, it was with a maddening amount of eye contact that he didn’t dare break. His hands smoothed along your sides, rounding to the front to undo the clasp of your slacks. He moved torturously slow as he pulled the slacks down your legs, revealing more and more skin to him as he went along. Your eyes fluttered when you felt his lips on your thigh.

You stepped out of the pant legs when they finally pooled around your ankle. Whiskey leaned forward to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin before taking it between his teeth in a gentle nibble. You stifled a moan at the feeling, watching his dark eyes drink you in.

When he finally fingered the waistband of your panties, he pulled them down in one swift tug to reveal yourself to him. He licked his lips and you bit down on your own. “Look at that,” he praised. “So pretty.” He looked up at you with a cocky smirk, holding the back of your leg up and setting it atop his shoulder.

He leaned forward and your lips parted so delicately when his tongue darted out to lick you. Your breath hitched, halting in your throat as his hot tongue delved between your folds. Like a fire, the warmth spread through your body as you melted into him. Your hips jerked, seeking his mouth.

His lips wrapped around your pussy, tasting you with an intoxicated moan. When he sucked on your clit, your breath trembled and a whimper managed to weave its way through your vocal chords. His talented tongue glided through your folds before retreating as he pulled back from you to look at your pretty face.

You looked down, whining lightly at him as he stared at you with eyes that glittered with praise. His hand trickled up your side before dipping between your thighs and into your warmth. “You taste sweet as sugar, sugar.”

You had to fight through your eye roll as you enjoyed the sweet stretch of his thick fingers inside of you. “You have very skilled hands,” you nearly stuttered. Your eyes fluttered as he curled the length of his fingers.

“Why, thank you, sweetheart,” he dipped his head as though he was still wearing his hat. He pushed his fingers in deeper, adding a third as he coaxed you toward a sweeter release. He was a lot gentler than you expected, treating you like a fragile lover. It warmed your heart, so used to the less patient lovers of one-night stands long since.

The sharp dig of dull nails into the flesh of your thigh contrasted with the prior feathery fingertips on your sides. You were breathless and needy, aching for him all over. With those same fingers still buried deep inside of you, he leaned forward and sucked on your throbbing clit.

The shocks of pleasure creeping up on you sparked along your skin—your fingertips, the very ends of prickly flesh. Your fingers gripped and tangled in his hair. Your hips stuttered forward, searching for his mouth in a desperate attempt to push yourself over the edge.

But he was doing it first, crooking his fingers in the perfect way here and digging the tip of his tongue into that sensitive bundle of nerves there as your pitch climbed higher and higher with the anticipation of a climbing buildup. The rubber band inside your belly snapped and your mouth dropped. What were supposed to be rises of whiny moans were just a symphony of shuddering breaths, arrhythmic and impassioned.

He was right there to ease you through the shocks, encouraging you with his tongue back down to the tingles that covered the expanse of exposed skin.

When he pulled away, his lips were still occupied with your body, pressing hungry kisses to your thighs and lower belly with a fervor that made you tug harder on his curling locks of hair.

He looked up at you with kiss-swollen lips, smiling like an idiot in love—no, not love. This was just lust. That's all. That was it. It didn't matter if that spark in your chest only pumped through your veins when he looked at you like that.

You smiled at him, breathless. "Take me to bed."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

He tightened his grip around your waist before he stood, tossing you over his shoulder and holding you with one arm. You yelped, dissolving into giggles as he carried you through the house and through the winding halls toward the bedroom.

On the way, you smiled as you passed by his hat sitting on a table along the walls. Reaching you, you had just barely grabbed it with your fingertips as you held it to your head.

He pushed the door open to reveal the room: a king-sized bed with golden sheets, a mini chandelier reflecting diamonds all over the expensive room, paintings and frames and shelves probably hiding more tools and gadgets than there are choices of liquor behind the bar in the main room.

He kicked the door closed behind him, admiring the room with a hum and a nod of his head before plopping you down onto the bed. You fell with a bounce, chuckling again as you held onto his hat. He smiled, watching you put it on your head and look at him with eyes that expressed far too much to be an innocent one-night stand.

Part of Whiskey hoped it was more than an innocent one-night stand.

So did you.

But if it was, he would rock your world. He stared down at you with darkened eyes, undoing his shirt and tossing it somewhere in the room. The rest of his clothes followed after until he was in nothing but his boxers. Then he did the same to you, except he didn't stop until you were bare before him, left in nothing but your expensive necklace and earrings to admire the way you still looked like the perfect reflection of the woman of his dreams. He left the hat. You looked perfect in it.

"Not fair," you complained with a grin. "I'm stripped bare, and you're still dressed."

You leaned up on your elbows, sitting up until you were situated on your knees as you leaned forward. You smiled up at him, hooking your finger in the band of his boxers to pull him forward. "Your turn."

He set his hand on your cheeks and nearly melted at the way you leaned into his warm palm, your eyes fluttering shut as a gentle breath blew through you. He shifted his hand so he pinched your chin, lifting your face to see better. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, sweetness."

"Oh, yeah?" you chuckled. "Prove it to me."

He leaned forward, bending down to your face and connecting your lips again. He licked into your mouth, tasting the remnants of whiskey on your tongue. You moaned, melting against him. You pulled away, your hand still hooked around his waistband. You tugged them down, ridding him of the meaningless article of clothing to reveal him to you.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Flushed tipped, thick, and throbbing. As you reached out and stroked your fist over his cock, he twitched in your hand and groaned. You bit your lip, leaning forward and giggling when his hat on your head bumped into his stomach.

He chuckled at you, tilting it up so he could see your face and you could move. You smiled at him before going back to his leaking slit. You leaned forward and licked him, flattening your tongue along his head to taste him. You moaned again, leaning forward to take a longer lick along the length of him. He breathed a curse under his breath, watching you lick him up as you worked your tongue along him.

His hand came to rest on the back of your neck, easing you forward without actually moving you. Your lips wrapped around him, slick and warm as you took him in your mouth. His head tilted back before he looked down again to see you, not wanting to miss a second of it.

"Fuck," he breathed, hips twitching. You smiled around him, working him deeper in your throat with the intent of taking the whole of him. "Fuck, you're amazing. How did I get so lucky?"

You whimpered, laving your tongue along the underside of his cock where the vein was throbbing. "You like that?" he asked. "You like when I tell you how fuckin' perfect you are?"

You nodded as best you could, wrapping a hand on the back of his thigh to pull him in some more. "You're so goddamn perfect," he promised. "Makin' me feel special like this. D'you feel special?"

You just moaned your response, suckling around him and pulling a rough moan from him. After a moment, he pulled you away, setting his hands on either side of your neck as he caught his breath. He looked down at you, smiling and pulling you forward to kiss you again. The way he kissed you this time was so much different than before, so much softer, slower, with more meaning behind it than there ever should have been. Fuck, you were drunk on it, craving his lips more and more with an impossible desperation, even while he was still kissing you.

He eased forward, moving you until you were laying on your back. His lips slipped on and off of yours, down to your neck as he buried his face there and suckled on the skin.

He settled himself between your legs, grinding down on you as you moaned into each other's mouths. You grasped his bicep, squeezing it tight as you stopped him. "Wait," you breathed.

He stopped immediately, looking down at you with a face etched in concern. "What? What's wrong?"

You smiled, "Wear the hat, ride the cowboy." Your hands flattened on his chest and you pushed him back with a huff, flipping him around so he lay on his back as you straddled him.

He smiled at you, setting his hands on your hips. "You scared me for a second there," he said, his thumbs stroking circles along your skin.

You hovered over him with shaky thighs. "Scared you weren't gonna get your cock wet tonight?" you chuckled.

He just shook his head, "Scared I hurt you."

Your breaths filled the rooms as your body slowed to a stop, staring at him. Your heart leapt and you allowed yourself, just for a moment, to succumb to its calling to him.

"You could never hurt me, Whiskey," you promised.

You only allowed him a moment to let it sink in before you were grabbing his cock in your warm palm, stroking him a couple times before guiding him to your soaked pussy. Sinking down on him, both your eyes shut as your breaths puffed into the air.

"Fuck," you moaned. You braced yourself on his shoulders, helping them guide you as you slowly rolled your hips atop his. His hands gripped your waist, blunt nails digging into skin and creating little crescent dents.

The sensations were amazing. His cock stroked along your velvet walls and sparked a desperate pleasure within you that had you forgetting about the little tingles of pain at adjusting to his length. You brought him deeper, your bodies connected indefinitely as you began your slow movements.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the blossom of pleasure deep within you. You leaned back, placing a hand on the hat to keep it there as you rolled your hips, faster and faster, chasing the euphoria you craved.

"Look at you," he groaned. "Fuckin' ridin' me like a true cowgirl."

"Lucky for you, huh?" you smirked, breaking off into a whimper as the blunt head of his cock brushed against a sweet spot inside you.

He nodded, "Lucky for me."

You rode him, and you rode him hard, ignoring the ache in your hips and your legs from the continuous motion, ignoring the breathlessness shocking your throat at all the air you were taking in, ignoring the pounding in your chest at the way he stared at you: lips kiss-swollen, eyes sparkling, hands gripping. It was so much, too much, you craved this man more than you'd ever craved anything before in your life.

"Whiskey," you moaned, stifled moans tearing from your throat as his name spilled from your lips. "Fuck, Whiskey, you feel so good."

He hummed. "Take what you need from me, sugar. Take what you want." You leaned forward, holding yourself up with your hands on his shoulders. You were desperate, fucking yourself on him like it was your last time. When his thumb brushed your clit, a guttural moan ripped at your throat and your hips jerked. "That's it, sweetness. That's it."

He was just as breathless as you, guiding your hips with one hand and circling your clit with the other. "Shit," you sighed. "More. Fuck, Whiskey, I'm almost there."

"C'mon, sugar," he urged you. "Cum for me, Diamond."

You didn't care to hold back, you couldn't. You came with a shout, dropping forward onto him and burying your face in his neck. You moaned into his neck, pitchy and breathless as you came apart on top of him. Your hand tangled in his hair, he held tightly to your hips.

