#jack daniels imagine

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Pressing

Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU

A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️

Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!

Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.

It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.

It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.

But you endure it all - for days like this. 

It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.

Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.

On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.

But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.

His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.

The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway. 

The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.

‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.

‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.

With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.

Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks. 

Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him. 

You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him. 

‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’

‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’

His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you. 

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’ 

As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.

You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’

There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines - 

And then he thrusts home inside you.

After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.

You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move. 

There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.

Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure. 

When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge. 

‘Where, darlin’?’

‘Inside me.’

The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.

Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.

You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table. 

‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.

‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.

‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.

Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time. 

He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’

He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.

‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’

‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.

You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’

‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’

Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’

Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’

The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.

With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’

Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!

#palomino series #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey smut

[palioom]

day three - hate sex

pairing: jack "whiskey" daniels x f!reader word count: 534 warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n; hate sex duh, insults, degradation, hair pulling, doggystyle, creampie

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

She hated him, his cocky smile and that stupid fucking dark mustache that stretched over his lips when he grinned. That fucking cowboy hat, his boots. Fuck, she even hated his fucking accent.

She specifically hated his accent. That fucking southern drawl that almost seemed over the top sometimes.

Whiskey always found a way to fuck up a mission and somehow Champ kept insisting on putting them together.

Because they made such an amazing team.

Sure. 

Their trips were fuelled by snide comments and hate, only managing to act up somehow when undercover, stalking after a suspect..

Still, the way he fucked her made up for his attitude, his hips snapping into her harshly, the palm of his hand cracking against her already red ass cheek in quick succession.

That thick, heavy cock of his, hitting her cervix over and over, his thick fingers curling into her hips so hard she would certainly wake up with bruises, moaning and grunting into the pillow in front of her. 

“Take it, c’mon.” He groaned behind her, smacking her ass again, her pussy clenching around him from the contact. “Fucking bitch, couldn’t even let me handle it.”

Whiskey accentuated each of his words with a particularly harsh thrust, making her cry out into the pillow.

“Because you were fucking it up royally, you asshole!” She replied, lifting her head to look over her shoulder at him. Seeing his stupid face, sweat on his forehead, teeth bared as he kept pounding into her. “You’re not good for shit, Whiskey!”

One of his hands left her hip, curling his fingers into her hair instead, pulling her up, enjoying the way she yelped, reaching behind her, finding his waist.

“Good at nothin’ except fucking you, huh, sugar?” He rasped against her ear, that thick accent only making her hate him more. The sting from his tight grip on her hair only got her closer, his hips reaching a punishing pace. “And you ain’t got no use besides takin’ my cock, sweetheart.”

Reaching her orgasm with a guttural moan, her whole body shook as she gripped his cock tight, her fingers digging into his skin behind her. It consumed all of her, mingling with the hate she felt for him.

He followed close behind, grunting into her ear as he came inside of her, feeling him twitch when he stilled deep inside of her pussy.

For a moment, all of the hate and rivalry was forgotten. In the brief first seconds of the afterglow they simply were two people who had quenched the need for release.

Then, he pushed her back down onto the bed, cock slipping out of her, and climbed off the bed to walk over into the bathroom.

She looked after him, used to his brevity after he had fucked her full of his cum. Looked at those stupid muscles on his back, his round ass.

Fucking hell, she really hated Whiskey and every moment they had to spend together.

But she enjoyed the brief moments they had where they just let off steam.

“Fucking asshole.” She muttered, turning onto her back with a groan.

The next time where he fucked up a mission couldn’t come fast enough.

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[infinity-mars]

Play With Me

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!reader 

Word Count: 8.5k+

Rating: Explicit Smut (18+ only) 

Summary: You go out for a night of fun and encounter an alluring cowboy that does everything he can to capture your attention.

Also posted on my AO3 !

You loved to dance. Those moments when your heart fluttered in your chest made you move like you could fly, relishing in the feeling of power it gave you. You weren’t particularly graceful or always on time, but there was a certain magnetic thrum in the air that bent you to its will all the same. 

From outdoor dance clubs to private velvet-roped lounges, discothèques, raves and rooftop bars, you’ve tried to see it all with your friend Kate by your side. 

The cool air nipped at you both as you finally walked inside the club, the heat of passing bodies a welcome feeling. The lit room had a hushed glow as people made their home for the night in plush seats off against the far walls. 

You imagined that the venue was similar to what Alice saw when she went down the rabbit hole and found herself in Wonderland. The bar certainly had the right name, you thought, the people walking around just as colorful as the children’s story. 

The bartender was quick and you were thankful, even though the drink he made was weaker than you preferred. Vodka burned as it hit the back of your throat, aided by the scoff that found you at the man chatting up your friend. 

Kate always had a thing for slightly pathetic men, like she could eat them alive. You were used to her routine by now, her colorful storytelling one of your favorite things to listen to over your morning coffee.

Honestly, you were both horrible together: you pitied the unsuspecting bystanders that listened in. Laughing at an old story she loved to tell at your expense, you didn’t see him at first. 

You wish you could go back to the moment he came crashing into your orbit, not noticing the person on your left until he made himself known. 

“Now what is a pretty bee like you lookin’ so bored all the way over here?” a gravelly voice spoke, the man’s lips tantalizingly close to the shell of your ear. 

Your eyes looked over before your brain could catch up, and what you saw certainly sidetracked whatever thoughts had possessed you before. Wearing a black leather jacket that swam in the neon light of the bar, he almost seemed to glow in a classic white shirt that tapered on his slim waist.

“I’m enjoying myself just fine thank you,” you retorted, taking a generous swig of your watered down drink to hide the rush of nervous energy that possessed you. You were used to beginning the chase, and it caught you off guard to be taken by surprise. 

How refreshing.

 A small grin flickered across his face at your answer. His dark hair and broad shoulders only made him more mysterious, the lolling drawl of his voice making you curious despite yourself. 

Men would approach you with the fashionable audacity they all liked to carry around with careless hands hoping for a quick fuck. Sometimes you’d indulge yourself, but the enjoyable heat of another person wasn’t worth it if they never shut their mouths. 

Your vibrator and weighted blanket made sure of that.

You were undecided if this man fit into that category though.

“That’s not what I see.”

“Hmm, what do you see then, if you know me so well?”

The man shifted his foot and leaned in closer, the subtle spice of his cologne clinging to his suede collar. The way he wore it was effortless, and you wanted to grab onto his jacket to either bring him closer or shove him back, depending on what he said next.

“I see a woman that’s bored out of her mind trying to convince herself she’s not, drinking alcohol not worth the proof on the bottle,” he explained, voice dipping lower as you turned to fully face him, finally meeting eyes that never strayed from you.”You want more than whatever junior over there could ever offer someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Oh honey, I know I walked into that one with both feet. You’re just fishing for compliments now, aren’t ya?”

“Mmm, are you going to tell me what I wanna hear or are you going to buy me a drink?”

“The shit they mix here ain’t what you deserve, I saw that bartender mixing those drinks. Take a sip of this darlin’, and tell me I’m not wrong,” the man tempted, readily extending a sleek silver flask to you that was attached to his belt buckle. How scandalous .

The promise in his expression emboldened you. He had taken a drink from the flask himself before offering it to you in invitation.

“What’s life without a little risk?” His eyes seemed to ask.

You took the chance, the warmth from his hands lingering on your fingers as you took the flask from him.The delicate gold choker on your neck glinted in the light as you swallowed.

Taking a swig, you absorb the flavor. He knew his alcohol, and from the confidence of his statement nothing less than top shelf mattered. You could certainly respect that, wondering if his lips would have the same taste if he kissed you.

“You’re not wrong, it’s very good. I’ve always been partial to whiskey myself.”

“Just good? What you have in your hand is a rare share of Statesman Whiskey, made straight from the source in Kentucky,” he retorted, almost offended if not for the mischievous twinkle in his eye. Something you had said passed a test you weren’t yet aware of.“Even as a Yankee you must understand the quality of that. I knew you would.”

“You caught that, did you?” 

“I don’t miss a thing, and you have most certainly caught my undivided attention.” 

You shifted completely to turn your back on your friend and her man of the hour, uninterested in the conversation that no longer included you. 

This man was right about one thing: you had been bored, and hopefully he would measure up for the evening. He didn’t shrink at your gaze.

It was nice to be approached for once with an interest that could mirror your own. 

“I don’t know how you fit that ego of yours inside this place. This doesn’t exactly look like your scene if I’m being honest.”

He chuckles at that without taking offense and coyly tips the brim of his hat in your direction, smiling with a flash of tongue at your choked laugh that's just for him. 

“Let’s just say I’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. Even more talking to gorgeous girls like you. A buddy of mine wanted me to check out this new place to meet up sometime for work .”

The queer way he said that wasn’t lost on you, but you figured it was just an inside joke of some kind. 

“You know that a honey bee can sting when it's threatened right?” 

The way he widened his stance in victory as you focused on him was intentional, the insufferable action the kind of cockiness you usually wanted to smother with your own if not for the way it oddly suited him. 

“Oh, that doesn’t deter me one bit. I’m sure your sting is just as sweet. I happen to like that.”

The grin peeking out from beneath his mustache looks genuine. You’re intrigued, looking at him now in consideration. As you checked him out from head to toe, one thing stood out rather prominently. 

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just really happy to see me right now?” 

New York might be a concealed carry state but he looked like one of the only men on the premises actually packing heat in all of the ways that matter. The well fitted dark blue denim hugging his thighs left very little to the imagination. 

He was tailored to torture you inch-by-fucking-inch.

“Why don’t you come dance with me for the next song and find out?”

Oh you definitely wanted to shut him up. Preferably with something else to keep that mouth of his busy. 

“No.”

“No? Give me one reason why not and I’ll leave you alone. You can take someone else home tonight and leave ol’ Jack behind.”

“So that’s your name then? Jack,” you reply. His eyes droop at the sound, half lidded and unhurried in the way he examines the way you say his name. 

You finally introduce yourself, like you hadn’t been bantering with the man for a while now. 

Like you hadn’t been imagining what he would look like after spending a night with you, scratch marks down his back a parting gift that'll make him think of you every time he moves.

“If you are so obliged, it’ll be the name you’ll be screaming later and that’s a promise,” he vowed, chewing on a mint he popped in with a cheeky wink thrown in your direction. On any other man that would be a turn-off, but you looked down and saw the way his hands clenched around nothing as you observed him. 

Jack was his own harbinger of surprises it seems. 

The second of silence that follows sears under your skin, charged and frantic for more friction. A quick reply caught on your tongue that you held in, keeping it for later: never let it be said that you didn't like flirting with delayed gratification every once in a while.

“How do you know that I don’t have someone already waiting in my bed for me?” You asked. Jack’s eyes were arresting, lingering lower on your chest for a few moments before looking into your own to answer you.

 He gave a satisfied hum when he found whatever he was searching for.

“I think the way you’re staring at me is all the answer I need.”

You’ll give him credit, he was saying all of the right things. Or at this point, you wanted them to be, your attraction only tipping in his favor.

“Now what is a Southern boy like you doing here? Not to be a cliche, but you’re a long way from home.”

“Oh, I’m just like anyone else. I work at the Statesman New York office, traveling a lot when I’m needed elsewhere. What do you do when you’re not talking to vagrants like me in strange bars?”

“I’m a romance novelist, dabbling in a lot of things really, you know how it is.”

“Hmm, now that sounds interesting. What words must form on that clever tongue of yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you flirted back. 

He began speaking again, the story he launched into exotic and altogether hard to believe, but it wasn’t the words that reeled you in. It was his large hands waving temptingly close that distracted you. You could care less about the time he almost died in Marrakesh after offending someone’s wife.

You’d commit the story to your memory later when the pleasant haze of him faded away.

His tale came to a close as you glanced down and laughed at the stereotype that for some reason didn’t surprise you.

“Can you even dance in those boots for anything other than a two step?”

“I can do a lot more than that.”

“With your shiny belt buckle and Stetson I’d almost think you’re compensating for something,” you teased. A flash of delight lit up his face at your observation, the smirk he sent your way something just north of sinful.

“Everything is bigger in the south darlin' and besides,” he trailed off, hands coming to slowly cage you in against the bar but not quite touching you. “Let’s be honest here, we both know you like what I’ve got underneath.”

You lean forward, a breath of air suspended between you as your mouth almost ghosts over his. Maneuvering out of Jack’s reach, you reach up and take the hat off his head.

You had no doubt he would have stopped you if he had actually wanted to, those large hands of his able to easily overpower and hold you down. 

You suppress a grin at the thought.

Putting the large hat on your head, you brushed out your unruly hair to make it stay firmly in place. His eyes unfocused for a moment before looking at you with renewed intensity, his jaw ticking to the side as he takes you all in. 

You loved the chase, but at that moment you were tempted to end the flirtation and leave the bar to see if those fingers would fill you up as well as they promised. 

“Come on, show me your moves," you dared, steeling yourself as you joined the growing crowd beginning to take over the dance floor. He convinced you. "Do your worst, Jack.”

A remix of one of your favorite songs set the pace as it moved through you. The bass was rich and dark in your veins as you danced, Wonderland falling away in the fury of bodies all around you. The charge that flitted low in your abdomen was one that threatened to crack you in two as Jack brought you back, your ass grinding into him after each beat.

It would be so easy to turn around and let yourself melt into the heat of him.

 But riling him up sounded like a lot more fun. So when the beat shifted so did you, one hand removing the hat from your head as the other reached behind you to bring him down to your level. 

“You know, there’s a saying I heard before that if you steal a cowboy’s hat you’re either fuckin’ or fighting, and darlin’ I don’t have any weapons on me right now. So what’ll it be?” He asked, his voice against your ear making you lean into his palms. 

You felt like smoke, weaving around him as you continued to dance.

