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steven9rant · 2 years

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lab rat – agent whiskey sex pollen

warnings: dubious consent (its sex pollen, what do you expect?), Jack calling reader ‘baby’, flirting, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex, angst (yes, I did manage to fit some angst into a sex pollen just because it's me and I'm a whore for angst), and then it just ends because hey why not.

summary: i dont even know...

author's note: i'm sorry...? ah who am i kidding, no i am not sorry.

dt's: @love-affair-with-fandoms @random--fandoms

–

“The Chinese corporation really recommended we put this shit in our whiskey,” Jack explained, gesturing for you to enter the room first. You did, and found yourself staring at the only real attraction: a window into a room where there was a bed and table and nothing else. You felt like a detective again, looking into the interrogation room you'd just stepped out of. But you'd have time to reminisce later...

Your head turned and you raised a brow to the man with the cowboy hat. “That's great, I think, but what the fuck's this all gotta do with me?”

“We...” he inhaled slowly, “need someone to test it on. Apparently, they were quite adament it was only for human consump-”

“Hold on,” you said quickly, holding up a finger and pointing it at him. “What, I look like a fucking lab rat to you now?”

“No!” Agent Whiskey's head shook and he took a step forward slowly. You didn't move your finger, and it pressed into his chest ever so slightly before he lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around the index finger. “No, not at all... But, if you were, you'd be the most gorgeous lab rat there ever was.”

“That's not the compliment you think it is, Jack,” you sighed softly. “I don't know if I can do this.”

“I'll be in there with you the whole time. And we'll be monitored by Ginger through this glass the entire time. And our across-the-pond contacts will be here via conference. Look, far as we're aware... it's safe. And if it ain't, we got everything to keep anything from happenin' to ya.”

“Jack...”

“You don't have to do it,” he said softly, releasing your finger from his hold and instead bringing his palm to caress your cheek. “Nobody is forcing you to do this, sweetheart. But I know you can handle yourself.”

“If something goes wrong...”

“I have your back. Always.”

–

Soon enough, you were on the other side of the glass, sat on the edge of the bed whilst someone in a white, Colonel Sanders-looking suit set up the equipment you couldn't yet see. Your foot tapped against the floor repeatedly with every shake of your leg and Whiskey had noticed this, from his leaning position on the wall opposite the end of your bed.

He sighed softly and moved toward you, sitting at your side and soon enough planting his palm on your knee. “It's going to be okay. I promise.”

His words comforted to you, as much as they could, but there was still some inkling of fear in your stomach. You trusted Jack, of course, but you didn't trust this, or the Chinese and their ‘生長’ product––whatever the fuck that meant anyway. You weren't even certain anybody at Statesman was aware of the real translation of it, and this didn't help much with your worries.

The way Jack rolled his thumb over your knee did, though.

The door closed loudly and there came the sound of it being locked shut, as was protocol. You knew that, and had even expected it, but the clang still had the ability to shock you, somehow, so much so that you jolted back slightly.

Jack brought his fingers up to the rim of his aviators, and tapped it twice lightly, asking, “We ready to go, Ginger?”

“Uh, just one moment...” she hesitated, he heard a click, and then her voice: “Yes. Kingsman's here, too, now. Hello, Merlin.”

“Good evening, Ginger,” came that strong Scottish accent.

And then the one from the Londoner: “Afternoon. Yes, I am here too––hold your applause.”

Her brows furrowed momentarily, while Whiskey had already shrugged it off that it was the time differences: for you, it was an hour before midday, for them it would've been around five.

You glanced to Jack and then to the little pot that had been planted onto the table, then back to him. He nodded, and told you quietly, “It's alright, baby, you take your time.”

Inhaling slowly, you brought yourself to your feet, and carried yourself to the side of the table. You leaned over it slightly, peering into small pot. You remained there for a moment, gazing at it, while Whiskey did something similar with your figure. He leaned back against his palms, putting all his weight on them, and his straightened-out forearms as he admired the way you were practically bent over the desk.

