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wardenparker · 4 months

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New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x plus size reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Kingsman Golden Circle #new years eve #new years fic #idiots in love #pining #the love is requited they're just dumb

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psychedelic-ink · 10 months

Text

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

pairing: stripper!jack daniels x f!reader

genre: stripper AU, explicit, minors dni

word count: 6.5k

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

chapter summary: you bump into "whiskey" at the farmer's market and learn more about him.

warnings: awkward moments, fluff, mutual pining, sexual tension, bondage via jack's belt, piv, oral (female receiving), praise kink, fingering, dirty talking, brief mention of jack being widowed, angst & arguing at the end

a/n: sadly no stripping in this one folks but I promise we're gonna get some more (and our happy ending) in part three!

part two of i can feel your heartbeat

dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜

You don’t visit the farmer’s market as often as you used to but when you do, man, do you love it.

It’s almost therapeutic. You love the gentle morning sun warming your skin, you love the scent of fresh produce wafting through the air. You enjoy looking at the colorful display of flowers. While you walk, you look up into the sky, the clouds looking fluffier than ever. A soft wind blows and ruffles the leaves of the trees, the sound of it strong enough to make you believe you’re in another, more exciting world.

The crowd mimics the motion of waves in the sea. You follow the current, not having a particular stand in mind. The only thing on your list is buying some fresh fruit; some juicy peaches, and maybe some strawberries.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice a man stepping into your path until it's too late.

With an unexpected jolt, you collide into him, your momentum abruptly halting. Startled, you blink and take a step back, a mix of embarrassment and surprise washing over you.

It’s then that you notice an item slipping from his bag, plummeting toward the ground.

In that split second, your senses heighten, and you catch a whiff of familiar leather and a trace of a perfume that sparks a distant memory. But you can't dwell on it for long as your gaze fixates on what has fallen—a meticulously hand-carved wooden horse.

The delicate figurine lies there, its intricate details captivating your attention. The sunlight dances upon its smooth surface, casting intricate shadows that accentuate the craftsmanship. It is a thing of beauty, captivating in its simplicity and elegance.

You kneel down, carefully picking up the wooden horse. Its weight in your hand feels grounding. Your fingertips trace the curves and contours, marveling at the artistry that brings it to life.

Distracted by the wooden horse, you momentarily forget about the man with whom you collided. But as you rise to your feet, you finally take notice of him, standing there with a surprised expression on his face. Recognition flickers in his eyes, and a smile slowly curves his lips; meanwhile, you’re absolutely shocked. Your mouth falls open and your eyes go wide at the sight of a cowboy hat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing almost every night.

“Whiskey?” you say in a hushed, yet loud, whisper. “W-What are you—”

His smile falters at the sound of his stage name, it seems to you that he’s forgotten that you don’t actually know his birth-given name. He crowds your space, the scent of pine filling the air, unmistakable and comforting. When you part your lips the second time, it’s to apologize, but before you can, he claps a hand over your mouth and gently pushes you towards the back of one of the market stalls. Your heart races, his grip firm yet strangely gentle.

The rough surface of wood meets your back. You feel the subtle grooves and indentations beneath your palms and a shiver runs down your spine as his intense stare penetrates your defenses. He breathes heavily through his nostrils, lips a thin line.

“It’s Jack,” he grunts, almost begrudgingly. “My name’s Jack.”

“Jack,” you say, enjoying the way his name rolls off of your tongue. Then your brows furrow with realization. “Wait, is that why you call yourself Whiskey? Like, Jack, as in Jack Daniels?”

He gives you a pained expression, the corner of his lips lifting, “Guess my last name.”

“Nooooo,” you let out a hushed gasp. “Your last name is Daniels?”

“I told you my real name wasn’t any less embarrassin’.”

You tut with a grin, “You poor thing.”

He inches closer, leg almost between your thighs but not quite. Jack always makes his presence known. He is used to being center stage, garnering all the attention and whisking anyone away from their thoughts. His very being overwhelming and affective. You stiffen as awareness starts creeping in— the large hand cupping the column of your neck, his body imposing as it blankets yours, the thick wood behind your back. In the distance, you still hear the clamoring of people. Your breath catches in your throat, he’s only an inch away.

Your fingers twitch and you remember the wooden horse he’d dropped.

“Um, I think this is yours,” you blurt out, handing him the carving. He’s briefly startled but then pulls away, taking it from you. “It’s lovely by the way. Where’d you get it?”

“I. . . uh. . . I made it,” he mutters, tilting his head forward. Hiding from you.

“You made it?”

He nods and steps away from you.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” you tease, pushing yourself away from the market wall. You follow him into the crowd. “You’re truly a man of many talents. . . Jack.”

“Don’t make me regret tellin’ you my name.”

“I won’t,” you answer with a hint of mischief. You eye the bags he’s holding. “Are all of those wood carvings?”

“Yea,” he says. “I bring them for my mother-in-law, she sells them along with other stuff.”

“You—” your mouth dries and you swallow around the know forming rapidly in your throat. “Wait, you told me you were single.”

“Widowed.”

He says it in a way that doesn’t allow for any follow-up questions. His voice is curt, nonchalant. Tearing your gaze away from the crowd, you stare at him, your heart squeezing in your chest. You want to hold him, whether it's a hug or just a delicate brush of your fingers. You want him to know that you're here for him.

But you just can’t.

If you two hadn’t bumped into each other, he wouldn’t have ever told you. This was a truth that was spoken due to circumstance, not something he wanted to admit and that makes you feel incredibly guilty. “I’m sorry,” is the only thing you’re able to say.

You might be imagining it, but you think he starts walking closer to you. His hand brushes your waist and pulls you close—right then you realize you were about to crash into some poor unsuspecting woman with enough goods to feed an army.

He snorts, “You really out to be more careful, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, distracted by the hand cupping your side. The woman had already disappeared into the crowd but he’s still holding you close. Heat drips down your spine.

“What’s your favorite animal?”

The question takes you by surprise but you indulge him with an answer, “Foxes.”

“Hmm,” he looks down at his bag. “Darn, I don’t think I made a fox.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” a nervous chuckle bubbles from your lips. He makes a sound and the two of you continue walking through the crowd. When you reach almost the end of the stalls, he stops you.

“Wait here,” he says. “I’ll drop these off and we can look around together.”

“O-Oh you don’t have to—”

“If today is any indication you can’t function properly without me, sunshine,” he grins. “You’ll probably headbutt a fruit stand or somethin’.”

You stand there, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaves you. Your eyes trace his figure until he stops beside a middle-aged, elegant-looking blond woman at a nearby stand. They engage in conversation, their voices carrying faintly to your ears.

They seem comfortable in each other's presence, their conversation carrying a lightness that betrays a shared history. Her smile lights up her face, and for a moment, her eyes meet yours. You feel a jolt of nervousness, your instinct urging you to avert your gaze, fearing that you may be intruding upon a private moment.

You don’t want to pry, but you would be damned if you said you weren’t hungry for more information. . . .among other things.

Soon Jack returns, the bags he carried earlier now gone. His presence draws you back to the present, grounding you in the here and now. “You ready to go?” he asks.

“Sure.”

When your eyes find the woman’s once more, she waves at the both of you. Jack tilts his hat as he places his hand protectively over the small of your back, heat seeping through the fabric of your shirt and into your skin. You stumble for a moment before waving back.

You’re not sure how to react to any of this. Seeing Jack outside of the strip club feels forbidden, in a way. Like a certain spell has been broken. Before you knew his name it was easy to pretend your growing emotions were nothing other than you enoying the attention he was giving you. But now you’re in the real world. He has his hand on your back unprompted and is willing to walk around with you at the farmer’s market. In the club, a curtain of illusion looms most of the time. It’s another world. A separate little nook where you can disappear into and be pampered in.

That spell is broken now.

He’s a real person. Your emotions are real. Everything is.

And that terrifies you.

With the heel of his palm pressed firmly against the steering wheel, Jack parks in your driveway. Your eyes drop to his lap where his legs are spread, an enticing view by any means. His belt buckle shines under the street light coming through the windshield. The soft yellow softens the edges of his face, giving him an almost somber look.

He kills the engine, you wait for him to speak but he doesn’t say anything.

“Thank you for dropping me off,” you say, breaking the silence. You unwillingly grip the latch of the door. “So,” you add.

“So,” he clears his throat, and drags a thumb down the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see you around darlin’. Today was nice.”

“Yeah. It was.”

The two of you had ended up spending time together until the sun had set. You even had dinner together which was a pleasant surprise. It wasn’t awkward then, so you have no idea why you feel so unnerved right now. It’s as if your entire vocabulary had dropped from your head.

You swallow, thinking of your next words very carefully, “Would you. . . like to come in? I have a bottle of wine.”

Time seems to slow down, every sound around you amplified. The cacophony of crickets fills the night air, a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees. You hold your breath as the car emits a soft creak. The muscle in his jaw twitches. He seems hesitant, his eyes glazed as if looking at the horizon. You shouldn’t have asked. Just because he was friendly doesn’t mean he wants to date, or have a relationship. And from what you’ve learned today, there is a very high chance that Jack wouldn’t be interested in any form of intimacy.

“Sure,” he finally says, his voice rough. “Lead the way, sugar.”

Despite the hot summer air, your skin is ice cold. He follows you inside, his body close yet painfully far at the same time. The skin at the base of your spine tingles. You have a feeling that he wants to wrap his arms around you but it remains only a thought. Briefly you imagine the phantom feel of his limbs coiling around you, the warmth you would feel.

You quickly unlock the door and invite him inside. You’re not sure what to do now that he’s in your apartment. Hands in his pockets, he gives his surroundings a quick once-over.

“Cozy,” he says.

“Thanks,” you mumble, not sure if that was a compliment or not. “So, wine?” without waiting for an answer you head to the kitchen. Jack follows. You're desperately racking your brain for conversation topics that won't be awkward, but your mind seems determined to make your life miserable by providing no ideas.

“Today was fun,” you say, reaching for the glasses. He makes a sound of approval and your gut simmers with something unpleasant. You grab the bottle of wine from the fridge and the cork from the drawer. With a frown, you struggle with pulling out the cork. “I hope. . .” you pull at it again. “you had fun. . .” you let out a loud grunt, too distracted to realize he’s rounding the small island. “. . . too—shit!”

Jack is right behind you when the cork finally comes loose and sends your arm flying back.

Your elbow slams loudly against something hard and pointy, the pain that blossoms from skin to bone immediate. Jack lets out a shout and when you turn you see him hunched over, holding his chin.

Oh god, you’re a moron.

“What were you doing behind me!?” you chide, your voice shrill.

“I should be the one fuckin’ yellin’,” he hisses, each word bouncing against the back of his teeth. He breathes heavily through his nose and slowly stands back up. He moves his jaw as if he’s testing if it’s broken. “I was gonna offer help. It didn’t look like you were gettin’ anywhere with the bottle.”

Your chest heaves, heart pounding maniacally beneath the cage, “I’m so so so sorry,” you say quickly. “I—I wasn’t paying attention. Do you need anything? Should I get the first aid kit?”

He’s still moving his jaw when his eyes meet yours. You hear the faint clicking of bone, the sound ominous to your ears. “Sorry,” you whisper again, feeling like a parrot.

Jack’s gaze grows softer the longer he stares at you. Momentarily his eyes flutter closed. He takes a deep breath and opens them back up again. The air around you is still, the only sound not drowned by the drum of your heart is the faint traffic coming from outside. With long strides, he’s at you in an instant, his body feeling larger than life itself. His fingers gingerly brush your cheek and you swear you feel electricity crackling across the skin.

“I should be the one apologizin’. It’s my fault for sneaking up on you like that,” he sighs, turning his hand, he drags his knuckles down your face. You’re reminded of the first time he danced for you, how he wrapped his hands around your neck. “I didn’t mean to shut down like that. Of course, I had fun today. I’m glad we ran into each other.”

In order to avoid appearing desperate and insecure, you sink your teeth into the tip of your tongue, consciously refraining from uttering the question: "Really?"

“That’s good,” you say instead, hating how unsure you sound. He definitely thinks that you don’t believe him. “For a while there I felt bad. I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Well, you didn’t.”

“Okay.”

His touch feels good on your skin. You don’t ever want him to leave, at least, not for tonight. It’s odd really, you’ve been much closer than this before but this feels more intimate, more nerve-wracking. His head tilts towards the bottle, the corner’s of his mouth curling up.

“Now pour us what’s left in the bottle.”

You’re grinning now, a sound between a chuckle and a snort dropping from your lips, “Okay.”

Jack picks up the glasses of wine as you lead him to the living room. You can definitely sense an energy shift between you two. You don’t need to force yourself to fill the silence anymore. Everything is more natural, just like it was before.

“I’m just glad you didn’t get my nose,” he says as he takes a seat on the couch. “It would’ve been bad for business.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you roll your tongue. “People love a rugged handsome man with a bit of blood.”

As soon as you sit, his arm comes up to lay above the backrest. His fingers draw patterns across your skin; stars, hearts, circles. Your muscles tighten, nipples left tingling at his touch. You breathe out slowly. Jack shuffles closer and spreads his legs, his knee digging into the meat of your thigh. His thumb smooths over the stem of the wine glass. You have his full focus, gaze brimming with intrigue.

“Is that what you like?” Every word is said tantalizingly slow, you shudder. “A bit of blood.”

Not the blood, you want to say, but the thought of someone stepping in to be a shield for me.

The words don’t come however and you just stare, your cheeks warm as he continues to toy with the small hairs scattered across the back of your neck. You’re actually glad you managed not to answer. You’re not sure if he’d want to stay after hearing it. There’s just something so intoxicating about another person caring enough to want to protect you, no matter what happens. And your lizard brain just thinks it’s hot. You’re aware it’s not the strangest thing but still, you don’t think it’s the best course of action to admit this to your stripper.

Well, not your stripper. He doesn’t belong to anyone but you digress.

“Tell me whatcha thinkin’ pretty girl,” he spreads his fingers around your nape, gently squeezing the side. You practically purr at the pressure. “You should know by now that I’m good at keepin’ secrets.”

The reminder brings a rush of warmth between your legs. You squirm and bring the glass of wine to your lips, taking two large gulps. “I don’t know what I’m thinking,” you answer, swallowing at the same time. “Besides you already know what the people want, don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“I do,” he hums. “But right now I’m more interested in what you want, sugar.”

“You. . .” you furrow your brows. “What?”

Placing the wine glass on the coffee table, he leans closer. His lips are tinted from the wine. “What do you want, darlin’?” he pressed his palm flat on your thigh. “Because to me, it seems like you have an itch you just can’t seem to scratch.”

Holy freaking hell.

You’re a goner— what kind of steamy cowboy romance book did this man climb out of?

“What about you?”

Your question startles him and his fingers twitch around your thigh, “What do you mean ‘what about me’?”

“Well,” you shrug. “What do you want?”

You’re giving yourself mental pats on the back for keeping your voice leveled. The fabric of your underwear is damp with arousal, your clit throbbing and aching for his fingers. There’s a storm raging inside you. A storm that you’re glad he’s not able to witness. You keep your breathing even. Nice and slow. His hand starts sliding up your leg, stopping when he reaches the crease between your legs. He smiles.

“I want to fuck you, darlin'.”

You hold your breath, your pussy bottoming out at his deep southern drawl. He leans in, lips brushing your ear before gently nipping the hard shell. Electricity spikes up your spine, a strangled moan parting your lips.

“I want to fuck you slow,” he continues on, tongue wet and warm over your skin. “Then I want to fuck you hard. I want to look in your eyes as you come for me again, sunshine.” without warning Jack cups your sex, fingers digging into your clothed folds. Your head snaps up, every bone going rigid in your body. “Want to feel that pretty pussy chokin’ my cock.”

You’re shaking and your ears are left ringing. It’s just one touch. One touch and your entire body is locked up, aching, begging. Your jaw hurts from how hard you’re clenching your teeth. He blows a puff of air, goosebumps rising over your skin. He kisses your neck, such a gentle, fleeting feeling. All blood gathers under his lips, pounding. You swallow.

“Your turn,” he rasps, circling your clit with two fingers. “What do you want, gorgeous?”

“I—I—” you look down to where his hand is, the sight knocking the air from your lungs. He’s actually touching you, fingers deep between your legs. Sweat beads at your temple. “I want that too.”

“Hm?” he’s amused, you can tell. A tone you’d grown accustomed to that you both hate and adore. You refuse to look at him. “You like the sound of that, pretty girl? Me fucking this neglected pussy? Has a man ever made you come before, sunshine?”

You don’t want to answer but you forget that silence is an answer on its own. “What is this a questionnaire?” His eyes glimmer under the dimmed light, how can he look so delighted while taking you apart you’ll never know.

“I’m takin’ that as a no,” he tuts and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor thing.”