“Mmmm, doesn’t a combination of both sound just as good?”

The reactive tightening of his fingers on your hips was just what you needed. The both of you were lost, the music loud enough to cover up how hard your heart was beating.

Jack runs his nose along your neck and jaw until he nips at the vein, the heat of his breath making your own decision for you.

Turning, you reach up and finally kiss him. It wasn’t a quick affair, the push and pull between you both a fight to see who would give in first. You wanted to memorize the feeling, imagining the burn of his facial hair on your thighs as you rode his face. 

You’d even wear his hat while you did it if he asked nicely. 

He tasted like mint and mussed hair dangled in front of his eyes, lightly brushing your forehead as you mingled together. 

You were both insulated in the crowd, kissing each other until you were hardly even dancing anymore. 

Ready to leave the liquor and low lighting behind, you stopped Jack in his tracks. Backing him into the wall of the hallway you ventured into, you did so firmly, hands holding him hostage as you clung to the lapels of his leather jacket. 

The hunger he saw reflected in your eyes pinned him in place, and that alone made him want to ruin you. 

Leaning up in your high heeled boots so that you could kiss his cheek, the remaining lipstick you wore smeared onto his skin like a brand, the red lip print left near his opened mouth telling him that you were dangerous.

Better yet, his favorite kind.

“Follow me cowboy,” you rasped, leaving goosebumps in your wake as you lightly skimmed over his skin with your teeth. The fever consuming from now was one he hadn’t felt bubbling in his blood ever since his last mission months ago.

 He craved it.

Jack vaguely connected that you were an unstoppable force to his immovable object, ready to crash into him like the paradox you were presenting yourself to be. 

When he had clocked you from across the bar earlier he had admitted to himself that you weren’t the usual type of woman he jumped to charm into his bed. You had looked wholly unimpressed with your surroundings before, swirling the ice in your drink as the yuppie next to you preened like a toddler with a captive audience. 

The oncoming storm he’d read in the lines of your body told him another story, however, one that swept him into you and past the redhead that had been trying to catch his attention since he’d walked in. 

The shadow of something wicked had made Jack eager to align your passions with his own.

Impatient at his composure as he thought of this, you hooked two fingers into his belt loops and tugged him off the wall and into you, that jolt he felt from before electrifying below his skin as you pressed against him. 

Reaching down and lightly cupping one of your hands over the denim of his jeans, you felt him squirm the longer you dared. 

 His dark brows furrowed at your forwardness, wanting to taste you again.

Your hands were firm on him, brokering no argument for the sly agent to persuade you with. He admired your drive, easily taking the momentum from him and twisting it to your desires. You kept surprising him, and by the way you delved into his mouth you weren’t afraid of showing him this side of you.

You wanted him to say something, anything, so this time you squeezed with intent, the hiss in your ear headier than the alcohol on his breath.

His cock twitched under your hand, and god it was power . 

You enjoyed him like this: slightly wild but contained, a groan threatening to break through clenched teeth as you felt him up in public so casually. 

You kiss him possessively in that dark room, drinking him up and daring him to consume you in turn like he promised. He might have approached you first, but you were going to finish what you both started.

It was desperate and messy and loud but neither of you cared.

A couple walked close to the both of you, forcing you to break from him in the narrow hallway to let them pass. Your absence made Jack swiftly reconnect himself with your body, his large hand sliding down into the pocket of your jeans to roughly squeeze your ass that had been grinding on him only moments before. 

Leaving his hand where it was, he used it to direct you outside into the street. The nighttime air filled your lungs with relief, cooling the sweat that dampened your neck.

“You're positive you don’t wanna go back to my place? I can assure you the view from my floor is nothing to scoff at.”

“While that might ordinarily be tempting, Jack, your apartment doesn’t have any of the toys that I like to use,” you retorted. 

You could already imagine flashes of the night ahead of you at your apartment. 

“A pity then, I just know that you pressed against my floor to ceiling windows when the sun rises would be a pretty sight indeed.”

“Let’s enjoy tonight and plan on that for next time.”

Shame was not an emotion that Jack entertained often and he wasn’t about to start now, leaving your lipstick where it sat proudly on his face. A few people stared at him in the street, but no one stopped your brisk pace. 

At the last crosswalk he pinched your ass in retaliation when you turned to kiss him harshly, nipping his chin as you leaned back onto your heels. As if you were dry kindling struck by lightning, his hands trailed flames in their wake, each touch only hastening your steps forward.  

Exposed brick, industrial lighting, and high ceilings were what attracted you to your building when you first moved to the area. Your small loft on the upper floor gave you the privacy you craved, the cityscape around you comforting in the way it always kept moving. 

While waiting for the elevator Jack untangled himself from you to lean against the wall on your right. He stood there appreciating you as a few of your neighbors walked around the lobby, Jack tipping his hat to them as they passed.

You didn’t even realize you’d dropped it at some point to kiss him earlier.

“Prettier than a peach,” he murmured, his hand reaching to smooth over his mustache in thought. He was earnest, the mood shifting into something unnamed as the elevator dinged. You huddled into him as people came and went.

"You know," you began, "I'd look even prettier with your hands wrapped around my throat."

 He coughed into his hand, not wanting everyone else in the lobby to see how tight his jeans suddenly felt. You laughed.

You both stumble into your apartment, the size of Jack overwhelming as he backs you into the closed door. His mouth was persuasive, like a switch was flipped now that you were both away from everyone else. 

He left bruising kisses on your neck, completely unyielding in his quest to mark you wherever he could reach. His hands were on the back of your head, holding you in place as he gripped your neck just so. 

For a long suspended moment you were frozen, wanting to regain the ground you refused to lose. But hell, could this man kiss the thoughts from your head. 

Then, all at once, heat spreads through you, thawing you into action. 

Holding onto his jacket with your fingers you tilt your head back with a breathless chuckle, making Jack look into your eyes. You take up one hand and grip his chin, the other drifting to caress the lipstick mark you shamelessly left on his cheek. Pressing down on it with more pressure to show you meant your next words, you wanted him to listen. 

He smirked into your touch, a cocky sort of grin showcasing his dimple that felt entirely warranted as your breath stuttered in your chest. 

“Go sit on the couch,” you ordered. Kissing you once more before moving away, a filthy moan left you as his tongue darted out for a taste. His eyes didn’t look away until you turned your back, shedding clothes in your wake until all you had left on was the lace you were wearing.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Sure thing baby, pour me a bit of whatever you’re having.”

You didn’t leave him for long, reappearing with strong liquor and the type of lingerie that made you feel like you could eat a man’s heart in the marketplace like Beatrice once said.

The warmth from the drink you’d sipped in the kitchen enveloped you as it licked up your chest— you were in your element now.

Grounded in your body, you took a deep breath. 

Emerald lace and satin embrace you, assured in the sway of your hips as you walked over to your cowboy. Handing him his drink and swiftly straddling his parted thighs, you let him take you in.

 You don’t know when he became “your cowboy,” but it sounded right, for the night at least.

Say what you will, but Jack was flexible with a change in plan. He just had to bide his time, finishing the finger of bourbon left in his glass before setting it aside.

The way you spilled out of your lingerie had him drowning in you. Champ once told him that he was an adrenaline addict, chasing every mission that got his heart racing. He wasn’t wrong—you couldn’t function as a successful Statesman agent without a dash of daredevil in you.

And he just loved the way you moved.

His mouth descends on you again, leaving you once to gulp in a desperate breath before attacking with renewed vigor. 

He hoarsely spoke your name, and it was the best thing that had left his lips all night. You wanted him to say it again but this time underneath you, unbidden and desperate at the way you pulled it out of him. You slid your tongue into his mouth and brought up a hand to roughly yank at the hair on the sides of his head, until he bowed his back and leaned into you for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You asked, snaking your hand underneath the cup of your brassiere to shove it aside and caress your breast, a groan breaking through your composure at the way Jack bucked into you. Though his breathing was measured and even, his lips parted at the sight of your nipples pebbling in the cool air. 

“You know, when I saw you at the bar I knew I had to talk to you, take you with me when I left,” he murmured, quiet in his admission as it rang true on his face. 

“Mmmm, honey, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but...you’re in my apartment at the moment, on my couch no less, drinking my bourbon,” you answer just as quietly into his ear. You graze over it teasingly with your teeth just to see him shiver. “And I’m wearing a matching set right now. So who really took initiative tonight, hm?”

Jack laughed almost in disbelief at your words, his body responding for him. It’s an honest sound, one that makes you kiss him deep enough to taste his tongue in the back of your throat.

Ultimately what you saw in his eyes was patience. And that was hotter than anything else he could have done. 

 You sigh his name, letting your head fall forward as he seeks out another kiss from you. 

“This is just the preview. I want it all, and I know you do too,” he breathed against your lips. “Now are you going to let me touch you, or do I have to watch you fuck yourself on my thigh before I can taste you? You can only tempt a man so far.”

“Is that a threat or a challenge I hear?”

“I did promise that you’d be screaming my name, and I take that job very seriously. You'll hear no arguments from me.”

“You sure you can handle me like that, cowboy?”

Jack was wavering somewhere between wholly aroused and perversely indignant. No one questioned him like this, in the bedroom or otherwise if he could help it.

 He hated how it turned him on like this. 

You’re not sure what emboldens you to tease him; your resolve only heightens the longer he looks at you, as if you could spill over into him and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“I have never been more sure than I am right now.”

He knew how to fire you up. In many ways, you were both quite similar.

Restless and insatiable. 

Purposefully running your hands down his chest only to stop your exploration at his belt, the rumble in his chest was one of approval as you scratched at his abdomen through his shirt. 

You enjoyed yourself when pleasure could mix with a bit of pain, and you had an inkling that Jack did too. You wanted to deny him, reduce this enigma of a man into a begging mess before the sun came up. But your own need to be touched by him won out, and damn him for kissing you like that—as if you were the antidote to a fatal poison he had drunk in an effort to forget you. 

“You can touch me, Jack, but there’s something I want to do first.”

You meet his gaze for a brief moment as you pause in this position on top of him, being perfectly still when all you wanted was to hold him close until there was no space for questions or distractions.

An understanding passes between you both. Your body buzzes with nerves, synapses firing as all thoughts focus on the man holding you.

He grabs at your hips, whispering encouragement in your ear as he guides you to settle flush against his lap with your legs on either side of him. The zipper of his jeans and his belt buckle rubbed into your clit hard enough to make you shiver.

“ Fuck… ”  

Jack  scrapes his teeth over your jaw. Barely there. More of a breath across your cheek than anything. 

You reach back and unlatch your bra, throwing it away as he cups each breast in his calloused hands. Arching into his attentive mouth as it reached your skin, you threaded your fingers in his hair, messing up the hat flattened strands and tugging on them harder when he bit down teasingly. 

Letting your nipple go with a wet plop, he leaned back into your hands on his head.

“God, I am so fucking hard thinking about licking into that pretty pussy of yours, bet you taste real good,” Jack groaned. You answered in kind, kissing him again to swallow his words.

This was just the warm-up.

“I’m going to cum just like this against you, but if you move any more then I won’t be quite so kind later. Wanna make you earn it. I’m a generous lover, Jack, but a fair one,” you simpered, grinding almost cruelly against the hardness of him that you could feel throbbing through his pants. “You want me to be nice, don’t you?”

“Oh darlin’, I’m sure you’re sweeter than a saint,” he grunted, words stuttering as you brought his head up closer to yours, lips touching but not quite. Rotating your hips, you sigh into his mouth as you move against him. 

True to his restraint so far, he kept himself in place, his breath hot against your cheeks as your pace quickened. 

“Mmmm, can’t wait to have you inside me,” you sighed, his muscles straining beneath your fingers. Shuddering at the feeling of him under you, your first orgasm was creeping closer as it began trickling down from the tips of your fingertips. “D-don’t want you to cum until I’m done with you.”

Jack’s mouth opened partly in awe as you grinded on him with even more force. 

He had a hidden strength to him, and by the way his arms flexed around you he could have easily moved you under him at any time. The fact that he didn't demand it was arousing.

Fuck you were wet.

Tilting his head slightly, he enjoys the view of you on his lap using him for your own pleasure. Your tits bounce as you move, and he’s torn between telling you how perfect they are and moving just slightly to bury his face in your softness. He whimpered silently as you pulsed around him, able to feel it over his clothes as you threatened to unravel.

“Oh, look at you,” he exclaimed, voice a low rumble that stokes the fire in your belly. “Just like that, baby. Fuck, come on. Take what you need from me.”

He says your name once, fervent and taut, barely able to keep himself in check. The fact that he was still almost fully clothed made him need more . You were all warm skin and curves and he wanted to feel every second of you wrapped around him.

He tensed his thigh and shifted slightly but you didn’t notice as you rode out the waves of pleasure rolling over your clit.

It was exquisite and hurried and not the end goal but you didn’t mind. You had wanted to see if he would listen to you. If he could take what direction you gave him. It was an entirely different high you’d surprisingly discovered in your twenties, having a man in your control, making him beg with just your body. 

And yet, Jack did not beg for himself. The look in his eyes was expressive enough. Still he didn’t move, and that was what finally pushed you over. 

Gasping in shock, your orgasm softly washed over your skin. He eagerly watched, memorizing the way your mouth hung open at the feeling of him grabbing your hips with bruising force to drag you over him once again.

When you finally opened your eyes Jack was already looking at you, and you did not shy away. His hair was tousled from your hands, lips swollen, eyes bright—you savored him like the Kentucky whiskey on his breath. 

“Mmmm, you were so good for me,” you praised, voice heavy in your mouth as you recalled how to speak.

As you came back down he chased your lips, taking his time to touch you the way he could now that you’d fallen into his chest. His mouth was a wanting, wretched thing, tracing a path from your lips to your chest. 