He blinked and snapped himself out of it with such, and a quiet throat-clearing from Ginger, before standing and approaching you. His palms settled on your waist and he leaned over your shoulder, watching the still pot, and the few, lilac leaves inside of it.

He hummed, “Ginger, what did the Chinese say to do with it?”

“Eat it,” she responded hastily, “or inhale it. Or, if it's in its liquid form, drink it.”

“Yes, thank you, I think we get the picture,” Jack stated sharply.

Ginger took in a short breath, nodded: “Right.”

“Sorry, I-” he cut himself off when he observed you swallow all three of the petals in a second. “They say anything about dosage?”

“Just that with each petal, the effects increased.”

“Every time I hear more about these guys,” Whiskey inhaled, “the more it sounds like they're just fucking with us.”

Your head turned rapidly then and you faced him with a worried stare.

Jack's eyes softened and he assured, “Oh, no, I didn't mean... you've got nothing to worry about. I'm right here, okay?”

“I know,” you nodded. “I'm sorry, I'm just not used to this...” your eyes suddenly filled with terror as you watched him and your entire body felt heavy suddenly. “Jack? I don't think...”

The petals seemed to be taking their effect, because your head dropped, as if you'd lost all control of your neck muscles, and your words trailed away.

Jack srpang forward, grabbed hold of your shoulders quickly, said loudly, “Ginger, what the fuck's happening?” Ginger?!”

“I don't know, it seems she's...”

“What?” he growled, “Ginger, what?!”

“Her pulse has slowed significantly,” Ginger stated as she read off the screen on her right, on which there was the stars of both yourself and Jack's BP, BPM, and other vitals. “Get her on the bed. Whiskey, do it now.”

He swept you up and held your limp body in his strong arms. As he carried you to the bed, he cooed, “It's going to be okay, baby. I'm right here, I've got you. You're going to be okay.”

It was then that Merlin announced, “I researched the Chinese company; there's nothing about lilac petals.”

“Couldn't have been a scam, could it?” Eggsy asked.

“No!” Whiskey boomed, the backs of his fingers running slowly down your cool forehead. He was breathing heavily as you did the opposite. “No, they wouldn't have been able to just find our information. It was them.”

“I'm trying to reach them now,” Ginger declared, and the three men could hear some distant typing.

“Wait,” Whiskey said. “Wait. She's... she's waking up.” He leaned down toward you, and told: “Sweetheart, do you know where you are?”

“Yes, Jack,” you breathed out. “Fuck, it's hot. It's so hot. I need to... Can I- oh! Oh, fuck. My... Jack, it hurts. Please. Jack, please!”

“Ginger!” he had no capacity to wait now, as his thumb ran along your temple. “Get those Chinese fuckers on the phone right now! Find out what's happening to her. Now! She's hurt. She says it hurts.”

“Whiskey, I'm hearing the same things you are,” Ginger stated, somehow sounding calm even in all this.

Merlin chipped in, “It's late for them, Whiskey. Really late. They might not-”

“Merlin, I don't give two shits whether the world is ending for them! I don't care about their beauty sleep, or your voice of reason, I care about her! And I want them on the phone now!”

Whiskey groaned and pulled the aviators from his eyes, crunching them in the large palm of his hand before tossing them against the white wall on his left. He frowned, turning his eyes back down to your red face and plump lips.

“Well, you're in luck,” Ginger mused through the intercom system that had been set up in the room. “It's connecting.”

Jack looked up toward the mirror that revealed his red eyes and tightened jaw, said, “I want to know everything.”

“Of course. Just keep her awake; that's our best bet right now.”

Jack nodded and averted his eyes once more to you. He whispered, “It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay. Can you hear me?”

