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changisworld · 8 days

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“you know you want to”

Stepbrother!Jeongin x fem reader

Summary: You & your stepbrother Jeongin have never gotten along, always snitching on one another & purposely annoying each other. When your parents have gone to sleep & you are tiptoeing down the stairs to sneak out of the basement window to get to a college party that you're strict dad won't allow, what are you gonna do when Jeongin catches you?

Word count:4,288

18+ MDNI, smut warnings under the cut

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS: DUB CON, manipulation/blackmail, Oral (F rec),squirting, unprotected sex, pull out method, edging (F rec), fingering (F rec), finger sucking, Hair pulling, tiny bit of spit??, neck kisses, dirty talk

-> Alcohol is mentioned but not ever consumed.

-> your dad & Jeongins mom are both titled as your parents just to save confusion but you are only related to your father, you & Jeongin aren't blood related.

** Jeongin & reader have a pre established relationship, 80% of this is just smut but depending on how well this does, I'll make a multiple part mini series in a LOOOTT more detail :3**

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You've just hung up facetime with your friend, Jennie after even further planning on what you're wearing to the party at her boyfriends house later tonight. You've got clothes thrown all over your floor from digging & taking all items worth wearing out of their places before showing them to the camera, getting her opinion on each piece & even having her call dibs on wearing a certain something.

You sigh before you swing open your bedroom door to go downstairs to go make yourself something to eat before you begin to get ready, but you're not happy with the sight in front of you, that being your step brother, Jeongin, giving you his cheeky smile, hair drooping down his forehead.

"What the fuck are you doing standing in my doorway, weirdo, move." you groan, pushing his shoulder but not with much strength behind it, letting him chuckle.

"Where ya going? Does your dad n my mom know, hmm?" he teases, following right beside you as you begin walking down the stairs, looking at the side of your face as you scoff.

"Are you eavesdropping on my conversations? Fuck off Jeongin, I'm not going anywhere, I need to study, so do you for that fact so leave me alone n go get busy." You walk into the kitchen, the guy skipping & humming as he follows you, leaning on the counter top as he watches you pour some cereal into a bowl but before you're able to get to the fridge, he stands in front of it.

" 'studying' my ass y/n, & I have been studying so shut up. You're a really bad liar, you know that right?" he smirks as he turns around to open the fridge & give you the milk.. well, lack thereof. "I drank some earlier n haven't told mom to get more, whoopsies." He walks out of the kitchen happy as a rainbow as you groan & throw the empty milk carton on the floor, yelling at Jeongin as you hear him running up the stairs.

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You have your music playing quietly so your parents don't awaken as you're doing your makeup, humming along to the song as you finish applying a pretty blue/silverish shimmer shade across the inner part of your eyelids, making them stand out. You finish doing your hair & go through the few outfit options you managed to choose between the other thirty at the beginning of the day & you end up holding each of them up to your chest to get a better idea now that you are mostly ready & your mind settles on a blue denim miniskirt along with a black strappy gemstone top.

You put it on & take a few pictures that you'll probably post later before packing your 'escape bag'. You put some sweat pants over your skirt & a hoodie over your top before putting your black clutch & your alcohol wrapped in a shirt to stop the clanking noise in a backpack before you pick up your shoes, turning off your bedroom lights & extremely slowly closing your bedroom door, making sure to be as quiet as possible.

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You hold your breath as you begin tiptoeing down the long hallway, not being able to lightly sigh as you get past your parents silent bedroom, hearing your dad snoring inside, knowing the first part of the difficulty is over with.

You can hear Jeongins TV's low volume further down the hall & you feel a pit in your stomach growing, knowing he is still awake. You pause your steps for a minute, hearing no further movements or rustling coming from behind his door, so you progress.

You get past his door & you can't help but feel a cold sweat on the back of your neck, 'no matter how much I do this shit it never gets easier' you think to yourself. You get to the bottom of the stairs eventually & walk past all other rooms until you get to the door that leads to the basement.

You open the small cabinet next to the door & get the key before putting it in the door & turning it. You turn the door knob but it's now locked.. & your parents never leave it unlocked. Your stomach butterflies return as you use the key again, the door now being able to open.

You don't have much time to think about it however, as your light brown haired stepbrother appears from the basement. "Told you you are bad at lying, what you doing so late?" he whispers, letting out an overdramatic sigh as he grabs your wrist to snatch the key out of your hand, ushering you away from the doorframe as he slowly closes the door, not looking away from you.

"Jeongin, cmon. Just move." you whisper back, attitude in you voice as he somehow leads you into the living room, you still walking backwards. "N why would I, you lied to me, broke my huge heart." he remarks as he leans over your shoulder to try take your bag off your shoulder. You go back & forth, pulling & tugging on it before he overpowers you & now has the backpack in his hands. You are quick to try snatch it back but he pushes you onto the soft sofa behind you. "Ah,ah, ahhh, don't be stupid y/n, might wake 'em up. Why you got shoes in your hands n not wearing them, you really are odd at times."

You give up & throw the shoes onto the carpeted flooring, knowing you're probably not going anywhere tonight. He pulls out everything in your bag, holding it up to the window, letting the moonlight shine onto your alcohol in order to read it, just to tease you further since he knew what would be in your bag before even getting his hands on it.

He pulls out your clutch bag & an eyebrow raises before looking back at you again, your arms crossed as you frown up at him, the reflection of the moon showing his defined cheekbones that little bit extra. "You have this bag, inside a bag, while looking as if you've just got out of prison.. wha'cha underneath?" He questions, stepping towards you before sitting next to you.

You scoff at his words but he doesn't look away from you, noticing you have perfume on too. You both sit in silence for a second but before you have time to react, Jeongin is grabbing at your hoodie & somehow gets it over your head, the top you are wearing underneath now on show. He scoffs as he looks at you & you push him. "You're genuinely psychotic Jeongin, you caught me for fuck sake, do you really need to go this far? I'm not gonna go anywhere anymore, just give over." you whisper yell at him, irritation in your voice.

He looks into your eyes, his dimples appearing on his cheeks as he quietly chuckles. "I didn't say you couldn't go y/n." he says nonchalantly as he leans fully into the couch, turning his head to look at you. "So.. you're not gonna snitch if I go? bull.shit." you remark but your tone still raises, sounding more hopeful than you were a few minutes ago.

"Well I mean, If I got something in return, I wouldn't" he replies, sitting up again to match your posture, leaning forward a bit, which you notice, but choose to not say anything. "Seriously? What is it you're after? Money? I'll deep clean your car for you? I'll write that stupid essay you keep putting off for you? I'll give you Jennie's number?" you ramble, still making sure to keep your tone down but Jeognin 'shooshes' you anyway. "You're so loud, learn to whisper." He jokes before he shuffles over so his right leg is touching your left one now as he leans in to your ear.

"Like this, & what if I know what I want, but it's not anything you mentioned?" his breath tickles your neck as he whispers which makes you twitch subconsciously. "Just tell me Jeongin, I have places to be, do you wanna come with or something? Is that what this is? Coulda just said you have no friends to invite you out." you whisper back, getting fed up. Jeongin lets out a sigh into your ear before moving away, as you both make eye contact again, Jeongin puts his hand on the back of your head & lean you both in & he kisses you.

Your eyes shoot as wide as plates as his lips move against yours despite yours not doing the same way. You push him by the shoulders & wiggle your head free from the hand against the back of your teeth & you just stare at him, not saying much. Jeongin looks back at you, breathing a bit heavier due to the nerves. You both sit in silence for a minute, a million thoughts racing through your head but that is interrupted as Jeongin throws himself back at you, locking lips with you again.

You flop backwards on the couch as Jeongin puts more of his body weight on you, him holding himself up by putting his arm on the arm of the couch right above your head as he keeps his lips locked with yours & to his surprise & yours, you both realise your lips are moving along with his this time.

"Jeongin what the fuck, we can't be doing this this is just fucked up. Get off." you say in a more serious voice, your hands moving to cross over your chest, trying to create distance between you both despite you could just push him. "Stop acting so innocent y/n, you just kissed me back n besides we aren't blood related, we have only known each other for what, five years? Don't act as if you don't want this." he smirks as he speaks, pushing the bit of hair that is resting weirdly on your face back into its place.

"Jeongin, If you get off me now I won't tel-" You don't finish your sentence as he cuts you off by kissing you again, & you can't help but take a bit of pleasure in how soft his lips are, a light taste of his cherry lip balm transferring onto your own.

Jeongin starts to nibble on your bottom lip every few seconds as his tongue also starts to poke at where your own one is & he eventually worms his tongue inside your mouth, humming as he tastes it.

