#kingsmen the golden circle

[lotusbxtch]

Ocean's Gold - An Offering of Frith story

Pairing: Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey x f!Reader Word Count: 6.4k Rating: Explicit - 18+ ADULTS ONLY, MDNI Frith Challenge god: Ægir

Summary: Jack Daniels, retired from the Statesmen, signs you on as the business partner for his new brewpub. Sparks fly, and you wonder if it could ever be more.

Tags/warnings: Tags/warnings: alcohol (beer) is a major part of the story, consumption of food & alcohol, a sprinkling of angst, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), protected PIV, Jack is an absolute consent king & safe sex advocate, semi-public sex (1 scene), absolute tooth-rotting fluff (these two are SO CUTE). Reader has she/her pronouns and identifies as female, has a name (not including it yet to keep it a surprise!) and some backstory but otherwise there are no physical details included - it's you, darling! (psssst: 2 other P boys make a guest appearance!)

a/n: This is my (belated) entry for @perotovar's Offering of Frith Challenge. My P boy/Norse god combo was Jack Daniels & Ægir. This is actually my first time writing Jack! It was such a fun challenge, and although I was honestly initially scared that I bit off more than I could chew, I ended up loving what I've written. I hope you do too! (See the afterword for more details on Ægir and other nods to Norse mythology/traditions that I sprinkled in!) Thank you Erin for hosting this challenge, and @for-a-longlongtime for being my cheerleader, beta reader, and telling me over and over that I could do this! Moodboard by @perotovar, dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Just breathe, you got this.

You straighten out your outfit in the mirror in an attempt to quell your nerves. Dark jeans, espresso leather lace up boots, cropped well-worn Fleetwood Mac graphic tee, and your favorite blood red blazer. You swipe on a matching red lip, nod at yourself in the mirror, and leave your apartment to walk down to the brewery.

The 3 block-long walk gives you time to review what you learned about the business opportunity. Jack was a recently-retired government operative who inherited a large sum of money and wanted to use it to open a brewpub. A smart businessman already, he knew that in order for his brewpub to be successful - regardless of how good his beer was - he needed to have a damn good pub restaurant, too. Which is why you’re swinging open the brewpub’s doors on a mild fall evening, CV in hand: as it turns out, you were looking for your next culinary opportunity. After working in a number of prestigious kitchens, you itched for the opportunity to build something of your own, something homey that you could be proud of. This position is exactly the kind of project you hoped for.

You step into the building, the interior clearly unfinished, but with good structure to it - high vaulted ceilings, good natural lighting, and two levels. Three, if you count the brewery on the floor below you to the left, where you could see the tops of large brewing fermentation vessels.

“Hello?” you call out into the barebones building, looking around for signs of life.

“I’ll be there in a jiffy!” you hear from someone below you, presumably Jack. In a moment, you see him emerge from the staircase leading to the brewing area, and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

Holy hell, you didn’t know he was THIS hot.

Walking towards you was easily one of the most handsome men you’ve ever set eyes on. Tall, incredibly broad-shouldered, and golden-skinned, Jack sauntered up to you wearing a white t-shirt stretched across his chest, dark jeans, black Wellingtons, and a belt with - is that a whiskey flask buckle?

“Rán, I assume?” Jack broke into a wide smile, offering up his hand. You shook it firmly, reveling in the warmth of Jack’s hand and how it dwarfed yours. Keeping your eyes locked to Jack’s amber ones, you returned his smile and nodded.

“It’s so nice to meet you in person, Jack,” you said, taking another glance around the interior. “The place has good bones.”

“That is does,” Jack responds, looking around as well. “I have high hopes for this place. And you seemed like the perfect person to hook up with to get it done.”

Your eyes bug out for a moment before you can school your face, but the heat starts creeping up your neck anyway. I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way…

“Oh, hell,” Jack sputters, “That’s not what I meant! I… dagnabbit, I’m already blowing it…” He runs his hand through his dark brown waves, thoroughly embarrassed. “I meant to partner with. On this business venture.” Jack looked at you, face flushed, eyes pleading. You couldn’t help but let out the giggles coming from your chest.