His eyes were training on yours, and you felt weak, empty, everywhere apart from where his thumb was on your thigh. You nodded your response, your mouth gaping, refusing to close, while his deep brown eyes didn't stop their advances on yours. You managed out a quiet, breathy, “Fuck... me...”

Jack hadn't caught it, and leaned down toward you slightly. He'd always enjoyed the little touches you offered him, and the glances and whispers, but now, to you, his chest brushing against yours was the most perfect thing, despite the simmering sensation that lingered and actually stung s little.

“Say that again for me, beautiful?” Jack hummed gently, his ear by your lips.

This time, it came out with a moan, soft and faint, but there––definitely there. His eyes widened and Jack shook his head rather quickly, as he moved backward.

Your eyes heavied and your heart sunk because of this, and you pleaded, frowning: “Please, Jack! Please. Please, please, please. I could make you feel good. I could!”

“It's a matter of personal principal;” Jack informed. “you're not in your right mind.”

“I've never been in a righter mind, Jack! Can't you see it? Can't you just see how horny I am, for you?”

“No,” he shook his head stiffly.

“Then maybe you should feel it,” you urged, grabbing hold of his arm instinctively and dragging his hand toward your throbbing cunt. “Go on. I know you want to. Feel me, like your cock tells you to. I'm so wet, feel how wet I am. I'm just waiting for you to tear me open. Would you do that?”

Jack yanked his hand back. “Any other time, I would jump at the offer, but look at you; this isn't what you are, sweet girl. I won't take advantage of you.”

“So, don't. So, just use me, instead. Let me be your toy. You can spank me, spit in my mouth, fuck me. Whatever you want, cowboy. I'm all yours.”

He hated himself for it, but with each of these crude, perverted images you planted in his mind, Jack's cock throbbed harder and fought against the briefs beneath the dark denim he wore.

You spread your legs, and began lifting up your skirt slowly. “Come on. Take me.”

His hand landed on yours and Jack used the hold to push you down against the bed, while his knees pressed against the bed on either side of your legs, forbidding you from opening them any wider. “Not like this.”

“C'mon,” you groaned, bucking your hips upward in the hopes of being able to make even the slightest bit of contact with the bulge in his jeans. You thought (in your drunk-on-lust state) that you might've been able use that to trigger him into fucking you so hard that your legs would shake and ache, until you wouldn't be able to use them for the rest of the day.

“Jack, can you hear me?” came Ginger's voice. “I just got off with the Chinese. They said that the only way to relieve the body of the petal's poison, is through... orgasm. She has to cum. And unless it's the first person that they laid their eyes on first after consuming the petal, or if it takes too long, the... arousal will kill her.”

“What?!” he called out.

“She will die.”

“I know what kill means. Ugh, fucking Chinese fuckers... okay, how long do I have?”

“An hour.”

“Okay. You may want to leave the room, unless you want to see this.”

“Not particularly,” Ginger nodded. She shut down the computer systems and clicked off the button that allowed sound to enter and exit the one-direction-window test room. She deactivated the glass so that all it was on both sides was a mirror and left to distract her mind with some trivial task for a few hours.

“Well,” Jack exhaled slowly, looking at you, burning your skin with his gaze and his touch, “it looks like you're getting what you wanted.”

You moaned out, “Ugh, just fuck me!”

Without hesitation then, Jack yanked down the little red panties and left them at your ankles before rapidly inserted a digit into your cunt. You exhaled slowly, in response to the momentarily-helpful release, but it wasn't long––only seconds, in fact––before you were once more overcome by that insatiable, inhuman desire that seemed to make your blood bubble. Your mind was clouded, and all that was left amid the fog was your thoughts of Jack, that you for so long had pushed down and refused to release. And now they were and, beneath the horny surface, you were terrified.

“Good girl,” Jack said softly, able to calm you slightly, though you didn't at all seem that way. “Is that better?”

“More...” you panted, “I need more.”