Your cunt clenched around him, squeezing and spasming and bringing him to the edge as his release tumbled after yours. One of his hands flew to your hair, holding you there as his fingers carded through.

Your hips canted a couple more times, milking the last ounces of pleasure you could get before you fell against his chest. He held you as you both slowly floated down from your highs, falling into the other's embrace as you came to.

The stillness that followed was like something out of a dream. The air was heavy with the smell of sex, but light with the breaths blowing from the both of you. Every inch of your body tingled, your fingertips felt like pop rocks, your skin prickled with a mix of warm and cold. Whiskey's heartbeat resounded through you, grounding you as you traced your fingers over his chest.

You could feel his hand stroking through your hair, rubbing gently into the back of your neck and making you feel like putty. You could stay like this forever, resting atop him and feeling the life he breathed into you from his chest.

"Jack."

You took in a small breath, leaning up and shifting yourself so he slipped out of you. You sighed a little before looking up at him with a lovesick grin. "Hmm?"

He looked at you, smiling right back as he chuckled lightly. "My real name is Jack."

You smiled and shook your head, burying your face in his chest as you chuckled. "Jack Daniels?" you joked, recalling the name brand Whiskey.

The way he chuckled made you look up at him. "Yes, actually."

You looked at him, smiling so wide your face hurt. "Seriously? Your name is Jack Daniels?"

He nodded, "Yep."

You shook your head, laying your head back on his chest and reaching clumsily over to grab his hat, which had fallen off your head. You set it over your face, shielding you from the light shining from the chandelier.

You sighed slowly, tracing patterns into his skin. You whispered your own name to him, glancing up at him and then back out to the little lion figurine on the small stand against the wall on the other side of the room. It was bronze, standing proudly with one paw perched up and his mouth dropped in a mighty roar.

Whiskey smiled, stroking his hand down your back and then back up to your hair. "You've got a beautiful name, sugar."

You smiled slowly. "Sweet as sugar?"

He nodded, "Sweeter."

You leaned up, your face inches apart. "You're gonna get a cavity if you have any more of me," you kissed his lips, long and slow and wanting more.

"The sacrifices we make…" he replied, chuckling deep in his chest as he kissed you again.

Pedro Pascal taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #kingsmen golden circle #kingsmen #whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x reader smut #agent whiskey fanfic #agent whiskey fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #kingsmen fanfic #kingsmen fanfiction #smut #reader insert #female reader

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penvisions · 16 days

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sneakie peek {buckles and barley}

Pairing: Rancher! Jack Daniels x Ranch hand! Reader

A/N: this is a teaser for the series, i'm beginning to outline it and wanted to share a little bit with you since i'm not sure when posting will begin

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Bright sunshine reflected off the frame around rearview mirror, making you squint your eyes to see through the amber of your sunglasses as it hit you square in the eye. The blue expanse of the sky littered with wispy clouds blurred.

The rumbling of the engine underneath the hood was a comfort that had soothed you since childhood. Such a simple thing, to be in a vehicle that was hurtled down asphalt, eating it up foot by foot, yard by yard, mile by mile. Taking you to someplace new, transporting you into a liminal space where you didn’t have to think about anything but the road stretched out in front of you.

You glance at the directions you had printed out and laid over the passenger seat, too anxious to have typed it into your phone or into the device installed on your dash. The matte screen of it was blank, the power wire bouncing with the turbulence of the moving vehicle. It looked like there was two more curves on your path to the destination and you began to turn the wheel ever so slightly to take the one coming up. The crunch of errant pebbles underneath the tires wiping the anxiety away as the hills all around you flattened out to open plains.

Lush, tall grass as far as you could see, wooden fences winding through patches of the land. Splotches of dark color corralled within the spaces. You wondered what they could be, thoughts lost until a long, high-pitched whistle broke the peace within the cab as it snuck inside your cracked windows. You turned your head along with the closest herd of animals.

You don’t know how you initially missed the shape of the tall man atop a horse as it galloped over the land. The steady beat of hooves on the ground mirroring the ones of your heart as your eyes took in the figure. From the top of his wide brimmed cowboy hat to the spurs on his boots. He was in a complete partnership with the horse he was perched on, both of them working seamlessly together to circle around a body of what you could assume was cattle as the shine of horns glinted in the sun.

A lasso whipping up into the air had you subconsciously slowing down, your right foot lifting off of the accelerator pedal. Directing the vehicle out of the middle of the road, stopping to a crawl along the right side. Distantly following the pair as they successfully landed a hold on biggest one of the herd and began to guide them away from where they had been roaming.

Stopping at the line of wooden fence that must’ve outlined a part of his property, the man dismounted and effortlessly unhinged a portion of it and swung it open. With smooth movements and controlled balance, the man was back in the saddle. Another sharp whistle had the herd of cattle moving through the open fence.

Breath catching in your throat as the man turned to face you across the plain, his left hand secure around the horse’s reigns while his right lifted up to tilt his hat in a greeting. You could see from your spot on the road, the vehicle barely moving along now that your foot was easing down on the brake, that he was grinning.

Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized not only had you been outright starting as the stranger went about his day, but that your vehicle had nearly halted as you did so. The sound of your engine still running giving you away. You raised your hand up in response, palm open and fingers trembling slightly.

With a click of his tongue to guide the horse after the herd, he turned around in the saddle, lasso circling in the air above him in a hypnotizing manner. Snapping his wrist, the rope flew out to wrap around the top of the open partition and it clanged shut with a tug. Turning back around to face forward, the horse sped off and disappeared over the other side of a rolling hill.

taglist: @morallyinept @readingiskeepingmegoing @cumberpegg @hiddenbabynyc

@persephone-girl @agiroflee98 @sawymredfox @fuckyeahdindjarin

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

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Chapter 6: But She Was

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: He's so much more than only a host.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Explicit 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), some light D/s themes, Jack needs his own warning because his mouth is a weapon, slight dubcon if you squint and think hard about it, major infidelity themes.

Notes: It's the moment we've all been waiting for! We've got another trope, more soul-searching, but most importantly SMUT. We've been yearning about this cowboy for too long, it's time to do something about it!

Cross-posted on AO3

Cognitive Dissonance Masterlist || Whiskey & Westworld Series Masterlist

When conversation begins to ebb and the sun is barely a sliver on the horizon, your hosts gather up the dishes and pour short glasses of port and whiskey. Jack and Jeb enjoy theirs on the porch while you and Mary wash up and sip yours with wrinkled fingers. From your vantage point you can see Jack’s profile lined in sunset tangerine, his expression kind as him and Jeb murmur on. Mary’s comments range from where she got her teapot to the weather this week, finally landing on you as the sky begins to darken.

“You live close by?” she asks, to which you shake your head.

“We were heading up through the pass when we came upon Jeb. Our group traveled on ahead, we’ll ride to meet with them,” you say, wiping your hands dry. Mary shushes you and waves a hand.

“You can’t possibly continue riding tonight. You’ll stay in the spare room. It’s the least we can do.” Before you can protest Mary steps through the porch door to tell Jack and Jeb the plan. Jack looks up at her with curiosity, then catches you in the window. He dips his head - this okay? - for the second time today, and you drop your eyes before nodding. Your hands wring your dress, the only clothing you have, and that bedroom holds one queen-sized bed. You're far from a blushing virgin, but now that you know Jack will be lying beside you, your husband to your hosts, your insides are clenching and fighting against the hammering of your heart.

Mary leads you away as Jeb and Jack continue their conversation on the porch, bringing you back to the guest room that now makes your heart pound. She opens a bureau and pulls out a square of fabric, placing it in your upturned hands.

“My daughter’s, it should fit you,” she says simply, showing you where you can prepare for the evening. You thank her and she closes the door, leaving you standing in the middle of a room that will soon contain a beautiful man who has given you reason to believe he would like to touch you. Hands shaking, you're feverish at the idea of being alone with Jack.

Hurrying into the washroom, you strip out of your clothes and lay them over a rack for use tomorrow. A basin of cool water sits on a small chest and you use it to clean yourself as best as you can. You wish for a real shower, to be clean and fresh and not as self-conscious about how you smell or the neatness of your grooming. This will have to do.

On the other side of the washroom door you hear Jack enter, murmured words before the soft close of the door. You hurry to slip the white nightgown over your head, adjusting it against your body. It’s large and billowy on you, falling down to your ankles and offering no hints at your form underneath. The lace straps are feminine, and when you look in the mirror you find an ivory ribbon threaded through the neckline, loose ends meeting in a soft bow at the center of your chest. The sweetness of the detail brings your fingers up to dance along the edge, a secret smile playing across your lips. It makes you feel pretty.

Watching your reflection, you’re surprised to see a glow on your features that has been long hidden. You skate your fingers across your cheekbones, the bow of your lips, the line of your jaw. It’s easier to see what Jack might find attractive there, why he might be drawn to you. The years have melted from your face, the stress and worry replaced with calm and anticipation. The last time you could remember feeling this happy in your own skin was…

A cold hand grips your heart, your own hands coming to grasp the edge of the bureau.

You were happy when your fiance proposed.

The truth of your life swims back into stark relief, tears welling in your eyes. The times when you felt this full of joy to be with another person clamor to the forefront. Dates along the waterfront, a sweet bouquet of flowers, dinners and soft words and laughter. You had been happy, once.

But then like tendrils of ink, the truth bleeds into the warm memories. The fighting, the harsh words, the disdain he seems to hold for you day in and day out.

Why can’t you be more like my friends’ girlfriends?

You need to do this.

Because I told you to.

Stop being such a bitch.

The gray haze of your life hangs heavy around your shoulders. There were moments of happiness, and ones of pain and regret. But overriding all of them was the fact that you had said yes, accepted your fiance and all that would come with that vow. Were you truly going to do this? Violate your promise for a night with this kind-eyed man?

Tentatively opening the door, you hear more than see Jack in the room. The squeak of bed springs, the clatter of something being placed on a table, a sigh. You pad out barefoot into the room and have to fortify yourself at the sight.