You pulled back for a moment. “Do you want to switch to the–”

“I’m not done yet,” he interrupted, bringing you back into a heated kiss that had you whining into his hold on you. He slips his tongue in your mouth and seems to slow time licking into you just so, making you shiver. 

His hands were frenzied in the way they glided over all the flesh he could reach. 

You would torture him no longer.

His blunt nails traced over your spine, and you wanted to ask him to do that again. 

“Now you are a rare gift, my dear,” he hummed into your mouth. “I would hate for you to be tired already.”

“Oh, you don’t have to question my stamina,” you slyly answered. Even now you are still hazy in your bones, tethering yourself to his firm grip on your ass. “Worry about your own.”

The chuckle that leaves him is telling, and you clearly feel his frustration rolling off him now that you can think in complete sentences.

You kiss the corner of his mouth and swiftly hop off of his lap, trembling for a moment as you right yourself. There’s a slight damp spot from where you were sitting on his white shirt that had been hanging over half untucked from his jeans, but you’re too drunk on endorphins to feel embarrassed. 

You did that .

Your heart stuttered for a moment at the raw ache you saw in his face. Hooking your fingers in the slim waistband of your panties, you then cast them aside. 

It felt like an afterthought after what you had both just done, but the way Jack looked at you was anything but unappreciative. 

What you inspire in him is so erotically charged that he is momentarily struck dumb by what you do next.

Falling onto your knees you look up at him through your lashes, taking the flask attached to his belt buckle, the surface slightly wet from your release making it slick in your hands. It was silent in the apartment, the only sound Jack’s breathing as he watched you drink from the flask that he favored so much. 

You could taste yourself around the metal and lipstick and whiskey. A theme of the night it seemed.

Awareness flows down your spine at Jack’s gaze. As you take one more pull, his hands reach up to card through your hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail, reaching for you with a finality that has you arching into him.  

You lead him into your room, wishing you had cleaned up a bit before tripping on the rug, laughing as you both stumble into your metal bed frame. 

“Now Jack,” you begin, bracing yourself for the next conversation you rarely walked into without some gut feeling bracing you up. “Do you have a safe word?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but when he did he was entirely focused on you. 

“I do, pretty girl. It’s sweet tea.”

The way his mouth caressed each syllable with that slow southern drawl shouldn’t have been as damning as it was.

“How do you feel about ropes?”

The way he lit up was thrilling. He looked away with unfocused eyes, enjoying a private joke that only he knew. It was the expression of a man that delighted in his own mystery. 

You couldn’t deny that a part of you was burning to know what he locked away. He prowled with that hidden energy, and knowing what you’d experienced of him so far, you would have to work for a proper taste.

“I happen to be quite gifted with whips and a lasso if I do say so myself. I’m rather versatile in that regard. Rest assured it is not my first rodeo.” 

“In that case cowboy, I want you...to tie me up,” you said before grazing your thumb across his bottom lip. He nodded slightly surprised, with the way you had directed him earlier he had thought you’d wanted to tie him up instead.

 It wasn’t like he couldn’t escape from some ropes if he really needed to.

He had been amazing under you before, but you wanted more. You wanted him to take your body and make your need dissolve on your tongue as you cry. You wanted it to hurt.

Jack felt like you could read his mind, look into the very heart of him and learn all of his desires. Palming himself over his jeans, he imagined the warmth of your mouth and had to stop from outpacing himself.

You walked into your closet with purpose, toeing on your favorite pair of stiletto heels as you grabbed your selection of ropes from where they’re hidden.

His eyebrow ticks up at the sight of you naked with only your Louboutins on, the black ropes in your hands are just as daring. He waits for you to settle onto the pillows of your bed before methodically tying your hands to hooks in the wall on either side of your headboard.

 It took him a few moments but his knots were sound, loose enough but tight on your wrists so you couldn’t break free. You were grudgingly impressed with how fast Jack could work when he was motivated, filing it away where you could exploit later.

He throbs at the salacious painting you rendered, spread out and glowing in the warm lighting of the room. With your opened legs you were vulnerable and slick and soft. 

Jack didn’t want to wait any longer before losing himself in you.

He shifted down to lay himself between your parted legs. You swiftly stopped him with your left leg extended fully out, the stiletto of your heel digging into his lowered shoulder as he kneeled on the bed. The startled look on his face made you tease him, grinding it in a little further before moving it down his chest to stop at the length of his cock straining for freedom. 

Pressing down.

The choked groan that he involuntarily let out was painfully erotic. You wish you could record it and hit rewind.

“Hold your horses, Jack. You have far too many clothes on. Strip for me first before you get what you want.”

To his credit he didn’t jump up and frantically discard the remainder of his clothing. Like you before his expression turned calculating, methodically shifting off the bed and taking off his shirt and discarding his pants along with his underwear. All are then folded on your nightstand, neat and pricise to minimize wrinkles.  

You swallow at the way he ignores your anticipation, but it brings no relief. 

His skin is tan like the rest of him, belly soft and strong before a small trail of dark hair leads down to the base of his cock sitting heavy against his stomach. 

You imagine tracing your tongue over every inch of him seeing where he’d fracture and break in your hold, only to put him back together again when he asked.

He was incredibly distracting like that when he wanted to be.

Captivated, your eyes stop back at his chest, small faded scars criss-crossing his skin, one worryingly close to his heart that had you straining for a closer look. His muscles ripple as he moves, the veins of his arms as formidable as the rest of him. 

Jack was focused as he finally settled low on the bed, fingers ghosting over skin as he hitched your legs over his shoulders. Kissing and nipping at the inside of your thigh, he took in a deep breath and let out a little hum, puffs of air hitting your pussy as he adjusted.

He leaned his head on your left thigh and looked up at you briefly.

“You remember the safe word, sweetheart?” He asked. You nodded, almost drunk at the heat of him crowding you. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes Jack, I remember it’s sweet tea. Now are you going to eat my pussy like you mean it or do I need to get myself off again?” You answered, tapping your leg down on his back knowing fully well how it would rile him up.

He grins at you savagely, leaning down the remaining space to lick a long stripe all the way up your folds. 

You buck into his mouth, your already sensitive clit coming alive again. He moves his arms to cage your hips in his hold, bringing you flush to his tongue by grabbing onto your ass. 

He was nestled between your legs, mapping your body with licks and handprints. Your half-formed praises and keening whine made Jack a mess of a man, grinding into the mattress as he drank up everything you could give him.

He loved your voice and the way it scattered into nothing when he sucked your clit into his mouth. He made no pretense at staying quiet, noisy and whole in his destruction of you.

Coming up for air, his mustache glistened, cheeks red from his own harsh breathing against your cunt. His lips were wet and you wanted to taste yourself when he kissed you. He reaches down for a moment and pumps himself harshly, tightly fisted and the sound he lets out...you feel it like a pulse.

His nose brushes you as he dives back in. If he could sink underneath your skin you would burst. 

He slides two fingers inside, your muscles clenching around him as far as he could go. Curling his fingers upward and holding them there, a hot fusion of unnamed pleasure and painful awareness zips through you. You can't help but squirm underneath him.

There it was.

Jack wanted you to call his name until he no longer connected it with himself, an uncontained force that compelled him to do whatever you wanted if only you'd say his name like that again. 

Wanting. 

“Fuck, when you say my name like that I just burn all over,” he murmured. “You gonna cum now, baby?”

You hum distractedly, the coiled tether in your abdomen snapping when he doubles down just right. He eagerly laps at you as your pussy flutters, climbing higher and higher until plunging you into nameless bliss. Each limb feels liquid as you touch down.

Jack keeps sucking and licking you without stopping and you can’t cover your mouth to muffle the whimpers that slip through. He adds a third finger and continues to move through each aftershock that bounces through your body.

“Come on. Lord—when you sound like that I don’t want you to stop. You’re not done yet, I know you can give me another one. Look at the way you take me in.”

You wanted to dodge his mouth as he sucked on you again, even the gentle way he prodded at you felt like too much. You weren’t going to beg yet, even for a man like Jack. Despite your discomfort you felt yourself stir again, weaker but no less corporeal, as he pressed down hard on your clit with a pressure that made your breathing pick up.

With effort you rocked into him once more and strained to lock your legs around his head, squeezing when he nipped at you. A handful of minutes later you were boneless and spent, legs trembling as he drew your pleasure out.

 He moaned at the feeling of being utterly surrounded, desperately sending you over again so that he could breathe. 

You couldn't think past the wall of sensation you were being held against without mercy.

This orgasm was harder than the last, a juggernaut that only built on the first. A few silent tears trailed down your face, so overcome that his facial hair burned similar to the hand shaped bruise already forming on your hip. 

You close your eyes so tightly that sunbursts bloom behind your eyes as you breathe through it.

Standing up to catch his breath, he used some of the slick on his fingers to slowly cover his shaft, aching from being hard for so long already. From the sheer size and weight of him that you can see, you’re glad for the bottle of lube on your bedside table, though you’re so wet it probably didn’t matter.

Jack settles himself over you, tugging you up into a fierce, messy kiss, teeth and tongues and harsh breaths traveling from his mouth into yours. 

You were so relaxed that the stretch of him affected you only for a moment as he buried himself inside you. The gasp when he moves catches in your throat, a ghost of all the pleasure he had given you just moments before leaving your body.  

 His voice stutters as he slowly thrusts inside of you, setting a steady pace. “Should keep you right here just like this, make you cum until you forget your own name. Would you like that? Take care of you like no one else will?”

You swear, picturing his words as they traced themselves down your body. As heavy as the feeling of Jack resting his weight on you was, you thrived on it. Your arms felt strained from being tied, but he curled around you just so, keeping you both connected for as long as possible.

Jack’s arms flexed as he adjusted to reach for you, extending his fingers until they pressed into your parted lips.

Swirling your tongue around his two fingers, you could taste yourself on his skin. He then leaned down and used them to press into your clit. It had you closing your eyes, too overwhelmed to speak through it. 

You didn't have any smart comebacks in you now.

His unrelenting tempo jostled the bed against the wall. Moving back to lean on his heels, Jack pistoning into you at this new angle was overwhelming but you simply didn’t care. He yelled out in a voice you almost didn't recognize, hoarse and wet as it ripped from his chest.

“Come on Jack, cum in me,” you panted. “ Fuck , I know you’re close. Can feel you aching for it. You’ve been so patient. So good . ”

You intentionally clench around him like a vice, and it has him tumbling into his own release moments later with a startled shout.

Satisfaction seizes his veins in a chokehold.

He collapses into your chest, the both of you covered in a slight sheen of sweat that was beginning to dry in the cool air.

Whimpering slightly as he pulled out, he worked through his own lethargy to take care of you.

He leaned up and undid the knots holding you hostage. Immediately your arms flop onto the mattress, the burn of your muscles just adding to the mental catalog of sensations you take stock of. With Jack resting on your chest you card your fingers through his hair, the both of you too out of breath to say anything for a few moments. 

The weight of him on top of you kept you grounded.

Warm. Languid. Eyes drifting closed at how heavy you feel. 

“You are gonna be the death of me, woman.” 

“Mhmmm, if that’s the case then I’ll wait to tell you my proposal then. Wouldn’t wanna kill you before another round, Whiskey.”

He lifts his head from your chest at that.

“What did you just call me?” He asked, eyes unreadable as they scan your face. You didn’t care, the words light in your mouth as they leave you.

“Whiskey. You taste like it. And if you think this is the only time I take you to bed, then let me inform you: I still need to drink my fill of you.”

He scratched at his mustache for a moment in thought before he smiles, the most genuine of the night that makes his eyes crinkle with laughter. There it was again, that secret in his expression that has you eager to ask what he’s hiding.

“You’re a very perceptive person, honey. I am thoroughly surprised by you. Tell me what you have in mind when I come back.”

He jumps out of bed to walk into your en suite bathroom, his ass distracting as you watch him fumble around before returning with a warm washcloth to clean you up.  Each brush of his hands on your body is gentle, reverent even as it glides over you. He kisses where your hands had been bound, asking if he was too rough.

You almost laughed. 

You liked it that way. 

Something inside you wanted to stay in the moment, gazing at each other in the dimly lit room. Not forever, just a little longer. You imagine him walking away from you out the door, and it puts an unpleasant feeling in your gut, like you wouldn’t see him again.

You had the sneaking suspicion that if Jack didn’t want to be found he’d disappear.

“So I was thinking,” you began, finally tossing your stilettos off the bed to lay under your quilt. “I have an ungodly expensive espresso machine that makes a decent latte and fresh beans in the kitchen. How about we take a quick nap and then fire it up before round two? I heard once that drinking coffee makes the sex even better.”

“Don’t you mean rounds three and four?” He teased, that ego of his purring at the thought of how much you spasmed and shook around him.

If you weren’t so relaxed you would have probably grabbed onto his balls in response, made him swear around that crooked smile of his.

You'd learn how he liked it and edge him until he melted out of his damn cowboy boots. The thrill of him was delicious, and you hadn't gotten to take a true bite out of him yet.  

“You think you can go another round later and finally ride this prize stallion?” 

That makes you slap at his shoulder. His laugh diffused whatever seriousness lingered and you readily agreed, the both of you winding down as exhaustion hits.

 As his arms settle around you, you imagine the potential of a future with this man of mystery.

 He had barely scratched the surface of what made you wild, and you wanted to change that. Leaving Wonderland with him tonight was an event you were eager to repeat. 

#jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey fanfiction #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #smut #one night stand #jack daniels imagine #jack daniels fanfiction #agent whiskey imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction

[absurdthirst]

Birthday Wishes {Agent Whiskey x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Jack being absolutely besotted, public sexual activities, vaginal fingering, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms

Comments: Jack promises to make your birthday a night to remember.