You might not admit it, but that doesn’t make him any less right. You haven’t really been lucky when it came to previous sexual endeavors. None of them really made you that comfortable to just let go. There were some that came really close, and some felt good despite you not finishing—some were just downright bad at it— That’s why his dance had surprised you. He worked you up so thoroughly and that added with the thought that you’d never see him again bred the perfect ground for you to just relax.

You had no idea the end result would be him in your apartment, telling you how badly he wanted to fuck you. If this is a dream you never want to wake up from it.

His hands slide to your hip, holding you tight as he leans over. You gasp when you feel his lips, so soft, so tender. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip hungrily, not asking but demanding to be let inside. You part your lips with a feverish groan and he slips inside. You seize him by the collar, pulling him closer, wanting more of him. Your head spins as he tilts his head, shoving more of him inside you, your tongue eagerly backing down so he takes full control. He squeezes the breath out of you, swallowing your tender moans of his name.

Jack’s hand tenderly cups your cheek as he pulls away, a string of saliva still connecting you two together. You breathe heavily, your lips stinging in the best way. Your eyes flit over his face. His lips kiss swollen, chocolate eyes a shade darker. With a thumb, he tugs down your bottom lip and swallows.

“Take me to your bedroom.”

“I’ve never seen you take off your clothes so fast before.”

He snorts, “Shut up. I ain’t on the clock. You think that’s how I undress all the time? I would get nothin’ else done.”

Jack unbuckles his belt while you take in the sight of his bare torso. A shudder crawls up your spine at the sound of the metal buckle coming loose. He has a smooth chest, which you already knew but still, to have it all to yourself makes your entire mouth water.

Your eyes drop when he rips the belt away with one smooth motion. Anticipation stirs in your chest, causing your eyebrows to raise. Before you can avert your eyes, he catches your gaze, his trademark grin tugging at his mouth. Belt still in hand, he comes closer. With a gentle touch, Jack's hands grasp the fabric of your shirt. Carefully, he pulls upward, the fabric gradually lifts, revealing the tender skin beneath. You instinctively raise your arms for him and he slids it completely off, leaving you in nothing else but your bra.

He dips down, kissing the soft swell of your breasts, one by one, “Can’t do anythin’ without me,” he says with no conviction. His lips move over your skin. “My helpless sweetheart.”

You barely hear the second part of his sentence, he had uttered the words softly, just above a whisper. The words resonate in you, short-circuiting your brain and shutting out unrelated thoughts. You like this. You like him taking care of you, guiding you. His tone holds no pity, only care.

His thumb follows the lace of your bra, tongue tasting the salt of your skin. You whine as your knees weeken, his mouth has no right feeling this good. He cups them from underneath and slowly pushes the satin fabric up, calloused palm grazing your peaked nipples. He swirls his tongue around the areola then closes his lips around the hardened flesh. Your back arches, filling his mouth with more of you. He groans as he opens his mouth wider, teeth softly caressing the skin.

“Jaack,” you breathe out as you shift from one leg to the other. Your panties stick uncomfortably to your core. You palm him through his jeans, feeling the weight of him. He sucks your nipple harder, pinching the other one. You want to taste him. “Let me,” you say, already going down.

Much to your surprise, he stills your movements. “No,” he groans. “Let me take care of you first.”

He pushes your arms behind you, locking your wrists together with one hand. Your breath stills when you feel the leather of his belt circling your wrists. “Can I?” he asks, breath fanning your neck.

Your stomach flips and not trusting yourself to remain upright, you brace yourself by dropping your forehead to his shoulder. Your entire body is winded. You place a small, chaste kiss over his clavicle, his chest raises with a deep inhale.

“Just promise this isn’t where you tie me up and steal my watch,” you joke, immediately regretting it when you look up to see his brows drawn together, a small snarl tracing his lips. “Sorry, that was in bad taste.”

“We don’t have to,” he says, his grip around your hands loosening. “And if we do we can stop whenever. I just. . .” he swallows thickly. Anticipation burrows into your skin. “I like the idea of you trustin’ me to make you feel good.”

“I do trust you,” you answer quickly. “And I want to. I just wasn’t aware how much I wanted it which is why I made that dumb joke.”

“I’m sure you can make it up to me,” he answers with a crooked grin. Suddenly, he tightens the belt around you and you let out a quick gasp, his lips are on your instantly, teeth nipping at your chin. “Does this feel okay?” he asks, slightly tugging on the leather.

It’s funny how such a simple thing can alter one’s mindset. You’re almost subdued, in a way, completely at his mercy. However, you don’t feel helpless either. His heavy palms move up and down your arms, you quiver as you drip for him, wetness gathering between your folds. You’re breathing heavily, heart bellowing in your chest, loud and strong. His skin against yours feels warmer somehow.

“Yeah,” you answer. “Feels more than okay.”

You hear the smile in his voice, “Well a’right then,” he helps you towards the bed, you drop head first into the pillows, hands securely at your back. His lips brush the tender skin between your shoulder blades. “Gonna taste this sweet pussy now, sunshine. I’ve been eager for dessert.”

“God, the mouth on you,” you swallow, feeling his breath ghosting your wet core. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Not yet,” he sighs, kissing right where the curve of your ass begins. “First I gotta make you come.”

You’re in the midst of thinking of a quip to answer with when you feel it. The wet, warmth of his tongue gliding up between your folds. Your body coils and unwinds almost simultaneously. He moves his jaw, pushing his tongue deeper. He traces your entrance with a pointed tip, licking himself deeper. The sound he makes are sinful—loud in the silence of the room.

Your wrists strain against the restraint, you push back wanting more of him. He groans into you, the reverberations seeping into your cunt. You’re withering helplessly, heat coiling tight in your stomach as your insides flutter and clench around nothing. Jack parts you with two fingers, his teeth like daggers against the sensitive flesh. With a loud cry, you feel your slick dripping out of you, making a mess of his face.

“That’s my girl,” he rasps, giving you another fat stroke of his tongue. His hand comes up to your asscheek, kneading the flesh playfully. You relax at the touch and drool over the pillows. It’s too much, yet not nearly enough. He circles his tongue around your throbbing clit and sucks it between his lips, you jolt at the pleasure and wiggle helplessly.

He gives you a gentle, yet firm, smack on the ass. A whimper echoes in your throat, your eyes shutting closed as your nails bite into your sweaty palms. “Settle,” he warns, voice deep and rich like molasses. “Use your words when you want something darlin’. Or else you ain’t getting it.”

You make a sound between a choke and a moan, despite your non-answer answer, he seems to understand.

“You want my fingers, sweetheart?”

You nod, another moan slipping from your lips.

He presses his lips over the heated skin and you keen at the soft touch of his mouth. “Can’t wait to be filled, hm?” he grins “You think you’re wet enough to take two, darlin’?”

The tips of his fingers press against your entrance, his touch nothing but a tease. “Yeah,” you answer, voice hoarse. He kisses your core before pushing two fingers in, they slide in easily, the sound of how et you are making you shudder.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuckin’ soaked for her cowboy.”

He moves his fingers in and out of your slickened depths, coating them. His tongue returns to your cunt, your head left spinning as his talented tongue flicks, licks, and swirls. He moves his fingers in time with his tongue, plunging deeper into your sopping core.

Jack’s free hand roams your body, cupping your breasts as the intensity of his movements increases. His thumb brushes your hard nipple as he pulls you closer to his mouth, greedy to take more of you. Sparks of pleasure zig-zag through your body and you gasp as pleasure heaves through you.

Your hips buck as he moves his fingers faster, slipping them in then out with a maddening rhythm. His tongue slides faster and harder against your clit and you arch your back. You feel yourself clenching around his fingers, pleasure building and building until you’re a trembling mass panting for release.

Jack’s fingers fill you up to the brim, your inner walls quivering and contracting around them, eager for more. He pinches your nipples, sending shivers up your spine. You gasp and cry out as you build up towards your peak, trembling against him.

Finally, with one final thrust of his fingers and swipe of his tongue, you let out a loud moan as your orgasm rocks your entire body. Your walls weakly gripping his fingers as the pleasure spreads through your body, leaving you a boneless, exhausted mess.

He pulls his fingers from you and kisses your neck tenderly. “Oh darlin’,” his deep voice whispers into your ear before trailing kisses down your jaw. “Look at you, fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His cock lays heavy above your ass, smearing precum across your skin. You whimper, rolling your hips back, showing him what you need. His breath hitches. He meets your movements, slowly, grinding onto you.

“You want my cock?”

“Y-Yes, please,” your eyes roll as he teases you with the fat tip of his lenght. But before he fills you, a longing stirs in your chest. “Wait,” you gasp and he still in an instant, without looking at him you know his eyes are painted with worry. “I want to see you.”

“See me?” he repeats slowly, as if the words are foreign to his tongue.

“Please,” you add. “I want to touch you too.”

Swiftly, he unties you and throws the belt to the floor. Your arms drop loosely to your sides, a pleasant ache stirring in your muscles. Jack turns you side ways, your thighs offering him a velvet entrance to your tight heat. He caresses your back, his touch soothing. When your gaze meet his, there’s a slightly hesitation in them. Almost like he’s afraid of something.

“Is this alright?” he asks and you nod, reaching out to him. He sighs as your arms weakly wrap themselves around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

While your tongues intertwine, he enters you. Just like he promised, he does it slowly, every ridge felt by you. You tear away from him with a gasp, you’re overwhelmed by the size of him, stretching your sensitive cunt perfectly. When he’s buried himself in your completey, he pulls out in an equally slow manner. Your jaw drops wide, your walls trembling at the slow guide. The inside of your thighs shake. With only the tip inside, he pushes forward, slowly. Your nails bite into his back, tension coiling in your stomach as he presses his lips against yours once more.

“So warm,” he groans, eyes staring deep into yours. “Fuckin’ pussy was made for me.”

“Yes,” you cry out, holding him closer. “Made for you, Jack. Made for your cock.”

His hips stutter and your eyes go wide, a gutteral moan tainting your lips. “Please,” you beg. “Please, please, please—”

“Please. . . what, darlin’?” his lips brush your teary eyelids.

“Fuck me,” you whisper. “I-It’s too much, please just fuck me. Stop teasing.”

“Alright, sugar. I won’t.”

There’s a small window of clarity where the softness of his voice catches you off guard, but that feeling is quickly replaced by the overwhelming strike of pleasure hitting your spine. His demeanour completely changes. Slow and sensual grind of his hips becoming fast and merciless, he snaps into you, length gliding against a spot you can barely reach with your fingers. He breathes into your neck. Your mind is in a complete haze, the four walls around you dssapearing from existence.

You yelp when he flips you over to your back, spreading your trembling legs wide, his thumb falls on your clit and he begins to draw fast, precise circles around the bundle of nerves. You scream his name, pulsing around him as he fucks you deeper, harder until you’re coming undone around him once again.

You squeeze him tight before gushing around him, your back arching almost painfully with his continued thrusts. Pleasure rolls over your body in the form of tidal waves, and just as you’re coming down from your high, he pulls out, spilling over your stomach.

You look at him blearily, eyes barely able to focus on the heavy way his chest moves. He breathes heavily, the muscles that surround his stomach tense. Before you can utter a word, Jack dips down, claiming your lips in a heady kiss that you can only describe as a finality.

Jack parts away and hops off of the bed.

Your eyes widen, confusion swirling in them. Why is he getting dressed? You’re still within a heavy haze of pleasure, your surroundings feeling disoriented and dreamlike. With a weak hand, you reach towards him, hoping the action will convey to him not to go.

Jack already has one leg shoved into his pants when he sees you. Helpless. Needy. Your heart suddenly feels too big for your chest, tears build in your eyes. He hasn’t said anything yet, but you know. You just do.

He’s quick to clamber over to you, dropping to his knees and taking your hand into his own before dragging damp lips over your knuckles. Your chest heaves. You don’t want him to go.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice choked. “I can’t stay.”

“Why?”

He ignores your question, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stop by the club either, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap. He stiffens at your tongue, shoulders raising. He still has your hand enclosed in his. Your eyes sting. “I thought. . . I thought you liked me. . .”

You hate the way your voice cracks. You hate seeing the remorse in his eyes. You hate how tortured he looks, as if you’re the one hurting him.

“This ain’t gonna work out. Whatever it is.”

“Then why even come here? Why even. . .” you viciously pull your hand back, startling him. He stands as you straighten, leaning against the bed rest. You reek of sweat and sex. Marks of him, all of it, on you, on the bed, on the pillows. You cross your arms over your chest, refusing to pull up a blanket over your naked body. Refusing to be ashamed.

It doesn’t matter. Embarrassment sears your skin.

He doesn’t answer and you realize. Your heart lurches, your stomach dropping and churning uncomfortably. You can’t breathe—fuck, you can’t breathe.

“This was a goodbye,” you say coldly, the next words you whisper, broken. “That’s why you were distracted in the kitchen. You knew this was going to be a one-time thing.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, surprising you, “I thought somewhere along the way you would’ve figured that out too,” he snarls. “Wans’t it obvious from the start this couldn’t go anywhere?”

“It wasn’t obvious to me!” your hands drop from your chest and you’re crawling off the bed to meet him halfway. Just as you’re stepping down, your knees gave way beneath you, still weak. Jack takes a step forward and catches you, one arm securely wrapped around your torso. You push him away. “Fuck you—stop being nice to me!”

“Fuck me?” he repeats, bewildered. “Fuck you! I was just tryin’ to help.”

“Oh please, you were just helping yourself,” you hiss between gritted teeth. “Spare me any favors!”

Silence falls, the air still crackling with tension. You breathe heavily. Both your gazes remain locked on one another, both of you refusing to step down. You feel like a wounded animal, trying to bite back after being kicked.

“Just because someone does the bare minimum,” he says slowly, pulling up his pants. “Don’t mean their kind. I’m not the type of person you think I am, I’m just savin’ you the trouble of figuring it out yourself.”

He shakes his head, tormented.

“I’m sorry whoever it was who hurt you. I’m sorry they made you believe that every person is a shithead that’ll treat you like crap—but that just ain’t true. They are better people out there,” he sighs and pulls his shirt over his head. “I hate the way you look at me.”

“I look at you the same way I look at everyone else.”

“No, you don’t,” he smiles and all oxygen leaves your lungs. It’s a broken smile, the corners of his lips twitch. “You look at me like I’m more than I am. I can’t handle it. Not again.”

Not again.

What does that mean? What happened? What’s again?

The face of the elderly blond woman you barely saw flashes before your eyes. His mother-in-law. You shrink under his gaze, guilt, and regret coursing through your veins. You didn’t ask him how she died. He didn’t let you as and you figured he’d tell you when the time was right.

Now it looks like such a time won’t ever come.

“I’m sorry,” he says for how many times you lost count. His voice cracks. “This is the best for you, I promise, sunshine.”

He leaves and you break.

The way he said sunshine. . . it echoes in the loud emptiness of your bedroom.

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

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anabdaniels · 20 days

Text

Rodeo prizes

Paring: Joel Miller x Female reader x Agent Whiskey

Summary: After meet Jack and Joel, you couldn't resist the idea of get into their bed.

Word counting: 1.6k

Rating: +18

Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, double penetration, p in v sex, anal sex, face sitting, slight voyeurism, aftercare.

A/N: I don't even know what to say about this one. Highly inspired by the masterpiece written by @cerridwen007.

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

You never thought a simple tour on the rodeo could get so out of hand.

Yet, there you were, sitting on Jack’s face while he was eating you out and having Joel’s hand wrapped in your hair as you moaned with your mouth full of his cock.

Yes, definitely not a common Saturday night.

You started to flirt with both of them just for fun, but at some point, you were fully conscious that if any of them wanted to take you to their bed, you would say yes without flinching. You just weren’t expecting the proposal to involve both of them at the same time, and you expected even less your positive answer.

Any hesitant thoughts you could have vanished once both of them had their hands all over you, making you realize that their rough exterior had been completely undone while they showered you with kisses and praises, letting you free to put your dubious fantasies into practice. The last one was the reason why you ended up kneeling on the mattress with Joel standing next to the bed with his cock weighing on your tongue while your rationality was extinguished at each move of Jack’s mouth on your soaked cunt.

You were for sure loving every crumb of that, bucking your hips back and forth without even realize as you eagerly sucked and savored every inch of Joel you could, one hand resting on his stomach while the other squeezed the hand Jack had resting on one of your thighs.

As the knot in your lower stomach grew, you knew you would have to throw the towel; the soft scratches on your scalp and tugs on your hair Joel was providing you with along with the hoarse moans coming from him and Jack weren’t doing any favor to your self-control, so you didn’t try to keep it, letting go of the cock on your mouth, you rested your forehead on Joel’s stomach while you sank your nails on Jack’s wrist, rubbing yourself against his face, crying out when his nose nudged your clit, sending your over the edge, making you wet all over his face and start to melt, being promptly grabbed by Joel.