This continues for a minute or so before he breaks it off, spit coating both of your lips & your bottom lip a bit swollen & reddened from his teeth attacking it as he begins a trail of kisses down your jawline & landing on your neck, biting at it, making you hold back a whimper.

"Jeongin, plea-" "shhh y/n, just enjoy it, I'll make this wayyy better than going out, promise." he snaps back, interrupting you as he wiggles his way down further, kissing your collarbone & chest as he begins to shimmy your sweatpants down with his free hand & you have no idea why but you help him by raising your hips, letting them slide off your pretty legs.

He looks down after giving one last kiss to your collarbones after feeling a rough fabric that is no longer hidden by the joggers. "Ahh, you really did dress up hmm? Atleast the pretty outfit isn't gonna go to waste since someone's seen it now. Were you planning on fucking someone y/nnie?" he questions as his long fingers trace over your denim skirt, making you flinch & squirm.

"Jeongin what if someone catches us, you're being stupid." you respond, avoiding his question completely, your voice now soft despite your voice never being above a whisper at all. Jeongin rolls his eyes as he reaches down that little bit further & lands a quick flick to your covered core, making you jolt, eyebrows furrowing as you look back up at him. "Just be quiet n we will be fine, answer my question." he puts his hand up to your face & squishes your cheeks as he makes you look fully at him, both of you making eye contact as his other hand is now playing with the skin on the inside of your thigh, making your hips move on their own, seeking more. "No,Jeongin, I wasn't." he hums at your reply as he shuffles down so he is no face level with your lower stomach as he gives it a few kisses before undoing the button on your miniskirt before also removing hat item of clothing, Now being only left in your thong & black top despite Jeongin still wearing his grey sweatpants & white tank top.

"That's what I wanted to hear but for some reason, I don't believe it y/nnieee, nobody would dress like this & sneak out if you weren't after cock." Your cheeks are as red as cherries as he suddenly sits up on his knees long enough to take his shirt off to show his chiselled, defined, gorgeous abs which you have to try force yourself to look away to try save whatever self preservation you're trying to convince yourself you still have.

Jeongin resumes his place on your lower tummy as one hand is now playing with the hem of your sparkly top as his other hand begins to play with your covered cunt, which unsurprisingly has a small wet patch which is now transferring onto his fingers, despite you trying your hardest to not be turned on from the current situation. "Someone's enjoying this more than they're letting on, No need to be completely mute jagi, just remember who's upstairs." he says, more to himself than anything but you huff at his words anyway, embarrassment radiating through your body, partially from his words, & partially from how turned on you actually are.

He continues lightly dragging his long fingers along your folds, causing your panties to be dampened even more as his other hands fingers dig their way under your shirts fabric & grabs onto your nipple which makes you arch your back on instinct. He begins to lightly pull on your nipple, flicking it with his thumb as he continues kissing your lower stomach, his soft hair tickling it.

His kisses get lower & lower until his lips hit the hem of your panties & you don't put up a fight as he now discards that too. He moves his hand from your left nipple as he wraps his arms around your legs as he is now face level with your dripping core. "Be good n keep your legs open for me, mkay? Stay quiet f'me." He says in a low tone, voice sounding flushed out despite it being you being touched, not him. You have no words that even come to mind to create a response, you just sigh as you cross your arms over your eyes, trying to not focus on your step brothers breath hitting your naked heat.

Jeongin takes this as enough of an answer & licks a long, slow strip up your entire core, which in return makes you hiss at the contact. He wastes no time in digging into your cunt like a man starved as he uses two fingers to spread your folds as he begins slurping on it before switching & nibbling on your swollen button, making you bite down on your lip painfully to hold back as much noise as possible.

He snakes his arm up your frame until he taps two fingers against your lips & you immediately open your lips, letting his fingers now rest on your tongue as you begin sucking on them, using them to help swallow your moans. The room has slurping & hisses filling the room, a mix of your own juice & also his own spit dripping down past your cunt & his chin onto the couch below.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, much to your dismay as but that is short lived as he worms his now spit covered fingers into your pussy & begins scissoring them & he lets out a quiet groan as he has now gotten a feeling of your wet walls as you instantly clench down on his long fingers which you're convinced are grazing your cervix. He wriggles his fingers around slightly until he finds your G-spot before attacking it with them & you begin squirming around as much as you can with heavy breaths despite his arms still being wrapped around your legs, preventing you from moving freely.

He keeps suckling & slurping on your clit as he is finger fucking you & you begin clenching down a lot more than you were a minute ago. "Jeo- g'na cum- plea-" Your words die in your throat as he struggles but manages to pull himself completely away from your cunt, watching you with a smirk as your eyes are watery, stress & agitation on your face from feeling your orgasm drifting away from your lower stomach as your own juice drips down his chin, giving it a shine that you can make out now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark.

"You really think I'd let you cum on my fingers when I don't know how much you can take, hunny? You can cum on my dick this time, just till I see how well you can take me." He gives you a kiss on your thighs before now using this chance to take his sweatpants & also boxers, leaving him now completely nude as his words sink in & you can't help but think & hope this happens again..?

He helps flip you around before bending you over the arm of the couch, your pretty ass on show for him. He spreads your legs enough so he can fit between them before letting spit drip from his lips, landing directly on his cock as he pumps it in his hand. You turn your head to at least get a look of what exactly you are getting yourself into & you almost regret that choice because you genuinely have no idea how the fuck you're going to be able to handle it. His cock is longer than it is thick but it curves upwards which you now both know will be your G-spots best friend within the following minutes.

Jeongin realises your reaction & can't help but chuckle. "You scared you won't be able to take it y/n? where's that cocky, bitchy personality now disappeared to hmm?" he questions, cockiness in his voice as he begins running his leaky cock head along your folds, making him hold back a groan. "Just, ugh, just put it in Jeongin, Don't be a dick." you try to say with venom, but just ends up sounding needy, which Jeongin laughs at. "Say please & I'll happily give you it." he replies, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder, eyes looking at the side of your flushed out face.

You take a deep breath but don't budge & Jeongin isn't happy with that so he sits back up on his knees as he wraps his long hand into your hair before pulling your hair so now you're looking at him upside down, your back arching. "Say. Please." he repeats, voice sounding way more serious the second time around. Your eyes water from the burn on your scalp but you can't deny how needy you actually are & before you can think for a moment, you're throwing your ego out of the window. "Jeongin, p-please just put it in, want it., want your cock." you murmur, trying to be aware of where you both currently are.. completely naked. He is happy with this & lets go of your hair, making you flop forwards as he lines himself fully up with you, before finally sliding inside.

Your legs almost give out from just the pleasure of him filling you out alone but you somehow keep yourself up. You both let out a whine, his being louder since he hasn't got the edge of the couch to smother his face in to shut himself up. He oh so kindly lets you adjust for around thirty seconds, you both sitting in silence other than the heavy breaths & the sound of the living room clock ticking away in the backround.

"So tight, holy shit y/n. Gonna move now, alright.?" He asks but doesn't actually give you any time to respond before he is withdrawing his hips before returning to where they just were, then repeating it.

He picks up his pace, his hips connecting with your ass as his hands find their place on your hips, helping you now meet his thrusts. You are muffling your whines & squeals by biting down onto the fabric of the couch, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your gummy walls are being ruined by the fluffy haired man behind you.

You find the strength to lift your head up off the couch to mutter out a few incoherent words Jeongins fucked out brain can't completely understand, He keeps chasing his own release, throwing his head towards the ceiling & panting until he feels you clenching so tight he thinks his cock can turn purple.

"Gonna cum for m-me y/n? Squeezing me so tight, g-gonna kill me. You're s-so fucking wet." Your moans encourages him to pick up the pace even more than he already is, his great stamina being something he is thankful for in this moment. He admires the squelching noises coming from your cunt & he thinks he can honestly melt from pleasure. "Jeon-in f-fuck, t-too-so big." you whine, trying to keep as quiet as possible but can't help the noises you're letting out, his cock pushing your cervix into a completely new place inside you.

"Yeah? Taking it so well for m-me, so beau-hot." He cuts himself off, trying to not say such nice words, since that is the imaginary line he is trying to draw for himself, despite not wanting to.

Your legs begin to shake again & you try to warn Jeongin you're about to cum, but it's no use since you're so fucked out you're convinced your brain has completely melted. You feel it bubble up & then over as your orgasm sprays out of your pussy & lands onto your own thighs, Jeongins cock, trimmed pubes & also the couch beneath you.

Jeongin watches this & he tries to hold out until you at least start to come off your orgasm so it isn't completely ruined before he pulls out as his own orgasm is only a second away & pumps his cock at an extreme pace before his own orgasm shoots out of him, landing onto your ass & back, a few drops landing on the one item of clothing that somehow didn't come off.