💝🎉🎊🎁Happy Birthday @wardenparker!!!!! You are an amazing friend and co-writer, I am lucky that you want to spend time with a nut like me! I hope you have an amazing birthday today. 💝🎉🎊🎁

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Sugar, you are as pretty as a picture and twice as sweet.” Your eyes shift from the mirror where you had been carefully touching up your makeup under the bright bulbs of your vanity to where Jack’s warm brown eyes are watching you. They darken slightly and on edge of that cock mouth curls up and lifts his neatly trimmed mustache. You know what is about to come out of his mouth. “We can always stay home and have our own celebration right here, sans clothes.” 

It shouldn’t be tempting, but when Jack Daniels is your lover, your partner, it’s always on the table. The man could talk you out of plans and out of your clothes so fast, your head would be spinning. And not just from that talented mouth eating your pussy like it was nectar of the Gods. 

“You always say that, Jack.” “‘Cause you always tempt me to keep you for myself, sugar.” Strong, warm arms slide around your soft stomach and he squeezes you tight as his nose and mouth burrow in at your shoulder. Giving you a view of his artfully combed hair. The cowboy hat hadn't gone on his head, just yet. “Fuck, you always smell so good.” 

It was the perfume he had bought you. One of the first gifts he had brought from a mission when he had decided to ‘court’ you. His words, although you find the old fashioned vernacular charming and very fitting. Jack might be crass at times, but at others he is the height of a southern gentleman. 

His mustache tickles and makes you shiver, followed by his hot mouth ghosting over your pulse and pressing petal soft kisses to your skin. Making gooseflesh pebble your skin and your eyes slip closed as you sigh out his name. 

He’s good at distracting you. Those large hands sliding over your stomach and traveling up to cup your breasts. His groan against your skin is low, already husky rumble even raspier as he slowly massages the flesh in his hands through your bra. You hadn’t dressed yet, waiting until  your hair and makeup is done before you slide your dress on. 

“Jack.” You whine, eyes half closed and your lips poised in a pout as you instinctively lean to the side to give him more room to do whatever he wants with your body. “You planned tonight.” You remind him. 

“Next time, smack me upside the head.” He huffs, reluctantly pulling away from where he was nibbling on your shoulder to send you an playfully unhappy look in the mirror. “For being such a fool to think I wouldn’t want to keep you home and to myself.” 

Rolling your eyes at him, you smirk and lift a brow. “Finish getting ready, Mr. Daniels.” You chide. “You promised me a night out for my birthday and that is exactly what I am getting.” 

Letting go of your tits, Jack winks at you and grins. “Of course you are, sugar.” He promises with a smirk. “Tonight is going to be a night you never forget.” 

****

“Jack!” Your surprised squeal is muffled against his jacket, although you shouldn’t be surprised. Jack’s fingers, push aside the material of your panties and those thick, nimble fingers quickly find your sex slick with desire. “We are in public!” 

“So?” His chuckle fans out warmly over your skin and he rubs your bundle of nerves before his thumb presses against it and two fingers push slowly inside you. “No one is paying attention and I can’t help myself.” He defends. “You are too appealing, sugar. Sittin’ here lookin’ like an angel wrapped in sin.” 

The pressing curl of his fingers steals your ability to answer. Mouth dropped open in a soundless moan, only the tiniest squeak manages to sound, barely even reaching his ear except he’s listening for it. 

“Hmmmm.” He rumbles, making sure that he curls his body around you in the booth in the most intimate corner of the restaurant. While he loves pushing the boundaries of propriety, he doesn’t want anyone to actually see you. Your pleasure is his alone. “What’s that, sugar?” He coos softly. “I didn’t hear you.” 

Turning your head, you feel the way that he is absolutely playing your pussy like it’s a stringed instrument. Moaning softly into his ear, your body pulls taunt and starts to roll with the plunge of his fingers. It’s wicked and filthy, letting him finger you right here in the middle of the trendiest restaurant around, the possibility of anyone catching you running high as waiters and guests run around. Still, your fingers grip the fabric of his suit coat and you let him do whatever he wishes to your body as you respond to him. 

The drag of his fingers in and out of your velvet walls makes you hiss in pleasure, the way they pulse around his thick digits similar to how he feels when he is working his cock inside you. Nerve endings firing in pleasure and making the knot in your belly grow every time he pushes them deep. 

“Jack.” You pant softly, trying to keep your voice down as your eyes dart around the room. It makes him chuckle, but the pressure against your clit and the movement of his fingers never pauses. 

“You’re gonna cum for me, sugar.” He promises. “Your pretty little pussy is gonna weep around my fingers and give me a little treat to suck on that will be more delicious than the best dessert in this place.” His chuckle is low and raspy. “Hell, I’d rather set you up on the table and feast on you.” 

He would probably do it, if you were at home. Your table has often been the scene of countless couplings. Now he just intends to make you whine and whimper, shaking with pleasure in public. 

Your finger nails dig into the fabric of his suit, clutching for purchase, to ground you so you don’t go floating away on a cloud of ecstasy while the entire restaurant watches. The wine on the table is barely touched and yet you feel like your head is swimming, thoughts fuzzy to everything but the press of his fingers. 

Jack’s dark eyes watch you, sparkling encouragement from their dark depths. His lips pulled into a smirk as every pass of his fingers rockets you closer to having to muffle a cry. He’s enjoying your pleasure. If you were to reach down and take a squeeze of his cock, you would find him hard as a rock. 

“Just a little more, sugar.” He coos, leaning in and kissing your jaw. “Just a little more and your sweet pussy will be singin’ for me. Can you do that? Can you cum in my fingers and let me have a little taste of you?” 

The raw, rough pitch of his voice and the next swipe of his finger pushes you over the edge. Turning and burying your face against his neck, your muffled moan is barely heard outside your little booth, breathed into the fabric of his suit. “Jack, oh God, Jack.” You whimper, the quiver of your cunt following the molten slick that coats his fingers and makes him hum in satisfaction. 

“That’s it, sugar, cream on ole Jack’s fingers for me.” He whispers in praise, working you through it and humming as your flutter walls start to slow. “Good girl,” He likes the way you pant against his collar, looking just for the world like a woman who is snuggled against her man. “Ride it out.”

Jack’s fingers work you until he can sense that you want him to stop and slowly pull out of your wet heat. The sticky sounds make him grin and his napkin comes up with his hand to cover him discreetly licking his finger clean with a small groan of pleasure. 

Your face flames hot when the server glides back over to the table, either unaware of what had just happened or the soul of discretion to not mention that you are still slightly panting from the way he had just turned your world upside down. Clearing your plates and assuring you that dessert was already on the way. 

Turning towards Jack with a surprised look, you can tell that he had pre-planned this by the very pleased look on his face as he nods and picks up his champagne glass. “To another year that we - and I mean all of us - have been graced with your presence and blessed by your existence.” He taps his glass to yours. “Happy Birthday, sugar.” 

You take a sip of your frothy, bubbly champagne and he winks at you. “This is only the beginning.” He promises, having planned out the entire night out to make sure you know how special you are to him and how much he loves you. 

“Jack.” You huff, almost embarrassed having his attention centered on you like you always are. When Jack is focused, that is the only thing that matters in the world and right now, that focus is on you.  

“Baby girl, you deserve a night that is all your own.” He insists, lips pushed into a pout and winks at you. “I’m going to make sure of it.” A promise that you know that he will not be satisfied until he makes good on.

****

“Jaaaaaaaack.” Your hips jerk and lift under his firm grip, not going anywhere but where he wishes for you to. Completely in control and taking you apart lick by lick as his tongue curls and flicks over your swollen clit. Wrenching moan after unhinged moan out of you as he builds you up for yet another peak. 

You don’t know how long it has been since you last shuddered apart under the coaxing of his tongue, it might have been thirty seconds ago or an hour. Time is suspended when you look down to see his mustache pressed against your mound and his sharply curved nose breathing in the heady scent of your pleasure. 

Jack is meticulous. Bringing you into the house and starting to strip you down. His lips covering every inch of your body and making sure that he whispers praises into your skin as he scatters them artistically on your skin. Fingers trailing as he slowly drags your dress down to let it pool at your feet before sliding under the straps of your bra to pull them down your arms. Stripping much more than your clothes as he undresses you, he’s stripping away the layers of protection and armor until there is nothing left but you and him. 

That is when Jack’s true talent comes out. That mouth. It can be used for quick witted banter or issuing threats that he has the training to back up, sarcastic quips or for smooth reassurances. The best use for it though is when he puts his mouth on you. 

Jack Daniels is a cocky son of a bitch, but he knows what he is doing. He spends the time making sure that he knows every spot on your body that would make you sing his name. Carefully and meticulously mapping your pleasure points to use against you.

Smirking against your cunt, Jack chuckles and flicks his tongue against your clit once more. Pushing you over the edge and you come with a wail of his name. Watching as your entire world explodes and your eyes flutter while you gasp out. Working you through it with a slow suckle on your sex that keeps extending the pleasure and twisting it higher inside you. 

Your fingers tangle into the sheets, the only thing keeping you from floating away as your body shakes and heat floods your system. His name is the only thing that you can manage to say over and over again. Falling off your tongue in gasping praise while your thighs press around his ears and squeeze them tight. 

By the time that he is kissing up your body and settling between your thighs, you are finally floating back down to earth. Cognizant of the smug smirk that rides on his face as he slides up to kiss your lips and nudges his nose against yours. “I love you, sugar.” 

The sentiment is perfect for the moment that he slides inside you. Filling and stretching you out the way that only he can. Your head tilts back and your moan is soft, your legs starting to wrap around his waist. Enjoying the weight of him on top of you and surrounding you. Consuming you. 

Every thrust is slow and measured, letting you feel him. Experience the slow pulses inside you and the sharp twitches as he rocks you both higher. Words of love and praise passing between you with languid kisses. 

“I love you sugar.” Jack groans, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Happy birthday, gorgeous.” 

Nothing on earth could ever beat birthday wishes from Jack. Nothing. 

#pedro pascal #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey fanfic #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels smut #jack daniels #jack daniels imagine

[grogusmum]

A Smutty Little Jack Daniels Imagine

I've tried to do a Jack "Whiskey" Daniels fic several times, and I just can't get beyond the idea phase...

Maybe I just can't find him, his voice, something unique I can bring to him... I don't know.

Here is one, still just in an imagine/idea phase, I have literally posted and taken down, and I just don't know if it's something... but chatting with @oonajaeadira , she reminded me who I write for and why, so decided to post it again. We write for ourselves but we share for community. I hope you enjoy.

Warning: poorly executed oral sex (f receiving) it's a pity really

Okay, Ginger pretty clearly lets us know that Jack is not the best lover. But generally speaking, as a fandom, we have decided that Jack is a far more generous and skilled lover than canon tells us . Maybe because it's Pedro (and we literally can not imagine it), or because he has such a sincere and tragic love for his high school sweetheart wife and their little baby whom he has lost... idk. So I was thinking, what if we allow the canon to stand?

Jack Facts:

Fact #1: Can't find your clit to save his life

Fact #2: No foreplay to speak of

Fact #3: He's just terrible, just really bad

Until he meets you...

maybe even at the very same Music Festival that he got swiped left at

You see him go up to Coachella Girl with all his corny swagger and get rejected

But look at him, that dimple, that pout, those jeans, did he say 'what's tinder'?? Adorable

She instead goes for the guy in the track suit jacket and ball cap, cute for sure, but a boy

So you decide chat up "Stetson"

After some flirting, you conclude he is incredibly corny and bit of a goofball, but there's an undeniable charm

You like him and take him back to where your staying

He really talks himself up

All "Ride a real cowboy" "have you calling my name as loud as you want" yada yada

You wonder if he's all talk

But he's a good kisser, a very good kisser, and him calling you "sugar" does something to you

Alas, when you get down to it, his head between your legs, broad shoulds keeping them open wide, he is enthusiastic but sadly incompetent

Every once in awhile he brushes your clit with his mustache or that gorgeous nose and it's a fleeting glimps of heaven but he completely misreads every moan and gasp and does more of what ever the hell his mouth is doing

It's bad if you want him to slow down he speeds up, more to the left he does to the right, no instinct

Finally, you pull him up with sigh

Oh my Gods, he is looking at you with puppy dog eyes. With all his big talk, you'd think the problem is that he is a selfish lover, but you can see he wants to please you

So you are kind and ask him about his experience

He can't tell you about the spy aspect of his experience, of course, but what he does tell you gives you the picture of a whole lot if one-off experiences

You ask if there has been anyone he's reslly gotten to know and experiment with

And his high-school sweet heart - love of his life - wife comes into the conversation

He doesn't say, but you can tell she was somehow taken from him, tgeres a bittersweet shine in his eyes

He admits they were each others first- shy and inexperienced and pretty straightforward in their lovemaking but enthusiastic

You nod and tell him if it were you in high school and he simply put his hand on your knee, you would have melted

He looks down with a crooked smile and then up at you with those hopeful big brown puppy eyes

"Okay," you say, "can you be a good listener, Jack?" He nods enthusiastically. "Get down there, cowboy, I think we can sort this whole thing out."

#jack daniels #jack daniels imagine #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack whiskey daniels #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey

[minniemoo2002]

A Tired Wife (Jack Daniels x Pregnant!Reader)

Warnings: Fem!Reader, pregnancy, fluff

Is this vaguely inspired by that one scene in knocked up? Maybe. Honestly can't believe I'm writing fanfics again I'm so excited

Jack always had a pit of guilt in his stomach when he came back this late. He crept up the stairs as silently as possible, avoiding the creaky one in the middle. The house was completely still so any noise would probably wake you, which was something he was desperately avoiding. Hell hath no fury like a tired wife being woken in the wee hours.