“Hardly blown, but maybe we can have some of that beer you promised me and start over?” you suggest, tilting your head towards the brewery. Jack looked relieved and nodded in agreement. 

“Follow me, darlin’, and I’ll take you to my mad scientist lab,” he says as he motions towards the staircase. Following his broad frame (good god, those shoulders are so wide) down the steps, you emerge in the brewery, the heart of the business. Gleaming stainless steel fermentation tanks tower above, the immaculate floor wet, looking recently sanitized. The smell of malted barley and herbaceous hops permeates the air, and the brewery area is compact yet efficient. Everything looks perfectly kempt, a testament to how much Jack cares about his beer. On a wall hook near the entrance hung a black leather jacket and a black Stetson cowboy hat. You notice a small farmhouse table set up nearby the office area with two glasses set atop. 

He set this up just for us?

Your eyes meet Jack’s, your mouth a bit ajar, and he smirks, pulling out a chair for you like a real southern gentleman. “Think I wouldn’t pull out all the stops for my hopefully-soon-to-be business partner?” You sit, and he walks to the carbonation room to fetch his brew of choice. Returning with the deep brown glass growler, Jack raises it towards you in offering. You nod, pushing your glass closer and he pours the liquid within out. A pale golden beer flows into your glass, creamy foam gathering on the surface. He pours himself some, then sits down at the other end of the table. 

“This is somethin’ I’ve been workin’ on for the grand openin’,” he explains, motioning to the beer. “It’s a farmhouse ale, what’s usually referred to as a saison. I’m callin’ it Ocean’s Gold. I want it to be the flagship brew. Please, try it and let me know what you think.” Your eyes flick to the glasses, and then with a small smile, you bring it up to your lips and drink. The beer is full-bodied, malty but light, with citrus and peppery notes dancing across your tongue. The finish is dry, resulting in a beer that’s incredibly drinkable and refreshing.

“Holy cow, Jack,” you breathe out, astounded at his skills. “That’s so delicious. You’re one hell of a brewmaster.”

Jack chuckles, grinning warmly. “Why thank you, sugar,” he croons, making the heat rise up the back of your neck again. Damn those Southern nicknames, you think to yourself, willing your nerves to calm. “Hopefully I’m as good of a brewer as you are a chef. I’ve been askin’ around, and word on the street is that you’re one of the best and hardest working chefs people have worked with.”

“Well, that’s high praise,” you reply, “but I’m glad to hear it. I pride myself on my work ethic and food is my first love, as it seems like brewing is for you. What sort of place do you want the brewpub to be?”

Jack contemplates his answer. You see his face get more serious, but nothing but passion shines from his eyes when they lift to yours. “First and foremost, aside from serving up the best beer this side of the Rockies, I want this place to be ingrained in the community.” You sip your beer as Jack continues. “This place has given me so much, and I want to give back. I want a place where everyone feels welcome, ya know? Whether they want to share a pint with a friend, get a bite to eat with loved ones, or meet new people who share their love of good food and beer, I want them to feel at home.”

A wistful look passes over Jack’s face, and he pauses to meet your eyes again. “Now, I don’t wanna overload you with too many details, but this part is pretty important to me, and I wanna make sure that whatever business partner I end up with is on the same page.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Now, when I was growing up, my family didn’t have the most to live on. A lot of times we went hungry, and it was only through the kindness of strangers that we got to eat then. I have this idea for a ‘pay it forward’ type meal program. Folks can come in, pay $5, $10 for a prepaid meal ticket. We’d put those paid vouchers up somewhere and if someone is hungry and doesn’t have the money to pay, they can take one of those vouchers and we’d give ‘em a hearty meal, free of charge.”

Jack takes a breath and closes his eyes for a moment, then looks back over at you. You can feel your heart ache for this man who clearly had to work hard to be where he’s at, now wanting to share his wealth with those less fortunate than him. You try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Jack, that’s… incredible,” you finally get out. This degree of selflessness wasn’t common in business owners in the circles you existed in. “I’d be honored to help you make that dream a reality.”