Your legs have already given out & you are now just awkwardly arched on the edge of the sofa, trying to catch your breath back. Jeongin pants & pushes his now wet with sweat hair out of his pretty face before he stands up on his own shaky legs & puts his hands on your legs gently before pulling you, so you're now laying fully flat on your back.

You both don't exchange words but Jeongin takes it upon himself to grab his tank top to wipe his orgasm off of you, which you appreciate deep down. "I'll get you some water, I would say sit tight but you can't move anyways dick's too good huh." he teases as he is still panting, kissing leaning down to kiss your lower back. You just 'tut' at his words.

He returns with three glasses, you can see one has a dark liquid in it & you think the other two are water. "Why the third glass, the hell is that.?" you mumble, only now actually returning fully to earth. "Well you squirted all over the damn couch in case you didn't realise & it's one in the morning, I can't be fucked to clean that n I know you can't, just gonna pour cola on the spot since our parents drank vodka coke earlier, they'll probably just believe it." He pants out before chugging his own cup of water then remembering to give you your own drink. You let out a giggle as you force yourself to sit up enough so you can drink the water that you didn't realise how much you actually needed a drink until you take a sip then you suddenly have the driest mouth on earth.

He helps you gather your clothes (after letting you whisper yell at him for getting cum on your shirt) & he helps you tiptoe up stairs along with him. "We never speak of this again Jeongin, I swear to god." you whisper outside his bedroom door, his TV still playing from earlier. "mhmm, If you say so, sleep well." he snarkily replies before closing his own bedroom door, before taking his phone off his desk & going onto the message app.

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Jeongin: It actually worked lmaoo

Jennie: Told ya, u just needed to test her limits lol

Jeongin: ahaha, was worth the risk, thx jen

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Jeongin can't help but blush slightly as he shuts his phone off & just looks around his clean bedroom, realising what he did & how easy it was, which he is definitely keeping in mind.

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merakiui · 10 months

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we have discussed clingy, codependent boyfriend azul, but now allow me to present to you: scummy, sleazy floyd.

(nsfw + female reader)

scummy, sleazy floyd who you meet at some club deep in the shadowed corner of the city. he smells of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and he’s leering lasciviously as he leans against the bar, blocking your view of another guy who’d been attempting to strike up conversation. he doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s interested, and you only let him stay because he keeps you on your toes with his witty and blunt retorts. you tell him you’re not looking for a quick fuck and his lips spread in an easy grin and he answers with: “and i’m just here to hold hands and make friends.”

he buys you a drink; you gaze at the flashy silver and gold adorning his fingers when he passes the cocktail to you. some of those rings look expensive: bejeweled with the brightest gemstones and glittering with sterling silver. his sleeves are rolled up; he’s got tattoo sleeves of what looks to be various marine creatures, all predatory with their curling tentacles and sharpened maws. his ears are pierced, too, and so is his tongue. not that you’re looking at his lips, but when he smiles his entire face lights up. one moment he looks pure and sweet with his broad grins; the next he looks as if he’s just undressed you with his gaze alone. and under the dim, sensual neon lighting, something about the latter look has you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

you talk to him as you drink. horrifyingly enough, he’s good company. you almost wish you’d come with a friend so you could have an excuse to leave. it’s not that you’re uncomfortable. it’s just that you weren’t expecting to find someone here who’d genuinely listen to you—and not just so he can wheedle you into sex! he’s a rare specimen, or maybe you’re just too buzzed to see through the deceptively appealing haze that’s fallen over him.

“so why are you still here?”

“cuz you’re fun to talk to.”

“but don’t you want to fuck?”

“do you?” he smirks at your flustered sputtering. “don’t ask for somethin’ you don’t want.”

“huh…”

“you’re cute.” it catches you off guard, but then so does the nickname he throws out next. “like a little shrimp. think i’ll start callin’ ya shrimpy from now on.”

“please don’t.”

“too late.”

you quirk an amused smile and reach out to shove him away. he doesn’t budge. not that you put any force into it. you don’t want him to leave. not yet.

“you never gave me your name.”

“ya never asked.”

“okay, smooth talker, what’s your name?”

he smiles, gleeful mismatched eyes flicking to your fingers as they curl around the handle of your empty glass. he gazes at you next. “floyd.”

“nice to meet you, floyd. i’m (name).”

“s’pretty, but i still think shrimpy sounds better.”

you roll your eyes and angle your body so that you’re facing him entirely. you know you’ve been sitting here for quite some time now because suddenly he’s the only one you want to look at. maybe it’s the alcohol, but you feel so stupidly incoherent when you stand on unsteady legs. it takes you a moment to balance on the wedge platforms, and floyd offers a muscled arm for you to lean on. you grab it and squeeze his bicep out of drunken curiosity. he’s strong…

he’s eyeing your mini skirt and fishnet stockings with sharp eyes. you know it’s bad news; you know you shouldn’t get carried away like this, especially since you just came out of a very vanilla, very normal, very non-sexual romance. but that relationship didn’t work out; this one…is different. it’s not a relationship. it’s a hook-up. it’s temporary. it’s not permanent.

your eyes tell him all he needs to know. he giggles as he guides you through a tight hall to the bathroom. the music is a muffled hum now, bass reverberating through your rib cage as if it’s a heartbeat. impatiently, he pushes you into a stall, not bothering to lock the door. you scramble for purchase when he shoves you up against the wall. it’s been graffitied with all sorts of nonsense: magicam usernames, some circled and others crossed out, phone numbers, dirty words, incoherent scribbles of poorly drawn penises… it’s filthy and you wouldn’t fuck even your worst enemy in a place as horrid as this, but tonight it feels right.

you fumble to grab his shoulders while his hands hike your mini skirt further up your hips. it feels fast and slow all at once. is this happening? are you even alive right now? did you pass out from the alcohol? is this a dream? his voice brings you back to earth next.

“changed your mind?” he teases, pressing his thumbs into your sides to gauge just how plush your waist is. and from what he’s feeling he seems to approve, for he squeezes you playfully. the coolness of his rings settles your overheated nerves.

“s-shut up…”

“ya ever had sex before?”

it takes a long minute for you to process that, but once you do you hurry to respond. “of course i have!”

“liar.”

“’m not,” you mumble, shaking your head.

“yeah, yeah. lemme guess. you want it, but you’re too scared to take it.”

“…not true.”

he barks out a laugh. “ya serious? really? that’s it?”

you push his face away. he’s still laughing.

“that’s not true!”

“ya ever use any toys?” at your limp shrug, he throws his head back and whistles. “man. why’re you even here? what’s an inexperienced thing like you doin’ in a club?”

you stare hard at the floor, suddenly ashamed. “i… i wanted to lose it…tonight…”

or something like that.

“don’t ya have someone special who can take it? not that i ain’t special, but ya know… s’different. a partner or somethin’ like that.”

“there’s no one.”

floyd hums as if he’s considering something before promptly lowering to his knees. he doesn’t seem to mind the sticky floor, but then he’s more focused on the space between your legs. he winks when he catches your gaze, lips peeling to reveal rows of sharp, pearly teeth.

“then i’d better treat ya extra special tonight.”

you don’t object. he wasn’t expecting you to.

maybe if you were more sober and level-headed you might find the sensation unusual. but his tongue (and the cold metal of his accompanying piercing) feels so unfathomably good against your clit. he braces himself against your legs, strong hands wrapped firmly around your thighs as if they’re garters. his nose is buried in your crotch while he angles his head to lave his tongue over your slick pussy, leaving you a shuddering, gasping mess above. you grab at his hair, tugging teal strands to keep yourself afloat amidst inebriation and waves of tantalizing pleasure, each crashing into you as if you’re a poor, fragile sailboat on a vast, tumultuous sea.

he’s the best (and only) fuck you’ve ever had, so when his tongue flashes into your pussy you throw your head back against the stall and wail, your stomach untying its many knots as you come undone. you’re a mess, shuddering and panting, reduced to nothing before something so… so… great? perfect?

something so floyd.

and while you grind against his mouth he laps eagerly at your wetness, unbothered by the shower he just endured. he’s laughing when he pulls away, voice raspy and thick with good-natured mischief.

“shrimpy’s so easy…”

you scowl at him, but it falls apart the moment he licks his lips.

“you’re just too…”

“yeah?” he nods, encouraging you to continue. “too what? you can say it.”

you almost don’t want to give him that satisfaction, but then he’s pinching your clit and you’re melting against the stall. suddenly being vindictive is the least of your priorities.

“t-too good!”