Jack sits on the edge of the bed, hands resting on his thighs and a quiet, uncertain look on his face. He’s shed his denim, instead wearing some cotton sleeping pants and a long-sleeve undershirt. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms, buttons at his throat open down his chest. When he sees you he snaps his eyes to your face, holding your visage. His hands squeeze against his thighs and you recognize his strained expression.

Jack Daniels, rugged cowboy, trouble with a capital T, is struggling not to lose his composure.

You take a few slow steps towards him, rewarded when you see his throat bob. He tries to put on that playful smile but it wars against his body language.

“You’re looking more beautiful than I have a right to see, Sugar,” he says, and do you detect a warble in his voice? Is he as conflicted as you are? You come to rest in front of him, the cotton of the nightgown brushing against his knees. He leans back a fraction to look up at you, his thumbs working against his pants in anxious circles. You part your lips, wetting them with your tongue but Jack beats you to it.

“This can stop here, darlin’. We don’t have to keep playing this game. I’d be just as happy to have you sleeping beside me than anything else. Though I hope you’d forgive me if I asked to touch you.” His eyes flit off to rest somewhere else in the room, chewing on his lower lip. “Been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of something sweet to hold.”

You succumb to the desire you had earlier, fingertips tugging his lower lip out from between his teeth. It pops back plump and pink, the crease in the center even more pronounced and you swipe your thumb across it indulgently. His eyes come back to yours, deep amber mixed with the onyx of desire.

His words wash over you. He’s letting you say you don’t want this, or can’t have this. You can lay down beside him and the most he’ll do is put his arms around you. It’s your lust and unfaithful heart that is tempting him. You don’t deserve what he can give.

“I’m not sweet, Jack,” you say, the bile of your desire making your mouth bitter. Self-loathing dampens your libido, and you move to step back from him. His fingers wrap around your injured wrist, large enough to circle it easily. He brings it to his mouth, pressing an open-mouthed kiss over the barely-there burn, his lips dragging on your skin.

“Sweet,” he hums, licking his lips as his other hand falls to your waist, urging you closer to him. You hesitantly step into the V of his legs, his fingers stretching across your lower back. Holding your gaze, he presses another kiss to the delicate skin inside your elbow. His tongue flits out this time, and the dart against your skin pulses heat in your core. Heat creeps up your neck, your eyes hooding as he pulls his mouth away again.

“Sweet here too,” he says, your hands coming to rest on his strong shoulders. He’s blazing hot beneath you, barely anything keeping your skin apart. This is the step before it changes. You can still walk away now. Jack will let you. But you have to decide.

He lays both hands across the span of your back, pulling in a heady breath.

“I know we’re playing with fire here. There's a lot more going on outside this room than either of us are really addressing. And before you say anything, I’m not just talking about your situation. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you too.” Jack’s thumbs sweep across your spine, his eyes downcast and rueful. “Something you should know before anything more happens.”

Your breathing slows, time becoming molasses-sticky under Jack’s hands. You study his face carefully, but you don’t see deception or shame in the lines of his eyes or the turn of his mouth. It could be anything or nothing, earth-shattering or insignificant. Whatever it is, he feels burdened by it as much as the weight of your vow on your mind. But with his face turning up to you, eyes gentler than any look your fiance has given you in months, you realize something.

You don’t care.

Whatever it is, whatever either of you is holding onto that makes this final step terrifying, it doesn’t matter. You know there’s something more, some part of him he thinks makes him unworthy, but you don’t care what it is. You made up your mind to follow Jack Daniels wherever he led you when you swung up onto Copper’s saddle.

“I know,” you say, watching Jack’s eyebrows lift in light surprise. “I know, and I don’t care. I don’t care about anything outside this room, because I've never been happier. Nothing has made me happier than this, right now.” Jack’s throat bobs again, a brightness returning to his eyes as his fingertips stroke along the curve of your back.

“What do you want?” he asks. No pet names, no banter. The calm before the dust storm.

“You said…before, that I…” you begin, tripping over what you hoped would be a witty remark but your tongue is suddenly heavy and stuttery. Jack nods.

“I said you could have all the Whiskey you want,” he replies, holding himself still as you study his face. In a moment of clarity you search for the machine behind the man. For glints in his eyes that reveal the inner cogs and programming. For a twitch that shows the mechanics. A sign that this shouldn’t be something you get lost in.

You can’t find it. You can’t pretend this is a high-tech sex bot sent to pleasure you devoid of emotion. Not with the way Jack looks up at you like you are all the sweetness in his life.

It’s time to stop doubting. It’s time to stop fighting.

“All of it,” you say, and the words lift such weight off your shoulders. “All that you can give me. I want it. I want you, Jack.”

The smile and gleam in his eye returns, earning a matching one from you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then he surges up to kiss you.

There was a movie you watched with your father when you were a child where an android kisses a man. You’d always remembered your father’s comment of, “it’s like kissing a toaster!” It made you laugh, stuck with you for years.

Kissing Jack Daniels was nothing like kissing a toaster.

He claims your mouth like you’re water in the desert, desperate, thirsty, needy noises in the back of his throat. You swallow them down, clutching at the front of his shirt as he crushes you to his chest. One hand wraps around the back of your neck, the other pulling you tight against him as he steals your breath, all soft full lips and ticklish mustache and the intoxicating scent of peach and, of course, whiskey on his breath. He parts from you briefly, beautifully curved nose pressed against yours.

“Told you,” he whispers, and the fact that he’s out of breath only drives your arousal higher. You hum curiously. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” You huff out a laugh that is cut short by his lips capturing yours again, the tip of his tongue swiping across your bottom one. Your tongues meet gently, soft presses and strokes before Jack’s hand tightens on your neck and his breath puffs hard against your cheek. He delves into your mouth, pulling forth gasps and keens as he savors you. Hands scrabbling at his chest, you lift his shirt half up, exposing his soft stomach to your wandering fingers. When they find the delicate trail of hair leading below his waistband he groans into your mouth, hand on your back sliding down your hip to bunch the flowing nightgown into his fist. Cool air rushes around your thighs as Jack sits back and guides you to straddle him. Sliding his hand up your thigh, you’re treated to a dark chuckle against your lips.

“All this for me, Sugar?” he teases, and the tone makes your cunt slick with arousal. His fingers dance over your bare ass, skimming into the dimples at the base of your spine and dragging up your back. He lets you breathe by dipping his head into the curve of your neck, nipping and lapping at the skin there as you roll your hips in anticipation. His hand flexes, blunt nails scraping lightly at your back and you let loose a thin moan.

“Oh Sugar, we are going to have fun tonight,” he whispers in your ear, and in a quick spin he’s got you on your back in the bed, head nestled in the pillows. You giggle at the quick way he moved you both, breathless at the strength and speed of it, before realizing he’s not slotting his hips between yours. Instead his shoulders are pressing your thighs open, baring you to his appreciative eyes. You try to slam your legs shut, some nervous instinct, but those sinful hands keep them open. He tuts at you, looking up through his dark eyelashes.

“Don’t you dare hide this from me, Sugar. I’m intending to have my fill here,” he drawls, hot air puffing against your sensitive flesh. Your hands wander frantically as Jack settles himself more comfortably, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Jack, you don’t…” you whine, and your lizard brain kicks your nervous brain for saying something so stupid out loud. You feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t bury that quick tongue inside you.

“Sugar, if you don’t like this I’ll gladly move on to other activities,” Jack says, placing another kiss closer to where you want him. “But if you think I don’t want to do it…” His words are lost as he licks a wide hot path from your entrance to your clit, your surprised moan so loud you slam your hand over your mouth. He lifts his head, lips wet with a devious smile. “Does that allay some fears?” You nod, hand still clamped over your mouth.

“Sweet girl,” Jack rumbles, the praise and his tongue going straight to your cunt. Your brow furrows at the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain in your intense arousal. Jack’s tongue is as quick and talented at eating you out as trading quips. He buries his face between your legs, holding you open for him as he circles your clit with the tip, flattening it to swipe and tease as you feel your orgasm building. He slides further down and laps at your entrance, slotting his tongue inside and rubbing circles with his strong nose that have you keening behind your hands. After sloppily licking back up to your clit, driving you wild with the undulation of his tongue, you almost shout at the waves of pleasure he’s pulling out of you. Jack lifts his mouth from your cunt, face shiny with your arousal, and nips at your stomach.

“Careful Sugar, don’t want sweet old Mary and Jeb to hear you cumming on my face,” he scolds without weight, making you throw your arm over your mouth instead. Your lips plant moans and whimpers in the crook of your elbow as Jack sucks one of his fingers into his mouth to wet it.

“Now if we were on my ranch I’d tell you to scream as loud as you want. Might even open the windows, let those pretty sounds drift on the breeze,” he rumbles, finger rubbing languid circles on your clit as his tongue explores all of the intimate skin between your legs.

“Or I would just lay you out under the stars and watch you take my cock by moonlight.” Your thighs tighten, a new rush of slick rewarding his filthy mouth. He coos and sucks you indulgently, steady pace on your clit holding your arousal but not mounting it.

“Beautiful girl,” he whispers, removing his finger as you whine in frustration. “Shhh, look at me Sugar.” You do, arm coming down off your lips as he gives you a placating smile. “What do you want? Tell me.” Your hips roll at his words and he pins them below those thick-fingered hands.

“Want to cum on your face, Jack,” you breathe out, voice rough from your attempts to stay silent. “Then I want you inside me.” Jack loses composure for a moment, heat growing in his eyes.

“Fuck, Sugar, I’m going to wreck this pretty cunt. Stay quiet for me,” he punches out, dropping his mouth to seal around your clit and suck. Pleasure explodes behind your eyelids, propriety forgotten as you brokenly moan at your impending orgasm. Jack’s fingers dig into your thighs as he releases you with a pop.

“What did I just say?” he growls out, mock anger in his voice but his eyes are mirthful.

“I…” you try to respond but he’s sitting up on his knees and manhandling you over onto your stomach.