“She’s so responsive, isn’t she?” Joel’s voice came out husky as he petted your head.

“And tastes like heaven.” Jack’s voice came from behind you and you sighed when he planted a kiss on your shoulder, his lips and mustache still moist with your juices. You remained still for a moment as you enjoyed your laziness post-orgasm, biting your bottom lip as you felt both of the men soothingly caressing your skin.

Sitting on his heels, Jack pulled you to his lap, biting your nape and caressing your hips, resulting in you squirming and sighing with Jack’s throbbing erection pressing against your buttcheek. You were about to tilt your head, but Joel grabbed your jaw, making you look at him, causing your whole body to feel like your skin was burning. You squealed and sank your nails into Jack’s thigh as you felt his hard length sliding between your buttocks, slowly stretching your tight hole, making you give up and let your eyelids fall as your eyes rolled back. Jack smirked as you melted on his lap, wrapping one arm around your waist and softly nibbling your shoulder with one hand sinking in your hair. Unquestioningly you were about to turn into a puddle, what didn’t get better as Joel’s warm chest touched your torso, already convincing you that being the middle part of that sandwich was for sure a life-changing experience.

Needing an enormous effort, you opened your eyes to watch Joel effortlessly sinking his cock into your dripping cunt, taking a loud moan out of you; if you ever got told that someday you would be squashed between two southern cowboys, you would have laughed out of pure disbelief, but being living that situation, you started to ask yourself why took you so long to give it a try. You knew that every possible inch of you was filled by both of them and you couldn’t be more satisfied by it.

Jack occupied himself with kissing and nibbling the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulder as his hands moved to the front of your body, groping your breasts and rubbing your hardened sensitive nipples, causing you to whimper and melt under his touch. Savoring every detail of the beautiful view of you being all cockdrunk, Joel kept his gaze glued on every little part of your body, letting his calloused hands squeeze your soft stomach and caress your hips, smirking at the little squeal you let out as both he and Jack began to move more intensively.

“Y’such a precious lil’ thing, sugar.” Jack teased and nibbled your earlobe, making sure to let out a heavy breath against your ear. You were just about to turn your head to look at him while still processing his words, but Joel grabbed your jaw before you could do it, making you look into his eyes.

“For sure an unfairly pretty doll.” Joel praised while caressing under your chin, then leaned to kiss you, ruining the little crumbs of breath you still had, taking a deep sigh of you when his gray beard softly scratched your face. When Joel leaned back and broke the kiss, you inhaled slowly to catch your breath, but Jack didn’t give you the chance, turning your head gently and kissing you hungrily while wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you steady as he increased his pace once again. You could only whimper while your hand rested on his arm, scratching his skin hard.

As he felt your throbbing cunt squeezing his cock, Joel leaned to savor your slightly sweat skin, trailing kisses from your neck to between your breasts, then moving to softly suck one of your nipples. You contorted abruptly with that, making both of the men groan with the sudden motion of your hips. Needing to catch your breath, you had to break the kiss, leaning your head back and resting your nape on Jack’s shoulder as one of your hands sank into Joel’s hair.

The much you knew your body, you were aware that that knot on your lower stomach wasn’t being caused by the soft nudges of Joel’s cock against your cervix or because Jack was balls-deep sinking into your ass, but the result of their unstoppable attempts to send you over the edge, especially when they were way too good at doing it. You tried to say something between your gasps and moans, but all that came out was an incomprehensible mumble.

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Jack questioned while gently kissing your cheek.

“I’m… I’m c-” You were once more interrupted by your whimper as your hips moved involuntarily again.

“We know, darlin’.” He whispered against your temple with his mustache softly scratching your skin.

You got the last straw as Joel softly brushed his teeth against your nipple, letting yourself go, squeezing their cocks hard as your whole body started having small spasms and, even though you had two handsome men to look at, you couldn’t do more than close your eyes hard, feeling every muscle of your body tensing up before you got slightly boneless with that almost overwhelming orgasm.

Your non-stopping moving and whimpering made Jack throw his composure out of the window, sinking his face into the curve of your neck, moaning against your skin as he emptied every drop of his cum inside you, causing you to arch your back and bite your bottom lip. Mesmerized by the delicious scene of both of you falling apart, Joel couldn’t do any better than join the moment, biting the other side of your neck and letting his face rest there as his hands grabbed your hips tight enough to leave a soft bruise, keeping you steady as his thrusts became erratic and he filled your pulsing cunt.

You didn’t bother to try to move, feeling completely boneless and drained. After a while, you realized that somehow you ended up on Joel’s lap with him soothingly caressing your back and kissing the top of your head. No much later you felt Jack gently spreading your legs and carefully cleaning you with a fresh towel that felt like a caress on your hipper sensitive skin.

Once you were clean, you moaned lazily as Joel made you sit straight on his lap and you needed a moment to process that what was placed on your hands was a glass of water. You drank every drop from that glass, just then realizing how exhausted you felt.

With too much delicacy for someone with that constant grumpy face, Joel settled you on your side on the bed and spooned you without second thoughts. After turning off the light, Jack joined the two of you on the bed, also holding you and kissing your head when you tucked your face against his chest.

“Can I ask something?” your voice came out quietly.

“Of course, darlin’.” Jack answered in the same tone and Joel just nodded lazily behind you.

“Do you guys have any plans for tomorrow?” you couldn’t help a smile as both of them chuckled.

“What a greedy lil’ lady.” Jack finished his statement with a kiss on your temple.

“Don’t worry, honey. We wouldn’t dare choose any plan over you.” Joel confirmed and kissed your nape, nuzzling his face against your skin.

Tagging: @missladym1981

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #Kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou #pedrostories

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palioom · 8 months

Text

bull ride

summary: out at a bar, jack watches you ride a mechanical bull and he can't wait to go home so you can ride the real thing.

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader word count: 2.0k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames); some swearing; dirty talk; unprotected p in v; public sex (kinda); spanking; jack being lowkey cringe

• masterlist •

This had been supposed to be just a nice little evening out at the bar in town. Just a few drinks, some food and each other's company.

What Jack hadn’t expected to happen was to watch his girl ride a mechanical bull while he had the hardest boner of his life. He hadn’t known that the bar had installed one of these things recently and he also hadn’t known that she was quite good at riding it.

Though he did know she was quite good at riding other things.

Jack watched her from his place at their table, sipping his whiskey as she was thrown back and forth, almost effortlessly moving with the mechanical beast. A laugh on her face the whole time, he swore she gave him a nasty little look whenever she faced him again, paired with a wink.

A wink that only made his dick throb harder.

Adjusting himself in his jeans, he stared at her bouncing breasts without any shame, a small hiss leaving him as he imagined her riding him like this. Moving back before she slid to the front again, pretending to wave a cowboy hat around with a loud laugh while the people around her cheered her on.

What a goddamn sight that was for his old cowboy heart. Seeing his girl ride a damn metal bull was as close as he’d ever get to see her ride the real thing.

She lasted an impressively long time, almost a minute long before she eventually got thrown off. Giggling and laughing all the while, her hair tousled and her face red when she came back to him. Adjusting her clothes as she walked.

And knowing immediately that he was horny as hell as she sat down opposite of him, the biggest grin on her face.

What a teasing little thing she was.

“I kinda wanna go again.” She said, sipping her own drink. The twinkle in her eye was playul, letting his blood boil hot.

“I know a different bull you can ride at home, sugar.” Jack replied with a wide grin, his dark mustache stretched wide over his white teeth. He shifted in place, his cock uncomfortably straining against the zipper of his jeans. “That one’s gonna be even more fun.”

A grin that matched his spread on her features, emptying the last of her drink while waving someone over to pay.

They had barely made it a quarter of the way home when he had to pull over, grabbing her by the chin to pull her into a hungry kiss, his fingers digging into her skin. Her hand reached out to palm him through his jeans, a low groan escaping him and tumbling right into her mouth.

He reluctantly pulled back, only to motion for her to get out and get into the truck bed of the Bronco. Needing her on his dick right now, riding him like she had that damn bull. The image still flickered in front of his eyes, the way she moved on that thing, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“Wanted to be a cowgirl too, huh?” Jack asked, when he sat down at the edge of the truck bed, his hands on her waist pulling her closer. Their lips met again, his tongue slipping into her mouth while her arms snaked around the back of his neck, almost knocking his hat off of him.

“Maybe.” She giggled in between kisses, feeling his hands move under the hem of her shirt, his fingertips ghosting over her hot skin.

Who would have known this would get him so hot and bothered? Just by holding onto that thing like her damn life had depended on it.

Well, in a way she definitely had known. It was one of the reasons she had suggested this bar over the other ones they frequented.

“Let’s see how long you can last on this bull, pretty cowgirl.”

His hands moved to her jeans, working the button open before pulling down the zipper. Thank fuck it was summer, Jack really couldn’t have waited all the way home if it was any colder than right now.

Her pussy was already wet when he let his hand wander into her pants, rubbing over the slick, wet spot that had formed on her panties. She whimpered against his lips, breaking from him to look down at where his hand vanished, finding her clit through her underwear and pressing against it with one thick finger.

Languid movements, chuckling at how her breath hitched in her throat and her hips bucked into his touch. Rubbing over it again and again, enjoying the sweet sounds that left her, gasping and moaning, her feet shuffling apart.

“Jack, please.” She moaned, her lips finding his again in a sloppy kiss, her hands cupping his cheeks. “Don’t tease me, please, baby.”

His finger pressed down harder before he moved his hand back, biting her lip when she whined in protest. Going from cocky to putty in his hands so quickly.

Such a sweet thing, helping him take off her pants, her own hands palming his hard cock, making him groan.

“You’ve been teasin’ me the whole time you were on that damn thing.” He said, yanking her underwear down her legs while she continued kissing him. “C’mon, darlin’, you know this bull needs that cowgirl to ride him.”

A giggle left her, helping him to quickly work open his pants and move them down far enough over his ass that his cock sprang free. Hard and angry, in some desperate need for attention.

Jack hoisted her up, her legs straddling his narrow hips. He really didn’t care that they were on the side of the road and any passing car could see them do this, they were practically in the middle of nowhere anyways.

Taking his hat off of his head, he placed it on hers with a smirk, his hand finding her hips again and squeezing the warm flesh hard. How pretty she looked like this, watching her take his cock in hand to line herself up with him before she slowly sank down.

A guttural sound left her, enjoying the way he stretched her open more and more with every inch, until she sat in his lap.

“Atta girl, lookin’ so pretty takin’ my dick.” He chuckled, giving her ass a sharp smack which made her gasp. “C’mon, show me up close how you rode that thing.”

As she started to move, bouncing in his lap while bracing herself on his broad chest, he leaned back onto his elbows, enjoying the show. Mesmerized by how his dick vanished inside of her tight pussy over and over again, glistening in the low lights.

It made it hard to not just cum instantly, her perfect tits jiggling with every movement, her head thrown back. All while she kept making those noises, unabashed and loud in the silence of the night.

“Oh, fuck, Jack.” She moaned, one of her hands moving to her own breast, kneading it, rolling her nipple between two fingers. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

He chuckled, just watching her work.

“You liked ridin’ that bull more than this one, didn’t you, sugar?” The words were meant to egg her on, her hips stuttering momentarily before falling back into a rhythm, faster now. “Probably still thinkin’ ‘bout that huge piece of metal between your legs.”

She whimpered, his words only getting her closer to the edge. Changing the angle just slightly, she finally found more friction against her clit while his cock dragged along all the wonderful parts inside of her pussy. So thick and deep, each bounce better than the last.

Fuck, she wished he was fucking her right now, pounding her into the truck bed, knowing he would make it fast but hard with how worked up he was.

It was a miracle he hadn’t busted inside of her yet.

“No, Jack.”

He chuckled, one of his hands reaching out to smooth over her hip and down to her ass, caressing the spot where it had come down harshly. Only to do so again, loving the noises that left her lips.

“You better not, the only bull you need to ride is right here, sugar.” He said, helping her movements by guiding them once they started to falter.

Completely lost in the feeling of his cock, eyes closed and bouncing on him like her life depended on it.

“Just work it, baby, just like that.” The praise made her feel hot, sweat breaking on her skin as she continued to focus on the feeling of him inside of her. “Gimme a yeehaw, sweet cowgirl, c’mon!”

It was ridiculous, a breathless giggle leaving her as she opened her eyes and looked at him. She loved the smirk on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Still, she obliged, taking one hand off his chest to lift his hat off of her head, just like she had pretended to earlier.

“Yeehaw, baby!” She yelled, making him laugh beneath her, wishing he could take a picture of this. Her, against the starry sky in the middle of nowhere, waving his hat around.

Maybe he should do that another time.

“Atta girl, keep ridin’ it, show that bull who’s the boss!”

Another harsh smack on her ass, the area red and stinging but simply adding to the feeling.

Jack could be so ridiculous sometimes, but she enjoyed it, grinding down into him harder.

“This bull’s got some stamina.” She breathed out, nothing but a whiny whisper. “Fuck, I’m close.”

He sat up again, his hands pushing her down into his lap, feeling her grip him tight when his lips found hers.

“Soak it, sugar,” Jack groaned against her lips, teetering right on the edge, “be a good little cowgirl for me and soak my cock with that talented pussy.”

His fingers found her clit, hurling her right over the edge with just the smallest touch, her arms wrapping around his neck once again as her pussy convulsed around him, breathless moans leaving her.

It made her head spin, the intensity of her orgasm and as her hips faltered, he kept guiding her movements, his fingers still working on her clit. Too much at once, biting his lip as he finally fell over as well.

Pressing her down into his lap, his dick spilling deep inside of her with a deep groan. He could never get enough of that feeling of her tight pussy.

His arms encircled her waist, keeping her close as she slowly caught her breath, slumped against him. That was too much of a workout tonight, first her session on the mechanical bull and now her rodeo on this one.

“What a ride.” She chuckled, leaning back to look at him. Taking his hat off of her, she placed it back on his head. “How d’you enjoy this rodeo, cowboy?”

Jack laughed, squeezing her tight.

What a filthy little thing.

“Never enjoyed bein’ ridden more than with this damn fine cowgirl on top of me.” He answered, giving her a little pat on the hip, signalling her to move off of him. If they were home already, she could have stayed sitting on his cock all night long but unfortunately they still had a bit of a drive in front of them.

She understood, moving off of him, still smiling but missing the feeling of him inside of her already.

Jack helped her get dressed again after he had put his own pants back in place, steadying her as she stood on wobbly legs.

“Which one did you enjoy more, darlin’?” He asked once they were finished and back in the car again. “There’s only one right answer here, sugar, so choose carefully.”

She giggled, pretending to think for a moment as he started the Bronco and took off.

“The mechanical one was wild.” She said, seeing him raise an eyebrow, just the corner of his lips curling up. “But nothing’s better than the real deal, don’t worry, Jack.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head.

“Nothin' better than a real bull to ride, that’s true, sugar.” Looking over at her briefly, she could still see the mischief in his eyes, promising nothing good. “But you should get a few more lessons in, cowgirl. There’s a lot to learn.”

She rolled her eyes, one of her hands laying on his thigh.

“And I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to teach me “

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fooled-around-and-fell · 9 months

Note

Can you do a shy reader who is not very good with social cues and agent Whiskey please

oh boy, with agent whiskey who's a serial flirt? this reminds me of that scene from grey's anatomy of mark sloan and cristina yang lol. anyway, hope you enjoy! ❣️

Social Cues

warnings: flirting. fluff.

pairing: agent whiskey (jack daniels) x female reader

-----

when jack was informed that there will be a new recruit, he wasn't expecting you. you, in all your glory, and jack can't help but stare as you introduce yourself to the others.

like a moth to a flame, jack volunteers every time there's an opening on your case, has lunch with you, offers you a ride home, everything he could think of just so that he can get a (longer) whiff of you.

but jack is slowly losing his mind. he knows he's got game-- he's jack daniels, for god's sake. jack was just poking fun at first, but now he's actually interested in you and wondering why in hell aren't you?

there's a number of times when jack's trying to flirt with you but you just don't get it. it frustrates and intrigues him.

"hey sugar, why don't you join me for dinner tonight and afterwards i can show you just how my whip works, yeah?" jack smirks. "thanks jack, but ginger already showed me the mechanics. maybe just dinner?"

another time;

"oh, jack, you look like a tomato." jack chuckles, he just returned from a mission that had him stand in the sun for hours. he's sunburnt. "yeah? was hopin' you like tomatoes." "yeah! they're good as a sauce or soup."

"maybe try just telling her you're interested?" ginger suggests.

jack looks at her like she's crazy. "now where's the fun in that?"

"well you're clearly not going anywhere with your current approach." she says. "doesn't seem like your regular charm is working."