“see? shrimpy knows the right words.” he rises to his feet in the cramped space, shucking his trousers as he goes. they pool at his ankles, momentarily forgotten. you stare at the outline of his half-hard cock against his boxers. “good girl.”

that... wow. okay. that’s…something new. you don’t want it to hit, but it does. and you hate that it does. you try not to let it show, but he’s so eerily perceptive despite all of the carnal lust and physical attraction. how he’s even able to focus all of his attention on you while he lazily works himself in one hand is beyond you, but then you surmise he’s likely had plenty of experience and so by now he knows the basic steps by heart. it hurts a little—that you’re not his first, that you aren’t anyone special to him, that you’re just another body he’s pinned to a dingy stall wall—but you don’t dare let your sentimental feelings spoil the mood.

you watch him roll a condom on one-handed and—god, even his dick is pierced—your anticipation couldn’t be any more palpable. he rocks himself against you, his leaking cock pressed to your stomach. he pokes at an area just above his tip.

“you think it’ll go all the way up to here?” he hums while you try (and fail) to say something coherent. “only one way to find out, yeah?”

“mhm…”

floyd laughs. “don’t go gettin’ dazed on me now, shrimpy. i haven’t even put it in yet!”

he turns you so you’re facing the wall and lifts one of your legs. the position stings for a moment, but then his dick is prodding at your pussy and if you had any doubts now they’re all washed away when he snaps his hips forwards, filling you all at once, so much that the breath is punched out of you and you crumple against the wall. you scramble to grab onto something, but he keeps you plastered to the wall, one hand curled around your waist and the other holding your leg up so that he’s fucking you at an angle. each thrust pushes you up against the stall, and you howl like a mutt in heat, no longer worried about slipping.

it’s so gross. you’re tacky with sweat and your panties are soaked through, and every time he connects his body to yours you can hear the lewd squelching of skin on skin. it’s vile and loveless, but god it’s good. everything about him is temporary; he’s not your forever. you know this, but for tonight he’s your temporary and that feels like a dreamy eternity.

he fucks you like you’re the only one left in this world, and your lashes flutter against your cheekbones, vision whiting out. you shudder through your orgasm, sobbing pleasured relief, and it takes just a few more well-aimed thrusts until he’s spilling hot, groaning lowly in your ear.

he stays pressed to you for a few seconds, rolling his hips slowly as if riding out a glorious high, and you blink rapidly as you return to yourself. he waves his hand in front of you and, stupidly, you reach out and clasp it tight. his fingers entwine with yours. temporary, you remind yourself.

it’s sweaty and sticky and so unbearably hot when he separates himself, slipping out with ease. you almost lower yourself to the ground, exhausted and in need of a bath, so he supports you with one arm while he tugs the now-filled condom off.

floyd peers at you with glazed eyes and leans in to kiss you on the cheek. it’s the cherry on top—a job well done.

“you got a friend nearby?”

“what?”

“someone to pick ya up.” he tries to clean you, balling toilet paper and using it to wipe you down. it doesn’t really work. you still feel filthy even after he’s adjusted your panties and pulled your mini skirt down. it’s the effort that counts, though. “shrimpy’s not really in the right mind.”

“i’m in the best mind, thank you and fuck you!”

“kinda did that last one already.”

he lets you tear yourself away from him. as he observes you clinging to the wall for support, he fits himself back into his boxers and yanks his trousers up.

“gimme your phone.”

“no way. you might do something weird.”

floyd rolls his eyes. “lemme call ya a ride. you need it.”

“ooh, chivalry isn’t dead…”

you pass it to him after fumbling to unlock it. floyd spends an awful long time typing, but before you know it he’s calling someone. you listen to him as he talks, his voice a playful drawl. alcohol aside, he definitely rearranged your guts and your brain. it’s a wonder you’re still conscious.

“hi, jadeee. do me a favor, yeah? will you come pick us up? we gotta drop shrimpy off at her place.” there’s silence; you strain to hear the person on the other side. “nah. s’just a little lady i met tonight. she’s cute. maybe your type if you don’t mind sloppy seconds.” there’s more silence; your skin prickles when you realize he’s talking about you to whoever this jade person is. “kay, so you’ll pick us up?”

the exchange lasts another minute before he’s hanging up and sliding your phone into your pocket. you’re relieved when he tells you he’s found you a ride home because it allows you to mumble your address before you lose yourself to exhaustion entirely. you don’t remember the ride home or how you even got into your apartment or what your roommate said when a mysterious man carried your unconscious body inside like you were a sack of flour he’d slung over his shoulder. but when you wake up the next day, hungover, sticky, sweaty, and still tired, you aren’t spared the details from your roommate. it’s a story you find hard to believe.

you, going out to a club and hooking up? as if. you can hardly fit a dildo inside without tightening up out of fright.

but before you step into the shower, you check your phone for any proof. sure enough, after scrolling through your contacts, there’s a new one. his name is floyd. you stare at the number and it all comes rushing back.

horrified, you text him: why is your number in my phone?

he responds minutes later: thought u might want it.

well i don’t want it.

then delete it :p i’m not stopping u, he writes back.

you stare at his message long enough for those three dots to return.

he sends another message: gonna take a guess and say u wanna keep me in ur phone :)

you hate that emoticon. there’s nothing to smile about.

i’m going to delete you after my shower!

we’ll see

you shut your phone off. you hate that you allowed yourself to get so swept up last night, but most of all you hate that he’s right. you do want him to stay. at least now you have a means of staying in touch. not that you’ll utilize it! but…

it never hurts to talk every now and then, right?

#meraki mumbles #n/sfw #me: i’ll just write a little bit of this thought #also me: *writes an entire scene for a potential fic*#orz sometimes you just want to be fucked in a dingy bathroom stall by a mafia eel #this is an essential need!!!

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volterran-wine · 3 months

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Through The Ages || Demetri & Felix

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 @mywinterivy: "Could I please request just some friendship HCs for Demetri and Felix or the terror trio? I wanna know more about the dynamics and what they get up to x"

Greetings friend, I feel I owe it to you to to finally reply to this request; after all it has been some time. I decided to answer this by revealing different memories/happenings during this friendship instead of going indept into the emotional aspects. Fun fact; I will do The Terror Trio in another post, because I do believe that friendship deserves a bigger spotlight on the blog.

!𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒! Some mild angst.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

— 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈 & 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗

Their first meeting did not herald a close friendship whatsoever, in fact, Demetri ran when The Volturi showed up in Egypt to barter his inclusion into the guard. It was of course Felix who ran after the spooked Vampire, neatly apprehending him and bringing the tracker back as he kicked and screamed. Demetri watched Aro and Amun's discussion with Felix's hand gently wrapped around his neck, convinced he would never like the older vampire.

While Felix's Greek has never been the best, he made an effort of trying to only converse with Demetri in his mother tongue when he first joined The Volturi. The tracker was terribly skittish in the beginning, and Felix made a point out of ensuring that he was as comfortable as he could be. About six months into service Demetri finally told Felix why he was acting the way he was.

Once upon a time the two of them were ambushed by a Child of The Moon due to a mistake Demetri made. Felix ended up with a scar on his arm that would ache from time to time. Two weeks after the incident Demetri showed up to one of the feedings with a shockingly similar scar on the opposite arm, no one dared ask how he managed to do such a thing.

The two of them has masqueraded as courtiers in several royal courts over the centuries, their favourite time to 'be alive' was during the Renaissance in Italy. Never had Demetri felt like he learned more than during that time, and Felix gladly sat through every excited rambling

Whenever Demetri needs to clear his mind he runs straight for the sea, walking along the shore in all sorts of weather, regardless of season or warnings. Felix is always twenty steps behind him if he is able to come along.

One time the two of them got raging drunk on one of Corin's stronger batches of Blood-Wine they nearly passed out in the piazza outside of the palazzo. They talked for so many hours they did not even notice the sun coming up, they barely dodged some early bird tourists and kept the secret intact through sheer luck. They never spoke of the incident again.

The two of them have matching rings that they always wear over their gloves. While the band is rather discreet, it has one peridot gem set into the gold—Demetri found the gemstones when he was once tracking a wayward nomad in the middle east.

It is Felix that predominantly takes care of Elizabeth when Demetri is out during longer tracking missions. While Heidi is more than capable of taking care of both Elizabeth and Gustav, the trackers little diva can always be found curled up in Felix's quarters.

#Demetri Volturi #Felix Volturi #Demetri Volturi Headcanon #Felix Volturi Headcanon #Twilight

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tavshortfortavern · 5 months

Text

Being delulu is the solulu

Tav x Dammon slowburn

Heavily based on my Tav, Artemis who goes by they/them and a drow. Lawful/Chaotic Good alignment. Spores Druid.