“If you’re not going to be quiet, I’m going to have to make you,” he says, reaching up to tuck a pillow under your head. With a firm hand on the back of your neck he urges your face into the plush down. You’ve never been handled this way before, dominant and exacting but still gentle, and the sigh of “good girl” behind you makes you wiggle against the mattress. Jack’s powerful thighs frame your own, his other hand smoothing over the curves of your ass as he slips his fingers back between your legs. Finding your clit he returns to rubbing gloriously perfect circles on it, making your toes curl as you bury your head in the pillow.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful coming apart like this. Lift your hips,” he orders, letting the back of your neck go. He shuffles down your body as you lift and arch, his clever fingers following you. Wrapping his arm around your waist, fingers returning to your clit, you keen before Jack’s hot thick tongue is back inside, thrusting and messily mouthing at you. The press of his aquiline nose against your entrance as he strokes his soft tongue over your clit is lewd and filthy and perfect. His open-mouthed hums vibrate against you, and…is he drooling against your pussy? You think you hear the patter of wetness dripping onto the sheets and whether it’s your own or Jack’s it makes the coil in your gut finally snap.

You cum around his tongue, fisting the sheets and moaning Jack’s name into the pillow as he guides you through it. He’s groaning along with you, coaxing every drop out with muffled praise. “Good fucking girl, you cum all over my face. Fuck, you saying my name there sweet girl? Yeah, say who’s making you cum this good. Can’t wait to get more than my tongue inside this tight little pussy.” You feel his weight shift on the bed, one hand pushing the nightgown further up your back as the other fumbles behind you. You pull your head up from the pillow, wet from your open mouth, to see Jack’s rapt attention on your half-naked form below him. His arm flexes out of your sight but is most likely wrapped around his cock. The soft, hot length dragging against the back of your thigh confirms it.

With a boldness you try to reclaim after Jack’s dominance, you push back against Jack’s narrow hips, smearing your wet cunt against the head of his cock and his knuckles. He punches out a breath, gripping at your hip tight enough that he’ll leave bruises.

You’ll have evidence of tonight on your skin. You couldn’t care less.

“Please,” you beg, backing up further even as Jack tries to keep you still.

“Darlin’, I still gotta open you up for me,” he says, chuckling and stroking along your hip. You shake your head and press your hips flush, his velvety head nestling in your folds. He breathes in a choked gasp as you cant your hips to seat him at your entrance.

“I can take it, Jack, please,” you whine, and you’re half embarrassed at how needy you sound.

“Oh you do? Think you can take this?” he says, and he folds to cage you underneath his body. His arms are thick posts on either side of your head, knees knocking yours open as you feel the curved length of him slide through your folds and rest against your clit. His mouth comes to your ear, lips brushing against the shell and the scent of your arousal on his skin.

“Feel me, sweetheart. You might think you’re ready, but I’ll split you in half with my cock if I try to put it in this tight cunt right now. So why don’t you let me fill you with my fingers until you cum again and then, maybe, I’ll fuck you.” He rolls his hips against you, and his length does feel long and thick as it passes over your clit. You nod in agreement, but a timid word pops out.

“Only maybe?”

Jack kisses your shoulder, nose dragging against your skin.

“Teasing, Sugar. I can barely control myself when you talk like that.”

You try to shoot back something witty but Jack wraps an arm around your stomach and hauls you back against him, lifting you up to your knees as he plasters your back to his chest. You’re spread out over his lap, one of his hands cupping your breast and the other sliding down to gather slick on his fingertips. He mouths at your shoulder, your neck, taking your earlobe between his teeth as he sinks two fingers greedily inside you.

“Fuck, Jack!” you strain, hands clutching at the thick thighs below you. He laughs between his clenched teeth, running his tongue along the edge of your ear as he curls his fingers out of you before plunging them back in even deeper.

“Yes, Sugar, you just let me find that perfect spot for you,” he husks, his long arms holding you against him as he slowly drags his cock through the cleft of your ass. He places a hot kiss, edged with teeth, in the same spot behind your ear where he kissed you so sweetly at the dinner table. Swiping his fingers over your pert nipple through your nightgown, he pulls desperate moan after moan out of you, the thickness of his fingers everywhere making you bear down on him. With one particularly good thrust he finds that deep wonderful spot inside you, making your head loll back against his shoulder.

“Ahh, there it is. You gonna give me another good one darlin’?” Jack mumbles into your skin, alternating kisses and licks and bites along your shoulder and neck. He’s stroking against it now, perfectly hitting every time and pairing his onslaught with the slick rub of the heel of his hand against your clit. You release his thighs and instead wind your hands into his hair, soft and curling through your fingers. Jack buries his own little pants in your skin, his hips pressing more firmly against you.

“Gonna give you one more of my fingers, Sugar, and if you can take it you can take me whenever you beg prettily enough.” Your jaw drops as Jack works a third finger inside you, the dewy wetness already pooling in his hand giving him ample lubrication to slide inside. For a moment you feel too full to breathe, arching your back and feeling all your lower muscles clamp down in protest. Your fingers tighten in Jack’s hair and he stills, his free hand releasing your breast and sliding up to press you back against him. He holds you so tight, like he’s afraid you’ll bolt from his embrace.

“You’re okay Sugar, I’ve got you. Jack’s got you,” he murmurs soothingly in your ear. “Relax, breathe, I know it’s a lot. I’m gonna stay just like this until you move. You take your time, I ain’t in a rush.” The patience he's exhibiting makes your breath shaky. Sex has never been this intimate before, waffling between intense pleasure and overwhelming overstimulation. Your body is thrumming like it wants to run but instead you turn your head and graze your lips with his.

“Kiss me, Jack,” you ask, and he’s all too willing to oblige. In comparison to how lewdly you’re spread out on his fingers, he kisses you sweetly, slowly, savoring every press and lick and sigh. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing you softly. Your muscles release, easing around Jack’s fingers as you roll experimentally down. He lets you set a pace, barely moving off him as you feel your cunt accommodate.

“Beautiful,” he says against your lips. When he curls his fingers this time you feel blinding pleasure rekindle, your hips chasing it as you and Jack bring you to your peak in tandem.

“I’m gonna-” you keen, hips rolling faster as Jack reaches deep inside and mercilessly strokes against you.

“Cum, sweetheart, cum for me,” he growls, and just like that you are bowing back against him, choked gasps and his name squeezed out of your gasping lungs as he works you through your second orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, you’re gonna strangle me Sugar. Keep going, don’t you stop on me now, you got some more in you.” If you weren’t already thrashing through the longest orgasm you can remember Jack’s filthy mouth still would have kept you going. Finally, when the last few aftershocks leave you limp against him, he slips his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean. The sound of his appreciative hums and sucks next to your ear makes a shiver creep along your spine.

“Couldn’t help myself, darlin’, you just taste so good,” Jack says, pressing several soft kisses along your neck. With quiet strength and ease, he slides you down onto the bed, turning you so you’re lying in the pillows again. He sits back on his knees between your legs, finally allowing you a glimpse of his large, flushed cock in the V of his open pants. He was kind to slow you down; it sits proudly against his stomach, thick and pleasing but much longer than most you’d taken. That doesn’t stop you from wanting it, framing Jack’s hips with your thighs as he drinks you in. His hands bunch in the loose fabric of the nightgown draped around your waist.

“Can I take this off you, sweetheart?” he asks, and with a smile you sit up and help Jack guide it over your head. Now bare before him, his eyes widen and lower lip droops open in reverence. Skimming his hands over your bare shoulders, you let your own wander to the hem of his shirt.

“This too?” you ask, and he leans back and shucks off his shirt, almost as if he’d forgotten he was still clothed. Your hands descending to his pants make them follow in quick succession.

His strong, taut body shuffles between your softer thighs. Beautiful tan skin stretches across his meaty shoulders and biceps. The smooth planes of his chest are dotted with freckles, dark nipples begging for your mouth to tease. The light dusting of hair you’d glimpsed is primarily leading down to a thicker thatch around his cock. The muscles surrounding you speak of power, strength, endurance, but his hands touch you like you’re silk. Both bare, Jack takes his time leaning you back into the bed, exploring the softness of your stomach, the underside of your breasts, sliding his hands all the way from your shoulder to your wrist before interlacing your fingers. If you didn’t know better, you would call it longing in his touch.

Could he long for you?

“Sugar,” Jack rumbles as he’s leaning over you, dark eyes searching your face. You’re starting to like the endearment more and more. “I hope you’ll let me take my time with you now. I’d like this to last a little longer.” The sentimentality of it makes a lump well in your throat, but you nod as he breaks out into an endearing smile.

Jack does just that. He kisses you, soft and passionate and encompassing as he folds his body into yours. Hip to hip, legs intertwined, wrapped in each other’s arms you feel more present than with any man who’s laid with you before. And you finally let go of the overthinking, the constant analyzing of the puppet show going on around you, and just let yourself feel.

When he begins smoothly sliding his cock along your folds, arousal sparking in your spine, he hushes you and keeps the pace slow.

“Just feel me, darlin’, like I’m feeling you,” he says into your collarbone. You do just that, allowing your hips to roll into one another without any hurry or destination. It’s melting you into the bed, Jack’s kisses along your chest and neck punctuated by words of praise and adoration.

“Feel so good, just like this. Just like this,” Jack babbles against you, returning to your mouth as his strokes get longer, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance. The rolling waves of the motion mounts, making you grab at Jack’s back as he lifts onto his elbows, thumb stroking against your cheek. When the ache of arousal in your lower back makes your hips lift, Jack finally slides inside you with a long, slow stroke, watching your face.

You open your mouth in a soundless moan as he fills you. It feels like he keeps pushing into you for ages until his hips press into the cradle of your thighs, seated full and deep. You breathe through the mild discomfort, letting the pleasure pull to the forefront.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Jack says through clenched teeth, dropping his head to your forehead. You tilt your chin to capture his lips and he moans into your mouth, cupping the back of your neck. Slowly pulling away, the wet noise makes you dig your fingers into his shoulders before he rolls back at the same methodical pace.

“Jack, my god, you’re so fucking big,” you gasp as he grinds against you again.