“Is that you sayin’ you’ll saddle up with me, sugar?” Jack looks at you with hope in his eyes. Your heart leaps, and you try to calm it down as you nod affirmatively. This is a business deal, your brain warns your heart. It beats fast anyway.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jack beams, excitement rippling off his body. “Can’t wait to build this place up together.”

You grab the growler and fill your and Jack’s glasses, raising yours to his. “Cheers to a fruitful new partnership.” Your smile reflects Jack’s, and you both drink up.

The next 9 months are a whirlwind of activity. After your official business documents were drawn up and signed, you and Jack worked night and day to get the brewpub ready for the following summer. You designed the interior, fitting the place with warm dark wood and brassy golden fixtures. Chic firepits dotted the outdoor patio in the back. You included subtle oceanic iconography wherever you could – the sea was a huge inspiration for the both of you. Jack worked tirelessly on a signature lineup of beer, as well as a couple of seasonal offerings to add variety. Meanwhile, you toiled in the kitchen, experimenting with flavor profiles and dishes until you’d perfected your menu. You laughed and joked as you worked together, getting to know each other’s backstories as well as each other’s preferred workstyles. You talked and dreamed, debated and sometimes argued - after all, both of you were stubborn - but always worked things out. You kept him on his toes, and he kept you grounded.

Oftentimes, you and Jack used each other as taste testers, knowing the both of you would give honest feedback. On one particular evening in the late winter, you were sitting at the half-finished bar, sipping on a trial seasonal amber ale that Jack fermented in whiskey barrels. 

“I never asked you where you got your name from, darlin’,” Jack mused, taking a gulp of his beer afterwards. “It’s quite unusual.”

“Ahh yes,” you responded, a smirk turning up your lips. “That would be thanks to my literary professor grandmother. She specialized in studying mythology texts from around the globe. Rán is the Norse sea goddess of death.” You saw Jack’s eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise, and you chuckled a bit before continuing. “That sounds intense, but she is also seen as the caretaker of those who die at sea. She helps care for them until they are ready to move on to the next realm. My grandmother wanted me to be tough, suffer no fools, but to also be kind and care for those that need it.” 

Jack huffs in amusement. “Sounds just like you. She did a good job with that name.”

You smile, swirling your glass in thought. You look up at him, but his warm chocolate eyes are already on you, a flicker of something in them that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Jack?” you start. “There’s something I wanted to ask you about the ‘giving back’ part of the business.” You take a deep breath, your true passion project in your mind. “A long time ago, when I was much younger and just starting my culinary journey, I worked at an assisted living home, specifically for those with Alzheimer’s disease. It paid terribly, but I got a lot of experience in preparing food in a foodservice setting. It also deeply affected me. You don’t realize how important food is to people. Sometimes family members would ask if we could put something special on the menu, a dish their loved one used to make or loved to eat, to see if they would remember. We wouldn’t make any promises, but I’d always remember which request was from which family. When we were able to accommodate those requests, I’d see these people whose minds… for lack of a better term, seemed to be proverbially lost at sea… but they took one bite of their favorite food, and their whole face lit up. Sometimes it was simply enjoying the food, but other times it would trigger fond memories.”

Your eyes began to water, and Jack reached across the table and grabbed your hand, gently stroking his thumb across the top. You swallowed, continuing. “I hated that I had to leave that place, but my career wouldn’t go anywhere if I didn’t, and the money wasn’t nearly enough to pay the bills. I always thought, if I was in a place where I could give back, I would love to donate my time and supplies to cook for people like that again.” You look into Jack’s eyes, a swirl of emotions in yours. “Do you think… we could maybe do that with the brewpub? Take a day off every month or so to cook for an Alzheimer’s assisted living home?”

Jack squeezed your hand. “Of course, sugar. It means a lot to you, and it’s helpin’ the community. I couldn’t think of a more worthy cause.”

A tear slipped down your face as you smiled and mouthed “thank you” at him. But your breath caught in your throat when Jack reached up to tenderly wipe away the tear from your cheek. You stare at each other, a charge running through the air. 

Kiss him, your heart whispers.

But instead, you clear your throat, squeeze his hand and throw on a grin. “I’d love some more of that ale if you got any more.”

Jack smiles softly. “For you? No charge.” You both giggle as he goes to grab another pint for you.