Tropes: Unrequited (at the beginning), friends to lovers, slowburn, they fell first- he fell harder

This could be a fic but I'm not confident for that yet. Have this outline instead of how i imagine this pairing play out. Enjoy my Tav pining away for this npc

Tav x Dammon during the game

Tav grows to like Dammon after partially fixing Karlach's heart in Last Light Inn

His quick offer to help, gentle attitude, and skill catching their eye. The first time they met, Tav clocked him as handsome but slowly comes to appreciate everything else

Later on Tav wouldn't stop noticing his blue eyes, they weren't infernal like the other tieflings. Light blue, similar tk gemstones

So they've caught some feels but with the Shadowcurse, the cult and planning a prison break- that gets put to the wayside

Still, they always look forward to seeing him working at his forge when they're at Last Light or when they speak with him to trade

Is very subtle and discreet when it comes to liking him. No one probably notices. They're a little more generous in paying, they always look for him when they walk into last light, and they've got a softer expression when talking to him

When they reach Baldur's Gate they stay silent but are instantly looking for him. Trying to recognise his form among the many refugees, straining their ears to hear that familiar sound of a hammer, and asking about him (and by him they mean 'other refugees not present') to the tieflings at the refugee camp

Their companions point out another blacksmith in rivington since they need new gear but Tav dislikes the thought of turning to another smith thats not Dammon

He's their favorite after all but they don't say that

But they enter the Lower City. Tav being Tav is on rooftops and jumping to get around- when they hear a familiar sound of a hammer. Is that who they think it is!? They look down at the source of the sound and see a familiar face.

They call out to greet him excitedly, startling said blacksmith out of his work, looking out his forge to see the adventurer recklessly climb down from the roof of his shop.

They of course fall to the ground in an undignified heap but sit back up to greet him. He hears laughter next as the rest of your companions climb down after their leader.

Dammon notices them and excitedly greets Karlach. Bringing up that she looks well rather shyly

Something sinks in Tav as the two converse, seeing the way he regards their tiefling friend

They bury it and soak in the happiness of reuniting with a friend

Now was the time to make allies. An army controlled by the absolute was about to invade. They inform him of the situation and have his promise to stay safe and help when the time comes

Tav's mind is completely occupied by the many tasks they needed to accomplish in the city until the time of the invasion

Fast forward, Tav is at High Hall with their companions and every ally they could muster. Its the final battle up ahead and the air is beyond tense

Outside is chaos and everyone is look at them. Them. For encouragement. Something. They gave their speech, it seems to do the trick but their heart is pounding. There's never been more pressure on them, the stakes never higher

One misstep. One wrong move. And its ove-

Then Tav is speaking with Dammon and he recounts everything they've been through since the grove. Whatever happens, he trusts you.

And the pounding heart ceases.

From simple words of faith.

They're not completely at ease for the battles ahead but they decide it doesn't matter. They have to win. For these people they've come to care about. For the civilians like him who's at the most danger

They (he) deserve a chance at a peaceful life.

Tav defeats the Netherbrain. The city is saved. though it needs rebuilding.

He's the first thing they search for among the rubble. They find him bruised and shaken but alive, having taken shelter with the other tieflings

Tav is quick to tend to his injuries. Thanking the powers above he made it out intact

Tav x Dammon post-game

Tav sticks around the city. There's a lot to rebuild and heal after all.

Some of the companions depart, off to accomplish their own personal goals or seek one.

Never let it be known that their newfound status as a savior stops them from menial tasks and errands. They'll be picking up rubble and delivering supplies for weeks at a time, or spend even longer in healing wards

While they earned their fame for defeating the Absolute, they won hearts for staying and healing the hurts

Their healing spells becoming well known and lauded for. Even more so Heroes Feast and Create Water. Supplying a significant amount of food and water for the less fortunate

Thankfully they always have their room at Elfsong tavern that miraculously stayed largely intact

Being so close to his forge, Tav frequently comes across Dammon working even more. People needing tools and repairs more than ever, it seems like he never leaves his forge

That worries Tav so they make time to visit. Once they see his haggard appearance they make sure to visit with food and drink.

There was a shortage thanks to the disaster but they've always been a hoarder and with most of their companions away, camp supplies are in excess.

He's one of the few people in the city who'll treat them like a person instead of a saint or legend. And the hero is in desperate need of some levity during this

Its not an unusual sight to see Tav lounging by his forge with a meal, taking a much needed break from helping rebuild, conversing about whatever as he took his own break (heavily enforced by Tav).

He mostly talks about his comissions but sometime brings up how the other tieflings are doing.

Tav finds he doesn't talk about himself a lot but eventually learns he's a bit of a loner, gets absorbed with his work to the point of forgetting to take care of himself, and surprisingly under all that politeness, has a side to him that doesn't mind making deals with a nearby diabolist for infernal iron.

In return he learns of Tav's little loot hoarding tendencies and thievery. This happens when they approach him, calling his name in a hushed tone trying to get his attention.

He's confused at their behavior when they hand him piles of infernal iron. His eyebrows shot up as Tav rather excitedly presents him with it

When asked about it they mention going to hell and killing a devil, taking everything that wasn't bolted down in his home.

If it was anyone else he wouldn't have believed them for a second. But Tav is a whole other beast, he's starting to learn

He notices some of the materials look rather familiar. Enriched infernal ore. Similar to the steel watchers... He stares at Tav questioningly who looks anywhere else trying to come up with an explanation

C-can't have them going to waste now! Right? Those steel watchers are gone (that i definitely did not have anything to do with), its time to recycle, Tav tries to explain

So you admit you stole them, Dammon replies but inspects the iron anyways.

After learning how much he likes working with infernal iron, Tav gathers all the material they had stored in their chest to give to him. He doesn't know if he could pay for all of it but Tav just wants to see what he makes of them

Dammon is a little flushed seeing how much they're looking forward to his work. And even more so at the effort they expended trying to gather all of this

He's probably one of the few people Tav consistently interacts with since staying in the city and vice versa since he's not the social type either

Before they could count themselves allies, now they've naturally fallen into being good friends who hang out in their free time.

Dammon is always amused when Tav comes by with a dozen different things to be done for a dozen people that asked for their help. Their fame hardly changing them

He's also come to expect their reminders to take care of himself.

He used to the low key loneliness of living by himself. Even with the bond he's formed with the refugees he forgets to meet up with them while working. So when Tav starts coming by its a welcome change

He would begin working from first light, until well into the night when Tav shows up with a warm meal and a cold drink, they spend a while recounting their day and what needs to be done before returning to their own tasks

While slow going he begins to open up about his past. His life in Elturel, the descent into Avernus, his apprenticeship, sometimes touching on his childhood

Some days a rougher than the last. The collective trauma of the ithillid invasion affecting everyone and Dammon wasn't completely free of his experiences in the shadowcursed lands.

He's gotten used to moving on and hiding it but Tav has spent way too much time with their own group of traumatized weirdos to not notice

They've gotten pretty good at getting people to open up about deep rooted issues without putting too much pressure. After weeks of working together and solving conflicts he gets more comfortable talking

Having someone listen was a nice experience and allowed him to reflect on some things he refused to think about

Tav tells him about their adventures with the tadfools. They notice he pays extra attention whenever Karlach is brought up and adjusts accordingly, bringing up more stories involving her. Liking the smile he has on when they do so

They've had a few hiccups and issues. With the city as vulnerable as it was, a few malignant forces tried their luck seizing power. But thankfully Tav was there

A vampire coven, a few remaining cultists, and bandits couldn't hold a candle to an elder brain. With some new allies Tav successfully repelled them with little issue

Of course Dammon was treated to the sight of a gore covered adventurer looking sheepish asking for repairs and new arrows a few times

One time they showed up particularly banged up making him usher them inside and treat their wounds with what medical supplies he had

When they were particularly injured after a fight Dammon let them rest in his place. As they were resting in his room they noticed a certain book left out on a chair

That day was spent relentlessly teasing a blushing tiefling. He should have known a nosy Tav would have found that book

There's never a dull moment with Tav but he's come to enjoy it

But nothing lasts. When the last of the enemies falls and everyone seems to have everything at hand, Tav feels the call for adventure once more

They did promise a companion a cure for their affliction and plan to set out of the city to follow a lead with them

This means a round of goodbyes from the friends they made in the city. Last but not least Dammon

He's surprised when he's informed the day before but figures it was only time. They have one last meal at elfsong tavern, toasting for goodluck. He admits he'll miss them.

He's disappointed he couldn't do much else the next day when he gives them some extra arrows

It doesn't strike him immediately but after the first few days the forge feels too quiet

Sometimes he would look up from his work when he hears someone approach expecting Tav to be there

He hears stories and rumors later on while having a drink in elfsong tavern.