"it works. usually." he presses. "i just need to figure out what she likes."

jack spends the next few days coming up with the perfect way to approach you and impress you. he now knows what you like and dislike, what you can't tolerate, and what you absolutely love.

it's not until he sees tequila flirting with you, and you blushing that it gets him mad.

"what's going on here?" he casually asks.

"oh, tequila's just telling me a funny story." you giggle.

jack raises his brow. "oh really? 'bout what?"

tequila shrugs. "had to be there for it to be funny, you know? i'll see you later." he sends a wink your way before leaving.

you shake your head with a smile and look at jack. "so, what can i do for you, jack?"

jack's lips are still pursed. he can't believe tequila would stab him in the back like that.

"jack?"

"huh? oh, nothin-" jack clicks his tongue. enough is enough. "no, actually, i do have a question for you."

"shoot." you nod.

jack looks at you deeply and takes a breath. "what is wrong with you?"

"huh??"

"i- i've been trying to flirt with you all week, and you ignore me. you shoot me down, but you're all smiles and sweetness when you do it." he says. "sugar, i don't know if i should be insulted or what."

your eyes are wide as you stare at him. "you've been flirting with me?"

"yeah." jack replies, stating the obvious. "wait, you don't know?"

you shake your head. "i'm.. okay, it's probably my bad," you grimace, "i've been told that i don't pickup social cues very well."

jack groans and sighs. "no kidding."

you can't help the small chuckle escaping you at jack's obvious struggle. "why don't you ask me directly?"

"what?"

"ask me. directly."

jack blinks a few times and straightens himself. "can- no. will you give me the honor of taking you out on a date?"

you smile. "of course, jack. see, that was easy, right?"

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wannab-urs · 4 months

Text

Title: Under Your Skin

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: You’ve worked on Chucho’s ranch since you were 15 years old, grew up with Javi, loved Javi… He comes back after nearly 20 years to find you hooking up with a certain former secret agent. He’s jealous, for sure, but of who?

Warnings: mdni, 18+ post season 3 of Narcos, AU where Jack gets kicked out of the Statesmen instead of burgered, Javi being bi and repressed, Jack being a bisexual slut, SMUT, MMF dynamics, oral (f receiving), javi being a dick, oral (m receiving), javi tries to hit jack, gay kissing (!!!), making out, face sitting, reader kinda gets used and likes it, nipple play, throat fucking, Eiffel tower moment, brief f masturbation, brief m masturbation, pet names (sugar, cowboy, baby, hermosa), truly unreasonable amounts of cursing i’m sorry i talk like this, and also unreasonable amounts of southern phrasing, again sorry I talk like this, unprotected PIV, creampie, cum eating, teasing Javi, actually 90% porn with like a little backstory, kind of enemies to lovers, they’re all ranch hands technically, also they’re all romantically into each other but also javi is dumb and jack can’t believe anyone would want him for more than sex haha oops :) WC: 3.5k

A/N: This is my @pedrostories Secret Santa gift to the lovely @javier-pena!! I hope it’s everything you wanted ahhhhh. I hope it's ok that this has nothing to do with Christmas and really doesn't even take place in the winter. I saw that you like Whiskey and Javi P, cowboys , and poly fics and like... could not resist. I tried my hand at enemies to lovers, a trope I love to read, but I think it came out pretty mild. I am so excited for you to read this!!!!! Happy Holidays ❤️

credits: dividers by @saradika // Thanks for the beta @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, @beskarandblasters, and @idolatrybarbie

Jack Daniels Masterlist | Javier Peña Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Working on a ranch isn’t easy, and it usually isn’t even all that fun. But it does have its perks. One such perk is currently on his knees with his face buried in your pussy. One of your legs is over Jack’s shoulder and you use it to pull him even closer, grinding your clit on his hooked nose. Just as you’re about to come, the door to the tack room slams open. You and Jack jump apart and you quickly start stuffing your legs back into your jeans.

“For FUCKS sake, Daniels. This is the third time this week. Get back to fucking work.” Javier Peña, face red and chest heaving, looks like he just caught his girlfriend cheating on him. “And you. You should fucking know better.”

You fasten the button of your jeans and smirk at Javi. “Know better than what, Javi?”

“Than to fuck around with some asshole like Daniels.”

“He’s nicer than you,” you snark before storming out, making sure to slam your shoulder into Javi on the way out the door. He ruined a perfectly good orgasm.

You’ve worked on Chucho’s ranch since you were 15 years old, taking care of the horses at first before graduating to fixing the fences and caring for the cattle as well. You and Javi had been best friends before he ran off to Colombia, spending every day after school and every second of daylight in the summer together on his father’s ranch.

You had been in the back pew the day he never showed up for his and Lorraine’s wedding. You like to think you had something to do with that. He clearly, clearly, wanted out of Laredo, wanted nothing to do with the wife and 2.5 kids and picket fence life he was barrelling toward.

His bachelor party was just the two of you drinking in the hayloft, you begging him to do what he’d always wanted to and him going on about duty and obligation. You’d almost kissed him that night, but stopped yourself. He was getting married the next day, for fuck’s sake. You’re glad he listened to you, in the end, even if he disappeared without so much as a goodbye.

In the years he was gone, you never really forgot about him. The truth was that he had been your first love, but you’d never worked up the courage to tell him, and then he was getting married and then he was gone.

Jack looked so much like Javi that when he first showed up on the ranch, you asked if he was Javi’s cousin or something, a long lost Peña. He assured you he was from Kentucky and had no relation to the Peñas. Jack had been some sort of law enforcement, and the reason he was here on a ranch in Texas was a mystery to everyone but him. There were rumors he was fired, banned from law enforcement altogether, but nothing could be confirmed. He doesn’t seem like the type to have a bad past, but you never really know.

Jack is charming in a loud, overly confident sort of way. He’s smart as a whip and funny to boot. He’s a damn good time and he’s never asked anything of you but a good fuck and better company. It’s really more than you could have hoped for with Javi gone and no other prospects in town… that you had any interest in anyway.

Now, nearly a couple decades after he left, Javi is back working for his dad. He won’t talk about Colombia, even though everyone calls him a hero. You’d think he’d want to brag about his accomplishments down there, but he reminds you of war vets, the way he shuts down when anyone brings it up.

He’s different now than the old Javi, your Javi, was. He’s surly, quick to snap at people, smokes like a freight train, and never does anything but sit in the bunkhouse and drink. You think you could handle all the change if he’d just talk to you.

You were so close as kids, but now it’s like you don’t know him at all. The bright, funny, hot-headed kid you knew is gone and some asshole has replaced him. He barely speaks to you at all, but he treats Jack even worse – insinuating Jack can’t do his job, calling him an asshole at any given opportunity, even up and leaving a room when the man walks in. It’s ridiculous and you can’t figure out why he’s acting like this. Jack has never so much as looked at Javi sideways, even after all the harsh treatment.

You head to your room in the bunkhouse, all your work taken care of for the day already. It’s not like you were neglecting your job to hook up with Jack, as much as Javi might like to think that. You push open the door to your room and find Jack lounging in your bed, shirtless and barefoot.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Jack smiles at you, his eyes scrunching at the corners. God he’s cute.

“Hi, cowboy. Made yourself at home, did you?” You start stripping out of your work clothes, not caring about Jack’s presence. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. Jack gets off the bed and pulls your mostly naked body into his chest, nuzzling your neck.

“We got interrupted earlier.”

“Fucking asshole. He’s just mad he’s not getting any.”

“May be more right than you know, sugar.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him but shrug off the comment, dropping to your knees and working at Jack’s belt buckle.

Javi hates that son of a bitch, he really does. He’s always sneaking off work to fuck whatever willing idiot falls for his charming smile and his stupid broad shoulders and his long bowlegs.

He can’t believe you of all people fell for it, keep falling for it. Sure he’s pretty, but the guy is an asshole. Two days ago, he caught him in the store room with his hand down Jose’s pants. The guy is a slut, plain and simple. You’re too fucking good for him.

Javi isn’t completely sure why Jack gets under his skin so bad. At least not in any way he’ll admit to himself or anyone else. Jack is charming without being sleazy, smart, good at his job, funny. There were rumors that Jack had done bad things in his past, though there’s nothing about the man that indicates he had, aside from his silence on the topic. Something Javi can’t honestly hold against him, considering his own refusal to open up. There’s no real reason for Javi to hate him, but he does. Everything the other man does sets him into a rage, his face hot, chest heaving, fists clenching. He wants to put his fist through a wall.

He’s not quite sure where he went wrong with you. Sure, leaving for nearly 20 years does a number on a friendship, but he’s pretty sure it shouldn’t be this bad. You haven’t done anything wrong, other than fuck around with Jack, but every time he speaks to you now it’s a biting remark. A criticism of your work ethic, your choice in bed fellows, even your outfits. It’s like he has no control over his own damn mouth.

Javi knows he’s in the wrong, knows he should apologize for his comment earlier. He heads to the bunkhouse to find you. Your room is two doors down and across the hall from his. Javi doesn’t bother knocking, pushing the door open.

“Hey, do you have a sec–” Javi freezes in your doorway, catching an eyeful of you with Jack fucking Daniels’ cock in your mouth. Jack catches his eye and fucking winks at him. Javi ignores the twitch in his jeans and closes the door, stalking down the hall to his own room and slamming his door behind him.

Twice in one day? Seriously? He takes back the apology before he can ever offer it to you. This is just ridiculous. What do you see in Jack that you don’t see in him? And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Javi wants you for himself and he’s pissed that Jack got to you while you he was off not catching Escobar.

There’s a knock on his door and then, “Peña?” Fucking Jack Daniels.

“Piss off, Whiskey. Not in the mood.”

Jack opens the door anyway, steps inside and shuts it behind him. Javi takes his disheveled hair, still bare chest and feet. The man hadn’t even bothered to button his jeans. Javi is on his feet in the other man’s face in seconds. “I said piss off, Daniels. Something about that you don’t understand?”

“No need to be hostile, Peña, I just wanted to check on you. Stormed out of there pretty quick.” Jack doesn’t back up an inch.

“Forgive me if I don’t want to see her with your cock down her throat.”

“Why, Jav? You like her or something?” Javi shoves Jack until his back hits the wall, hard. “Or is it because you’re afraid you’ll like it too much?” Javi sees red. He swings on Jack, but Jack catches his fist and pulls the other man into his chest.

“Fuck you,” Javi growls it, lips almost grazing Jack’s, their mouths are so close together.

“That an offer?” Jack smirks. If Jack didn’t know better, he’d think he heard Javi’s breath hitch in his throat at that. Before he can wonder if Javi is gonna try to hit him again, Javi crashes their lips together.

Jack drops Javi’s arm and grabs the collar of his shirt in both hands instead. Jack licks into Javi’s mouth, slots a thigh between Javi’s and feels the other man’s cock getting hard against his leg. Jack walks him back toward the bed, tugging at the buttons of Javi’s shirt.

Suddenly, the door opens and Javi flies back from Jack as if he’d shoved him, sprawling on the bed. Jack doesn’t even turn to look at you, just stares Javi down.

“Hey, I heard…” you trail off, taking in the scene in front of you. Jack standing in the middle of the room, looking even more disheveled than the state you’d left him in. Javi spread out on the bed, shirt half untucked and half unbuttoned, his dick clearly hard in his jeans. “What am I looking at here?”

“Nothing,” Javi spits out.

“Me and Jav had a little fight, but we kissed and made up, Sugar.” Jack winks at you and you feel your cheeks heat, feel a flutter of arousal in your belly.

“Oh really?” You run your tongue along your top teeth, trying and failing to contain a smirk.

Javi furrows his brow at you. Do you sound… excited? Jack glances back and forth between the two of you.

“Why don’t you close the door?” Jack asks you, his voice low. You kick the door closed behind you and walk over to Javi. You take his face in your hands and tug him toward you until he’s sitting up on the bed.

“Close your mouth ‘fore flies get in, baby.” He snaps his jaw shut and you press a chaste kiss to his lips. “This okay?” Javi nods slowly. You climb onto the bed, straddling Javi’s thighs, and kiss him again, deeper and longer than the first.

Jack makes his way across the room and settles on his knees behind Javi, gripping his hips and pressing his lips behind his ear.

“How about this? Is this okay?” Jack whispers.

“Y-yeah,” Javi honest to god stutters. This is not where he thought this was going. He doesn’t even like men. Not usually.

Javi kisses you like his fucking life depends on it. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, tangles his own with yours. Drags his mouth down your jaw line, your throat, leaves a mark on your collarbone. You finish unbuttoning Javi’s shirt and Jack pulls it off him and tosses it on the floor before he sucks his own mark into Javi’s neck and Javi bites back a moan at the feeling. He buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I um- I don’t really-” Javi’s face burns hot. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

“It’s alright, I gotcha.” Jack runs his hands up and down Javi’s sides, soothing him. “Let’s start with something you’re familiar with, huh? Or at least I hope you are.” Jack slides off the bed, silently communicating with you what his plan is.

You push Javi until he’s on his back in the center of the bed. You stand up and strip your panties and t-shirt off before you crawl up his body, dropping kisses on the soft curve of his stomach, his chest, his throat. You settle your knees on either side of his head, your soaked pussy hovering just over his face. This he can do, he thinks.

He grabs your thighs and licks a stripe from your core to your clit. You moan, one hand braced on the wall in front of you and the other fisted in his hair. He pulls you flush with his mouth and starts moving your hips for you, making you ride his face. He thrusts his tongue in and out of you while you grind on his nose, much like you had Jack’s earlier. They’re both so fucking beautiful, fuck.

Jack gets situated between Javi’s spread thighs and takes in the sight of you straddling his face. It might be the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. Your head thrown back in ecstasy, Javi’s strong arms pulling you back and forth on his face.

Jack palms Javi through his jeans and he hears him moan into your skin. Jack strips his own jeans off, then drags Javi’s down far enough to free his cock. Jack’s mouth waters at the sight. Javi is thick, long, uncut. Fuckin’ gorgeous. He sucks the tip of Javi’s cock into his mouth, savoring the salty taste of his precum. Javi lets out a deep, muffled groan straight into your core and it sends you over the edge. Your cries only encourage Jack more and he takes Javi to the root, bobbing his head up and down the man’s length.

Javi holds you to his face while he works you through your orgasm. He finally lets you go, and you fall to the side to catch your breath and shake off the aftershocks.

Javi slides both hands into Jack’s hair, thrusting lightly into Jack’s mouth. Jack reaches a hand between his own legs and strokes himself while he lets Javi use his throat. You just came, but the sight of the two men together has your cunt clenching around nothing. You drop your hand to your clit and rub circles in time to Javi’s thrusts.

Javi pulls Jack off him abruptly. “Fuck- you’re really good at that.”

“I know,” Jack smirks at Javi, his voice rough.

“I’d really like to come in her tight little cunt though, instead of your mouth.” Javi looks over to you, eyes full of lust. “If that’s okay?”

“More than okay, baby.” You shoo the boys off the bed and lay across it with your head hanging off the edge. Jack moves to stand by your head and slips the head of his cock between your open lips. Javi feels a twinge of jealousy at the way you both seem to know exactly what the other wants without saying a word aloud. But then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you and he lets it go. If this is the only time Javi gets to have you, he’s not going to waste it being jealous of the guy who just sucked him off.

Javi drags his cock through your soaked folds. “So wet for us, baby.” Javi groans as he pushes inside you, slowly sliding in to the hilt. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Jack cradles your head in one hand while he shallowly fucks your throat, playing with your tits with his free hand. He tweaks your left nipple and you moan around his cock. Every thrust from Javi pushes you further down Jack’s length, forcing him to fuck your throat. You’ve never been used like this before, like some sort of proxy for two men to fuck each other, but you fucking love it. You feel close to coming again already, and no one has touched your clit in minutes.

Jack pulls Javi to him and crashes their mouths together. Javi lets Jack plunder his mouth for a moment before sucking on the other man’s tongue, drawing a moan from the cowboy’s throat. He may have never kissed a man, but he’s been with enough women to manage that.

The two men sync up, thrusting into your holes at the same time and you feel like you’re ascending to another fucking plane of existence. There are no thoughts in your head except for Javi and Jack and how fucking amazing you feel. And, briefly, the thought of them both stuffed in your core, stuffing you fuller than you’ve ever been. You clench at that thought, and Javi has enough presence of mind to drop his hand to your mound, rubbing messy circles on your clit.

Your body tenses, back arching as you get closer and closer to the edge, which only serves to open your throat up more for Jack. Javi grabs your hips with both hands and starts pulling you onto his cock, hitting your g-spot every time. Suddenly, your entire body tenses and your pussy flutters around Javi’s thick cock. Your vision blacks out as your eyes roll into the back of your head, coming harder than you ever have before.