“Oh Sugar, you’re gonna build up an ego in this old cowboy,” he jokes, a wash of giggles lightening the headiness of the moment. He keeps up the pace, a long slide in, long slide out, until your hips start to chase after him.

“Jack…” you gasp, cupping his jaw where he's flushed from his cheeks to his shoulders, panting and eyes hazy with lust.

“What do you need, Sugar?” he asks, and when you slide your thumb over his mouth you get the devilish urge to push it inside. Breaching his lips, he groans and sucks hard on your thumb, tongue swirling around the digit. It turns you on more than you thought, seeing him suck and lick and scrape his teeth against you. His hips begin to speed up, strokes still as long but more powerful at the end, one hand gripping at your hip as he fucks you deeper.

“Oh shit Jack, that, yes, keep…doing that,” you pant, making him smile around your thumb. You pull it from his lips and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes rolling back and closing.

“You like that Sugar? Like feeling me so deep inside you?” He slides a knee up under your thigh for leverage. “You getting what you need? Gonna cum on my cock beautiful?”

“Harder,” you gasp out, half shocked at your own admission. Jack’s dark eyes flash, a wicked curl on his lip as he crashes your mouths together, teeth clashing and messily licking into your mouth. When he pulls away he posts up on his knees, both hands wrapped around your waist as he maneuvers your thighs around his waist.

“Everything you want, sweetheart,” he grounds out before setting a punishing pace, hips snapping roughly into your cunt and a grimace of concentration and ecstasy blooms on Jack’s face. He adjusts the angle and suddenly he’s driving into that deep pleasurable spot inside you and you’re gasping and arching as he seats his thumb over your clit.

“Come on, sweetheart, cum for me. Cum on my thick cock. Want to feel you soak me with this delicious cunt. You’re so close, I can feel you. Let go, let go, c’mon, you can do it. Cum on me. Now.” Jack’s growls are punctuated by his hammering cock and his relentless fingers and you’re helpless to stop your peak from overtaking you. It blazes through your body, Jack’s powerful hands pinning you to keep his cock inside.

“Fuck, yes baby, yes, that’s my good girl, choke me with your fucking cum, god you feel so fucking amazing. Yes. Right there, I’m right there with you. Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck…” Jack keeps his fingers circling your clit as he pulls out, fisting his cock over your stomach as he spills his load in long spurts on your skin. He’s making a mess, cum dribbling over his knuckles and painting you from hip to tit. Pulling in hard gasps above you with whimpers at the end, his fingers slow and he backs away enough to drop to his side beside you. Long moments pass with you both catching your breath in silence, then you blindly reach for him. Your fingers glance off his chest before he captures your wrist, pressing bristly kisses to your knuckles.

“Just wait here a moment, sweetheart, I’ll be right back,” he says, the mattress shifting as he stands and pads naked to the washroom. He returns with damp skin, a wet towel in hand that he uses to wipe his cum from your stomach. You think he’ll slide it between your legs too, but as he nudges them open he instead licks thickly through your sex, tasting you once more before a cursory wipe with the towel. He tosses it into some forgotten corner before pulling you to your feet, plastering you against his side as he folds back the blankets. Your limbs feel noodly, happy to lean on Jack’s broad frame as he guides you into bed.

Once he’s satisfied you’re snuggled in, he blows out the lights in the room and slides in beside you. You’re both still naked, the heat of your skin warming the cocoon of blankets around you. Jack’s arm slides under your neck and pulls you to drape over him. Your head finds the soft dip in his shoulder, hand placed in the center of his chest for his own to cover. This is more intimate than you anticipated after such satisfaction, but as Jack’s breath begins evening out under you, even your racing mind manages to quiet enough to enjoy the silence of the night.

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evarius-111 · 1 year

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Hippie Life | Agent Whiskey

Synopsis: After being rejected by his target, Agent Whiskey decides to indulge in the festival a bit, where a certain sarcasm infested 'hippie' catches his attention.

Warnings: GN! Reader, sexual jokes, age gap (reader is in late 20s), references to implied SA, does fluff need a warning? They/Them pronouns used for reader.

Rating: M

Author's Note: This is my first time writing about Agent Whiskey, or Kingsman in general.. so please be gentle 💗

With full sincerity,

.Evarius.

The festival wasn't exactly what you had expected, but you guessed you just didn't get around as much as you thought.

Your flowing bright clothing laid loosely around your figure as you walked through the small crowds that are littered throughout the area. Your nose scrunched up slightly in annoyance as you passed someone who clearly forgot to apply any form of deodorant before they left their house this morning.

You sighed and brought your hand up to cover your nose, hoping to cover the scent with the bittersweet musk of the citrus hand cream you had lathered on before you left your assigned tent, but to no avail.

Eventually, you slipped out of the crowd and into a relatively clear area of the festival grounds, allowing you to take in a deep breath of the fresh summer air.

The sun was warm on your skin, sending waves of heat through your limbs as you began to finally relax since you'd gotten here the day before.

Sadly, your relief was cut short as you felt a leather jacket roughly brush the exposed skin of your forearm, making you flinch as you were shoved to the side.

"Ah, so sorry, Angel"

A deep, voice that is doused in a southern accent speaks from beside you, making your head swing to the side quickly to see who the voice belonged to.

Your breath hitched quietly in your throat at the sight of the man who had just bumped into you. You had to admit, he was very easy on the eyes.. and was definitely an attractive man.

"It's fine." You muttered quietly, pulling your gaze away from the taller male.

A small smirk formed on his face, and he sent you a sly wink as he continued walking.

You paused, a small warmth started in your cheeks, one that could easily be blamed on the hot air surrounding you.

At least that's what you tried to convince yourself.

You grunted softly in relief as you sat down at the bar, your limbs hurting from all the walking you had done during the day.

You could technically call the day a success, since you did have a little fun mingling with some people that had the same world peace mindset as you, and what's better is you didn't have to use the small container of pepper spray that's tucked snugly in your loose orange pant pocket. Of which had sadly became a common occurrence in places like this.

The bartender flashed a sweet smile your way, her short black hair bouncing as she walked over to your side of the bar counter.

"Can I get somethin' for you darlin'?"

Her English accent is strong and charming, making you feel very much more at ease. You smiled at her in return, nodding as you ordered your favourite (non-alcoholic) beverage.

'It's best to stay sober in places like this' you thought to yourself.

She nodded her head with a bright grin,

"Comin' right up, doll"

Then she was off, walking off to get your drink ready.

You shuffled around in the barstool, your eyes flicking down to look at the brown wood of the countertop. It's a nice, soft colour. Easy on the eyes.

A glass of your favourite beverage was placed in front of your line of sight, and you glanced up to see the bartender smiling softly.

"There ya go, darlin'" She tapped the wood with her fingertips with a kind beam before moving away again to another person that is waiting to order. You say a small and polite 'thanks' to her as she leaves, leaving you alone with your glass.

You wrapped your fingers around the cup and brought it up to your lips, sipping the drink shortly, before placing it back down on the wooden counter as the cool liquid flowed down your throat.

"Ain't gon' drink, huh?"

That voice again.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a familiar broad shouldered brunette standing only just behind you. Your eyes narrowed and your right eyebrow raised a little.

"You stalking me, cowboy?" You accused, with a slither of sarcasm lacing your voice as you speak, looking him directly in his cocoa eyes. He grins widely, moving to sit in the stool to the right of you.

The steel creaked under his weight, making you chuckle quietly to yourself as you took another sip of your refreshment.

The mysterious fellow sent you a charming smile as his eyes flicked down you, giving you a once-over. His eyes settled on your face once again, before he parted his pale pink lips to speak.

"What's a pretty lil' thing like you doin' all alone?"

He asked, his voice deepening an octave as he tried his very best to charm you. If you were an idiot, it might've worked, but luckily for you, you're not.

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your drink to prepare yourself for this conversation.

"Well, I was enjoying my time alone" you sighed, and he laughed gently in response.

"Sorry to impose then, sweetheart"

He apologized, resting his forearm on the wooden counter in front of you both, all whilst his other hand rests on his left hip. You raised an eyebrow again, letting a small scoff-like laugh leave your lips.

"But you won't leave, I'm guessing" you said, leaning forward against the counter as well. He smirked and looked at you again, shaking his head.

"Nope" He grinned, popping the 'p'.

You rolled your eyes again in response, taking yet another sip of your drink.

"You always drink alone?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side, causing his obnoxious cowboy hat to bob slightly. you had to stop yourself from laughing at the sight, and so you nodded quietly, leaning against your elbows.

"Could I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" He coaxed, leaning a little closer.

"Any closer and I'll pepper spray you." You warned, your gaze not leaving the glass cup in front of you.

He immediately leaned away, nodding in understanding as his eyes widened a little at the threat.

"Alright, alright.. sorry" he mumbled, looking away awkwardly.

The silence was loud, and honestly made you want to scream your lungs out at how annoying it was.

"..." He stayed silent, but sucked in a breath, as if preparing himself to speak. You audibly groaned, lowering your head as you ready yourself for whatever charm trick he's going to pull.

"You into all this... hippie shit?"

He spoke slowly, as if questioning his own words as they left his lips. You shrugged, "depends what you mean by 'hippie shit'" you retorted, side eyeing him.

He hummed as he thought as to what exactly he means, clearly unsure of himself, seemingly for the first time in a while.

"I dunno, sex, drugs, et cetera.." he muttered, nibbling on the inner corner of his cheek after he finished talking.

You laughed quietly, shaking your head slowly, which made him perk up slightly, a small prideful smile pulling at the corners of his lips at the fact he could make you laugh.

"Wouldn't you like to know, cowboy?" you mused sarcastically, glancing at him for a moment.

As arrogant as he his, you can't deny he's handsome.

Plain white shirt that's a little too small for him, black leather jacket with a brown collar, and especially tight denim jeans.

"Yes actually, that's why 'm askin', angel" he joked, tilting his head again.

You chuckled quietly, a small grin pulling at the corners of your lips. "Angel, huh? That's a new one" you snickered, tapping your fingertips against the cool glass that's tucked snugly in your hands.

He smirked, nodding with a smug look.