New exploits Tav accomplished, the people they saved and the monsters they've faced. One bard started singing about their adventures and he finds himself returning to hear them

While he enjoys his work things feel a lot more monotonous lately with them gone. He finds some spark of familiarity hearing about their adventures

Tav sends letters every now and then. Briefly outlining new quests and how their doing. Finishing by saying they hope he takes care of himself

He sends his own in return, updating them of the city and the rebuilding, reassuring them he's eating regularly but that's as far as hearing from them as he got

Months go by and he hears from Jaheira about a reunion party with the heroes of Baldur's gate with the possibility of Karlach being there. He hasn't heard from her in so long, much less know how she was faring

One of the things he regrets is not finding a way to fix her engine and having to send her back to avernus when she just escaped

When he hears the other tieflings planning to write letters to this reunion party he jumps in

He's not sure how a letter would get to Karlach who's in Avernus but he is sure that Tav would find a way

So he starts it by adressing it to Tav before asking him to pass it to Karlach knowing they'll be more than happy to

When Karlach Visits

Tav reunites with some old friends to finally fix Karlach's engine. Having found Zariel's forge and plans to travel there. They need to be armed to the teeth

They just so happen to be in Baldur's Gate.

Tav brings them over to Dammon's forge, already knowing he'll be happy to see Karlach again

When they return its without any announcement as usual. He's focused on a new project when he hears a throat clear. He tells them to wait a second assuming its a client. Tav's voice catches his attention. He whirls around and sees his friend with that familiar smile

He's greets them happily but his eye catches the sight of Karlach and his tone shifts. Its a touching reunion

Its obvious how captivated he was. Tav would stand to the side admiring the scene

Eventually the conversation turns to their purpose there. Tav explains the mission and he's more than eager to help.

As they trade they enter casual conversation

The conversation between them turns to the city, Tav asking if he's eaten anything, roasting his cooking, Dammon defending said cooking, mundane things but companions are left to watch in silence as these two friends catch up

Then Karlach asks about the city and they both go in to the rebuilding efforts. Tav goes in to the various misadventures that occured, Dammon jumping in to include an emberassing moment that he saw happened to Tav.

It derails as they start bantering, bringing up inside jokes and references born from the time spent around each other in the city

Tav has their hand on his shoulder, leaning close to tell a joke. Dammon leaning back standing comfortably next to them, snorting at what they just said when Karlach pipes up-

"So how long have you two been together?"

This is getting long, will make part 2

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 dammon #tav x dammon #bg3 headcanons #when life gives you lemons (Dammon's letter) u make lemonade (write a slowburn friends to lovers)

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wooahaes · 1 year

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on a springlike, summer day (i’ll engrave your name in my heart for the first time)

pairing; non-idol!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: fluff! proposal fic :)

word count: 0.6k~

warnings: proposal/engagement! jisung being a lil bit of a menace.

daisy’s notes: theyre in luv ur honor

Hyunjin had brought you to a flower field for your birthday. Not just any flower field, but the one he asked you to be his girlfriend at.

The two of you had walked through it after a few dates together, and he’d asked you if you wanted to be exclusive--before immediately saying as his girlfriend right afterward. He’d been a bit more flustered than you had expected, but that had been a little over three years ago, and he was... different now. He was holding your hands, talking about how he had reservations for a place you loved. He’d been planning today for a while.

Truly, Hyunjin was a romantic. But you knew that already.

His thumb traced over the back of your hand. “Did you enjoy breakfast this morning? You mentioned going out with some friends...”

With a hum, you nodded. “Things were great. They asked about you, y’know.”

“What did you tell them?”

You swung your connected hands. “That my boyfriend needed his beauty sleep--”

He groaned at you. “I would have gone if you asked!”

“I know,” you squeezed his hand. “But it was a friend thing. Maybe we can all get together sometime soon.”

He nodded. “Maybe for the party...”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just... Thinking about the future.”

Yet you knew what you heard. You sighed, pouting a little at him. “Did you plan a surprise party? Hyunjin...”

“No! No, I didn’t--” He stopped with you, turning to pluck a tiny flower from its spot--something that’d get him scolded, if someone were watching, but it was one that wouldn’t be missed. “I wouldn’t spill that so easily...”

“Then what party?”

He turned back, reaching out to slip the flower behind your ear. “I love you,” he said. “And... I know how I feel about you. You can say no,” he let go of your hand, slowly sinking down onto one knee.

“Hyunjin--”

He had pulled out a little box from his jacket pocket, popping it open. The gemstone was one of your favorites, while the ring itself was relatively plain. Not that it mattered: you had gasped as he looked at you. “I know we’re young,” he said. “And you can say that and I won’t bring it up again. But... I want to marry you,” he said quietly, taking your hand in his. “And if you say not yet, I’ll wait. Will you--”

You were already nodding, fighting back tears. He lit up with joy at the answer, already slipping the ring onto your finger as he stood back up. He kissed you, holding your face in his hands before mumbling against your lips how much he loved you...

Only for the sound of yelling to catch both of you off guard. He turned to where a few of his friends had been hiding nearby for pictures, Jisung making the biggest fuss of them all.

“For real?!” He called out, “She said yes?!” And then a groan. “Now I owe him money...”

Hyunjin let out a yell. “Why do you owe him money?! Did you think she’d say no?”

Felix plucked a leaf from his hair. “He thought you were going to chicken out,” he said, amusement coloring his voice.

Hyunjin left your side, yelling again after Jisung, who took off running. He only got a few steps away from you before huffing, arms crossed across his chest. You merely giggled, making your way over to him.

“Think of it this way,” you took his arm. “They didn’t doubt my answer.”

He looked at you with a slight pout, but let it melt away. “True...” He turned back to you, leaning in for another kiss. “Happy birthday,” he said quietly. “Let’s keep this a secret for a few days. Today’s still your day.”

And you knew Hyunjin well enough to know what sentiment was hidden in his words: I couldn’t wait anymore. I love you too much.

taglist: @twancingyunhao

#wooahaes.fic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids x you #skz x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x you #wooahaes.23

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year

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Sweet as Sugar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey there, sugar."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Opal chuckled, "He's cute."

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

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

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

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

You chuckled. Cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You wanna take a look inside?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I need her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled proudly, "Good, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged, "Where did it come from?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lucky for me, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You missed him, but you were determined not to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” you nodded.

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

“Not a problem.”

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

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

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

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

“Diamond?” “Whiskey?”

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

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

He shrugged, “On a fuckin’ mission.”

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

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

“Cover me?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled, "With what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I have it back?" you asked.

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

"Maybe?" you questioned.

"Can I get something in return?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You saluted him before departing for a second time.

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

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

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

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

"So you did like it."

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

"It's alright."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You never called."

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

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

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

He did, and you smiled.

"I did miss you," you confessed.

That offered him some solace. "Honest?"

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

"Dance with me?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't have to tell me twice."

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

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

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

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

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

So did you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, "Lucky for me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jack."

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, "Yep."

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

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

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

You smiled slowly. "Sweet as sugar?"

He nodded, "Sweeter."

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

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

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

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

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princess-of-the-corner · 3 months

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MLP Rewrite AU - How is Starlight Glimmer's redemption arc changed up, as the most divisive one in the show?

OH OKAY SO

I went into rewriting both the premier and finale focusing on her before so I'm just gonna go through plot points

So like. With the town. Change it so that Starlight's belief has her genuinely take her own Cutie Mark. Like in general I'm changing it because like like. Even if your Talent is taken, you still have years of training and knowledge. So everyone in town, instead of sucking ass at what used to be their talent, is now forbidden from doing it(even though they still crave to do so).

Starlight still knows how to do the spell even without her Cutie Mark, so she can still take their Marks. And other than being forbidden from pursuing their old talent, everyone's pretty happy actually! Not- not fully happy. They miss their passion and they're depressed, but they're not full cult-mode.

I think maybe cut down on the actual 'kidnapping and brain wash' thing for the most part. Just Starlight being very preachy and manipulative and figuring out how to poke and prod at insecurities about ones' Talent. Maybe have her words genuinely get through to some of the Mane Six. Like have Twilight think about how much her Talent for Magic has lead to the pressure put on her and forced her into the Princess role. Have Rarity feel like her Talent is wasted in her passion, as gemstone spells are only a tiny fraction of what she does. They don't fully fall for it, but they consider it.

It's only once the Mane Six convince the town that no, you're not happy without your Talent, and the town revolts, then Starlight goes 'no fuck you!!' and we get the fight.