Jack tilted his head, retorted, “Now, is that anyway to talk to me? You should be a little more... grateful!” He punctuated the final word with a loud grunt as he instantly added another two fingers to the mix. “There. Is that better? Hmm? You like it rough? What if I bent you over that table, put my cock in this tight little pussy of yours? Would you like that?”

“Yes!” you couldn't help but spit out the words. “Oh, yes! Please. Fuck me. Bend me over. Do it. Take me however you want. I'm yours. Take me now.”

“Be patient.”

A groan escaped your lips, but it soon faded into a moan when his fingers curled, reaching that perfect spot within you. As he worked the point that made you continually gasp and whimper for him, he lifted his thumb and used it to locate your clit. Once he'd found the sensitive nerve-bundle, he wasted no time in building you up to the point of your orgasm. You toes clenched and in your stomach there was a huge knot, just waiting to be untied by the one little move the both of you knew you needed so badly.

Your words of pleading were hardly coherent, and still Jack refused to answer them, even with a simple dismissal of allowing you to cum so soon. He told you to be patient, and was determined to enforce it like that was his job. His fingers slowly curled from their point deep within you, and he bit his lip as you moaned and gasped, begging him for more.

He liked to be in control, and to see you like this. But he knew it was the petals and the petals only that had made you so... unhinged. And he hated how this was happening, even if it was so only to save your life.

You clung to his back, nails digging into his skin even through the thin tee he wore. He grunted slightly and, unable to deny you it much longer, pushed his fingers all upward rapidly. This, along with the circles he hadn't ceased to draw on and around your clit, was enough to tip you over the edge, to make you scream.

And oh, you did scream. You'd found your release and called out his name and the knot was loosened, yet you clung to him and still found yourself craving more.

Jack looked at you, asked, “That any better?”

You shook your head and felt no problem with voicing the remnants of your desires: “No. Jack, I still want you to fuck me. Give me your cock. I bet it's massive. I bet you would stretch me out so fucking much, but I want it. Please.”

He shook his head and stood slowly, while tears began to fall from your eyes, and it seemed your condition was only getting worse with each touch of him you were allowed. But you begged nontheless: “Please, Jack... it's- oh, fuck, it's not...”

“You need my cock?” he hummed, looking down at you over the curve of his nose. There was a thin layer of sweat covering every inch of you, and you were gasping and moaning still. He leaned down and wiped the tears away. “Then, I will give it to you, baby.”

He lifted the tee over his head and unbuckled his belt, pulling it out through the loops with a furious speed, tossing it to the side and watching as your eyes didn't once falter from their goal of needing to see his cock. He was definitely hard now, from the gorgeous sounds you made, from the way you had cum so nicely around his fingers, which already seemed to half-fill you. His cock would be a struggle.

When he lowered his jeans and the tent in the white briefs he wore was visible, you could feel your mouth watering. You were right, as far as you knew: he was massive. But you had no capacity to worry about how he would fit into you, just when.

Once'd he'd shed the final layer of clothing, you bit your lip. His hand wrapped around it and he pumped it a few times, and you realised that, before, he hadn't even been completely hard. But now? Now, he was, and he probably could've broke you with the thing in his palm. You hoped so.

“D'you like it rough... or d'you like it gentle?”

You breathed out, “Table.”

“I'll take that as rough, then,” he pulled you over to the table and wasted no time in bending you over it.

He hiked up your skirt and inserted his finger into your dripping cunt. He groaned slightly as he moved the digit backward and forward slightly, gathering on the fingertip that made you writhe what was left of your cum. He dragged his finger out as quickly as he'd put it in, leading you to let out a whine. Leaning over you, his cock pressing against the small of your back, his hand was in front of your face.

“Taste it,” he ordered.

You didn't hesitate before wrapping your lips around the long finger on which there was your own cum. Jack's eyes darkened slightly as your hand took his and forced his finger further into your mouth. You sucked it almost violently, loving the taste of him, and the roughness of his skin beneath the layer of your juices.