"What can I say? You definitely look the part" he praised, looking you up and down in a joking manner as he gestures to your flowy clothing.

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you can't deny the small smile that forms on your face.

"Well aren't you a charmer, cowboy" you mocked, smirking at him slightly. He laughed, glad that he hadn't completely creeped you out.

"You know it, Sunny" he said with a grin, flashing his pearly whites as best he can. It definitely worked.

"Sunny?" you questioned with a chuckle, your eyes narrowing slightly as you look at him. He simply gestures to your shoulder, that is exposed due to your short sleeve drooping slightly down your arm, which also has a small sun tattoo plastered on your skin.

You glanced down, and nearly cackled from how cheesy that nickname actually was in reality.

"Oh my god, you really are a charmer, huh?" You laughed, glancing up to look at him again.

He shrugged with a smirk, "it's what I do best, Angel" he said, before taking something out of his pocket.

A mini bottle of whiskey.

You almost die at that, a snicker breaking through.

"Is that a baby bottle of whiskey?" you chortled, and he nodded with a grin, before snapping off the cap and downing the amber liquid easily.

If it wasn't for the fact you'd seen people chug an entire bottle of whiskey before, you might've been impressed.

"So, now that you're not threatening to spray me in the eyes with liquid peppers, may I finally have your name?" he asked as he tucked the -now empty- tiny bottle of whiskey back into his jacket pocket.

You thought silently for a moment, wondering if you should indulge a bit. He seems nice enough, considering he hasn't tried to grope you.

Fuck, the bare minimum is fucked, huh?

"Y/N" you said quickly, before you could back out of it.

He smiled brightly, clearly happy to of earned this information about you.

"Nice to meet'cha.. the names Jack Daniels, honey" he grinned, looking directly into your eyes, with his chocolate brown ones.

You raised an eyebrow, "Jack Daniels? Like the whiskey?" you laughed, tilting your head slightly in question as you looked at him, allowing your gaze to linger.

He nodded casually, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

"Exactly like the whiskey, Angel." He cooed jokingly, before raising his hand and turning his head to look at the bartender as he clicked his fingers, snatching her attention.

"Whiskey please, doll" he ordered with a charming smile.

She smiled and nodded, grabbing the bottle of Whiskey and pouring him a glass, before setting it on the table in front of him.

He mumbled a thanks with a grin as he grabbed the glass, taking a slow sip from it.

You laughed softly, "so your name is Jack Daniels, and your favourite drink is Jack Daniels? What a coincidence" you said sarcastically, sipping your drink again.

He smirked, raising an eyebrow at you as he sets down his glass again.

"You callin' me a liar, Sunny?" He accused playfully, feigning offense as he presses a hand to his chest, right above his heart.

"I'm hurt!" he gasps dramatically, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

"Of course not, it's just amusing" you say, smirking right back at him. His eyes seem to flick down at your lips for a moment, a small grin on his face as he thinks for a moment, before snapping out of his trance and taking another drink from his booze.

"How so?" he coaxed, leaning a little closer. This time, you refrain from threatening him, instead chuckling quietly.

"Did I not warn you about leaning closer?" You mused jokingly, tilting your head as you look at him. He shrugged, smiling.

"Yeah, I'm just ignoring you" he joked, leaning even closer.

You could smell the whiskey on his breath, but shockingly, you didn't immediately recoil and gag. Instead, you stayed in place, smiling slightly at him.

"How sweet of you, cowboy" you joked, tilting your head again. He grinned, liking how you've finally warmed up to him.

"I know, I'm a real sweetheart, ain't I?" He grinned, before taking another sip from his glass. "So, you got a tent here?" He asked, looking at his drink as he leaned away again.

"Why do you wanna know, Daniels?" You smirked, with a slightly flirtatious tone of voice. It's all jokes though, you think to yourself.

He looked at you again, shrugging with a grin. "Just wonderin'.. you seem like the type to stay over at places like this" he said casually, and now it was time for you to fake hurt.

You gasped and press a hand to above your heart, your expression morphed to faux offense. "What's that supposed to mean, Jack?" You raised an eyebrow in mocking suspicion. He pouted, "you know I don't mean to be rude, honey" he purred, and his tone of voice was sweet. You can feel your heart skip a beat at that.

Why did that voice have an effect on you?

And why are his lips such a pretty shade of pink?

You pushed the thoughts away before they can fester, deciding to shrug off the feeling of your racing heart. "Well, Mr. Whiskey, it certainly sounded like you did" You accused matter-o-factly, but there's still a tone of humour in your voice that keeps the joke rolling.

"Well," he mocked your octave of voice, "don't believe everything you hear, Doll face" he smirked smugly as he looked at you.

You paused, before laughing, causing him to break and start laughing too.

You both cackled together for a few moments, with you folding over slightly to hold your stomach as it began to hurt from the force of your laughter.

You calmed down after after a couple seconds, followed closely by Jack.

It was silent for a few moments, but this time, it's a comfy silence.

Suddenly, your comfortable moment was broken by a strong British accent from behind you.

"Whiskey, we gotta go, it's done"

You turned your head to look behind you, where you see a boy who looks about your age, maybe a little older. Jack glanced at him, and groaned softly in annoyance.

"Can't ya' see I'm in the middle of something?" He sneered, his eyes flicking to you for a moment to try and get the other man to catch on.

"I don't care what you're in the middle of, we need to go!" The boy said, with a sense of urgency, as if he had just majorly fucked up.

A slight sense of disappointment filled you as the conversation between you and the cowboy is swiftly ended, causing you to nibble on your lower lip to resist the urge to say something stupid.

Instead, you decide to do something stupid.

As Jack sighed and moved to stand up, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm. He turned his head to look at you with surprise, his lips parted slightly in confusion.

You nervously bit your lip as you roughly stuck you hand in your pocket, feeling around for the pen you remember having in there.

There was a folded napkin on the counter, so you just snatched that up into your hand and messily wrote down your number, before shoving the napkin into his hand.

"Only call if it's urgent" you said jokingly, cracking a smile at him, which made him smile back, tucking the napkin into his pocket.

"I'll be sure to annoy you" he joked, before winking and walking off with the other man.

You sighed slightly, silently wishing your time hadn't been cut short. You had only just finally warmed up to him! Maybe the universe just hates you.

Although, you can't help but smile as you see the older man slap the younger one on the back of the head, muttering curses under his breath.

Hopefully he doesn't die before he has time to call you You think, chuckling softly to yourself.

If only you knew.

#kingsmen secret service #kingsmen golden circle #fanfiction #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #agent whiskey #jack daniels #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x y/n #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader

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justsomerandomfanfic · 10 days

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We Meet Again - Eggsy Unwin X Female Reader

Title: We Meet Again

Eggsy Unwin X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's boss

WC: 3,004

Warnings: Kingsman canon violence, guns, Reader is also a spy, spy stuff, suggestive (not a lot, but references a few suggestive things, none play out), teasing, banter, flirting, cursing, nicknames, slight angst, and fluff

"Target's turning the corner," You muttered, pushing your shades up, the sun blinding, as you briskly walked down the sidewalk, easily maneuvering past pedestrians as you followed the man a couple of hundred feet in front of you. You stuffed your hands into your overcoat pockets, eyes trained on the man whom you had been following for the past couple of days.

"Don't lose sight of him, Agent." The voice in your ear spoke just as the man you were following turned down another corner. "We need to know where he's going."

"I'm on it, calm yourself, would you?" You grumbled, your hand brushing against the rough brick wall of a building as you turned the corner, pausing as your eyebrows furrowed. "He's... He's entering a bookstore?" You relay, confused.

There was silence on the other line as you began walking towards the small, hole-in-the-wall bookstore, "Proceed with caution." Your boss then spoke.

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sigh as you pressed your hand against the swinging door, pushing it open as a bell rang from above you, signaling the workers or owner of your arrival. You lightly surveyed the room, taking in the small bookstore.

You took note of the two workers behind the counter, lightly chatting with one another - eating their lunch, and the old woman sitting at a small table with a coffee in her hand, book in the other. It was actually a really nice-looking bookstore, and if this was any other day - when you weren't working - you probably would've enjoyed reading a book or two; you could easily imagine yourself sitting at one of the tables, reading a mystery novel. But today was different. Today, you wanted to reach your target, find out what you needed, and leave without getting caught.

The bookshelves in the little shop lined up in rows, giving way to the back wall where there were a few more tables and chairs, all covered by a white cloth. A large sign hung on the far wall, proclaiming 'Bookstore' in big, neon, red letters, and 'A Place Where Dreams Come True!' was written on a poster below in swirly orange letters, to the right side of it.

Slowly, you walked to an aisle beside your target, watching him from your peripheral vision as you tried to blend in and pretend that you were just any other regular, day-to-day, human being looking for a book. As you walked down the aisle, you let your fingers brush from spine to spine; you spotted several novels about time travel, some sci-fi, fantasy, and even an entire section dedicated to cowboy romance novels.

You then turned to look at the long bookshelf behind you, while allowing your gaze to peer through the tops of the books. You surveyed what you could of him, tilting your head slightly as you watched his hand reach out and grab a book from his side of the shelf, opening it, and placing it back a moment later. He was looking for something... But, the question was... What was he looking for?

Turning around again, you faced the previous shelf, grabbing a handful of random books before piling them in your arms. Then, you made your move, walking down your row of bookshelves and turning into his. Looking down at your books, you tried to pretend that you weren't paying any attention before bumping right into the target. You and the target staggered back slightly, your books falling from your arms - and the few in his - as you gasped.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry for bumping into you like that," You dropped to your knees, beginning to grab some of the books that you had 'accidentally' dropped. "I am such a klutz."

The man bent down on one knee, shaking his head as he began to pick up some of the books with you, "It's no problem. You like thrillers?"

“Hmm?” You paused at his question, looking up slightly to see the book in his hand that you had randomly grabbed, "Oh, yeah... I find them... Thrilling." You answered, feigning nervousness and embarrassment as you finished collecting the books in a neat stack in front of your knees.