Now for the finale:

I think having her be less 'fuck the Mane Six in particular' but still on her crusade against Cutie Marks. Her jumping through time is more to study them to she can figure out where they came from and get rid of them for good, and ofc she jumps to the Rainboom because it was an Event that connected the Mane Six through their Cutie Marks. Clearly there's more info there, and if she could see it in action....

The changes and alternate Timelines come from either her being there in general and/or her and Twilight fighting and keep ending up changing the race.

After Time Shenanigans and all, when Twilight asks that Starlight shows her where this all started, Starlight has more examples than just 'my friend got his Cutie Mark and he left'.

There's another friend whose talent was in dance, until an accident disabled them. Yet another whose passion died because their family forced them to do nothing but their talent, never engaging in a hobby even.

Even showing her ponies from her town. Sugar Belle who might be a great baker, but feels lost amongst the sea of other ponies who have baking and cooking talents. Party Favor, who is good at providing the best items one would need for decor, games, catering, music, etc., but can't plan a party to save his life and ended up floundering in requests to make a spectacle like some other party ponies.

Twilight would muse on the subject, admitting how back when she first came to Starlight's town, she questioned it as well. If she'd had a 'normal' Cutie Mark, or none at all, she may not be where she is. No complicated mentorship with the Princess, no near-death experiences, no pressure to deal with every disaster that pops up, no being forced into a role she didn't ever want.

But she also muses that, without all of that happening, she wouldn't be herself anymore. She wouldn't have the friends she loves or all the memory of them. (hell bring them back to the castle so Starlight can see the memory chandelier tree!)

Twilight brings up how she knows Sugar Belle and Party Favor and the others were miserable, and that for all the hardships they wanted their Marks back. That, now with a supportive community, they and their talents are thriving.

She doesn't know what happened to the others Starlight mentioned. But she does know that it's not your talent that's the source of such a bad state of mind, it's the environment. You need people around you who care and support you, all of you. They need to let a talent thrive. And while there may be situations, like the dancer who ended up disabled, it doesn't have to stop them. It will hurt, of course. They may never be the same. But they can still find ways to engage in what they love.

Starlight, though still angry and hurt, cannot stay in denial. But she is lost and confused. So when Twilight reaches out, offers to help her learn how to be better and how to get herself out of this mess, she takes the offer

#mlp rewrites

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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 2 years

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Ok I’ve never done a request but it’s stuck in my head and I can’t write. Eddie Munson would absolutely melt if he was laying in your lap and you started playing with his hair🫠

SCREAMING CRYING!!!😭😭😭All day at work today, I was thinking about this. I daydreamed away the entire shift, spent it all with Eddie, and I did my best to remember everything I was thinking of!💖

Summary: Sometimes, Eddie just has to turn the music off, shut his bedroom door, and let himself cry. Being the freak doesn’t bother him most of the time, but every now and then, it all gets to be too much. With your fingers in his hair and his body against yours, Eddie knows he’ll be okay. Someday.

Contains: reader comforts Eddie, Eddie crying, fluff, canon angst (bullying; Jason versus Eddie), nicknames (honey, sweetie, etc.)

I listened to and had Solitude by Black Sabbath in my head as I wrote this; the feeling of that song is what inspired and prompted this piece (as well as the request itself - thank you so much for being my first one!)💔

(On another note, I couldn't believe this is Ozzy singing but all my research says it is - they added a delayed effect to his voice so it sounded like there were two. He sounds so different to the Ozzy I know, but it makes me love the song even more. It's so melancholy but soothing and that's the vibe I wanted for this piece).

Word count: 3, 198.

Tagging @the-slasher-madame @alliecheer007-88 @moonlighteeve @sabbathsworld @spencestyles @eddiebunson

And a big thank you to @gemstone-roses for reading this over and helping me with the ending! I just don't know when to shut up😂

At school, Eddie was the personification of a hurricane. He was loud, chaotic, unafraid to stand atop a table and make some noise. He was always right in what he said, but the way he delivered those truths left much to be desired for the majority of the school population.

Only you and the other members of Hellfire Club truly appreciated the words, the theatrics, the way Eddie liked to deflect attention away from the kids he mentored by making himself the centre of attention; it was so seamless a display of protection that even the kids themselves missed it sometimes.

But you saw Eddie's actions for what they were, you heard his speeches for what he was really saying, and you knew and loved Eddie as no one but you and his uncle got to see him.

Not just the way he behaved at school, but also the way he truly was.

Eddie was... soft.

There was a notable edge to him, to be sure - he wasn't afraid to play into his reputation when he needed to, and he definitely wasn't afraid to get violent. He had a switchblade with a sharp tongue to match, though words were his preferred weapon. His voice became high pitched when he was pissed off or scared, he complained about things and swore about them the whole time but he did them anyway because he knew it was what was right. You saw bravery in his mundane. He sewed patches onto his own jacket, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He would look up towards the ceiling to take deep breaths when he pricked himself, calming himself down before he carried on; wanting the end result no matter what it personally cost him. He got excited when he saw stray cats in the trailer park, he did as many chores for his uncle as he could between having to wake up for school and his uncle coming home from the night shift. He listened to you and his friends, supported and encouraged those who needed it, helped those who were too scared to ask him for help. Gave people a place to sit when no one else would let them, gave Dustin all the time in the world to say what he wanted to say, even and especially when others got impatient with the little shrimp.

Eddie was strong, resilient, sweet, charming, intelligent, creative, passionate, truly such a good person; beautiful inside and out...

And incredibly sensitive.

You saw the act which Eddie played into when he was at school and you loved him for his eccentricity. He owned it and encouraged others to do the same. You saw the man who worked hard at his music, who worked hard to make his clothes his. The man who sold drugs at a higher price than they actually were but only to people who were mean to him. Kind people got a discount. Friends often got drugs for a steal, or he wouldn't charge them at all. It wasn't the best way to make money, but Eddie did it anyway, just so that he could better help Wayne with the bills and upkeep of the trailer. In short, Eddie did the best with what he had and you admired him strongly for that.

But what you admired him for the most was the way in which, when the hour was right, when the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky bled into purple and dark blue hues, Eddie dropped it all and showed the rawest parts of himself to anyone who cared enough to look, to really look.

A part of you found that, the darker Eddie's mood, the more beautiful he became. Perhaps it was in the heartache with which you watched him, or maybe it was because you knew how precious a soul he was and only you got to see him when the world had forced him to his knees, or maybe it was just because you knew he was safe with you, just as you were safe with him. He was so, so pretty, even in his pain, and somehow did you only love him more.

You watched as he paced around the kitchen area of the trailer, going in a full circle before moving through the living space and down the long corridor towards his bedroom. He punched lightly at the door, then spun on his heel, dark hair flying like lightning, and repeated the circuit. He was muttering to himself, dark eyes staring at the ceiling or out the window or down at the floor. Not at you. If he looked at you, he'd crack, and he didn't want to crack. So he didn't look.

He just kept pacing back and forth, back and forth, trying to work out his energy, getting more and more aggravated by the circuit.

He was on his thirteenth one before you intervened, your concern simply too great and your want to help him even greater.

"Eddie?"

A non-committal grunt as Eddie spun past you.

"Eddie."

A faster circuit, a harder punch on the bedroom door, he came back through the kitchen, swore under his breath, turned -

"Eddie!"

He stopped dead. A shuddering breath. Dark eyes looked through you. Swimming with too many thoughts to listen to, words too small to matter but cutting him up all the same, screaming inside his head. Too much too much too much too much -

Eddie put his hands over his face, his shoulders bowing inwards as he cried. He sniffled, didn't make much noise, but he was all you could hear. Great heaving breaths picked up and Eddie followed his body's movements down, down, 'til the world literally and metaphorically had him on his knees, sobbing on the kitchen floor in the trailer.

"Oh, honey," you cooed as you immediately stood, walking over to Eddie. You didn't run or make your urgency physically known; you didn't want to spook him. You hadn't ever seen him like this; never before had he allowed you to see him totally shatter. "Oh, sweetie, deep breaths," you bent slowly, giving him plenty of time to move away, but Eddie gave no indication that he even knew you were there.

How many times had he ended up here and been left all on his own?

How many times had he scraped himself up off the kitchen floor?

How many times had he pulled himself together, hands swiping across wet cheeks as he suppressed sniffles, not wanting to worry his uncle or friends?

How many times had he completely moved through his upset, coming into school like it was no big deal, and no one noticed?

How many times had he screamed for help inside his head, paralysed by his emotions, and unable to voice them to anyone, so he had suffered silent and alone? All the while begging to be seen, heard, helped, loved?

How many times?

The seemingly endless possibilities made you feel sick and you swore there and then that this was the first of every time that you would be there for Eddie, just as he always was for you, no matter any personal cost.