Jack comes down your throat with absolutely no warning, too lost in Javi’s mouth on his and your mouth around his cock to say a word. You grab his hips and hold him deep in your throat, swallowing around him. The force of his orgasm knocks him forward on the bed, hands planted on either side of your hips and face buried in the crook of Javi’s neck as he paints your throat.

Javi thrusts into you a few more times before his hips still, flush with yours. He comes deep inside you for what feels like forever, his cum spilling out of you and dripping onto the bed.

He pulls out of you slowly, dropping a kiss to your thigh before he goes to get a towel to clean you up. When he comes back, he finds you with your legs thrown over Jack’s shoulders, the man eating Javi’s cum out of your cunt. Javi’s spent dick gives a valiant twitch at the sight.

“Guess I didn’t need the towel then?” Javi jokes, tossing it onto the bedside table and climbing back onto the bed. Jack sucks your clit into his mouth one last time and pulls off with a pop.

“Guess not,” Jack smirks. You and Jack settle in beside Javi, Jack pulling the man’s head to his chest and you resting your head on Javi’s torso. You all sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You’re not uh-” Javi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You’re not gonna tell my old man I-”

“That you like boys?” you snicker.

“Not foolin’ anyone in those tight little jeans you wear, Jav.”

Javi presses his fingers into his eyelids and takes another deep breath. “Guys I’m serious.”

“Of course. We won’t tell anyone. Not til you’re ready.” You lean up and kiss his cheek before nuzzling back into Javi’s tummy.

“So you gonna tell her, or am I?” Jack looks like a kid in a candy store.

You sit up quickly. “Tell me what?”

“Don’t–” Javi tries to plead with Jack.

“Sugar, he tried to hit me for messing around with you,” Jack interrupts. “Think he might have a crush.”

“What the fuck, man?” Javi’s brow furrows so deep you think it might get stuck that way.

Jack ignores him and addresses you, “He’s always starin’ at you and checking up on you and asking you for shit he can damn well get himself.”

“Javi, is it true?”

Javi looks up at the ceiling as if he’s praying for God to have mercy on him.

“Yeah, hermosa. It’s true. Lo- Liked you since I was a kid.”

You smile so wide it hurts and wrap your arms around Javi, pulling him to you for another long, deep kiss. “Javi, baby, I was in love with you before you ever even got with Lorraine. And I never stopped loving you. Jack was just a stand-in, until he wasn’t.” You look over at Jack with a wince. “Sorry, Jack. No offense?”

“None taken, sugar.” Jack smiles good-naturedly and kisses you on the forehead. “Could we do this again sometime? Or are y’all cuttin’ me out of the deal now?”

“You’re not going anywhere, cowboy. Javi likes you too.”

“Wait really?” Jack seems genuinely surprised.

Javi drops his head into his hands and groans. “I need a fucking cigarette.”

Oh and here's a silly little moodboard thing I made

#pedrostoriesgift23 #Javier Peña #Javi P fics #Javier Peña fanfiction #Narcos fanfiction #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels fics #Jack Daniels fanfiction #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman: The Golden Circle fanfiction #Agent Whiskey fics #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedrostories

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 11 months

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Pre-TLOU Writers Archive

A resource for finding pre-TLOU Pedro Pascal characters fics

Hey everyone, this is just an idea that randomly struck me. I joined the fandom fairly recently in 2022, but as we all know, our numbers have well and truly exploded since TLOU aired.

We are incredibly lucky that our fandom has a massive treasure trove of fics written by so many amazing writers in the last few years, especially for pre-Joel Pedro boys that new fans are now discovering. However, new readers will probably have hard time finding these fics because nothing about Tumblr is set up to efficiently find any fic, let alone 'older' fics published months and years ago.

Since there's been such a huge influx of new readers in the fandom who may be looking for new-to-them 'old' fics to read, I thought it would useful to start a list of writers who have been writing for Pedro boys since before TLOU aired to connect newcomers to ‘older’ fics. I'm starting with writers that I have personally read or know of, but please do drop me an ask or a DM if you would like to add or be added to the list (or removed from it)!

We have more than 100 writers listed in alphabetical order in the lists below. Please show them and their fics some love - follow, reblog, send asks and DMs! ❤️

A to H

I to O

P to Z (Part 1)

P to Z (Part 2)

Some admin:

*I am only including writers who have written for Pedro Pascal characters before TLOU aired. If I can't find a masterlist, then I can't add them to the list.

*If I missed anyone or accidentally left someone out in my screening process, please let me know! I'm only human.

*In case anyone twists this into something it's not, it goes without saying that there's always room for new fics and new writers! But the recency bias has been so strong these few months, I want to give some love to 'older' fics, especially pre-Joel Pedro boys ❤️

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creedslove · 9 days

Text

HEARTLESS 💔 - FINAL CHAPTER

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: A wedding, a new addition to the family and revisiting memories finally bring the Daniels family their well-deserved happy ending ❤️

(This is the last chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• YOU CAN READ THE ENTIRE SERIES ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: a tad bit of angst (but not really, it's mostly just expressing emotions and revisiting sad memories), mentions of suicidal thoughts, fluff, brief smut (more like mentions of it), tension, talks of becoming a widow, Wyatt and his baby sister being the most adorable kids in the world, happy ending ❤️

A/N: it took me so long to get this done, I guess nearly six months, I don't know, I feel I sort of lost my way with this story, but I had to come back and finish our cowboy adventure, give them their happy ending. I love you all and I really hope you enjoy this chapter, I thank you everyone who has followed this story and showed me support through all these months of writing! It wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you ❤️🫶

12.6k words

Nothing could have prepared you for the reaction your cowboy had the moment you broke the news to him you were pregnant - or rather he found out about it by spotting the test boxes in the bathroom trash. You had been worried about everything, so many scenarios running through your head, always anticipating the worst and making you fear each single measure he could take. Just to have a grown ass cowboy on his knees before you, his face resting against your womb as he blinked away the tears that insisted on flooding those brown baby cow eyes of his. He just worshiped you, mumbling so many words you couldn't quite tell what they were, but the way he looked up at you, as if you were his whole world, made your heart skip a beat. It was a terrifying change, but you oddly didn't feel scared, not at that moment, not when you had Whiskey at your feet, showing he wasn't going anywhere, he was committed and devoted to you, to his family, a family that was growing, just like that tiny little seed in your womb, that was going to grow into a full baby, a blessing to that undeserving man, something he prayed for every single night, there was nothing Jack Daniels wanted more than to be a good man to his family, to be the husband and the father you and the kids deserved.

The kids.

He chuckled to himself at the thought of it, something that seemed just like a distant dream short days ago, was now a reality, the fact Wyatt was about to become a big brother, and the overwhelming love he felt for his son, also multiplying towards his second child. It was also terrifying to him, to love someone he hadn't even met yet, and how that could be taken away from in the blink of an eye like it happened to him before. He shook his head, squinting his eyes unaware of the tears that rolled down his cheeks, chasing those thoughts away. Nothing would happen to his family, you, Wyatt and the little angel inside of you would be just fine, because that was his responsibility and he would fight for it until his last breath. You felt his tears against your bare skin and a gut feeling told you exactly what he was thinking about, you didn't want him suffering for that, things wouldn't be as tragic as they were, Jack Daniels was a heavily traumatized man, who lived in fear of losing his family by not being good enough to protect them. You couldn't let your cowboy suffer in anticipation like that, so you pushed him gently, sitting on the floor to face him in the same eye level and stroked his cheek, the way his eyes were red with tears and he sniffed even if he tried his best to control his emotional reaction, reminded you so much of Wyatt, your son being the tiny little version of him. You placed your lips on Jack's forehead, then you went to his cheek kissing his tears away and finally to his lips, never breaking eye contact, at the same time he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible, needing the reassurance only your touch could provide. You kept your cowboy so close to your heart, taking deep breaths and letting his presence sink in, finally realizing how much you'd missed your cowboy, spending days apart from him. You had been so deep into your own thoughts after finding out about the pregnancy you completely neglected the side that craved your cowboy with you. You wanted to hold him, kiss and make love to him, but at that moment, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes.

It broke your heart; Jack was a strong, fearless man towards anything that did not involve his family. He was able to take down dozens of enemies in a fight, he could face the most furious bull in a ring, he didn't fear death or pain when he was out in the world protecting a nation that didn't even know they were in danger to begin with, but he was not that brave when it came to his sugar and his son, and especially not once they added a baby into the mix. One could call him paranoid, but he was just not willing to take the slightest risk, it had happened once, it wasn't going to happen twice.

"Sugar, I-”

His voice cracked, he had tears in his eyes, threatening to spill at any given second, he wanted to promise you, word it out loud how hard he would fight for you, for your relationship as a couple, your upcoming wedding, he wanted to assure you you could splurge as much as you wanted, choose whatever made you happy, he wanted to throw himself at your feet like the dog he was, he wanted to cry and beg your forgiveness even if he had already done that before, more than once, and even if you, out of your superior state of grace, had forgiven him. He wanted to tell you he knew he wasn't worthy of you, but he wasn't strong enough to keep away, he wanted to swear you and the kids would be forever safe, he would do anything you wanted him to: quit Statesman, throw away all his lassos and whips, he would become a goddamn farmer if it were up to you. He wanted to thank you for bringing sense into his life again, for robbing him from those depreciating, suicidal thoughts. He wanted to thank, and beg and promise you, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything at all, all he did was blinking his tears, letting them run down his cheeks. You knew it, you knew it all, he didn't have to say it, you could feel it from his heart to yours. Caressing his cheek gently, you nodded, leaned towards him and kissed his lips once more.

"I know cowboy, I know it”

•••

The slight noise of crayons sliding through a sheet of paper filled your ears and brought your attention back to reality. You focused your eyes on the bright colorful shades that added a meaning to a confusing drawing Wyatt was finishing. A pillow under his bum so he could be tall enough to use the coffee table as his personal art table, while he glanced at his baby sister, Rosie, who rested in her baby seat and watched attentively her big brother's every move. The eight-month-old cooed and kicked her little legs, wanting Wyatt's attention back at her, their bond being as strong as it was the day she was born, he giggled at her.

"Calm down, Rosie… I will continue the story in a minute” he said in his smart pants way and turned his head at you, knowing something was up. Wyatt was only six - proudly going 7 in a few months, but he was able to tell whenever you were lying to him. He'd asked if you were alright a couple of times in the last hour, and you'd said yes. But you clearly weren't fine.

Dropping his crayons, he got up and walked towards you, bright brown eyes staring into yours and a comforting smile.

“What happened, mommy?”

“N-nothing happened, honey… why don't you go and keep telling Rosie the story… What story was it?”

"The story of us before she was born…” he said proudly and you let out a chuckle, of course he would want his little sister to know her origins and tell her everything that happened in the months that followed your wedding proposal up to her birth. You allowed yourself to stop the mental torture and point at Rosie who kept cooing in order to have Wyatt talking to her as she loved. As much as the sight melted your heart, a heavy weight in your chest stopped you from taking another breath without feeling pain. Jack should have been there with you. He should be sitting right next to you, playing with his kids and giving you all sorts of dirty smirks hinting at what would go on in your shared bedroom once the kids were off to dreamland. But he wasn't, and you swallowed hard every time you thought about it. You hadn't lied to Wyatt at all, when you said nothing happened; because nothing indeed had happened, the real problem was that something should have happened. He should have declined Champ’s request for a last mission, and being the stubborn cowboy he was, when he got there, he should've killed his enemies straight away, he should have answered Statesman's official communication channels, and above all, he should have arrived home two days ago.

You didn't get contact from him and neither did the agency, even if they actually sent Ginger to your ranch so she would keep you company and make sure you weren't lost in bad thoughts, even if she stood in your kitchen making you a cup of tea, always offering you dozens of stories in which Whiskey managed to save the day and showed up at the last minute, it still didn't work, quite the opposite, it made it everything worse. But you had to remain strong for the kids, there was no reason to spread panic, even if you were feeling panic yourself, you couldn't do that to them.

You hugged your little boy tight, burying your face into his soft curls, and smiled, looking at your precious Rosie, picking her up from her seat and holding her gently.

"Go ahead, love” you told your son and Wyatt smiled, giggling and tickling her tiny little feet.

"So… after daddy found out you were a little seed in mommy's tummy…”

And at your son's sweet words towards your daughter, your mind drifted off to the memories he was taking so much pride in telling her.

•••

“Honey, it's okay, I'm fine, our baby is fine” You'd told your cowboy for the third time but he wasn't convinced just yet, it had been a silly little accident and nothing more: you’d been playing tag with Wyatt and Jack outside when a chicken running lose crossed your path and your tripped over it. Thinking in retrospect, it wasn't silly, it was plain stupid actually, but the moment Jack saw you tumbling, he ran towards you as fast as possible, immediately lifting you up and placing his hand on your belly. The pregnancy was now two months along, and your soon-to-be husband was always in a state of alert, just like a guard dog, he wouldn't leave your side unless it was strictly necessary to, and at any slight glimpse of danger - well, his exaggerated conception of danger -, he would be ready to act.

"Sugar please, you fell down, that's something pregnant women aren't supposed to do, let's just go to town, get you to the clinic, have one of those fancy ultrasounds exams and make sure everything’s fine. Afterwards, Wyatt can have one of those happy meals he loves and you can check up any remaining wedding details you'd like to”

You both knew there was no detail you hadn't double checked in the month and a half you'd found out about the pregnancy. Your wedding was all set and ready to take place - a week from then, at the Daniels’ ranch. Everything was thoughtfully chosen, organized and done despite how fast things were going. However, the fear in that man's eyes made you nod and agree to his request. You knew you were okay, just as your baby was okay, but he didn't, not when his worst nightmare haunted him every single day, giving him no breaks or concessions; the horror of losing yet another child taking away his logical rational side more often than he'd liked. So you did it for him, for your worried cowboy. For the cowboy who wouldn't keep his hand away from your small baby bump and would pray silently for things to be okay.

“Alright Jack, let's go”

You gave in to his request and allowed him to help you climb up the Bronco, along with Wyatt safely tucked in the backseat just a few moments after he ran inside to grab you and himself a jacket. Your heart clenched with an overwhelming wave of love, your family was so perfect it didn't even seem to be real. As you watched the ranch become smaller and smaller in the rear mirror, Wyatt played with some dinosaur toys in the backseat, you noticed the cemetery entrance Whiskey drove by; the same cemetery Gabriella was buried with her unborn baby and that brought another pang towards your chest. You thought of her and her baby, and the joy and expectations she must've had, you thought of your own cowboy, and how hard it must've been for him to receive the news that destroyed his life. Placing your hand on your womb, you stroked it gently. You weren't worried until then, but the cold realization of what happened to your fiance, was enough to spike the doubt. Life was going so well for you, perhaps too well, and you worried at some point the good wave of luck would die out. Thoughts wandered, but a heavy hand rested on your thigh, snapping you out of your thoughts. Jack glanced at you, still keeping his attention on the road, but making sure to look into your eyes.

"It's going to be fine sugar, our sweet little bean is here, safe and sound”

You nodded thankfully for his words and tried calming down, knowing you'd be in town soon.

You could list the most emotional moments of your life: your first kiss, your first love, the first time you ever saw that pathetic handsome cowboy, the instant you fell in love with him, your first time with your cowboy, the first time you exchanged love words, finding out you were pregnant with Wyatt, listening to his first heartbeats and you could spend a lifetime listing all of those moments. So you figured the moment you heard your newest baby's heartbeat for the first time, you wouldn't become too emotional, but you were definitely wrong. The moment the loud heartbeat filled the room, your heart raced like crazy, looking around you saw your cowboy's eyes filled with tears, a sweet smile as he leaned in and pecked your lips gently, at the same time Wyatt's happy grin also caught your attention. The way he clapped his small hands so excitedly and giggled.

“See mommy? Baby sissy is alright!”

He said happily, as he was sure he would get a sister, and turns out, he was right all along.

That night, after Wyatt was safely tucked into bed, Jack came over to you, a basket and blankets in hand, a shit eating grin as he cornered you and kissed your cheeks, before going south and getting to your neck. Goosebumps spread all over your skin, you knew exactly what he was thinking of and you couldn't help but chuckle. He was still your handsome, charming silly cowboy and you loved him with every fiber of your being. He didn't even need to say anything, just offering you his hand, knowing you'd take it without questioning and without further ado, you two were quickly running through the green grass of the ranch, escaping to your old getaway spot, the one you'd spend uncountable hours with your cowboy, just enjoying the sunlight or the moonlight, relaxing and hiding away from everything and everyone. The early stages of your relationship, where you didn't know if you and the cowboy would actually become something more than a steamy affair, before even dreaming of getting pregnant with his child and going through everything you did. You would both get into your favorite date place: the barn.

Just a blanket to make things comfortable, some treats to nibble on and all the love flowing through your veins.