The man was silent, as you felt his eyes on you, staring. You took a chance, glancing up at him above the rims of your sunglasses, your gaze finding his. His head was tilted to the side slightly, like some confused puppy, as his lips turned downward in a frown. It took only a split second for him to realize who you were, both continuing to stare at each other as your lips twitched; threatening to turn into a mischievous grin. With a flicker in his eyes, a knowing look soon found its way upon his face.

But before you could even say a word, he swiftly pulled out his handgun, silencer at the ready, from his satchel. You let your smirk falter as he raised the gun to point directly at your chest, “You finally remembered to bring a silencer. Good for you…" You trailed off softly, quietly so as to not draw attention to the both of you, but deadly enough as you gave the gun one glance before slowly sitting up, raising your hands in the air beside your head. Why did he have to be so good at his job?

"Y/N... Long time, no see." He tried to play off, a grin creeping across his face. It had been a long time, seven months long. You hadn’t seen him since Rio. “You seemed to have forgotten how to properly tail someone. Miss me or something?"

"I'm not here for a reunion, Unwin." You responded, "Now, I'm going to stand up, slowly." You carefully demanded, your eyes never leaving his as you both slowly stood.

"Now," He began, as he took a few steps closer; a foot or so distance between the both of you. "Hand me the file, love."

"File? What file?" You asked, feigning innocence as you widened your eyes and tilted your head to the side. Blinking owlishly, “I don't have a file.”

His furrowed brows lifted slightly as he gave you a lopsided smile, letting out a small awkward laugh - between a laugh and a scoff; you could tell that he was clearly in discomfort, trying to lift the tension with his words. "This is quite the predicament you put me in here." There was no point in lying anymore. He knew you had it… Somehow.

"And I assure you, it'll be much worse if you don't put down that gun." You threatened, hating how much your arms were beginning to ache, "I'm not giving you the file, Eggsy."

"Oh, how I love it when you say my name, love." He sighed out, his tone almost taunting as you narrowed your eyes.

Clicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth, lowering one of your hands, pressing the small button on your earpiece, silencing it; allowing you to speak freely without your boss hearing. "Why do you have to be so frustrating?" You exclaimed, glaring daggers at the man before you.

Eggsy only shrugged, "I'm just trying to do my job." He answered before you caught him by surprise when you grabbed his wrist. In a matter of seconds, you moved your forearm over his, forcing him to bend at his waist as the arm that held the gun pressed horizontally against your stomach. With a sharp tug of your free hand, you pulled the gun from him, watching as he stumbled back. Blinking slightly, he frowned - obviously upset with himself at the fact that you so easily took his gun, "... Which you are delaying." He added, voice sounding a bit strained as he glanced from you, to the gun, and back. "I see you still got the moves." He mimicked your previous stance, raising his hands in the air.

"I'm just trying to do my job too," You lowered the gun slightly, resting it against his gut, "And taking your gun was almost too easy, Eggsy." You countered, trying to ignore how close you were to him; your eyes subconsciously drifting down his body, your heart beginning to hammer against your ribcage as you again met his gaze, "I just want to know what you know." You lowered your voice, your expression softening ever so slightly.

"What I know?" Eggsy huffed out a laugh, "I don't know any more than you do." He paused, letting his eyes flicker over your face for a moment - seemingly thinking - before continuing, "We could always come together and exchange notes-"

You narrowed your eyes, feeling your face flush slightly, "I am not going to let this turn into the last time we met."

Last time? Last time in Rio. That night that was filled with dancing, drinking, and getting intel. You were on a mission, a mission that crossed over with Eggsy’s. There had always been that palpable tension that had kept you drawn to each other. Something you'd never experienced before. It had been months since the two of you had run into each other - not even your missions could keep you both apart for long it seemed - ‘It was fate,’ Eggsy said one time - and you had your high doubts, but you were beginning to believe it. It was kind of strange just how many times you bumped into him, the sight of him still got to you every single time though.

There were so many times that you and Eggsy would meet on these missions and things would inevitably end up with the two of you in compromising positions together. You hated how wrapped around his finger you were, you hated how much he affected you. So, you pushed him away, trying desperately to stay distant. But, it was hard, hard to forget about him, hard to pretend that what you were feeling wasn't real, hard to forget his face, his voice, his scent, and his touch. Even now, you had to force yourself to stop from just smiling. You had to admit, despite yourself, you were almost glad to see him again. But, that night could never repeat itself. Not now, not when you were trying to get your job done.

You shook your head, "Stop playing around." You admonished, not wanting to admit anything to him. You hated the fact that you couldn't even act naturally around him. You hated the fact that you could barely breathe around him. You hated the fact that, whenever he was near, you found yourself flustered and nervous. And you especially hated the way your heart raced whenever you were near him... Eggsy was making things difficult, as always.

"Well, if you must know..." Eggsy began, "I think you liked it just as much as I did, love." He continued, his voice low and husky as you tried your best to remain calm, but your heart was racing. You didn't want this conversation to end up anywhere near the bedroom... Or the shower... Or anywhere else where things were more intimate with him.

You ignored his comment, your eyes snapped away from his, and glanced down at the satchel that he was wearing, "I can't let you jeopardize this mission for me, Eggsy."

Eggsy said nothing, still grinning as he quickly grabbed a hold of your gun, forcing your arm up, and spinning you around; your back hitting his chest and expelling a small ‘umph’ from you. Locking you against his body with his other arm and yours, he used his free hand to expel the magazine before pulling back the slide barrel; you watched in anguish as the bullet flew through the air almost in slow-motion and onto the ground with the magazine.

Sighing deeply, you finally acknowledged the way his hot breath tickled your neck, how the muscles in his arms flexed as he held you tight against him. "You never make things easy, do you?" You huffed, "I should have known better than to expect anything different."

Eggsy chuckled, nudging his nose to the hair on the side of your head before muttering, "Well, I guess that's one thing we've both got in common." Goosebumps began to rise from your arms at the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, causing a familiar heat to build between the two of you.

"I really don't have time for this." You tried to push out of his arms, but his grip tightened around you, keeping you pinned to his chest.

"You were the one that has been following me." He pointed out, a smug grin on his lips as you felt your heart begin to pound in your ears. The warmth from his body bled into your clothes, sinking into your skin the longer you stayed pressed up against him. You were struggling to focus. "You wouldn't want to tell me why, would you?"

Oh, how you hated him sometimes, how cocky he got. Though you also knew that he was just confident in his capabilities, it still irritated the hell out of you. You could already imagine the expression on his face. You could already picture the smug smile plastered on his handsome features as he held you so close to him. You could already see his eyes glimmering as they gazed down at you. He was loving this…

It was hard to concentrate, trying to think of a way out of this predicament as you felt as if your entire being was being engulfed in the smell of pine, and musk that was so incredibly intoxicatingly him... And... And...

And then, after all those thoughts ran through your mind, you snapped yourself out of it and back into action. Lifting your shoe, you slammed your heel down onto his foot, hard. You heard his breath catch in his throat as he groaned, and as his arms loosened around you, you quickly used your momentum to spin around. Raising your free hand, you grabbed the back of his neck, pushing his head towards yours; discomfort all over his face from the sudden pain to his foot.

You tilted your head slightly as you stared into those ocean-blue eyes of his, watching as his scrunched up face slowly softened as his eyes met yours. You then became acutely aware of how his tongue slid out between his lips to wet them, and how his eyelashes fluttered as he blinked several times - knowing full well what you were doing to him.

"I'm not telling you shit, Eggsy." You spoke, your voice barely above a murmur as the corner of his lips twitched up slightly.

He leaned into you a little bit more, moving his hands to rest on your hips. "It's alright, love." He answered, his voice low, matching yours, "I already got what I needed."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Eggsy pulled away, giving you one last grin before speeding his way out of the aisle and out of the bookstore. Mind racing, you patted down your jacket, eyes widening as you opened your jacket; only to find the file that was securely placed in the large inside pocket was gone.

Turning towards the window facing the outside of the shop, your eyes flickered from person to person before you spotted Eggsy. A mixture of disappointment, inner pain, and anger crossed your face as you watched him hurry across the street and start climbing into the passenger seat of a black car parked on the curb.

"... Oh, gosh." You muttered, shaking your head as you clicked your tongue to the roof of your mouth, "This is a damn mess..." You sighed, gritting your teeth as you clenched your fists tightly in frustration as you reached up and turned your earpiece back on; the fear of disappointing your boss rising once more. "I got some bad news, boss." You relayed, "He stole the file."

It was silent on the other line for a moment, and you felt a sense of dread creep down your spine. "He got the file?" Your boss's voice was calm, unnervingly so. "How the hell did he get it from you?" His tone suddenly became more annoyed, "I told you to watch him and just find out what he knows."

"I understand that, sir," You huffed, "I thought I could just talk it out of him... I wasn't expecting the gun-"

"Agent Montgomery." Your boss cut you off, "How long have you been an agent?"

You sighed, rubbing your cheek before getting down on your knees and collecting the gun, magazine, and stray bullet, pocketing them. "Six years, sir."

"Then you already know that you should always assume another spy has a gun or any other weapon, no matter where you go or what you do." You nodded, even though he couldn't see; his voice was stern as he continued, "Even if you think your target won't be armed, you should always assume they will be. I shouldn’t have to say this. If this happens again, you’re back on desk duty."

Running a hand through your hair, you pinched the bridge of your nose, "I'll get the file back, sir." You assured him before grabbing the books on the floor and taking them into your arms once more, "He can't get any further without the key." You finished, placing the books back on the shelf that you had gotten them from.

"Good." Your boss responded. You took a deep breath and wiped your still-warm cheeks with your palms, sighing as you straightened out your attire.

"He left in a black car, the license plate is '2FD224.'" You added while proceeding to leave the small bookstore that you made a mental note to come back and visit in the future.

Slipping your shades securely upon the bridge of your nose, your boss spoke up, "Do you know where he's heading next, Agent?"

You pursed your lips, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets, as you venture out into the bright sun. "Italy."

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Main Masterlist | Kingsman Masterlist

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Should I make a part 2?