When he entered the bedroom and saw a perfectly untouched bed, the guilt in his stomach was replaced with pure panic. His bag was dropped to the ground without a second thought and his hand rested on the gun still in his holster.

"Y/n?" He called out

"In here" Your voice replied quietly from the en-suite bathroom. He hadn't even noticed the light leaking from the door. His panic melted away as he moved to meet you.

He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting to see. He was taken aback to find you in the bath, neck deep in bubbles with a few candles lit. You smiled weakly at him, he noticed the dark bags under your eyes, you looked exhausted.

"Honey, why are you in the bath at two in the morning?" He asked gently

"Your baby has decided that we don't sleep at night" You replied quietly

He knelt down next to the tub, a careful hand cradled the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your forehead. You let out a contented sigh. He knows how you worry when he's gone. His other hand dipped into the water to caress your swollen belly.

"Why don't we get Mama to bed, huh little one?"

Jack helped you out of the tub and into a nice fluffy towel before ushering you off to bed. He quickly put out the candles and then followed you, only to find you mostly asleep already. He chuckled to himself before sliding into bed next to you. His arm was slung around you, his face buried into your hair.

Jack always felt guilty coming home this late, but you were always glad to fall asleep in his arms again.

#jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey imagine #kingsman imagine #cw: pregnancy

[shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey]

when you can't seem to fall asleep

a fluffy agent whiskey x gn!reader imagine

SUMMARY: how Jack would take care of you if you couldn't sleep on night.

WARNINGS: none! literally just pure fluff here.

WORD COUNT: 494

- imagine not being able to sleep one night just from being too restless and you get out of bed and head out into the living room and you’re pacing around and eventually you make your way over to the window and look up at the night sky as moonlight peeks through and illuminates your surroundings

- jack quickly realizes you aren’t next to him anymore and wakes up and looks for you and finds you staring out the window and the glow of the moonlight on you is ethereal

- you hear his footsteps and look over your shoulder and see him looking really tired and his hair is all messy

- you look like an angel and his eyes sparkle in the moonlight and you see him looking at you with all the love in the world and he gives you a soft smile, which you return

- you turn back around to look out the window again and he makes his way over to where you are where he settles in next to you, places his arm around your waist, gives you a kiss on your forehead, and looks out at the night sky with you and it’s silent but it’s comfortable silence

- and you just sigh deeply and in the most jack way possible he does the cheesy thing and says “beautiful” but he’s looking at you and not the sky and you can’t help the smile that grows on your face

- and of course it’s the middle of the night but he says he’s hungry

- and asks if you wanna eat something and his voice is sleepy and deep and coarse and you say yes so you go to the kitchen and he sits you on the counter while he gets you each a bowl of cereal and he leans against the counter and you have a good time

- he cracks some jokes and you laugh softly together and when you’re done he looks back at the moonlight shining through the window and how it illuminates your features and all he can think about is how beautiful you are

- at this point you’re both pretty fully awake and he asks you for a dance and turns on some soft ballads

- he swoops you off the counter onto your feet and pulls you over back to near the window and takes your hand in his and puts his arm around you and starts to sway and you giggle

- and you lay your head against his chest and close your eyes and you can hear his heartbeat and he’s just so so warm and comfortable and the rhythm to which he sways just lulls you to sleep and when he notices he just picks you up and carries you back to bed and tucks you in and cuddles you up really close and presses your head to his chest until you’re both fast asleep :)

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Spotify Wrapped Challenge 29: Who By Fire – Pj Harvey, Tim Phillips Reader x Jack Daniels

NSFW 18+ minors DNI. Warnings: canon-divergence, grief, angst with a happy ending, fluff, unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing, emotional baggage. Let me know if I missed anything!

29: Who By Fire – Pj Harvey, Tim Phillips And who by fire, who by water Who in the sunshine, who in the night time Who by high ordeal, who by common trial Who in your merry merry month of may Who by very slow decay And who shall I say is calling? - Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal for betaing this! [AO3] Wordcount: 3.5k oops

You slump down into the pleather booth with a sigh, your bones ache. You just want to go home, forget about this wild goose chase, but there’s something boring into the back of your brain about it all. A nagging, errant anxiety worrying away at your mind.

You’ve been on Jack’s tail for months, unsatisfied by the account that he simply fell into an automatic meat grinder and met his fate. You’d heard it first hand and read every word of the after-action report, but you’re still not convinced.

First it was a sighting of a handsome man carrying an electrified whip, bloodied and broken at an ER in Dallas, then it was the CCTV footage at an ATM in Swindon, UK. You’d started to connect the dots; Jack Daniels is alive. Eggsy and Hart are convinced, devout even, that they saw him turn to mush in a blender. But there’s something in the back of your mind that gives you pause.

It’s all too convenient.

And that’s why you’re here, in a dive bar in Michigan, following one last lead before you finally throw in the towel. Your phone vibrates and you snatch it from your pocket, your stomach drops as you see the message on the screen.

Statesman HQ: Agent Whiskey, where are you?

You turn your phone off, ignoring your organisation’s check-in. This mission is off books. Personal. You nurse your scotch and wait. But it’s been two years, and the trail is running cold. It’s been weeks since the last tip, months since the last blurry photo sighting. But this was your last-ditch effort, intel from an old CI of yours.

Maybe I should just give up.

You think to yourself as you glance around the bar, your eyes flicking from patron to patron, desperately trying to find a ghost amongst the living.

“Y’always were a stubborn son of a bitch,” Jack’s voice slices through your mind like a blade cutting through paper. Loud, distracting, palpable.

You look up to see a grizzled, broken echo of the man you once loved. A patchy beard, unkept and scruffy peppering his jaw. His eyes are watery, broken as he looks down at you with despair.

“Jack?”

“In the flesh,” he wheezes as he settles down on the other side of the booth, his denim shirt and trouser combo stirring nostalgic desire in your gut. He always did manage to subvert expectations.

You sit there, a broiling tempest of emotions burning through you as you try to figure out what to say to him. You want to throw yourself at him, lose yourself in his familiar, strong arms. You want him to devour you like nothing happened.

But it had happened. So much has changed since you last laid eyes on him. You want to hate him, turn him in and let him suffer for his indiscretions. You want to claw at his face, gouge out his eyes and spit on his remains.

But you can’t.

“I’ve missed you,” you wheeze as you study his broken façade. You want to take him back to your motel, look after him. Anything to confirm this isn’t some sick joke.

“Not as much as I’ve missed you.”

The words hang in the air like a promise, a challenge.

“Bullshit, if you’d really missed me, you’d have let me know, given me something to tell me that you were alive!” you spit with a venom arcing from your tongue. Your eyes shedding tears unbidden as you try and reconcile almost two years of abandonment.

“You know why I couldn’t do that Sugar,” he sighs as he leans forward to take your trembling hands in his. Your gut twists at the nickname, something you’d lost along with him. Your sweetness, your joy.

You flinch at his touch, almost pulling away, almost keeping your dignity. But you don’t. You let him thread his thick fingers through your own. You let yourself feel at home in his touch. At home under his skin.

“Jack, we have to talk about it,” you breathe as you smooth your thumbs over the heel of his palms his well worn callouses are non-existent now. Yet, despite feeling so very different, he’s the same Jack, the same man you’ve mourned for two whole years.

“If we do, it needs to be somewhere private, gotta prove you’re not wearing a wire, Sugar.”

You frown at him, pulling your hands from his, anger slighting your ego as you begin to unbutton your shirt, willing to strip bare here to prove to him you weren’t. Your fingers tremble as you worry at the buttons, your gaze downturned as you concentrate.

“Sugar,” Jack warns as he leans over the table, grasping your wrists gently, pulling them away from your blouse, “Let’s take this back to my place.”

You look back up into those soft, chocolate brown eyes that glisten with desire after so long apart. You watch as his lips twist up into a smirk, the grin of a predator cornering his prey.

~*~

You watch Jack disappear inside his apartment building, waiting for the agreed amount of time before following him inside.

Your stomach flips as you watch the minutes tick by on your car stereo. After two long years, waiting five minutes should be simple, easy even. But your body vibrates with unease, it thrums with nervous energy as the seconds slip by slower than you could ever imagine possible. You tap your fingers on the top of the steering wheel, trying to disperse some of the kinetic energy tumbling through you on a loop as the time crawls by.

Four minutes fifty seconds go by, and you see a twitch of a curtain on the second floor, you know it’s him. You’ve waited long enough.

You dash across the empty street and bound straight up to the top step. The moment your foot connects with the concrete, you hear the sound of Jack buzzing you in before you’ve even lifted your arm to press the call button.

Your heart is racing as you ascend the stairs two at a time, heading for apartment 2B. You barely have time to register the clean, almost modern refit of the apartment building, your mind is focused on one thing and one thing alone.

Jack.

You reach the apartment door and knock firmly, bouncing from one foot to the other as you wait for Jack to answer. But you’re met with silence as you pound the door with your fist. Your heart sinks at the lack of response and your mind races as you fear the worst.

He’s gone. Again.

But before you could manifest your anger into anything physical, you hear it.

“Ain’t no grave, can hold my body down,” the sound of singing you’d thought long lost floats through the door, and you can’t help but laugh at his choice of song.

You push open the door, locking it behind you as you take in the well lived-in apartment. Two brown leather sofas angled just right at a TV hung on the wall. A coffee table strewn with ranching magazines and gun catalogs. A small kitchen-diner at the far end of the open-plan room.

You pause in your analytical scan of the room as you see the door at the far end ajar. You move on instinct, no longer thinking about danger nor consequences. You can only think about him, the man singing a dirge to himself in the shower. Waiting for you.

You push into the bedroom and smile at the open door to the ensuite bathroom, steam billowing into the dark room from the illuminated doorway.

“I see a single angel, and she’s coming after me.”

You shake your head at the modified lyrics as you shed your clothes in a pile at the end of the bed. You’re supposed to bring him in, that was your plan, you’re supposed to cuff him and take him back to HQ to prove everyone wrong.

But you didn’t really expect him to be alive, not really. You’ve been chasing ghosts just so you don’t have to admit to the desperate truth that he was really gone.

You lean against the doorframe and let yourself admire the view. On the sink sits a pile of prosthetics, skin and hair that you now realise formed the beard he was sporting in the bar. Then your eyes fall to the steamed-up shower door.

The glass is fogged up, leaving a view of his silhouette as he stands turned away from you. But you can see him without seeing him, you know every curve of muscle in his back, the swell of his ass, the scars and freckles that pepper his tan skin.

“You gonna stay out there starin’ like a pervert,” Jack calls through the barrier, “Or are ya gonna hop in and join me?”

You answer by sliding the warm glass door open, stepping in behind him as you trap yourself inside the modest steamy space. The door seals with a thud and Jack looks over his shoulder at you. Water cascades down the planes of his muscled form and it’s like seeing him anew, for the first time all over again.

You gasp despite yourself as you take in the strong curve of his nose. Then, the plush, pouty lips framed with his thick, dark moustache. His eyes glimmer as creases form at the corners, his lips curving up into a rapturous smile.

“Hey there sugar, you miss me?”

You grab Jack by the waist and spin him around, hands sliding up his slick, muscular body to tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck. You pull him down, lips crashing up into his as you press yourself against him.

It’s like a dam bursts, every pent-up moment of self-imposed isolation exploding into a rush of tears, arousal, and desperate moans. Your tongues clash and you whimper as he cups your cheeks with his broad hands. He nips on your bottom lip as he comes up for air, his strong nose bumping against yours as water flows between you.

His strong hands paw at your body, fingertips trailing over the swell of your breasts, tweaking at your nipples before shifting lower. His thick fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he rolls his painfully hard erection against your stomach.

“Didn’t let me finish my song,” he breathes as he presses his forehead to yours, panting wildly as water streams down both your faces.  

“You can sing later cowboy, dry off and meet me in bed.”

You growl as you grasp the base of his cock, giving him a gentle, barely-there tug before slipping back out of the shower. You hear him snarl behind you and you smirk to yourself as you grab a towel to dry yourself off as you practically dive onto the bed.

There’s a nagging in the back of your mind, telling you to stop before you get hurt.

But the voice is getting quieter and quieter with each passing moment. You finally have Jack back, your Jack. And for the first time in two years, you don’t feel alone, empty, broken. It’s like breaking through the surface of a lake you’ve been slowly drowning in, and breathing fresh, nourishing air into your deprived lungs.

The shadow in the doorway draws your attention and you gasp at the sight of Jack, leaning against the frame. His body is bathed in shadow but you can feel his eyes on you, predatory as his gaze roves over you.

“Jack, please.”

You hold your arms out as you spread your legs for him, no doubt putting on a show with how wet you are.

“Missed you, Sugar,” he says as he saunters over to the end of the bed, kneeling down on the edge as you feel his thick fingers ghost along your calves, “Should’a known you’d be the one to find me.”

“Just knew you were alive, couldn’t give up on you.”

“Stubborn as ever,” he chuckles as you feel his fingers lock around your ankles, you yelp as he yanks you down the bed. He spreads your legs wide as he settles his head between your thighs, moustache tickling against the sensitive skin there.

“Jack, fuck need your cock, please!” you whine, you’re already wet, you just want him inside you, fucking you until neither of you have anything left to give.

“No way,” he purrs as he nips at the soft flesh of your inner thigh, hands hooking under your knees to manoeuvre your legs over his shoulders, “Haven’t tasted you in too long Sugar, gotta remind myself how sweet you are.”

You prepare a witty retort, but it dies in your throat as he mouths at your clit. His tongue darts forward, teasing your swollen bud as he groans against your folds. He wastes no time, bringing a finger to your core, pressing slowly into you as he flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit.

“Taste better than I remember,” he mumbles as he devours you, “Come for me Sugar and I’ll let you have my dick.”

You whine in frustration as you lock your fingers in his hair, pulling him in closer as he adds a second finger to your desperate cunt.