“Good girl,” he nodded. “I'm going to fuck you now.”

“Please,” you moaned against the finger that you refused to release from your mouth.

Jack inhaled slowly, unable to think of anything but how wrong this was, and how much he wanted you anyway. He must've been the worst person ever. He hated how his cock was throbbing against your burning skin, and how he would be ball-deep inside of your desperate cunt soon enough.

He moved back, his finger still in your mouth, and when he pushed himself up against you again, his cock pulsed rapidly, surrounded by the dripping walls of your pussy, which clenched. His jaw did the same when he thrust himself into your tight little hole. Your mouth opened and your moan was close enough to a scream then. He stopped.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yes!” you insisted. “Do that again.”

He had to, anyway, since he wasn't even halfway inside of you. With one hand on your hip and one still the victim of your relentless efforts of tasting him, he steadied himself and thrusted once more. You seemed more accustomed to his significant length and width already so he began to move his hips, tightening his grip on yours, probably leaving marks.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He pulled out and left no time for you to even think of complaining before reinserting himself. “Oh, God, you're so fucking tight, baby.”

He continued pounding into you, while your hands abandoned his and instead were planted on the cool, metal table beneath you, that Jack was currently fucking you into. Your moans and gasps were loud, and you were unable to even tell him to go faster, or further, because it was perfect, and opening your mouth only allowed the unholy noises to deepen. You could feel him in every inch of you, and never wanted the sensation to end, as your body seemed to cool in response to his touch. You could hardly see past the cloud of smoke that was the weird Chinese drug, and even when you managed it, all there was, was that sweet, pleasurable bliss provided to you by Jack.

Behind you, Jack was grunting, filling your ears with his contented sounds of approval, while your moans sunk into his brain, amidst the silent worry that this was wrong, that you might not even remember it, that he never wanted his first night with you to be like this. His eyes opened and he looked through his, thick dark eyelashes at the mirror, in which he gathered a better view of your gorgeous face. You were muttering something, he could tell, by your plump, red lips.

Suddenly, he stopped, and bunched up your hair in his fist, using the softness to pull you back toward him. He was lodged deep inside of you, and he said, lowered voice clinging to your burning neck: “What is it, baby? Want me to stop?”

“No,” you choked on the word in your rapid desperation. “No, don't stop, I...” you blinked harshly, and soon stared into the mirror, watching his dark eyes, expectant yet patient. Those very eyes latched onto yours and you exhaled heavily. There was a moment––a single moment––when he looked at you, of clarity, and you spurted out, “I love you.”

He buried his lips in your neck, kissing and nipping lightly as he mumbled, “Oh, baby, I wish that were true.”

“It is. I'm not lying. Why- why would I lie?”

“You're not... in your own head right now.”

Your eyes sunk. The smoke screen was gone in an instant. He didn't believe you. Or maybe he just didn't want to. Because he didn't love you too. You urged in your sudden, aching coherence, “I mean it. Jack, I mean it. Please believe me, it's not the- the drug or anything, it's just... you. It's the truth. You have to believe me, please, just believe me.”

Your voice was shaking by then and Jack could've sworn your skin had cooled beneath his lips. He pulled back slightly, turning your head with two fingers so your eyes looked only into his.

“Good. 'Cause I fucking love you too.”

Your eyes may as well have been entirely black, when he gazed into them, and saw your pupils so blown that it looked like a health problem. You could only smile. “It doesn't... hurt anymore, Jack. I think it's... wearing off.”

Jack stood still. “Do you want me stop?”

“No, but, um...” you lowered your voice to a mere whisper, “this table's not the most comfortable. Could we...” you glanced to the bed and he nodded.

“Of course,” he smiled, and pressed a gentle kiss against your cheek. “Anything for you, baby.”

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels #agent whiskey #agent whiskey smut #pedro pascal #i just think hes neat #sex pollen #he is daddy #please sir #i love him #i love pedro pascal #finallyitshere

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