He’s just a business partner, your brain reminds you. But he’s become more than that, you realize.

A friend. A partner in dreams.

Maybe more, says your heart.

A few months later, the brewpub is bustling.

With the support of some of your industry friends - and your and Jack’s hard work - The Gilded Wave opens with a bang. Business is booming; the restaurant is constantly busy, and Jack is so swamped with the microbrewery that he had to hire two additional assistant brewmasters to keep up with demand. You are speaking to your front-of-house manager when two very familiar faces burst through the front door.

Your face lights up. “Pero! Ez! What are you guys doing here?” you exclaim as they wrap you up in a bear hug. You squeal as they lift you into the air with ease.

“We heard through the ever-whisperin’ grapevine that our sweet Birdie built her very own nest and we just had to come see for ourselves,” Ezra drawls, his characteristically charismatic smirk alighting his face while he takes in the brewpub. “What a perfectly festooned establishment you got here! I sure do hope the fine provisions match the opulence of the aesthetics!”

You shake your head, giggling at Ezra’s always-fanciful dialogue, as Pero rolls his eyes at his companion. “It’s lovely to see you, hermosa,” he rumbles, kissing your cheek. 

“I missed you both so much! Wanna sit at the bar and I can set you two up with some beer & food?” you offer.

“That would be fabulous, Birdie!” Ezra exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I am in need of libations like an earthworm in the midday sun.” The two men plunk themselves down at the bar, and you turn to your bartender.

“Eddie, do you mind sending in an order of garlic fries and crispy artichoke hearts for these two gentlemen?” Eddie nods and starts punching in the order in the system. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jack coming up from the brewery stairs, wiping his brow after checking on the brewing. “Jack! Come meet some friends.”

Jack grins, loping up the rest of the stairs. He swaggers up to the bar, looking at you expectantly. 

“Jack, this is Ezra and Pero. We worked together in a bunch of restaurants over the last few years.” Jack smiles widely, shaking the hand of each man and exchanging greetings.

“Guys,” you say, “this is my business partner Jack. He’s the brilliant brewmaster keeping this place busy.”

“Aww, shucks, sugar,” Jack guffaws, “this place ain’t what it is without your excellent food. Only so long a man can survive on beer before he needs to eat. And what an incredible menu it is!”

You feel your cheeks heat with the compliment. “Jeez, don’t make me soft in front of these two. I’ll never hear the end of it!” You punch Jack in the shoulder playfully, and your friends snort.

“Rán? Soft? No way, only if she really likes you,” Pero gruffs with a laugh. “She used to make grown men cry when they’d try to start shit with her.”

You turned to Jack with a smirk. “I told you I suffer no fools.”

Jack puts his hands in the air playfully in mock surrender. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” He turns to Pero and Ezra. “Would you two like to act as my beer guinea pigs for a moment? I have a new winter ale that I’m looking to perfect before the season hits us.” Your friends nod in agreement and thanks, and Jack turns to the bar, pouring from an unmarked tap that he keeps just for his trial brews. He slides the taster glasses to Ezra and Pero, and your friends sip in contemplation.

Ezra immediately starts speaking, as per usual. “Why, Jack, that is one of the finest ales I’ve ever had in my many turns around this here planet! The spice notes, they’re so unique! Is that coriander and ginger I’m picking up?” He sips again before Jack can speak. “Maybe some citrus?”

“Mighty fine palette you have there,” Jack responds. “It’s a white ale I’ve spiked with coriander, ginger, and orange peel. Gives that warm holiday feeling.”

Pero nods, eyebrows raised. “Now that, amigo, is a good beer.” He raises his taster in salute, then downs the rest.

You giggle and slap his hand. “Tovar! You’re supposed to savor it!” Pero only shrugs.

“It’s quite alright,” Jack chuckles. “They can each have a full pint with all the compliments they’ve lathered me up with.” You roll your eyes at your friends, and rub Jack’s shoulder in a “thank you” gesture. Pero clocks the move, and raises his eyebrows in question. You silently beg him to not ask anything.