You rubbed his back in slow movements, your hand firm against the softer material of the Dio logo cut off an old band shirt and lovingly stitched onto the back of the denim jacket he had personalised himself. "I've got you, Eddie, I'm here, you're not alone." You blinked hard against the stinging of tears in your eyes and made a concerted effort to focus on Eddie. If he saw you cry at all, let alone for him, then he would forget himself in the face of tending to you, and you didn't want him to do anything other than to feel his own feelings. He had a lot of them and they needed to come out just as they were.

Sobs turned to sniffles but Eddie still didn't look at you. That was okay, you were content to let him take his time. As best as you could, you angled your hands so you could dash tears away from his cheeks. Eddie flinched away when your thumb got too close to his eye and you bit back a smile; he was reacting to you, so he was beginning to come around. That was a good sign.

Fuck, but the way he whimpered before he raised his head to look at you, his dark eyes pools of melted galaxies and stars, burned out before their time but still trying to reach someone with their light. "I know you do." A hoarse whisper. He sniffed harshly, "I feel pretty fucking far from okay, Y/N."

Sweet boy. He made your heart bleed.

Eddie ran a hand over his tear-stained, damp face, shaking his head. He seemed as though he was trying to physically remove his thoughts from his mind, get to feeling better. No one ever got to see Eddie Munson cry. He kept that part of him hidden from the world, but you were his world and now his walls were crumbling down, so fast that it made the both of you dizzy. You were practically frantic in your want to comfort him, to help him. His dark curls brushed lightly across the strong slopes of his shoulders and you tucked some strands behind his ears, wanting to see him. As your fingers ran through his hair, catching on minute tangles, Eddie's eyes slipped closed and he tilted into your touch like a cat. He took a deep breath, pure instinct, and pushed back against your hand. No, not pushing... nuzzling.

“What's the matter, Eddie? You can talk to me; you're safe here with me, I promise. I've got you.”

Eddie sniffled again and you kept playing with his hair; full strokes from his hairline down, down, to the very tips, your fingers gentle, slow. Trying to love him as he deserved... so intensely that he didn't know what to do with himself. You gave him the space and the time to come to you; if he spoke, wonderful. If he didn't, that was okay too. Whatever he wanted. You just wanted to be there for him while what happened, happened. You moved out of the crouching position and sat cross legged before him, getting yourself comfortable.

“Do – do you believe the - “ Eddie whimpered again and you made a soft noise, something between an “oh” and an “awh” as you sought to comfort him, not wanting to interrupt but needing to acknowledge that you were there with him, fully present in the moment and your every nerve fixed on him. “The stuff they say about me?” Freak. Devil worshipper. Cult leader. Never gonna graduate. Waste of space.

“Oh, honey, no. I don't believe anything they say. How could I? They don't know you. But I do. I know you and I love you, Eddie. So much and for so many different things it makes me dizzy sometimes.”

Eddie's dark eyes looked at you fully for the first time and your next breath caught in your throat at how filled with pain his face was. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, his bottom lip bitten to all hell as he had worried at it with his teeth. His tongue was probably sore, too, from having bitten back scathing remarks all day. Even when being mean and scary would have been easiest option, to treat others as they treated him, Eddie was only ever kind. He had a darker streak, it was true, and there were numerous times he had delivered below the belt punches with his words, but those were times in which he had had to be mean. A cornered animal would only take so much before it attacked.

“You're none of those things, Eddie, you're - “ Here, you hesitated. Did he want to hear what you wanted to say? Was it right to vent about him to him when he was feeling like this? Or would it be welcomed? What if -

Fingers spidered across your knee, squeezed. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Together, right?”

Oh, help you. Your heart bled even as you nodded in agreement – there he was sobbing on the kitchen floor, trying to encourage you to open up to him. Even in his pain, he was so kind and it made you want to cry for him, because of him.

“It's just... they're so wrong about you, Eddie. They don't see you for who you are. Not the patience you give Dustin when he rambles for five minutes just to say what's effectively one sentence, not the kind way you mentor people who have no one else to sit with, not the way you taught me how to play D&D just so I could sit with the rest of Hellfire and feel included, not the way you try so hard with the things you're passionate about. Like your guitar, your campaigns, your jacket... it took you weeks to make it just as you wanted it. They see what they want to see and they believe what they want to; judging you without even trying to know you, and that's their loss. You're nothing like what they say, Eddie, please, I - “ you ran your fingers through Eddie's hair, and again his eyes fluttered shut and he melted into your touch, “I love you so much for who you are, in those moments when it seems like everyone's watching but no one's looking, in those moments when you're playing up to the persona they think you are, in those moments when you're crying alone. You're not a freak, or a cult leader, or anything else. You're you and you're... fuck, you're so beautiful, Eddie.”

Silence. Eddie, processing. You, waiting. Supporting. Patient, caring. Loving.

Finally, after what seemed like forever but was probably only a few minutes, Eddie sniffled and exhaled through his mouth before he stood up, your hands falling to your sides. He looked down but not at you and held out his hand. Your fingers widened so that you could slide them between Eddie's and he gave you a tired, sad smile as he pulled you up to stand with him. You followed him, already knowing what he wanted, and you were the first to clamber up on the double bed. You laid down flat on your back, eyes fixed on Eddie. He looked as bad as he felt, you were sure, and it made your heart ache. He didn't come towards you immediately; he was... hesitant? Sometimes you had a little trouble reading him, but you knew how kind and tender-hearted he was, and you used that to guide you. Eddie just needed to be loved in moments like this more than anything else.

“Oh, c'mere,” Fuck, but you almost cooed as you raised your hands, arms slightly away from your sides, “take what you need from me, pretty boy.” You tried to keep your voice as soft as you could without dipping into the volume of a whisper. You wanted Eddie to stay in his vulnerability, to feel safe in being open and raw with you. You knew he was still processing your monologue and he would address it when he felt like he had the right words to say. Eddie took emotional situations like this seriously; about as seriously as he took Hellfire. His passions and his devotions were one and the same. It was one of the many things you admired and loved about him.

Eddie almost stumbled over to the foot of the bed as he clambered up with the same grace through which he stepped up on lunch tables, his body crawling up the bed until he could let himself gently collapse. Even like this, even almost unaware of himself, Eddie was still considerate, making sure to watch bony elbows and knees as he laid atop you. He wasn't happy or comfortable if you weren't. His face pushed into the warm crook of your neck as his arms slid in the gap between your back and the mattress, his fingers wiggling and rings digging into your back. You pulled up, helping him, and Eddie sighed in content as he hugged you to him, his dark curls tickling your chin. His sigh was thick with tears both shed and unshed, his body a weight against your own which seemed to bleed heat. Your hands found purchase in his hair, fingers scratching at Eddie's scalp.

“You're so beautiful, Eddie.”

You felt Eddie turn his head, pushing his face against your skin. A dry but soft, painfully gentle mouth peppered the skin there with kisses. Trying to convey his overwhelming emotions with words he just didn't have; too highly strung. Too tired. “Do you - “ Eddie sniffled, his voice cracking at the start of the next word. You almost didn't hear him. “Did you mean all that, what you said back there?”

You kept stroking his hair, root to tip in soothing motions, fingers carefully and gently manually undoing any tangles you encountered. There weren't many; Eddie took good care of himself. “Every word, beloved.”

Your tone left no room for argument and Eddie made a soft noise, something between an “oh” and a “hm” as he squeezed you tight, pressing every plane of his body against your own. He couldn't get close enough but you didn't shush him or tell him it was okay; you gave him nothing like that. You simply remained quiet, let him take what he needed from you, and you matched his energy as best as you could. You kept stroking his hair, playing with the ends as you felt him melt into you; you were as stable beneath him as the mattress was beneath you and you refused to so much as shift your weight. You didn't want Eddie thinking that you were uncomfortable; he was so vulnerable and you wanted to be the solid ground which his proverbial feet were missing.

You couldn't have known that simply by being who you were, you were already all of that for him and more.

Eddie squeezed you again and then in one big exhale, he physically relaxed and you could feel from the lack of tension in his shoulders that he had just let the whole day go; you admired how he was able to do that. When Eddie decided not to let something bother him any more, it no longer did. Sometimes he just needed a little help getting to that point, and that was more than okay. He was so brave, so strong, so stubborn.

“I love you so fucking much, sweetheart.” Eddie's face rubbed at your neck, back and forth, like a cat headbutting the hand pulling away from its head because it wasn't done yet, and warmth bloomed in your chest. It burned until all you could do was lay there and smile into Eddie's crown.

He was feeling better.

“I love you too, Eddie. The sanest of them all.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 x reader #eddie munson my beloved

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