"It's been so long since we came here” you told Whiskey, as he opened the door and welcomed you after him. He didn't say anything, not before pressing you against the wall and stealing a kiss. And that cowboy was hungry for you. The way his hands gripped your waist before roaming over you, his heavy breathing and a whole new discharge of hormones thanks to your pregnancy, got you so worked up, your hands sinking into the softness of his hair, his stetson lying on the floor at how fast your make out session started.

"Missed you, sugar.. it was about time we came up to our good ol' barn, ain't it right? Just us… ‘cause mommy and daddy gotta have their fun” Jack's heavy breathing was so enticing to you, the way he hungrily went over to your neck and without you even noticing him, he had set the blanket on the floor, making it a cozy place for the two of you to lie down among stacks hay. Smooth dirty cowboy, must've done that a thousand times. If those barn walls could talk, they'd certainly tell the most explicit erotic tales, ones out of many that were actually starred by you. However, there was no place for jealousy of the past, instead you focused on the bright future you got ahead of you and the known fact you were now the only one going to the barn with your cowboy. No other woman would touch him but you, and that was priceless.

By the time you were both finished with your round, all that was left was resting against each other's body. His arms firmly wrapped around you, short nails scratching up and down your naked back, at the same time you nuzzled his chest. His warm skin and his heartbeat, those small details reminding you it was real. Your happiness was real. Love overflowing you at all times and nothing could be better at that moment. As you shifted and lay on your back, Jack's hand immediately rested on your baby bump. It was still quite small, but you could both see it taking its shape, it was your child growing healthy and strongly inside of you. The mixture of you and the cowboy, the final proof your love was so abundant it flooded into something more. Whiskey's hand stroked your skin, a distant smile on his face, as so much went through his mind. He couldn't help but experience so many feelings at once: love, fear, excitement, regret, grief. All of that mixed up in the handsome mess he was. He couldn't wait to meet his sweet daughter, because just like Wyatt, he was also certain it was time for a baby girl Daniels to make her debut in the family, yet, he couldn't help feeling the bitter taste of regret, thinking of all the wasted time and opportunity he could've spent around you and baby Wyatt. Thinking of how he could've and should've been there for you and him. Your first pregnancy, how everything was so new and scary, how hard and stressful things were, how much you and your son needed him. He closed his eyes and silently prayed for forgiveness, trying to convince himself better late than never, which was true, but he could've been a better man. His mind also drifted to very old times, when he wasn't much more than a boy recently graduated from high school, a wedding ring shining and a beautiful, young and bright Gabriella expecting their baby boy. She was supposed to have gone to college that year, if she hadn't gotten pregnant, Jack knew she would've made a great lawyer, exactly like she dreamed of; he often blamed himself for robbing her of her bright future, even if he knew he would've managed to work and given her and their son the best life possible. It was a topic he discussed several times in therapy and grief counseling. At first, he was adamant about not wanting to do it, but Champ only gave him two options: either treat his old deep wounds, or leave Statesman behind and start over with no job, no money, no support. And he was being kind, because more than once Jack heard people telling straight up to his face he should be rotting in jail. The truth was that Champ was right, he needed to, he should've treated himself years ago, it made him understand and finally accept that no one was to blame, but the killers who ended Gabriella's and the baby's lives. It made him see, he had loved them with all his heart, but he was still alive and he was entitled to be happy, he shouldn't feel guilty about loving someone else, about wanting to build a life with someone other than Gabriella, and above all, he understood that his sweet Gabriella would want the same for him, because he was sure if he was the one who died that night at a convenience store, he would never wish her a lifetime of sorrow and grief like he led.

"I think you're miles away from here, Jack…” your voice had snapped him out of his thoughts and brought him back to reality, just as your touch, fingers running through his hair as he chuckled and nodded.

"Just thinking about life, that's all”

"You know I love you, right, cowboy?”

“I do, just as I love you sugar. With my whole heart”

He pecked your lips and then got to your belly, his mustache tickling your skin as he left a trail of little butterfly kisses on your bump.

“And I love you too, baby, with all my soft old heart, a broken heart fixed with so much love and patience by your beautiful mama, your handsome big brother and by you, because I'm sure you're daddy's little sheep”

•••

"... So when you still lived in mommy's tummy, daddy called you little sheep, because you were too tiny to be a cowboy and also a girl” Wyatt giggled at his own joke and cooed as Rosie clapped her chubby hands. Your kids’ genuine happiness and innocence filled your heart with love and pride, and the fact your cowboy wasn't anywhere Statesman looked for him, only fueled the worst fears and thoughts you had going on. Raising your two kids on our own wouldn't be impossible, you'd done it before with Wyatt, you'd been strong enough to do it, but that was not the occasion any longer. You wanted your cowboy by your side, Jack and you were meant to be, you were married now and you wanted nothing more than to stay with him for the rest of your life, to watch your kids grow and grow old with him. You loved him with all your heart and that lack of news was driving you insane. Turning to Ginger, she simply shook her head, still no sign of him, and it pierced your heart. You wanted your sweet handsome Jack next to you, so you could both enjoy your family.

"... And then Rosie, mommy married daddy and it was under the willow tree! Remember we played snowman last Christmas there?! Mommy looked like a princess! Mommy, tell Rosie you looked like a princess!”

Wyatt tugged at you and caught your attention again, you kissed your daughter's head gently and then stroked your son's beautiful face. He was the sweetest child you'd ever met, he'd been your best friend for so long, you just nodded at his words.

"And you tell Rosie you looked like a tiny little prince and walked mommy down the aisle!”

“So Rosie…, Mommy and daddy's wedding was so fun! Let me tell you…”

•••

The arrangements for the wedding weren't as complicated as you thought they'd be, not when you had Whiskey by your side, always willing to make your dream - and his, come true. No matter the decoration, the dress, the flower arrangement or the buffet. Anything was perfect for him, because at the end of the day, you'd be his forever, his wife, the mother of his beautiful children. You'd sign your name as Mrs.Daniels, just like Wyatt and your baby would. And he couldn't wait for that to become true.

Taking advantage of the fact it was awfully warm for December, you both decided to hold the wedding at the ranch, where you could fit all the guests - nothing too much, just friends, some relatives, fellow agents on Whiskey's part, anyway - and all the other things implied by a wedding: a beautiful altar, a nice dance floor and all the great amount of flowers your cowboy insisted on you gifting you with, roses of course, he loved those as a little boy because his grandma and mama loved them, and it's a commonly well-known fact that above being a Mama's boy, Jack Daniels had been a grandma's boy, which only made you love him even more. He was a roses man, and you knew with all your heart that a little Rosie was growing up in your belly, the perfect mixture of your love and the cowboy's, just like your handsome, precious son Wyatt, was.

The location chosen at the ranch could only be by the willow trees, such a special place for you and your family, it was bound to become even more special. It would be the place where you and Jack would exchange your vows of always loving each other and your family; it was beautiful. The directions were also perfect, the exact balance between simple and elegant. Nothing to be too much, just some fairy lights carefully placed on the trees, white chairs on the green field and several roses of all colors scattered all over the place. You'd always heard men didn't usually take part in those details, but your Whiskey couldn't be further from that; he loved spending every moment helping you decide what you wanted and giving some of his thoughts too. The cake tasting was also another happy occasion: Jack made sure to take you to the best bakery in town, you, him and Wyatt had the hard task of trying a little bit of every cake available in order to pick the right one for the party. You, trusting your boys’ fine taste, you let them pick the cake: strawberry and cream. Everything seemed ready for the two of you to tie the knot. The dress was also easy to find, you weren't picky, you wanted something pretty and comfortable, that would make your baby bump discreet and allow you to enjoy your special day. Taking Wyatt with you so he would help you choose the best outfit, you simply loved how attentive and sweet he was, all the time he clapped his little hands and giggles

"You look pretty mommy!”

That's what you'd heard the most those days.

Your handsome cowboy on the other hand, had his suit completely figured out: after inviting some of the Kingsman agents, Eggsy sent your fiance a special fine tailored suit, the kind that fit your cowboy so perfectly and it hung tight to all the right places. He looked so good, too good it was almost impossible to be able to hold yourself back and honor the agreement you'd both made to wait until the wedding to sleep together again. It was quite silly to do that, but you remembered being younger and reading somewhere about how having a dry spell a few days before the wedding could fuel the honeymoon even more. You and Jack decided not to travel for your special getaway, he was still very worried about your health, no matter how many times your doctor assured both you and him things were alright with mama and the baby. There was also the fact you didn't have anyone to leave Wyatt with as well, he was a kind and sweet child to be around, but he wasn't used to being away from you for more than just a couple of days. Your mom was completely out of the picture and you and Jack didn't really feel comfortable in hiring someone to watch your boy on such short notice. A couple of weeks at your ranch, enjoying the upcoming end of the year festivities, your family and taking care of your pregnancy didn't sound that bad at all, you were looking forward to it and each time you saw Whiskey, your heart fluttered, thinking of all the happiness ahead of you.

Two days before your wedding, Wyatt woke up sneezing and sniffling, you had warned him not to spend too long around the river with his dad, you weren't certain what kind of vegetation was that, but it was enough to strike an allergic reaction in your little boy; and since Jack had been out to go fishing and Wyatt wouldn't leave his side for two seconds, it was understandable he didn't wake up feeling great, which made you give him some antiallergics in order for him to feel better. It'd worked to an extent, if it weren't for the fact the antiallergic your son got was the drowsy kind and it put him down to sleep through the whole afternoon, so without Wyatt's usual presence around you, always playing or asking millions of those thoughtful and creative questions, you took some time for yourself, relaxing and lying on the couch, waiting for Whiskey to be home. Your future husband was as excited for the wedding as you were, he couldn't wait to say ‘I do’ and finally be able to be your husband, and yet, you could still see there were some days in which Jack's mind wandered and he seemed so lost in thought. Or late at night, it wouldn't be rare to get up to grab a glass of water and find him looking out the window, silently and reflexively, just staring into the darkness outside the window. You hadn't asked what was going on, suspecting it had to do with something extremely intimate, and that didn't worry you one bit, your love was strong and your cowboy was devoted to you, perhaps it was something to do with those ugly thoughts he dealt with a while back; although he'd assured you he still went to the his therapist appointments regularly and things were much better in that sense then. Eventually, you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier, and you ended up dozing off, your body fully relaxed against the comfortable couch and the warmth of the sunshine coming through the big window.

The distant sound of the Bronco's engine wasn't enough to wake you up by itself, you were so tired, a combination of your pregnancy and all the rush you had been settling things, all you needed was just a couple of hours of extra sleep and you'd be all set. Your sweet cowboy knew that more than you did, so he just tiptoed his way into the kitchen in order not to disturb you. The cowboys sweet tooth was really making him lose focus, so he had to grab a slice of that delicious cake you'd made him; no matter how many times you'd told Jack he looked the same sexy cowboy as always, he was sure he was growing a soft belly, and that was certainly due to your great cooking and mostly baking skills. And yet, he couldn't care less about it. He would trade any abs and fit body in the world for the happiness of your shared domestic bliss. He was so absentmindedly eating his second slice of cake - it was just too good to stop in the first one, he didn't even notice you approaching him, only when you placed your delicate hand on his back he managed to turn around and give you a smile as best as possible, due to the amount of cake he was eating, so you just chuckled and shook your head

“Chew it slowly cowboy” you said sweetly and wiped some crumbles off his cheek and then went to his chest, doing the same with his shirt. His free immediately rested on your belly as he grinned.

"How's the little cowboy?”

"He's alright… I'd like to talk about the big cowboy, though” you told him and saw his puzzled face as you chuckled and wrapped your arms around his neck. Jack's body was so broad and strong, it simply made you always feel safe and quite turned on, although you couldn't get distracted by him. His arms wrapped around your body, heavy hands resting on the small of your back as he sighed, he hoped he wasn't in trouble, although he had quite a good guess what you wanted to talk about. He placed a peck on top of your head and looked into your eyes.

“What is it, sugar?”

"I want to know what's going on, cowboy… I know you're excited about our wedding, just as I am, but sometimes you just get so lost in thought, you wake up in the middle of night and underneath all that spark of happiness, I still see some melancholy underneath… I don't want to see you sad, Jack”

He closed his eyes when he felt your hand on his cheek, the slightest caress was already so comforting for that broken cowboy; he was a screw up but he had the best intentions, all he wanted was to make you happy without having to worry about losing the three of you. You, Wyatt and the baby being much more than he ever deserved, he just wished he didn't worry so much about everything all the time. Taking a seat on the chair and pulling you to his lap, he rested his face on your cleavage, sighing as he wondered if he should actually open up and tell you what was constantly on his mind. What if you somehow misinterpreted what he meant?! What if you got angry with him and his over protection? So many things ran through his mind as he remained in silence for a few seconds, until once more that healing caress of yours snapped him out of his newest wave of melancholy, this time tangled into his messy hair, you could see the tension dissolving from his shoulders and how he was ready to talk.

"I'm so happy with everything that's going on… our wedding, our baby, our cowboy Wyatt growing up stronger than a horse, I spent so long thinking I could never be happy in my life only to be the happiest man in the world. I'm so thankful to you for all of that, sugar. You made me a better man, you made me want to be better for you and our family and now we're welcoming a new baby into our lives, I can't help my excitement to do this with you, sugar, it's my dream coming true”

The cowboy said honestly, this time he was the one who held your face between his hands, caressing it gently and being so delicate towards you like he'd always been. Still, you knew him, being sure there was a little bit more to it than just the pure excitement.

"And…?”

Whiskey licked his lips and gave you a sad smile, seeing nothing would go past you unnoticed, not when it came to him at least. He felt pretty happy and safe because of that, his heart warm at how sweet you were.

“And my mind keeps taking me back to when I was young… All this wedding preparation going on reminds me of the first time I got married… how young and naive I was, how happy Gabriella got, and how hopeful we were when lil Jack was growing in her belly” he swallowed hard and lowered his eyes “please sugar, don't think I'm comparing you two or that I still love Gabriella in that way, but it makes me sad to think my boy could've become a man, a big strong cowboy, and his mama should be a hell of a successful woman by now. I know I discussed this hundreds if not thousands of times over the years, but their fate was just so unfair, and along with that, the fear of losing you and our beautiful little family the way I lost them starts creeping up in my chest and I just get so paranoid over everything an-”

You interrupted your cowboy with a kiss; touching his lips with yours, feeling the warmth of him irradiating onto you, the way his arms wrapped around you and he deepened the kiss, loving to have a taste of you, especially when his mouth couldn't make the right words, he knew his heart could, and above all, your heart could listen to it. And you understood it, you really did, it wasn't because Jack still thought of his late wife, not in that way, but he just couldn't help wondering what would've happened if things didn't go the tragic way they did. Your cowboy was a romantic and sensitive man, no matter what he tried saying or doing. You broke the kiss with a gentle smile and took his hand “come on, cowboy, let's go for a ride” you told him as you dragged him out of the kitchen, stopping midway just to let Helen know you and Jack would be gone for a while and she should keep an eye on Wyatt just in case.

The walk to the stables was quick, as your cowboy didn't hesitate in going after you, still slightly puzzled as to why you decided to go out like that, but the moment he saw your smile, he went soft: he would do anything for you. You finally let go of his hand and went to Silver Pony, greeting her and petting her head, warming up his heart. Jack loved how sweet and kind to the animals he kept at the ranch you were, knowing you loved that beautiful horse, just as much as Wyatt loved his beautiful little pony, he frowned softly as he saw you getting the saddle and putting it on your horse.

"I thought we'd agree you wouldn't ride horses for now, you know, to prevent stuff in case you fall or-” you interrupted your cowboy with another peck on the lips, knowing he wouldn't resist further than that. Smiling you shook your head slightly

"You know, it's funny you don't want me to ride a horse but you do want me to ride a cowboy every single night” you winked as you saw a slight red shade crossing his cheeks before he cleared his throat “come on, Jack, I'll be safe, I'll be with you, you're the best cowboy in the world, the best I've ever seen, we'll just take a short ride and that's it…”

And with your puppy eyes, you managed to convince him. Like you always did.

And you were right after all, the ride was short and calm, nothing different went on, as you two exited the ranch entrance and took the small side road towards the fruit trees, the cowboy just assumed you were going to pick up some to make a dessert or something similar, but the moment you crossed the fruit path and walked a bit further, stopping by the cemetery, was when he finally realized what you'd had in mind. He did not see that coming, a part of him still tried to deflect him from considering that, but when he saw you getting off Silver Pony and picking up some flowers, it was the confirmation he needed.

“S-sugar, why? Why are we here?”

He asked as you took his arm and made your way inside of that holy place.