“Fuck, Jack. Missed you so much,” you wail as he curls his fingers up inside you, pressing into your g-spot with ease. You arch up off the bed as he licks broad, wet strokes over your clit, pressuring it just right as you feel your core tense. Pleasure burns under your skin as your spine tightens at the base.

“Missed you too,” he breathes as he looks up at you, admiring the way your face contorts in pleasure as you reach your peak, “Now come for me, show me how much you missed me.”

You come undone at his command, clenching hard around the fingers fucking into you at speed. Jack rolls his tongue over your clit again and again as you see stars behind your eyelids. You cry his name again and again as you come hard, pulling roughly at his scalp to bring him impossibly close as you grind your cunt up into his eager mouth. His moustache scrapes against your swollen folds and you whimper as overstimulation rocks through you.

“Such a good girl,” he groans as he places one last sloppy kiss to your clit before easing his fingers out of you. You whine at the lack of sensation, “You doin’ ok Sugar?”

“More than ok, c’mere,” you cup Jack’s cheeks with your hands and rub your thumbs over his cheekbones as you tug gently to guide him up to you.

He crawls up the bed, pushing your thighs further apart as he settles his pelvis between them. He leans down, the heft of his cock pressed between your bodies as he leans in. He rests his forearms either side of your head.

“I love you Sugar,” he croons as he places a soft kiss to your lips, barely there, tender, “Never stopped loving you.”

You kiss him back, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth as you savour the way his moustache tickles your skin. You commit to memory the way his strong body weighs on you, pinning you to the bed as you try – and fail – to arch up into his body. The corner of his mouth quirks up and his dick twitches as he feels you move under him.  

“Love you too Jack, always have, always will.”

“You ready for me?” he asks with a final nudge of his nose against yours as he shifts backwards, lining his tip against your core. You feel his silken foreskin glide through your folds as he nudges your oversensitive clit.

“Please, Jack. Please.”

You cry out as he presses slowly into you. Every ridge and vein pressing against your fluttering walls as you adjust around his girth. You wrap your ankles around his waist as you pull him down by the shoulders. Your lips crash together as you press your tongue into his mouth, desperate to feel him, all of him, as he bottoms out inside you.

You both gasp at the sensation as you come up for air, foreheads pressed together as you pant into the air together breath intermingling as you smile up at him. He grins back down at you as he strokes the side of your face with one hand, the other palming your breast.

“So fucking beautiful Sugar.”

“Right back at you cowboy.”

You roll your hips up as you drop one hand to your clit, the other planted on Jack’s shoulder, anchoring you to him.

“Fuck me Jack, make me scream.”

Jack growls, the vibration coming from deep in his chest as he pulls almost all the way out. He snaps back into you without warning as he fucks you hard and fast. You rub desperately at your clit as every snap of his hips sends shockwaves through your body.

“Always so fucking good for me,” Jack pants as he fucks down into you frantically, rolling his hips at the end of every thrust. You whine at every press of his cock against your g-spot, at every circle of your fingertip on your swollen bud.

It’s like no time has been lost between you, both of you working in perfect rhythm as you use each other to chase your high. You cant your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him deeper, pressing him harder inside you.

Jack grunts above you as he feels your cunt spasm around him, his own release painfully close as you feel your second orgasm cresting with him. He snarls your name over and over with every staggering thrust as his rhythm gets sloppy.

“Come inside me Jack, fill me up,” you whine as you feel the hot burn in your core, pleasure streaking through you as you cry out, coming hard around his cock. Jack hisses as he feels your pussy clamping around him as he tries to hold on a little longer.

“Such a good girl for me, fuck!”

Jack buries himself in your wet heat, pressed to the hilt as he comes hard. You feel him pulse inside you as he paints your walls with his spend. Rope after rope fills you up as he falls forwards, catching himself on his forearms just in time to stop your heads clashing together.

You lie there for some time, shuddering through aftershocks together as you trade sloppy kisses. You come up for air every now and again as you giggle together, elated energy buzzing between you as you both come down.

“Need to clean up,” You whisper into the dark room as you trace swirls and patterns against Jack’s shoulder with your fingertips.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your nose before pulling out, immediately your combined spend drips from your cunt and you shiver at the sensation. Jack takes you by the hand and you fall into a familiar routine. Both of you pee, both of you clean up with a hot towel. Then Jack goes to get you both a bottle of water and some snacks.

“You ok there, Sugar?”

He asks as you feel the bed dip under his weight, your eyes fluttering open to look up into his concerned face.

“Better than ok, baby,” you sigh as you take the water bottle from his hand, snuggling into his side once you take a big gulp before setting the bottle on the nightstand.

“Good, good.”

You lie there together, unspeaking as you allow yourself to forget the anguish of the last two years. You forget about the pain and the hardship. You remember the good, the love, the promise that you once shared.

You begin to drift off but something in your chest aches for validation, for security.

“Don’t leave me again.”

You whisper into his chest as you cling to him, desperation getting the better of you.

“This is my house, Sugar.”

“You know what I mean,” you grumble, and he turns over to drape his strong thigh over your hips, pulling you against him with a strong hand cradling the back of your head. He cages you in fully, wrapping you in his embrace.

“I do, and I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

You grunt your assent to his promise and allow yourself to smile, unburdened for the first time in a very long time.

“Love you, Jack.”

“Love you too,” he whispers your name into your hair and the two of you sleep soundly for the first time since you were parted two years ago.

Fuck the consequences, you would leave everything behind for him. And you know that he will too.

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[illfoandillfie]

farmer!Jack au where when he has to get up super early sometimes (like 4am) to help him wake up he likes to fuck you, but you don’t want to get up that early so he has permission to do it anyway…

Blurb Advent 2023: Day 22

😈😈😈

Warnings: somnophilia, p in v sex, unprotected sex, reference to oral and anal as well

You’d never imagined yourself dating a farmer. Not that you’d have ever totally ruled it out but rural romances were your least favourite sort and you preferred working behind a desk to out in a field. And the thought of having to do anything at the crack of dawn was, frankly, against human nature. You simply weren’t a morning person and couldn’t picture yourself on a farm. But then, you’d met Jack and somehow you’d fallen in love with one. He loved fresh air and the satisfaction of fixing things with his own two hands. And while he said he liked sleeping in too, for him that meant still being abed at 6.30 in the morning. It was something of a miracle that you worked so well together but it was undeniable that you did. Of course, it helped that he only rarely expected you to join him when he rose before the sun. He had a couple of hired farm hands that helped him get through the work, and you had your own job in town to worry about. So it was only on very special occasions that he asked you to rise with him.  

Earlier in your relationship, just after you’d moved into his ranch, he had tried to convert you to the wonders of a 4 AM start. He’d tried to play up the romance of it, providing a thermos of coffee as you watched the sun rise and things like that, but it was hard for you to feel the same. It was still 4 AM. Then, when romance didn’t work, he tried bribing you with sex. Not the worst idea in theory, but in practice sex just made you sleepy. You’d just roll over right after and drop off again. And it was the same story no matter what position or form the sex took. So, rather than a good start to the morning, he was just momentarily interrupting your sleep and tiring you further. And, eventually, he had to accept you would never feel the same about early starts as he did, which would have been easier if he hadn’t conditioned himself a little.  

In the weeks he’d tried his sex tactic, he’d discovered he quite liked starting the day with a good fuck. Getting off put him in a good mood. Sex helped shake off sleep and get his blood pumping and his heart racing and by the time he’d cum he was ready to get into the day. Better than coffee he’d said to you whilst trying to make you see things his way. Of course, it became clear you disagreed and he lost his newly discovered favourite ritual. Mornings became harder than they ever had been after that. It just wasn’t the same waking up on his own. His arguments became less about you joining him in his work and more about convincing you that a brief interruption to your sleep, just long enough for a good fuck, was good for the relationship and good for you.  

In the end, you’d given in. Not entirely - there was no way in hell you’d get up that early without a very good reason. But you’d come to an arrangement that suited you both. As long as he didn’t expect you to wake, Jack could fuck you at whatever time he wanted. He’d been unsure at first. He was a gentleman for one thing, he’d been raised not to touch a woman who wasn’t conscious enough to ask for it. And, once you’d gotten him over that hurdle, he’d become concerned that it wouldn’t be as good if you weren’t actively participating. But he’d agreed to try. So, you went to bed without underwear on to make it easier on him, and he’d discovered so as he gently parted your legs, very mindful of what might wake you. He soon found out you were responsive even while asleep. You made little sighing sounds and small moans as he touched you. You got wet as easily, if not easier, than when you were awake. And your body seemed to react innately to his touch, legs falling open with minimal guidance, pussy clenching as he pressed into you. He came fast that first time, mind blown by how easy it had been to do. How well you’d taken him without even thinking about it, how he’d still been able to make you cum, how the risk of waking you made him feel naughty and dirty and so very hard.  

He experimented a bit – tested out how much you could handle before you woke, tested out how you reacted to being eaten out and having your ass fucked. The first was fun but he preferred doing that when you were able to fully appreciate it, the second was also enjoyable but so much more effort and harder on you. In the end he decided it was easiest and best if he just stuck to using your cunt. Which suited you perfectly. Occasionally you’d wake up with him thrusting into you, groping your tits, shamelessly and somewhat possessively staring at you. Sometimes you’d wake alone with a mess of his cum between your thighs. It was hard to decide which was hotter. You loved seeing him of course and being fully aware of what he did to you, but there was something very arousing about knowing he’d used you like some sort of sex toy, masturbated with your body while you’d been asleep. That he found you so irresistible he couldn’t keep himself from taking you. Sometimes waking with cum stuck to your skin and your cunt still wet from his touch, you couldn’t resist getting yourself off. Though waking in such a state was also a good extra push to get you out of bed each morning before you looked at your phone.  

And then there was the unforeseen side effect. There was one hole Jack wasn’t game to use while you slept, and frankly you were a little glad for that. But, because he couldn’t use your mouth in the mornings, he became extra excited by the idea of a blowjob at every other moment of the day. In fact, the routine somnophilia had only seemed to increase the amount of sex you were otherwise having. It was understandable for you since you didn’t always get off when he did, and even when it happened you had no memory of it. For Jack though it was obscene. He’d would wrap up his morning’s work and return to the house in time to meet you while you were getting ready. He’d invariably catch sight of the unmade bed, be reminded of how completely you’d given yourself to him, and be ready to go again. You’d have just washed one load off when he’d hop in the shower to give you another, or else you’d end up kneeling on the kitchen floor, licking the sweat from his cock while he groaned about how good you were to him. In the evenings he was more interested in using your ass since it was easier to do while you were awake, or else he’d want you to ride him and do some of the work for a change. You laughed the first time he said it but he’d meant it, laying back with his arms behind his head while you bounced on his cock. He’d eaten you out after though, until you were begging him to stop, as repayment for everything. 

Because he woke so early, Jack usually went to bed before you but even so, there were nights he still managed to convince you to warm him through the night. You’d go to sleep full of him, his hand resting over your cunt like he owned it. You’d cum like that a few times when the heel of his palm touched your clit just right. And you were never quite sure if it was accidental or intentionally to keep you wet and make you easier to fuck when he woke. 

#my writing #my blurbs #blurb advent 2023 #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels smut #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey imagine

[multific]

Pedro Pascal Characters Seeing Their New-born for the First Time – Preferences

Din Djarin

Din was thrilled from the moment you announced your pregnancy, he would sit down with Grogu explaining the responsibilities of a big brother.

When you give birth, he helps you. It was his fault that you were on a deserted planet after all. He feared the worst, but you were strong and so was your child.

When he first held his daughter, she was still covered in blood, but in his eyes, she was the definition of perfection.

Jack Daniels

This wasn’t the first time he was about to become a father, but this was the time he was super cautious. Making sure you were safe at every second, he doesn’t want to go through the same pain as before.

When you gave birth, he was on a mission. He was called by Ginger and he immediately dropped everything. But he was late.

By the time he arrived to the hospital, you were sleeping and so, he let you sleep while he walked over to the glass so he could see his child. And surely enough Jack found him. The only baby with just a last name, meaning you wanted to wait until he was there to name him.

He felt a tear fall from his eyes as he looked at him, he knew he would do anything to keep his family safe.

Marcus Moreno

It was a quiet night, everyone was sleeping when you woke up. Marcus didn’t even move an inch when you got out of bed. You were in desperate need to pee.

But on your way back to the bed, you felt a terrible pain.

Of course, when you woke Marcus up, he was running around like a chicken without a head, thank God for Missy who was able to help you out.

This wasn’t the first time Marcus her his own baby and standing there he wouldn’t want this to be the last either. He cried. Tears rolling down his face while he held his youngest daughter.

Of course, Missy took multiple pictures of him which she planned on blackmailing her father later on in his life.

Oberyn Martell

Childbirth was something he was used to. He had many daughters before you even came into the picture.

But this was the very first time he held a son and not a daughter. It felt special, and as much as he loved his daughters, his heart still felt a different way to see the youngest addition to his ever-growing family.

He swore his entire life to protect him as he would be his rightful heir. You even caught a glimpse of a tear running down his cheek before he whiped it.

Javier Pena

Panic wouldn’t even begin to describe what he went through that day. He thought he would rather go after another Escobar guy instead of going through this hell, and he didn’t even had to do anything. He held your hand and that’s all. You did all the work.

His mind often went to that dark place, that dark place which told him to just run, leave and never come back, but he stayed.

And that dark voice in the back of his head disappeared when he held his daughter for the first time. And how glad he was that he didn’t leave.

Tiny little girl with his eyes. Perfection. He just stood there, frozen as he looked at her. Not even giving her to the nurses when they asked.