#cute #fluff #x reader #x female reader #x you #x y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #slight angst #kingsman #kingsmen secret service #kingsmen golden circle #eggsy unwin #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy unwin x female reader #eggsy unwin x you #eggsy unwin x y/n #kingsman the golden circle #x spy reader

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 ‘𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘’ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐒

↳ summary: a quiet day off work calls for something sweet. Jack treats you to some pancakes and naughty chaos ensues.

↳ pairing: jack 'whiskey' daniels x f!reader

↳ [2k words] content: 18+ MDNI, food, cooking, soft!dom x sub dynamics, spanking, oral (f receiving). This is a @beskarbabs remaster -- original post date 2021.

jack masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

Given your tireless work schedules, it's uncommon for you and Jack to have mornings together. Spending those scarce daybreak hours in the kitchen was exceptional. For you to walk through the doorway in just your underwear and one of his oversized shirts to find Agent Whiskey taking breakfast into his own hands? Unheard of.

Jack had pursued you for quite some time. Flowers, chocolates, and gifts had all failed to win you over in his mission to make you his girlfriend. He'd tried everything from enlisting the help of Tequila to exaggerate all the reasons he'd be a good partner. He even begged Ginger Ale to put in a good word. Regardless, after months of attempts, he had resigned to accepting that you simply didn't see him that way.

That was until he invited you to breakfast after a particularly arduous mission that had left you with minor injuries and a foul mood. On that morning, the golden glow of the sunbeams leaking in from the window above the counter lit up the kitchen as the smell of batter warmed you up from the inside. You could remember it so clearly, Jack's hat cast to the side on the table you sat at as he flipped the pancakes diligently in the pan without dropping or creasing one.

The fluffiness, the sweetness that bordered on sickly yet still managed to be just perfect, was enough for you to reconsider your stance on your relationship with the mildly mulish man. The lemon juice and sugar sprinkled on top just for you gave you no option but to pay your compliments to the chef with a kiss.

It was Jack's favourite story. He told literally anyone who would listen.

It goes without saying, now that Jack had seduced you with his southern charm and humour consisting of mostly (if not all) dad jokes, that any morning the two of you managed to spend together, he would pull out the eggs, milk, flour and sugar. This morning appears to be no different.

"Are you making pancakes?" You ask softly, cheekbone pressed between his shoulder blades as you hold him from behind. You hear him chuckle softly, turning his face over his shoulder. You know what he's asking for and oblige, pressing a chaste kiss to his bronzed skin.

"Sure am, Sugar." He returns to his work, a smile hidden under that well-kept moustache. He takes up the batter bowl and expertly uses the spatula in hand to pour out the mixture into the frying pan without spilling even a dribble. He lays the spatula down into the bowl, handle propped up against the rim as he focuses on cooking the batter so it's perfectly golden and crispy.

The warm, homey smell of frying batter swirling from the stove makes your mouth water and your stomach growl, begging for something substantial. Finally, you decide you don't want to wait for Jack to use the mixture up, so use your index finger to scoop up some of the dough and smear it across your tongue.

Big mistake.

You see Jack's broad shoulders stop moving as he pauses his work. He leisurely lays down the pan on the heat mat lying on the counter before turning to you with a fixed and piercing gaze. He arches a thick eyebrow accusatorially.

"Did you just steal some?" His voice is deep, slipping further into his accent from the low volume. You look up into his eyes, your own wide with confusion at the abrupt change in atmosphere.

"... Yes," you admit. It comes out in a whisper, aware by now that Whiskey was planning something if the smirk tugging at the edge of his lip was anything to go by. He takes up the handle of the spatula from the bowl, slowly raising it and allowing the loose mixture to fall back into the bowl. He keeps his eyes on you.

"Clean it," he murmurs, lifting the head of the utensil to your mouth. It takes a second for his order to process in your brain. By then, he's already pressing the flat side to your lips. You stare up at him, bewildered, as you trail your tongue across the plastic. You can taste the sweetness that coats your tastebuds, but note the bitterness of raw flour.

Jack's eyes follow your ministrations, seemingly unaffected by your actions. He's the most unreadable you'd ever seen, his emotions usually worn on the rim of his cowboy hat rather than his sleeve, dangling between your eyes so it was impossible to miss. Right now, however, his face is blank.

The batter gathers on your tongue until you've cleared one side, and Jack twists the handle and exposes the other side to you. You also get to work on that one, humming softly at the addictively sweet taste.

Held at this angle, the mix begins to collect on the curve of the head. It drips onto your chin and dribbles down, catching your lover's attention. However, it isn't until it falls from your chin and onto the top of your breast that you notice his eye twitch, evidence that he was affected by the scene.

Jack pulls the plastic tool from you, inspecting it for leftovers. When he finds it clean, he looks back to you. He's rock-hard in his jeans. You had learnt that Jack's tight denim did very little to hide his excitement over the many times he'd had to restrain himself during missions. It certainly wasn't hard to miss.

"Hands on the table, hips out," he orders again. You blink up at him, a weak laugh escaping your throat.

"What are you gonna do, Jack? Arrest me?" You manage to force out, heart thudding wildly in your chest. He's looking at you like he could eat you.

"You gonna do as I say?" He questions, tone demanding. You do. You turn your back to him, bending at the waist and placing your palms on the dining table. You sense him come up behind you, kicking your feet apart as though he's about to search you while he sets the bowl of batter down beside your wrist.

"Last time I checked, you were a Statesman, not a police offic-" You yelp out as the sharp sound slap that practically reverberates around the room, the sharp sting burning its way into the flesh of your exposed ass cheeks underneath the hem of the shirt you had borrowed for the morning.

The blossoming sensation of prickling skin where the object had connected had you whipping your head around to glare at Jack, whose smirk informs you he had rather enjoyed your reaction. It's then that he wiggles the spatula in his hand, alerting you to the fact he had just spanked you with it.

"Jack!" You hiss, hand moving to rub at the irritated area, "What was that for?" He swats your hand away, taking the hem of his shirt you were wearing and hiking it up over your hips so your ass is entirely exposed to him.

"Punishment for stealing," he says simply, voice low and raspy. You roll your eyes, about to argue, when he lands the utensil on your thighs just underneath the crease of your ass. It sparks a harsh sting settling deep between your legs as you cry out in shock.

There's a silence that follows in the room, but inside your ears, you can hear the pounding of your blood rushing through your body, your heart thrumming so hard it makes your chest hurt. Jack was adventurous, sure, but this was new. Deep down, you know he had started this as a joke, but if the tent you had seen in his tight jeans was anything to go by, he was enjoying this... But, of course, he isn't the only one...

And it looks like Jack noticed.

He barely skips a beat, almost like this is what he had planned all along.

"You're gonna count them out for me, Sugar." He commands, palm settling on your lower back while he waits for your consent. His body language in your peripheral has changed, suddenly very serious and driven by arousal. You nod with a shaky breath, confirming.

"I wanna hear you say it, Darlin'." Even now, he still takes so much care of you.

"I'll count them out," you repeat you him, and you swear you hear him whisper 'good girl' behind you. The bite of the first two blows starts to ebb away, aided by the gentle stroke over the curve of your ass with the back of his fingers as he takes in the view of your pink cheeks.

He gives you no further warning than removing his hand. You hear the THWACK of the pancake turner first, but the hot, prickling pain follows the sound quickly, blooming across your cheeks. You let out a soft whine, releasing the sound in an attempt to ease the tension in your muscles.

"One," you squeak out, the power-play making you light-headed as your pussy flutters around nothing. Jack is totally silent, not allowing you to see his response to your reaction.

Another quick snap of his wrist and the sharp smack of the handle hits once again just under your ass. It hurts so good, a loud moan escaping your lips as you brace yourself against the tenderness. So caught up in breathing through the pinch, you forget to count out quickly enough.

"T-Two!" You try to correct yourself, but Jack has already noticed your 'defiance'. He tuts softly, shaking his head.

"You'll have to do better than that, Sugar. I'll let this one slide-" he grips your sore asscheeks gently, enough for goosebumps to rise across your skin at the deep throbbing between your legs, "But we'll start from zero if it happens again." You nod quickly, confirming that you've heard him.

He's gracious, soothing the pain he had inflicted for just a moment before striking you again, with the rubber head this time.

"Ffu- Three," you moan, the pulses of pain thrumming straight to your core. You can feel that you're soaking your panties through, dripping from the mixture of anticipation and smarting skin.

"Two more," Jack informs you, watching the way you rub your thighs together in search of some kind of friction for your stiff and aching clit. It's no use, you both know that, so you resign to whinging softly, acknowledging the last two blows.

He spanks you again.

"Fffour!" You struggle; the heat in your asscheeks and between your thighs is almost unbearable. You can practically feel the welts rising on your skin, the buzzing energy there creating perfect ghost-touches of the utensil.

The last blow strikes you so hard that you hear it ringing in your ears. It cracks like lightning up your spine, settling deep in your cunt as you wail on the final number.

"Fiiiveee~" Sobs escape you, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes at the relief and the intense need to be touched, to ride out an orgasm that had built up so much it felt like your legs were going to fall out from underneath you. You're shaking at the knees, relying heavily on the support of the table to keep you upright.

"Such a good girl, Sugar. You did so good," he murmurs, smoothing your skin with a light touch as he moves to his knees behind you. He kisses behind your trembling knees, your left first, and then your right. He trails the tip of his nose up the back of your right thigh, noting the whines of desperation that escape you.

"Mhmm. These," he whispers, pressing gentle and loving kisses to the swell of your stinging asscheeks, "These are my favourite cakes," he subtly teases you, and you laugh out weakly at his playful, cheeky side returning. Though, the laughter doesn't last long as he moves his mouth between your legs to trace his tongue over your still-clothed cunt.

"But nothing beats the taste of this..." he groans out, the sweet tang of your arousal painting his tongue. He holds your hip in one hand, thumbs tracing gentle patterns on your hipbone while he uses the other to tug your panties to the side.

"If you haven't learnt your lesson about stealing, I can think of another way to punish you," he rasps, nose nudging at your clit.

Needless to say, you dipped your fingers into the batter bowl once more.

Maybe twice.

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