"I think it's important, maybe this will ease your mind, Jack… I know how hard this subject still is for you, and I also know you haven't visited her in a while. I think it's important for you, and well, for me too, that way we can soothe these feelings that still haunt you, cowboy. Let's go, I do it with my heart open”

And with your encouraging words, your cowboy Jack Daniels took your hand and walked towards his late wife's grave, knowing it was always a bittersweet feeling, but above all, necessary. He hadn't been there in a while, it was almost as if he'd lost the habit of doing so, not feeling that need of visiting them, not after he started attending therapy and realized he had to let his first family go, not after he realized he needed to fight for the family he had with you and that was the most important thing. Still, around special dates such as their anniversary or worse, the anniversary of their passing, he felt he had to honor them by showing up and leaving a couple of flowers. Jack was also aware that you visited their grave once and it warmed his heart. You took some of your time to acknowledge their existence in a substantial way and not treat them as if they were just his weird obsession. Once he realized you both stood in front of the tombstone, he took a deep breath. No matter if years and decades went by, the sight of their names written there always pierced his heart. He knew his relationship with Gabriella could've taken so many turns if she hadn't died: they could've been together until this day or they could've split up, they could still have feelings for each other or hate each other's guts, so many possibilities, none of them would ever come true, but what shattered his heart for real, was to think of his little boy, think of his little Jack, still so small and fragile inside his mommy's tummy, unlike Gabriella, Jack never got to hold him, never got to look into his eyes or caress his hair. Technically, it should've been easier for him to get over the loss of someone he had never met, but it wasn't, if anything, it was even worse, because he could never stop himself from wondering what would've happened. Would his son be good at school or get bad grades? Would be a mama's boy like Whiskey himself was as a kid or would he be rebellious? If he'd followed his dad's step and found his sweetheart earlier in life, there was a fat chance Whiskey would be a grandpa by then.

But those ifs and might-have-beens were just spiculation. There was no way to know it, and not to descend into madness once more living off daydreams and made up scenarios, was that he seeked help. He was better now, better than he'd ever been, but at emotional times like those, it was quite difficult not to be caught in the moment, so he felt startled when you placed your hand on his shoulder.

"Do you want me to go and give you some time?” You suggested as you placed the flowers on Gabriella's and the baby's graves, you had a gut feeling that moment was important for your cowboy, but now that you were actually there, you felt slightly dislocated, not knowing exactly what to do or what to say, it felt so intimate to be there, to see Jack's eyes fill up with tears, but instead of asking you for a moment, he tightened his grip around your hand and kept you in place. The two of you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer to his first family. You thanked Gabriella for taking care of your Jack and promised her you would make him happy, not letting him fall into his old depressive habits again; you also wished her and her baby's soul peace and happiness in heaven. Jack, on the other hand, prayed for them and for his new family, he told them he would always keep them both in his heart but it was time to let them rest, they'd never be forgotten or unloved, but the cowboy had another family to love and protect, he asked them for their blessing and he burst out crying when he spotted a blue butterfly on Gabriella's grave. She used to love butterflies and blue was her favorite color. It could've been a sign or not, he wasn't really sure, but the fact was that a weight seemed to be lifted off his chest at the same time he pulled you for a hug and thanked you for going there with him.

Truth was: if roles were reversed and Jack had died that night instead of Gabriella, he would've wanted her to move on and find peace and love with someone who could truly make her happy, so he finally realized and convinced himself there was no reason for him to do that, his late wife would've wanted the same.

•••

As Ginger got off the phone and paced the room, you felt your throat tightening with anxiety and worry; your chest was so heavy and the tears threatened to splurge from your eyes at any moment, there was still no sign of your cowboy and the way Ginger seemed tense as she whispered information with whoever was at the agency, only brought you even more fear of having lost your husband. You eyed the kids, who behaved perfectly and it pained you not being able to appreciate that, you wish you could sit down with them, talk and play, smile and hold them, but at that moment you were so unavailable, all you needed was to have some news from your cowboy, that was all you wished for; you wish you could hold him tight, you wish you could feel his presence, his warm, his scent all over you again. You craved your cowboy, your husband, and you couldn't even begin to consider the possibility of not having him anymore, at the same time those depressive thoughts were the only ones that crossed your mind. Wyatt complained about being hungry and as much as you should have gotten up and started making him dinner, you simply couldn't move yourself from your seat. Everything hurt and the way Ginger hung up and simply shook her head, signaling there were still no words about your cowboy, just shattered your heart. You discreetly dried a single tear and nodded at her, as you buried your hand into your son's curly hair - exactly like his dad's when he went a few extra weeks without a pretty decent trim. Even at your gentle caress, Wyatt still whined about being hungry, but seeing you were under no conditions of making them dinner, Ginger offered herself to make him some mac&cheese while Helen immediately stepped up to prepare Rosie's bottle. You thanked them and enjoyed a moment of silence as you were left in the living room by yourself. You shook your head thinking of things you couldn't actually change, but if you had that power you would've insisted him to stay, not to take that last mission, the future for the two of you along with the kids was just so bright, you had so many possibilities, he didn't need the money, he should've just stayed home with you. It should be a quiet evening, having a family dinner together, feeding and bathing the kids and then snuggling in bed, feeling those quick strong hands of his, roaming all over your body while those devilish lips whispered the most sinful things in your ear.

If only.

You sighed and got up, walking around the living room, stretching your legs and trying to control that huge sadness that seemed to have taken over you like a dark thick shadow that wouldn't go away. As you went to the window and watched it how the overcast sky had turned into a dark night, cold night, you saw the trees moving softly with the wind, which blew coldly through the leaves, you thought of how thoughtful Jack had become those early days before the wedding, how he would just stare outside and allow his mind to drift away, you knew now he had thought of his late wife and how things could've been different for her, you didn't want to think of that, because your troubled mind would wonder if you had really lost your husband already, if your worst nightmare had become true, if he would be reunited with Gabriella at that moment. So many ifs, as much as you fought that thought it didn't seem so distant which made you gasp and finally broke into tears. It was torture. Your heart was broken.

When you looked out the window once more, your eyes were still blurred with tears, as you tried controlling yourself, knowing it wasn't the time for your kids to see your outburst, so at first, you didn't actually see that curious figure moving in the darkness, it wouldn't even make sense to you, no one could be possibly wandering around, the glimpse of a mysterious figured might've been confused with a hallucination, but not the sound of a horse's hooves approaching the house. That was very real, you realized, the moment you raised your head and frowned trying to see exactly who it was. It wasn't possible, was it? The thing you'd been praying for the most for the past couple of days, had you fallen asleep? Were you dreaming? You wouldn't be able to tell, not with that anxiety bombing you completely making you feel as if your heart was about to beat right out of your chest. Not holding back anymore, you simply ran to the front door, opening it and rushing towards the knight in shining armor coming back home to you.

"Jack!!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, your face filled with pure emotion as your depressing, pained tears were quickly replaced by happy ones, the relief you felt was enough to spread through your body and make it weak, having the sensation you could reach the ground at any moment, but there was no problem, your cowboy was finally back home.

Noticing you, your despair and your eagerness to see him, Jack immediately got off the couch and finished the path towards you by running. Welcoming you into his eyes, you jumped on him, crying and gripping his body against yours as if your life depended on it. You cried as you felt his hands running up and down your back, the way he whispered sweet little soothing words, reminding you he was finally safely home. You couldn't believe it, one moment you felt terrified you'd have to move onto a sad, depressing life without your cowboy, and then next, he was right there, for you. You also knew he was tired, hungrily, bruised and in need of a shower and certainly a lot of Ginger’s painkillers, but you allowed yourself to be a little bit more selfish and keep him to yourself, holding your husband and taking every bit of him.

"It's okay sugar, I'm home… it was the last one, I promise you, from now on, I'm retired Agents Whiskey, no more leaving my family behind to risk my life for others” he promised you with his whole heart, not being able to take your sadness at the realization of how much you'd suffered with him gone. He couldn't do that to you nor your family, he had priorities in life, and they would always be you, Wyatt and Rosie.

The way Jack kept you in his embrace, face buried into your neck, your sweet scent reminding him of home and showing him that just like you, he wasn't dreaming, he was indeed back home from a mission he didn't die for a true miracle, his heart calmed down. You could've stayed in that embrace forever, it was all your heart begged and ached for, nothing more or nothing less, and the only thing that was able to break that hug was when Wyatt's voice shouted a happy “daddy!!!” at the top of his little lungs, followed by Rosie's cooes and loud baby noises, the cowboy's eyes filled with tears at that scene. It wasn't just his sugar, it was also his kids claiming for him, his family who waited hopefully and patiently for him to come home to. He opened his arms to them, Wyatt running as fast as his favorite horse and Rosie being brought in by Helen, but it didn't take very long until she was in her daddy's arms, cooing and gripping his cheeks like she always did while he kissed her sweet face. There was no reason to cry or be sad about stuff, the Daniels were reunited again.

•••

The next couple of hours went by in a blur, you felt anesthetized at everything that went on, and while Jack had to sit down with Ginger - and Champ who arrived about an hour later and got them all locked into your cowboy's office, Helen insisted you to take a bath, followed by a calming herb tea, while she kept an eye on the kids for you.

You never really knew what went on during the mission, it was top secret after all, the only thing you were informed about was that the mission was dangerous, but a success, and Jack Daniels, now retired and former Agent Whiskey had been a hero. As a thank you for all the years of service, Champ gifted your husband with a significant part of the Statesman's shares, which would assure you and your family a comfortable future to put it mildly. Not only that, but he also offered your cowboy his CEO job, not the whole chain, but from the local factory, which meant he didn't have to drive more than just a few miles until the distillery, sit down at his desk, get his demands done and come back at the end of the day to see his beautiful family. It certainly brought you a big relief, your cowboy would be safe and sound and your kids would grow up with their dad around.

Once everyone finally went home, Jack had clarified all the professional details, he was able to shower, eat and have you take care of his wounds, stitching him up and patching him up, he was finally good to go. Of course, he had a 5 o'clock growing due to the days he was unable to shave, but he would have enough time for that. The important thing was that the four of you lay on the couch of your living room, relaxing and letting the calmness sink in. Your cowboy sighed relieved as he rubbed your arm up and down, at the same time the kids yawned but fought so hard their sleep. Wyatt was rubbing his little eyes, and yet, he didn't want to go to sleep at all, his tiny little hands caressed Rosie's thin and soft hair, the one that smelled like strawberry baby shampoo and he loved it. He giggled at her, who returned her big brother's affection by giving him a sweet gummy smile.

"Mommy, daddy, can I continue telling Rosie about the wedding?” Wyatt asked between yawns as Jack chuckled and nodded, his fingers toying with his son's soft curls, the feeling of his feeling surrounding him was better than anything he'd ever experienced before.

"Go ahead little cowboy, just don't forget telling your pretty little sister how beautiful mama was”

At his daddy's incentives, Wyatt let out one last long yawn and looked at his sister.

“So, Rosie… about mommy's and daddy's wedding. Mommy was so pretty!”

•••

The unusual warmth for December allowed you to have the wedding of your dreams: right by the willow trees, just as you had fantasized about since you were just Whiskey's girlfriend a few years back. Time flew by just as a lot of things between the two of you, things that had finally been settled and worked on, and your happy ending was near. You stared at yourself in the mirror, in awe at the fact the wedding dress suited you way better than you thought it would. It was a relief, as your pregnancy progressed, one of your bride's fears was not fitting into your special dress on your even more special day. Luckily, that wasn't the case. Everyone who helped you get ready, had been nothing but kind and honest, when they all told you you looked beautiful, but none of these compliments were nearly as heart warming as your son's, whose little eyes got brighter the moment he spotted you. He had insisted on getting dressed along with his dad, since he was convinced cowboys should help each other, but once he was ready in his adorable cowboy attire, he insisted on helping his mama this time, after all, you two had been best friends for a long time, so it was fair he would be by your side. Not only that, since he'd been officially invited to walk you down the aisle, Wyatt had noticed how important his task was, and he didn't want to do his mommy dirty, he wanted things to be perfect, so once he rushed to you, you simply got on your knees to hug your little man. In a way, if it weren't for him, none of that would be happening.

"You're beautiful, mommy!”

There was something Wyatt wasn't tired of saying, perhaps it was all the kindness you had in your heart you used to raise him well, or maybe he was just taking after his dad in being a charming cowboy, it was still too early to figure it out, but what really mattered for you, was how proud you were of the little human being he was becoming. Those were motivational things that assured you things were on the right track, when it came to raising and loving your family. As you twirled and your son clapped in excitement, he giggled and wrapped his little arms around your legs once more, not containing his urge of hugging his mommy once more. It never crossed his witty mind that it could wrinkle your beautiful dress in any way, but if you were being honest, neither did it go through your own mind. You'd never refuse any of your beloved ones’ caresses out of fear of wrinkling a piece of clothes. Things were perfect the way they were, you couldn't want anything more for the three - well, now four, of you.

"Mommy! Daddy’s so nervous! He can't wait” Wyatt whispered between his giggles, not sure if that was gossiping or not, but he didn't see any harm in telling his mommy about important things like that, and those were important to him. You chuckled and held him again, placing a peck on top of his head and nodding.

“Well, I'm nervous too… it's a dream daddy and I have, you know? It's coming true… it's like having so many butterflies in your tummy, kinda like when it's your birthday and you can't wait, that's all you can think of and you feel as if your tummy is funny but in a good way?!” You explained to him the best way you could, a way you knew your son was going to understand and you couldn't be happier about the face Wyatt was so damn smart. Good thing both your and the Daniels genes were a good mixture, because he took you by the hand with his smaller one and nodded.

“It's time mommy!”

The walk from the house to the willow trees didn't seem to be that long before your wedding day, you could've sworn things were a lot easier than they seemed at that moment, but each time you looked at your son's pure determination in taking you to his daddy, your heart calmed down. You figured your husband was as nervous as you were, but not only that, he was probably as happy as you were too, and in addition to it, he must've been so handsome. You just didn't expect him to be that handsome. So handsome that the moment you reached the willow tree path, everything seemed blurry and not so important. The decorations you knew were beautiful, the fairy lights on the trees, the roses all scattered around, the guests, all of your friends, fellow agents and important people who took part in your lives, all of that simply came second the moment you spotted your cowboy. Jack was so handsome, the gorgeous, flawless suit he'd been gifted by Eggsy and the Kingsman simply fit him like a velvet glove, perhaps it was that, or the way he took off his cowboy hat in respect at your entrance, knowing you should be the spotlight, after all, you were the bride, just not any bride, you were his bride and that was enough to make that old mushy heart beat nearly out of his chest. It was like nothing existed at that moment except you and him, and once the song played and your son took you by the hand, accomplishing the very expected task given to him, you could barely believe that was real, but it was, and you were marrying your cowboy.

As you stood in front of your fiance, you swore you never felt such a stronger wave of love for him. You both had gone over so many things, but in the end, love overcame it all and there was no other way things would be like, you and him would finally be together, married, before the men and before God, forever and ever.

"You look gorgeous, sugar” he whispered and took your hand, kissing it gently, before he turned to the priest and you did the same. The ceremony was short and full of beautiful words, exactly like you and Jack wanted. No boring services where you both and the guests would fall asleep halfway towards it. Your cowboy always defended the idea of small ceremonies and large parties, and you couldn't agree more. When you were both pronounced husband and wife, he kissed you, and you returned the kiss, the way he held you in his arms showing you it was real and meant to be, oh that cowboy meant business. But he didn't just stop there, once he broke the kiss, he got on his knees in front of you, like the gentleman he was and pecked your stomach very gently. An obvious and yet extremely delicate way of breaking the news to the world there was a new member of the Daniels family on their way.

•••

As you carried an asleep Rosie into your eyes while Jack did the same with Wyatt - your husband was a gentleman, he carried the heavier one so your back wouldn't hurt - he couldn't help but chuckle.

"He fell asleep before telling her about our wedding party, that was a good one”

"And he couldn't even get to her birth either, but don't worry Jack, I'm sure we'll all be gifted with his version of the facts, all they gotta do is recharge their batteries for a little while and they'll be good to go, way better than us, by the way, because I'm exhausted”

"Me too, sugar”

Your cowboy planted a sweet peck on your lips, watching as you placed Rosie carefully in her crib and covered her up, tucking your gorgeous daughter in and allowing her to fly into her sweet dreams. Then, it was your son's turn, you followed Jack into Wyatt's little cowboy room and watched him do the same, tucking your son gently and wishing him sweet dreams with the loveliest whisper and closing the door behind him. And then it was just the two of you, finally the two of you.

As Jack took you to your shared bedroom, you could already see a hint of sadness in his eyes. He was sure you were about to enquire about what happened on that mission, but the only thing you did was approach your cowboy carefully and slowly and kiss him. Feeling his heavy hands resting on your hips as they brought you closer to him at the same time you wrapped your arms around his broad width. Things didn't have to rush, not now, not at the moment where you were so deep into his caresses. As he broke the kiss, you stroked his cheek.