Pero Tovar

After your third child you thought Pero would have enough. You thought he would have enough and not want more children. But you were wrong. Two girls and a boy weren’t enough. He wanted more. And you were happy to give him more.

Each birth was more terrifying to him than the last. He loved his children all the same and he just loved you a little more as he held his second son. Each time he was reminded just how amazing you were and it made his heart explode.

Him, a rough swordsman, such a soft and kind father and husband. He never saw himself in that position. As you finally fell asleep, he watched the kids, showing them his youngest, like the proud father he was.

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[ironmandeficiency]

pedro boys + at the pool

pedro boys included: oberyn, javi p, frankie, max, pero, jack, javi g

word count: 789

summary: just modern au thoughts on how some of the boys would act at the pool

a/n: this is not what i thought i’d be writing rn tbh but at least it’s something. there should be more content besides this posted by the end of the week

oberyn — this cheeky bastard can hold his breath for longer than humanly normal & uses this ability to dive under & scare you from behind. is also one of the best at packing snacks and typically has a frozen cocktail or wine within reach at all times, probably munching on a handful of berries (either blackberries or green grapes usually). will be the last one in the pool long after most think it’s too cold or too late. makes the BEST pool day playlist you’ve ever heard & it keeps the vibes high the whole time. any party hosted by oberyn is guaranteed to be an absolute rager & that sentiment never disappoints.

javi p — doesn’t take his shades off for anything. usually relaxing in a donut floatie with a beer (water if you fuss at him enough) in hand, but can be convinced to get in more if the water feels nice. enjoys sunbathing like a lizard & never needs sunscreen; he just tans and looks like a god afterward. just for the sake of laughter, he will push you into the water and laugh when you sputter indignantly at him. you quickly forgive him once you see his smile, knowing that those used to be much harder to bring to the surface.

frankie — he’s also a floatie guy & will be much more relaxed with his little girl sitting on it with him. otherwise he’s sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, hyper vigilant in case she needs him. she won’t need him, simply because frankie put her in swim classes as soon as she was old enough to learn & might as well be a fish. he brings extra towels, sunscreen, drinks, popsicles, snacks, and even another pair of sandals. the delta guys laugh at his overpacking… until that uncrustable starts calling their name (cough cough BENNY cough). does enjoy a good chicken fight once he’s got a beer in him. it’s either him & benny against will & santi, or any combination of them against baby girl morales (the defeats here are extra dramatic and it makes her laugh every time).

max — he won’t swim in a public pool. period. he will refuse & fight the idea until hell freezes over. instead, he will either charm someone into letting you both use their pool, or will have a private indoor pool built exclusively for your shared use. this also eliminates the need for sunscreen or worrying about privacy. gets a hot tub built in too & it’s hard to convince him to get out of it most times. will paint the bottom of the pool black and it’s such a trip the first several times you swim in it.

pero — it takes a lot to convince him to actually swim, the spaniard much more content to lounge in the sunshine. one run-in with a sea urchin on the valencia coast made him reasonably apprehensive of swimming in large bodies of water. to him, other people’s unattended children can pose the same level of danger & annoyance as various sea creatures. will swim when it’s almost empty of people, enjoying the solitude that comes with calmer waters. he floats on his back just relaxing, but the moment you dunk him, it’s game on and he fights dirty.

jack — him at the pool can be summarized in one word: showoff. he is proud that he can still flip off the edge & will gladly brag about this feat. if there’s a diving board, even better. he is a champion at playing chicken and every non-newbie statesman agent learned the hard way at a summer retirement party for agent lager. was not allowed to be in charge of the playlist after that party because it did not go well (he played “what’s new pussycat” by tom jones on repeat for 20 minutes because of an inside joke). when he’s finally ready to relax, he chills on a massive floatie with a drink in both cup holders and a straw cowboy hat on his head (think kenny chesney vibes).

javi g — he hosts the BEST pool parties hands down. everyone in attendance is always kind because javi prioritizes everyone feeling safe while having fun & security takes their job very seriously when it comes to not tolerating bullshit. plenty of snacks and drinks (alcoholic & otherwise) are provided for everyone, and the music is the perfect mix of hype and chill to keep the vibes just right. there are fairy lights and torches scattered around, and a cabana exclusively for when you and javi sneak away from the hubbub to find some privacy. when a few stragglers wake up on his floor the morning after, he provides them with breakfast & money for a ride home like a gentleman.

#pedro pascal character headcanons #javier peña imagines #javier peña x reader #javier gutierrez x reader #javier gutierrez imagine #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x reader #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #max phillips x reader #max phillips imagine #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar imagine #narcos imagine #triple frontier imagines #javier peña #javier gutierrez #pero tovar #max phillips #oberyn martell #agent whiskey

[dinsmechanic]

𝐉."𝐖".𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

──.★ fooled around and fell in love [ @agentwhiskeysdarlin ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ mostly in jacks pov

⌗ 3.4k

⌗ fluff

⌗ bar setting, alcohol consumption

⌗ brief mentions of death and funeral setting

⌗ 18+, piv, heavy makeout session, oral m & f-receive

──.★ honey honey how you thrill me [ @americnprometheus ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 1.7k

⌗ goofy fluff !!

⌗ insinuation to smut

──.★ when you say nothing at all [ @agentwhiskeysdarlin ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ soft!jack

⌗ 1.4k

⌗ so fluffy

⌗ 18+, piv, sensual sex, floor sex, oral f-receive

──.★ save a horse ( ride a cowboy ) [ @deardjarin ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ 1.5k

⌗ 18+, piv, office sex, riding, moving of voyeurism

──.★ bull ride [ @palioom ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ jack's cringey

⌗ 2k

⌗ 18+, piv, public sex ( middle of nowhere ), spanking, dirty talk

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[palioom]

day eleven - sensory deprivation

pairing: jack "whiskey" daniels x f!reader

word count: 784

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; blindfold, earplugs, bondage, teasing, one brief spank, unprotected p in v

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

She hated Jack for this. Hated that he was so knowledgeable about these things, coming to her with the idea of sensory deprivation.

She hated that she agreed to it, letting him bind her arms and legs to the bed so she couldn’t touch him. This one was barely new, but adding a blindfold and earplugs to the mix? Leaving her blind and deaf, flinching each time his rough hands touched her after what felt like ages of anticipation.

Leaving her waiting until he was back again, ghosting over her arms, her legs, then her breasts and down her stomach. Gone just before he reached where she needed him most.

Leaving her helpless because eventually even his touches stopped for a while. Suspense building, there would only be the whisper of a breath on her skin, some warmth in another place.

Maybe she was only hallucinating all of that.

Then, after many long minutes, something touched her, not his hand, quickly figuring out that it was the head of Jack’s cock which only had her squirming more.

Brushing along the inside of her thighs, warm and heavy. Hitting her clit a few times, the contact feeling like lighting zapped through her. She wanted to see him so badly as he pushed into her, wanted to hear her own moan, frustrated that she couldn’t.

So she imagined his face as he began to thrust into her, smug and his teeth showing, dark mustache wide over his lips. Dark hair dishevelled, unless he had kept his cowboy hat on.

Her other senses felt heightened, her skin on fire and that coil in her stomach quickly becoming tighter and tighter.

She only hated him more when he finally took the blindfold off of her, even the low lights hurting her eyes as everything became more clear. Happy to see again, but quickly becoming even more frustrated when she saw him moan and groan with a smirk but not being able to hear.

Tugging at her restraints, trying to get to him somehow. She missed his sounds, his touch - his hands firmly placed behind his back where he knelt between her spread legs, thrusting into her harshly. Then slowing down, shaking his head with a smirk.

Stop throwin’ a tantrum, darlin’.

She was sure that that was what he said, trying to read his lips and practically hearing him in her mind.

How cruel he was to deprive her of all of this, but she had agreed, after all. Enticed by being at his mercy in everything. No matter how much she hated him right now, it was still hot.

But she couldn’t stop squirming, trying to remove the earplugs somehow and earning a sharp slap to the inside of her thigh before he quickly pressed them in again with a stern look. The sting hurt so much more, as if he had burned her, her pussy tightening around him.

Speeding up his thrusts, he still didn’t touch her, only seeming to be more vocal, saying things she couldn’t fully understand.

Bad girl. Good girl. Darlin’. So tight. Pretty pussy. Sugar.

Just some of the things she thought she was able to read off his lips.

Only driving her more insane. Seeing him chuckle at her struggles, he put the blindfold back on, her body thrashing in frustration as he slowed once more, all the way until he was still.

She could feel him again, leaning over her, his soft, warm stomach brushing against hers and sending shivers up her spine.

His warm breath against her neck, making her whine.

Then, there he was.

“Be a good girl for this bull, cowgirl.”

The earplug gone and his deep, southern drawl so close to her ear, her orgasm surprised both of them. Tightening around his dick, finally able to hear her own moan, tears spilling down her temples as she shook.

Jack’s groan only intensified the feeling, all of it still heightened as he chased his own release, faster and faster until he pulled out and his cock sputtered all over her stomach.

Warm and sticky, then the roughness of his hands as he untied her, his beard like razor blades on her body as he kissed her.

“That was hot.” She whispered, letting him remove the other plug and hand her some water. “It felt more intense, I could see you moan.”

Jack chuckled, drawing her into an embrace, kissing her cheek.

“You were quite loud like this, sugar.” He said, and she couldn’t help the blush from creeping onto her cheeks. “Wanna do it again some time?”

She looked up at him, sitting behind her with the softest eyes and the prettiest smile.

“Hell yeah, cowboy.”

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey fic #jack whiskey daniels #pedro pascal characters #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #kinktober 2023 #my writing

[deadhumourist]

Pink Velvet

Pairing: F!Reader and Jack “Whiskey” Daniels 

Rating: M, just to be safe - it contains 1 mention of non-explicit, previous sexy times. 

Words: 1300+

Warnings Angst and hurt, character doesn’t feature in story apart from flashbacks. Kids. No happy ending here, folks.

A/N: This is a little hurt/angst/softness piece. Depending on how this goes down/if there’s interest, there might be a part 2 where things end on a happier note. Let me know if we leave it like this or not ;) A huge thank you to @just-here-for-the-moment for beta-ing this and assuring me its not the worst thing she’s ever read. 

Masterlist | Taglist

------

Dusk is settling over the quaint little garden, and one by one, the night dwellers emerge from the nooks and crannies they slept in all day. Lightning bugs glow to life, organic little paper lanterns drifting around. Their lights gently swirl up in the air, the uneven pattern carving up the slowly darkening air. 

The gentle nightbreak brings a stillness both outside your home and inside you. Quiet in the knowledge that another day has come to a stop and you have nothing more to do with the outside world that has taken so much from you. 

"Mama?"

Your not-really-a-toddler-anymore Josie is peering at you from the doorway, her face half hidden behind the door jamb. You hear the soft shuffling of her pony-shaped slippers against the reclaimed wooden floor. It's her tell, and you answer the question before she has to ask.

"Let's go pick out a story for bedtime, darling."

You unfold yourself from the large, comfy chair by the window. It has plush pink velvet pillows which in turn you have buried your laughter, your heart and increasingly lately, your sorrow in. The funny thing about velvet is that it keeps stains and secrets all the same. 

You walk to your daughter’s bedroom, making a beeline for your and her favourite feature in the cosy room - the bookcase. You’ve read to her since she was a baby, even if she didn’t understand any of the words yet. You wanted to establish a routine, a safety net that could catch her on hard days that may come. 

You kneel in front of it, pretending to survey the colourful collection for a book to read. But you know this act of the play by heart. You will pretend to select a book, any book, and Josie will look at you with her big, brown eyes, apprehension tugging at the corners. She will sidle up to the corner of the shelf and slide out the same book that you’ve read about 100 times now, and gingerly offer it to you. “This one?” she’ll hesitantly ask as if it’s the first time. 

She is the apple of your eye so you smile warmly while taking it out of her hands. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

She bounds excitedly to her bed and jumps under the soft layers. 

You settle down next to her, tucking your legs underneath you, cradling your daughter in your one arm while holding the book in the other. Josie loves helping to turn the pages when you read. 

“Once upon a time, there was a handsome cowboy who lived in a small town. He was the town sheriff, keeping all the bad people out and making sure the town’s people were safe. Every day, the cowboy would ride through the town on his horse, making sure there were no bad men disturbing the peace.”

Your daughter looked up at you, her owlish eyes finding yours. She doesn’t normally interrupt storytime but you wait for her to continue. 

“Mama…” she hesitates for a long beat. 

“Mama, is Daddy a cowboy?” 

The simple question tears through your heart like a shotgun at close range. You had been careful. She was so small when she last saw him, and there aren’t any mementos in the house apart from a photo that you keep close to you. It feels like it was taken a lifetime ago. 

“What makes you ask that, sweetheart?’

“I dreamt about him and we played horsey and he let me ride on his back. And he said he missed me.”

Your heart pinches painfully. She will have almost no memory of him, and you had buried yours so deep. You were sure “Daddy” was a pastiche of the storybook cowboy and the photo in your locket that your curious child would have found. 

No matter what you choose to do next, every option seems cruel in its own way. Deny everything and leave her to wonder, anchorless in a sea of ephemeral memories, or give in and open old wounds to share the reality that he was gone without a trace.

You’re quiet for a long beat before you continue, your voice soft. 

“Yes darling, he is a cowboy. A very noble one that also keeps bad men away.” 

Josie’s face lights up like a ray of sunshine as she smiles, her little rosebud mouth revealing one missing tooth to the side.  

She glances at the page you’re holding and then back to you. 

“And is he also handsome like in the story?”

You glance at your daughter’s glossy dark chocolate hair and golden skin. She is your child too but Jack’s genes had won out by a country mile. You remember his eyes, so much like hers, brimming with tears when he first held her. He was overcome that something so perfect could also carry a part of him and be his. 