"I know, Jack. I know you aren't supposed to talk about what happened on that mission, I'm aware it's top secret, but I also know you nearly died, so I just want to tell you I'm thrilled to know you aren't doing it again, I'm so happy you've finally retired, that way I don't have to worry about not having you coming back home to me, and well, us, your kids, your family. I just love you with all my heart, and I don't think I'd bear becoming a widow…”

Your lips were immediately connected with his, as he felt the urge of kissing you once more, the way your words stung - because he knew you were correct, he knew missions were getting more and more dangerous, either that or perhaps Jack was becoming too old for that. But he also knew he had no right to screw things up, not when you two had built a gorgeous family, he didn't have the right to take that away from you by letting you become a widow, and god forbid Jack die before enjoying his marriage and kids. It wouldn't be fair, not after everything you two fought so hard for - still, your words melted his heart all at once, he loved you endlessly, more than anything in the world, and he wished he knew how to word that out for you, so a gentle kiss was the best he could come up at that moment.

“You won't lose me, sugar. I promise you that much, you got all of me, I am retired and I'll be around so much you gonna get tired of my face all the time”

“I doubt that, cowboy… I love you”

"I love you too, my beautiful sugar. You're the woman of my dreams, my beautiful wife” Jack kissed your hands as he wrapped his arms around you, placing you down the bed and straddling you. He was having his way with you that night, something the two of you anticipated so much. There was nothing you wanted more than to sink into your cowboy's arms. Forever.

•••

What Wyatt failed to tell his little sister before the two of them fell asleep exhaustedly wasn't the biggest part of the story, but you were sure he would've told her how good the yummy food was - and that he was the one who helped you pick it all up, and in case you and their daddy decided to get married again, for the party purpose of course, and nothing remotely similar to a breakup, Wyatt was sure you'd call Rosie for her help too. He would also tell her about how pretty it was to see the two of you waltzing, exactly like a princess and a prince, and how you and his daddy danced with Wyatt on the dance floor until he was too tired to remember what happened next. For the following months, there was nothing more than just pure bright happiness in that ranch. Wyatt started school, he was still in kindergarten, and as much as you and Jack were proud of your little boy, you could've sworn you saw a single tear run down your tough cowboy's cheek. He was thinking of how many important things he'd missed from his son's life, but that wasn't going to happen again. He was a present dad, the kind of person to attend any type of teacher-parent conference and be there all the time for his kids. He loved them with all his heart, and with the months progressing along with your pregnancy, Jack had stayed by your side at any given opportunity. He loved you, and he loved his baby girl, and every single night he dreamed of her; he dreamed of her sweet face, a face that resembled yours, as well as Wyatt's, and even resembled his own. He wondered what her hair and eye color would be like, and as he saw your pregnant belly swollen with his baby, the love seed he planted there, it also made his own heart swollen with pride.

When you woke up cramping and soon enough your water broke, he felt he had won the damn Superbowl, driving you to the hospital in his Bronco at the speed of light and later on having Helen pick up Wyatt from school and take him to the hospital. By the time your lovely little cowboy was officially a big brother to your newest bundle of joy: Rose Marie Daniels.

Although Wyatt insisted on calling her Rosie because he thought it was cuter and the nickname sort of caught on. If you usually went by ‘sugar’, your husband and son went by ‘cowboy’, why couldn't your beautiful daughter go by ‘Rosie’ after all?

And so went on your life as a married woman to the man of your dreams and your two beautiful children. There was nothing you could ask for, you had it all, and you loved every single part of it.

•••

A whole year had passed: your cowboy had finally gotten used to his retirement, out go super secret dangerous missions, and in come mornings spent at the distillery, supervising the production of the finest Statesman's liquor, afternoons spent taking care of the ranch and carrying Rosie all over, as the two of them waited eagerly for Wyatt to come home from school. You had talked to your husband about daycare, he knew it was quite a good idea, his baby daughter was smart and fast as a thunder, but the mere idea of sending her off to spend the whole day away from him was enough to tear his heart apart: he couldn't go without watching silly little cartoons, or making cute piggy tails on her soft hair and allow her to take a daily nap on top of his chest and belly. She was almost turning two, and as much as it mesmerized him to see her blossoming and growing up so fast, it still saddened him to see how fast time flew by. He was getting a third kid fever, but he wasn't sure if it was happening; maybe it was, he still needed to talk to you about it, but those were later plans, he still had so much to do with his life, with his family, he wanted to enjoy Wyatt, who was now nearly turning 8. His beautiful Rosie was practically a toddler now, and there was nothing more he enjoyed in the world than picking up Wyatt from school and letting the kids run loose with you in the green fields while he grilled his famous burgers. Those were special days, because they had nothing elaborated in them, just a family moment among the Daniels, something the brokenhearted cowboy thought he would never get, but turns out he did. He deserved it all. After trying so hard to convince himself he didn't, after trying to convince himself he was just a heartless man, he was shown he wasn't a horrible human being as the two of you had thought several times. You two had come along a long way, but in the end, things had worked out, because your love was big and strong, and nothing in the world could come between you.

As you watched Wyatt and Rosie playing with Silver Star, you walked to Jack, wrapping your arms around his body and kissing him deeply. His face was smooth as always and his mustache always trimmed, just as you loved kissing and riding quite often. You smirked at him and snuggled him.

“So, have you made up your mind, honey?”

"About what, sugar?”

“You know, running for mayor in this upcoming election..”

You and Jack had discussed it, more likely drunkenly discussing the possibility, you didn't know if he had actually meant that, but you knew your husband well enough to see that fire in his eyes and the genuine will to help the ones in need and give it back to the city that took him in. He returned the smile and kissed your neck, warning a groan from you.

"I still don't know, I think of it sometimes, it would be nice, I know I'd have support from you, the kids and quite a lot of people in town, but I worry it would make our lives too exposed you know, and I don't want that, I love our life the way it is, how happy and calm those kids are, I don't know about mixing up things…”

“Well, I want you to remember I love you and I'll support you no matter what. I gotta admit it makes me feel a little nervous to have this possibility of getting into politics and having our lives changing completely, although I'm sure I'd love to call you Mr.Mayor”

And at that naughty line, you earned a smack on your butt, making you squirm softly and see your cowboy really enjoyed the nickname, even if he didn't try running for mayor. Still, there was something else you knew he wanted, it could be a future plan too, but it wouldn't hurt to talk about it.

"You know, I was thinking that maybe in the near future, we could have a third baby… what about adopting this time?”

And your cowboy's heart nearly exploded with happiness and excitement. There was nothing he wanted more than seeing his family grow. No matter if it was by blood or simply by love, for a man who bought a ranch to fill it in with broken promises and lost dreams, nothing made him happier than to see his family running all over that place with so much joy and excitement. The happy giggles and squeals, and to think that could even grow, it was just an endless bliss, the kind of bliss Jack Daniels, former Agent Whiskey had to pinch himself and make sure he wasn't asleep, but instead, it was his lovely, beautiful reality.

"Daddy!!! We're hungry!”

Wyatt chimed in as he ran to him, followed by Rosie, who clung to her dad as if her little life depended on it.

"Yes, daddy, we’we hungwy!” She imitated her big brother, still not able to pronounce the R’s properly and making her daddy's heart melt into a puddle of love and affection. He got on his knees, wrapping his arms around his children. He loved them with all his heart. Just as much as he loved you, deeply, more than anything he had ever loved anyone.

Jack Daniels, former Agent Whiskey, a man whose heart was once broken, was now a man full of love. He was devoted to his wife and his beautiful kids, nothing in the world mattered more than them and for someone who had been known as a heartless man, he was nothing but love and comfort for you, Wyatt and Rosie.

The four of you were perfect for each other and maybe in the near future, there would be another addition to the Daniels, but until then, that cowboy was going to devote himself completely to you.

He wasn't ever called a heartless man again, not with that amount of love he felt overflowing through himself. He loved and he received love, just like he was supposed to, just like he deserved it.

____

A/N: thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you all for the kindness and the support you all showed me with this story. It's been nearly a year of what should've been just a one shot and turned into a 20 chapter piece of work! I'm so happy and proud of myself for being able to write this beautiful story, nothing cheers up my heart more than knowing you all showed me so much love! Please besties, it's been a long ride, so if you can, leave me a feedback for our cowboy's last ride, I hope you've enjoyed it, as much as I did! Love you all and once more, thank you for the support ❤️💫

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yeollie-plz · 4 months

Text

Swans A Swimming

Day 7 of Pedromas! | Masterlist

Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

Synopsis: Agent Whiskey takes you for a swim.

Genre: smut

Warnings: exhibitionist, p in v sex, pool sex, unprotected sex, kissing, fingering, daddy kink, mentions of spanking, almost getting caught

Gif credits to owners!

The minute you have slipped your cover off, his eyes were on you. The lacking material of your bikini left little to the imagination. And damn was he imagining.

All he wanted to do was rip it right off of your body. But he was going to take his time. Especially if he had you in such a compromising place. The pool wasn’t exactly private and Whiskey wasn’t exactly complaining.

“Well, sweetness, what do we have here.” He says as you wade over to where he is lounging at the shallow end of the pool.

Of course, you feign innocence, “I’m not sure what you mean.” As you speak you let your hand run across his chest. The water helping you easily slide your legs over his, straddling him.

“Wearing almost nothing.” He whispers, taking the sight of your breasts in fully, now that they were right in front of him.

“Thought you’d like it.” Your hands make their way around his neck.

He lets out a mix between a laugh and a groan at your statement. Hands now finding your waist as he pulls your body into his crotch. You feel him already getting hard.

“Whoa, cowboy, this turned on already?” Now it’s your turn to laugh. You bite your lip.

“Got me all excited.” He says, simply.

His hand leaves your hip to make its way to your core. He slips his fingers past your bikini bottoms and finds your clit quickly, massaging it. You whimper at the sudden feeling.

"That's it, baby, feel it. Let me pleasure you." You're whimpering again at his words. His index finger dips past your folds, quirking them a bit to hit your g spot.

"Jack-" You whimper.

"Words." Is all he says back, not needing to say more.

"Need you, quickly. We are so exposed here."

"Really? Thought my little exhibitionist would like it out here. What with the way you teased me at dinner the other night." His other hand has now made contact with your clit, rubbing it in time with his fingers.

"That was-that was different."

He tsks at you, "Not sure it was, pretty girl. I mean you're putty in my hands right now, I think you like it."

Instead of responding you just moan at his words and reconnect your lips to his. Biting down on his bottom lip with his fingers hit extra deep inside of you.

Now he's moaning into your lips as your hips buck into his hand, trying to get yourself off. You can tell he wants you as much as you want him. He's enjoying the fact that the two of you could be caught at any minute just as much as you are. You can especially tell by how easily he reacts to your touch when you decide to tease him back.

Your hands have found their way to his hardened dick, teasing him through the fabric of his swim trunks. He is once again left moaning, as his hips are now the ones bucking up. You giggle slightly at how much he reacts to you.

"Think teasing me is funny?" He says simply. The words are laced with subtle annoyance, more from a place of dominance than anger.

"Just want you so bad, daddy." The nickname makes him pause for a second. You smile to yourself, knowing what it does to him.

"You won't be laughing when I've spanked you more times than you can count later. When I bring you to your edge over and over again, but don't allow you to cum." Although the words are talking about punishment, they still make you wetter at the thought. A little whimper slips past your lips at his words.

Now he's laughing, before slipping his fingers out of you. You let out a whine at the loss, but he just tsks again. Pulling his trunks down just enough to let his dick out, he grabs your hips and lets the water help guide you down on it. You moan instantly at the stretch. Not giving you much time to adjust, he starts to lift you off of his dick before pushing you back on it. His hips move upwards to press his member even deeper into you.

He continues this rough motion, keeping the pace fast, trying to bring you both to orgasm quickly. You aren't sure if its because you teased him so much, that you are out in public, or because he can't wait to get your back to the bedroom. But whatever the reason you aren't complaining. Especially when his dick hits your g spot, causing you to fall forward slightly, loosing your balance.

He's laughing at you again, "See, putty." The words are matched with his thumb finding your clit again, working it in circles. His lips find yours and kiss you, hard. Slipping his tongue past your lips when you gasp at the mixture of feelings.

The water moves with his thrusts, splashing up around you two. But you are too busy to notice the chlorine in your eyes, not with the beginnings of your orgasm starting. Your walls clench around his dick, signaling your impending peak.

"Cum with me." Is all you need to hear before your walls are spasming over his dick, drawing his orgasm also out of him.

As your walls continue to milk him of his cum, his thrusts become slower and so does his thumb on your clit. When he has figured, you two are fully down from your highs, he pecks your lips before leaning his forehead against yours.

"Well, that was fun, but we might wanna calm down and get out of here. I think some people are coming." He says before tilting his head towards the sound of people yelling and laughing coming closer.

Quickly you lift yourself off of him, causing him to hiss at the speed you did it at. You fix your bikini bottoms as you walk up the steps and out of the pool.

Winking back at him as you purposefully show your ass to him before slipping your cover over yourself. More specifically your ass that he was eyeing like he had never seen anything like it. As his view is covered he looks up to your eyes, your eyes spark with play.

You bend down, face inches from his, "Come on, daddy. Why don't we try out the sauna?"

Your lips brush his, before pulling away right before he can kiss you. He falls forward a bit, expecting to meet you instead of air. You stand and saunter off towards the sauna. Swaying your hips, knowing that his eyes are bearing into you as you walk away.

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

Taglist:

@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley @amyispxnk

175 notes · View notes

lionlena · 11 months

Text

☆MASTERLIST☆

Pedro Pascal

One Shot:

♡A kitchen disaster

♡Just let it go…

♡New job, new problems...

♡Just breathe

Series:

♡His Curls - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (completed)

♡Hate run, love speed - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress)

♡We don’t love each other - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 - Final (completed)

Request:

♡A perfect day for a perfect girl (It's your birthday and Pedro makes you feel loved and special all day)

Headcanon:

♡What sleeping position do they most like when you are with them? (Pedro Pascal characters)💤

♡How will they react to your makeup? (Pedro Pascal and his characters) 👁️👄💅

♡Headcanon: How do they behave when you have a migraine? (Pedro Pascal characters)🩹😴 (+ Dave and Marcus)

♡Headcanon: How will they react if you tell them about CDD? (Pedro Pascal characters) 👰💔😱🤕

♡Headcanon: Who will be ready to kill for you? From most willing to least... (Pedro Pascal characters) 🔪💀☠️🩸

♡Headcanon: How do they cook for you? (Pedro Pascal characters) 🥕🧑‍🍳🍓

Joel Miller

One Shot:

♡This is just a nightmare… (The Last of Us ff/ Joel/Ellie)

♡Strong for both of us

♡Trouble with ex

♡Dyeing your hair…

Series:

♡Unforgivable mistake, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12 (in progress)

♡I can't be everywhere (No outbreak!) Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4... (in progress)

Request:

♡You need a better place (Joel loving a girl with epilepsy)

♡Blue dress (Joel Miller x plus size!reader)

Headcanon:

♡When Joel goes limp… (JoelMillerxf!reader)🤷🍆🩹

Javier Peña

One Shot:

♡I’ll protect you… (bc you’re mine)

♡I’ll hurt you… ( bc you’re mine )

♡I’ll leave you (bc youre not mine)

♡I'll stay with you... ( bc I love you)

♡You’re hot…

♡A girl from the street

Series:

♡Dancing With Your Ghost - Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Epilogue (completed)

♡Too many shadows behind you - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (in progress)

Headcanon:

♡Nicotine (JavierPeña and You)

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels)

Series:

♡Dynasty - Part 1, Part 2, (in progress)

One Shot:

♡Mean (JackDanielsxf!reader)

Javi Gutierrez

One Shot:

♡Too hot

Frankie Morales

One Shot:

♡Lost cat

Marcus Pike

One Shot:

♡"7.44 am"

Oberyn Martell

Series:

♡Red Viper and Fox - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress, soon english version)

One Shot:

♡♕Queen's Milk

♡I Hold You

♡Remember me… (ANGST!)

The Old Guard (movie)

One Shot:

♡ Amira

♡ It hurts like hell

602 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 10 months

Text

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓

pairing: stripper!jack daniels x f!reader

genre: stripper AU, explicit, minors dni

word count: 4.2k

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

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

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

click for part two of the stripper!jack series

dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜

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

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

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

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

“Uh. . . a greyhound please?”

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

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

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

Suddenly it's very hard to breathe.

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

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

“You a’right there darlin’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With shaky legs, you do.

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

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

“Take a seat, sweetheart. Get comfortable.”

“O–Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your hands are on his crotch.

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

Fuck he feels warm under your palms—

Scratch that, he feels big.

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

“Sorry,” you squeak, fingers twitching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck—Are you about to come?

Nonononononono—

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

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

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

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

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

The music ends and you know your time is up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s single?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown when you realize all the ice had melted.

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

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

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

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

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