“He is. You look so much like him, too.” 

That seems to satisfy her curiosity, at least for the time being. Contentedly, she snuggles against you and lifts her little pointer finger to the open page, indicating that you need to read again. 

You barely manage to hold in a relieved sigh. 

“The town was quiet and safe, because the handsome cowboy was good at his job. Then, one day, bad men rode into town on their horses. One of the bad men went to see the cowboy at the sheriff’s office.The men told the cowboy that he needed to give them all the money in the bank, otherwise they would kidnap the mayor’s daughter. The mayor’s daughter was a very beautiful young woman, and the cowboy liked her very much.” 

“The cowboy told them to leave town, but the next day, the bad men kidnapped the beautiful young woman! Oh, the mayor was so angry! The cowboy was angry too, and vowed to rescue the woman.”

Josie sticks her thumb in her mouth, enthralled by the story she had heard so many times before. 

“The handsome cowboy chased the bad men out of town and rescued the beautiful young woman, and she was very grateful!”

The thumb leaves her mouth with a pop.

“Mama, did Daddy rescue you too?”

You think back to how you met Jack. That’s not exactly how it went down, and you recall jokingly arguing with him over drinks about who rescued who exactly. That was quite the mission. Even though you lost the mark, you didn’t come home empty handed. Not exactly. 

“No sweetheart, that’s just in the story. But if I was in trouble, he would have.” 

She nods sagely, like she knows this to be fact. 

You continue the story. 

“Once the woman was safe, the cowboy told her that he liked her. And she said she liked him too. The cowboy kissed her and they lived happily ever after.” 

Josie’s insistent questioning is unraveling old memories from their tightly sealed boxes in the recesses of your mind, and at the mention of a kiss, Jack drifts into your mind’s eye yet again. 

He’s covering your body with his own, your legs entwined with each other’s. His large hand cupping your jaw and pressing adoring kisses into your heated skin. He captures your lips again hungrily, making sure the only thing you can focus on is him. 

You close the book carefully, noticing Josie slumped over in the crook of your arm, thumb still in her mouth. You slide out as slowly as you can, careful not to wake her. After pulling the covers up around her and switching on the nightlight, you tip-toe out of her room.

Retaking your seat at the window, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. You reach inside your sweater to retrieve your keepsake. Clipping the locket open, you stare at the small photo inside for a long while. 

Jack - dark hair slicked back and moustache neatly groomed and framing an exuberant smile. The one you have to see a ghost of every day, when you have breakfast with your daughter, or laugh with her, or read her to sleep. 

And then the beautiful young woman wept for her cowboy, who never made it home. 

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[iguana-eyanna]

Never Liked The Taste of Whiskey

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Agent! Reader

Summary: Everyone knew that you hated Agent Whiskey as he bothered you with his flirty self. But one day, he doesn't. And that worries you that he's not around.

Warning: mourning of loved ones, alcohol, cursing

You tolerated a lot of things over the few months you have been working at Statesman.

Ginger Ale's loud typing when she was doing reports for instance.

Or Tequila's tobacco spitting, which you've kindly asked for him to dispose properly (he's still making progress).

But what you can't stand is your obnoxious, prideful partner:

Agent Whiskey.

His blinding white smile and that hat he wears religiously wanted to make you punch him in the face real bad.

Unfortunately, you did that once and you had a good old scolding from Champ who did not like that.

At all.

Surprisingly, Whiskey never asked to switch partners. Maybe it was to get back at you and make you burst into flames, but you still loathed him with your very being.

"Hey Chiquitita, what you working on?" He asks as he hangs over your computer which you've been staring at for the past hour.

"Doing our mission report, that you forgot to fill out." You said, looking up with daggers coming out of your eyes.

"I'm sorry Chiquitita, I'll make sure to owe you a cold one after hours." He said, following you as you placed a folder in one of the file cabinents.

"Why did I tell you my favorite band was ABBA?" you said in regret, never liking the taunting nickname he gave you.

"Because you love me, Colada." Whiskey said, calling you by your code name.

"That will be the day." You said, turning your heel around as you walked towards the corner to collect your things and head home.

"C'mon, everyone loves me." He says, hot on your tale as he sat on top of your desk.

You stop in place, trying not to blow your fuse. Coyly, you look at him with a sly grin as you placed your hands on your hips.

"Truthfully, I never liked the taste of whiskey." you said as you left him there, speechless.

After a few steps, you forgot that you left your phone at your desk. Cursing internally, you head back to your area.

Then you stop in your tracks, hiding as you see Tequila walking up to Whiskey who looked glum.

"Sure made her all riled up like a poor lamb in a trap, Whiskey." Tequila said as he saw the scene unfold.

"I'm surprised we never called her Fireball." Whiskey said, fiddling something small in his hand.

Tequila pats him in the back sympathetically.

"Champ wants you in his office right now to discuss next week." Tequila said softly as Whiskey nodded his head as the two men separated ways.

You pop out of your hiding spot and retrieve your phone quickly. You couldn't make sense of what just happened, so you make your way back home to forget about it.

That was seven days ago, and you haven't seen Whiskey since.

You tried going along your day, working on the files from past assignments (which Whiskey still hadn't touched) and you weren't assigned any new ones for the week.

It was weird to say the least. Even when you were lightly teasing about a mishap Whiskey made on a past mission, Tequila said to lay off from the jokes. It even made Ginger Ale uncomfortable in her seat as you all had lunch together.

Feeling fed up, you storm to Champ's office.

"Took you long enough." he muttered under his breath as he took his feet off the table.

"Where's Whiskey? Ever since he stopped showing up, you haven't assigned me anything! Did you promote him without me knowing? If so, he hasn't pulled his weight for the past two weeks and I've been pulling up the lack."

He looked at you for a long time.

"You done yet?" he asks so calmly.

You nod your head as you sit down on the opposite side of the table.

Champ straightens up from his seat and twitches his chin, a habit he did when he was thinking of something serious to say.

"Around this time of year, I excuse him for how ever long he needs." Champ said.

"Is there a reason why?" you ask hesitantly.

Champ bends down in his seat to retrieve a file from his bottom drawer and hands it to you.

"I felt like he should have told you first, but I reckon it's time you knew."

You unfold the file in front of you and suddenly you fell quiet.

You read each word carefully, almost gasping once you read the end of the report. You roughly wiped your face from the tears that threatened to fall.

"His own family..." you whispered softly.

Champ lowered his head and took off his hat for respect. "He hasn't been the same since. The most close to normal he has been was when I assigned him to you."

You shot up your head, confused.

"What do you mean, sir? I can't stand him, he drives me up the wall, he talks till my ears bleed-"

"Jack likes you, Colada." Champ said, a bit loudly.

You felt like your head was pounding, hearing those words and his real name.

Champ gets out of his seat and looks out of his window in the distance.

"I promised myself I wouldn't be in my agents' affairs, but I have to make an exception. Ever since you two have been working together, he's been happier than ever. You make him happy."

You slowly get out of your seat, looking down.

"Do you know where he might be?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's really nice today. You would have wanted to go out on a picnic like on our first date." Jack said, staring outward to the sun that was almost setting.

"I still can't believe today's the day I lost you. I try to tell myself to make peace for not being there to save you. But I can't darling, you were the first girl who made me want something serious, a future I never thought I needed."

He takes a pause and starts crying, seeing the headstone of his late wife and child.

"It was hard getting out of bed this past week. I can't remember the last time I had a proper night's rest or meal. Heck, you got me so worked up I couldn't even drink that cheap beer that tastes like crap." he laughs bitterly.

He admires his wedding band in his hand.

"You know, I never thought I take this ring off my hand until I met my partner. You'll like her, she's feisty and hates my guts. She makes me feel normal instead of the other agents walking eggshells around me. I didn't want her to know what I've lost, maybe because I like her.

You'll forgive me for moving on, right? I could hear you joking that you don't want me dying like a lonely, bitter old man. But I know she doesn't feel the same about me. And I'm okay with that, even if it kills me to know she thinks I'm just some dumb cowboy."

"I don't think that you're a dumb cowboy." a voice speaks out.

Jack turns around to see you in a Sunday dress. You dressed out of respect for today as you held a small batch of flowers.

"I bought these for them, may I?" You ask Jack for permission.

He slowly steps back as you make your way to the headstone, kneeling to place the flowers on the bed of grass.

You get up and stand by his side. All you did was stand there in silence until the sun dimmed.

You turn your head and realize he must have been dropped off or walked all the way to his family's resting place. You place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Let's take my truck, I think you need to eat."

The car ride to the nearest bar was silent. Maybe he was stunned that you found him there or that you were actually being nice to him. You didn't want to say anything either, as you heard more than what you needed to know.

Once you parked your car, you both got out of the truck and walked towards the door of the bar. Jack opens the door for you as you two found a booth.

After ordering food and drinks, you can see how this week has been hell for him.

His eyes looked tired, as well as having dark eye bags. He hasn't shaved as he was forming a bit of a beard. And his knuckles? They were sore and scattered with scabs as he probably was hitting something.

And hopefully not someone.

"Don't look at me like that." he said, breaking you from your trance.

"Like what?" You asked.

"Like I'm someone to pity over." He said.

You don't say anything. Jack wasn't the type of person to receive attention when he wasn't alright. He would swallow anything he was feeling until he felt normal and carried on his day.

His coping mechanism wasn't something you tolerated lightly.

"This whole week, I thought you requested to change partners. Thought you were tired of my ass."

He chuckles a bit, almost cracking a smirked.

"I'll never do that, but it is my job to tire you." He joked.

You laugh and smile widely, as he matched the same.

Once your food came, you two caught up about work and the past. You thought it was only a few minutes, but it turned out that you two were the last people in the bar as it was slowly getting closed.

"Better make our way." Jack said, getting the check and paying for it.

"One more thing before we go." You said, turning your head as you saw what you were looking for.

You went up to the jukebox and saw the song you wanted to play. Once you rolled a few coins, the music started playing. You turned towards Jack, who was dumbfounded as you played the song Chiquitita.

"No, no! I don't dance." Jack replied as you slowly went up to him.

"Since when did dumb cowboys don't dance?" you teased.

"Thought you said I wasn't dumb?" he smirks.

"You have your moments." You grinned as you took his hand and guide him to the middle of the empty dance floor.

You both laugh as he twirled you from time to time. Towards the end, you two both swayed side to side slowly, never wanting to to end this moment.

"Colada, what I said earlier today..." Jack said

"It's okay, we don't have to talk about it. Don't stress yourself out, old man."

You then see a slight tint of red on his cheeks, loving how you teased him so.

He holds you closer, feeling both of your bodies getting warmer by the second. You raise your eyes at him, then at his lips.

You two slowly lean closer till your lips met, and they were as if stuck until you had to draw a breath.

"Guess I do like the taste of whiskey," you said, smiling.

He laughs loudly as he holds you by your waist, kissing you again.

Jack Daniels isn't something to be tolerated, but to be loved.

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[minniemoo2002]

Little Love (Jack Daniels x Reader)

Warnings: Childbirth, Jack is anxious

This can be read as part two of A Tired Wife or a standalone.

Jack hated hospitals, he had done since he was just a boy. His momma used to tell him about what a nightmare it was if she had to take him in. Everything just felt too sterile, the doctors didn't look human to his small brain. He just hated being at a hospital.

His feelings hadn't changed much as he got older. He avoided hospitals at all costs, even learning how to do his own stitches. It didn't matter too much usually, he could tolerate the Statesman doctors. But the Statesman medical team did not do births, so here he was, stuck outside in the hallway listening to your loud groans of pain.

You had screamed at him to get out after he kept pestering the midwife with questions. He knew he should trust her, she had probably delivered hundreds of babies, but they weren't his baby. Every nurse that walked past him gave a sympathetic smile, just another father who had pissed off mom at the wrong time. Another groan came from your room, this one much louder than the last. Jack absolutely hated how helpless he felt, you were in so much pain and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help. Suddenly, the door swung open and the midwife popped her head out.

"She would like to talk to you, be quick we don't have much time"

Jack bolted to your side in an instant, grabbing at your hand. You already looked exhausted, he, on the other hand, looked like a puppy that had just peed on the rug.

"I want you here for this but no more harassing the staff, OK?" You explained. He nodded and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. He could do this, for you, for his child.

He didn't dare move once you started pushing. For one, the death grip you had on his hand wouldn't let him, and two, you had practically begged him not to look down there. You knew he had a strong stomach but you didn't want him to see any of that. The nervous feeling was properly cemented in his stomach now, he whispered quiet words of encouragement to you as you screamed.

"I can't do it" You whined, after a long push. You were absolutely drenched in sweat, hair sticking to your forehead. Yet Jack still looked at you as if you were a work of art.

"Yes, you can, honey. We're gonna have our little one so soon, just a little longer" He replied, brushing the hair off of your forehead.

He kept his head pressed against yours until he heard the loud cries of a baby. Even then he was scared to move, scared to do something wrong and ruin everything. It wasn't until a doctor asked if he would like to hold her that he turned. He saw them holding her, his daughter. He felt like he was on autopilot, he didn't even breathe as she was placed into his arms.

The world stopped as he looked at her. She was so small, he didn't even need both arms to hold her. She had quietened down in her father's arms, quite content to just watch him. The whole world could be burning around him and he wouldn't even notice, he was in such a trance.

"Jack, is she ok?" Your weary voice snapped him out of it. You were laid back on the bed, utterly exhausted. But you had been watching him, your heart filled with joy looking at your little family.

"She's just perfect honey, the most perfect little thing" His voice was wobbly, he hadn't even noticed the tears running down his cheeks. He quickly placed her into your arms and tucked himself on the bed beside you. You smiled down at your daughter.

"Hello, little love"

#jack daniels imagine #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman imagine #cw: pregnancy #cw: childbirth