Jack places two pints of the white ale in front of the men. “Well, fellas, thanks for coming in. I have to go back down to the beer lab now that I know this winter recipe is locked in. It’s been great meeting the two of you, and I hope to see y’all around again!” 

Pero and Ezra bade farewell to Jack, who disappeared back down the stairs just as the fries and artichokes arrived to the two of them. Both men dig in, nearly moaning in pleasure at the food.

“Birdie, this is incredible,” Ezra exclaims, dunking a fried artichoke into the aioli. Pero nods in agreement.

“Thanks, guys,” you coo, pleased that two of your longest friends approved of your menu. The three of you are silent for a moment, a rare occurrence when around Ezra.

“So what’s with you and Jack?” Pero asks bluntly. You nearly choke on the garlic fry you swiped from the basket. Ezra giggles into the artichokes.

“Nothing is going on,” you stammer, coughing slightly. “He’s my business partner.”

“Hermosa, I know you well, and you’ve never rubbed my shoulder like that,” Pero levels.

“I will say,” adds Ezra, “I could detect a certain… aura around you when Jack came upstairs. I have also never experienced that around you.” 

“Guys, we are business partners,” you assert. “We just got close ‘cause of how intertwined our work is.”

“Yeah, I’m sure there was some intertwining happening…” Pero mutters, and you slap him upside the head. Ezra titters uncontrollably.

“Alright, Birdie,” Ezra relents, “we’ll leave you alone about handsome Mr. Jack for now. But his winter ale did alight some thoughts in my head about a certain gathering…”

You groan. “Ez… we just opened up not that long ago. I can’t in good conscience ask Jack to let our ragtag group of friends take over the brewpub for our yearly winter debauchery.”

“But what if we profusely pledge to be on our most upstanding deportment?” Ezra begs, batting his eyelashes comically while putting on his best puppy face.

Pero snorts. “Fat chance at that. But I do like the idea.” He turns to you, raising an eyebrow.

You stare at them for a few moments more, and then your resolve crumbles. “Alright, you two hooligans, I’ll ask. But NO promises, okay?” Ezra cheers and wraps you in a tight hug, while Pero gruffs in agreement and stuffs a handful of fries in his mouth.

Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly, as he is so sweet and accommodating), Jack is enthusiastic about hosting your friend group’s annual winter party, saying how excited he was to meet your friends. You and Ezra planned for weeks, and Pero came through to help you and Jack decorate the place. The warm wood is hung with pine and holly garlands, twinkling string lights criss-cross along the walls and ceilings, and pine cones are tucked into various corners of the space. A yule tree sparkled in an alcove, decorated in red, green, and gold. And you made sure to pin up a few sprigs of mistletoe, one of your favorite traditions of the season. Back at your apartment, you slip on a sumptuous golden silk dress that clings in all the right places and flows beautifully to show off your figure, and strap on matching gold heels. Swiping on the same crimson lipstick you wore when you met Jack as a finishing touch, you smooth your outfit and walk back to the pub.

Soon enough, your friends began to pour into the space, bringing with them various foods and drinks. Jack made a special batch of wassail for the occasion, and Ezra dramatically waxes poetic about how good it is while Pero rolls his eyes at him, as usual, in the corner. The space fills with laughter, clinking glasses, and the smell of delicious food. You and Jack act as the gracious hosts, making sure no one’s glasses are empty and all the plates are full. As you’d hoped and prayed, Jack gets along amazingly well with every single one of your friends. He jokes and roasts; listens intently and carefully to people’s stories. He extends a warmth and familiarity to all, and more than once you get nudged suggestively, eyebrows wiggling and giggles whispered into your ear about how wonderfully well you and Jack work together. You flush with heat every time, and it’s hard to deny the chemistry between the two of you. Beyond being fantastic business partners, you admire Jack’s adeptness, his dogged cleverness, and most of all, his heart. Jack’s got one of the biggest hearts you’ve ever come across.

And, even if you fight it, you realize that Jack’s worked his way into your heart, too. All night you’ve been exchanging charged glances, sly smiles, little winks here and there. Jack places a warm hand on the small of your back while passing you. You press your body subconsciously against his while reaching for another glass. Fingertips brush, sparks fly. 

By the time your friends trickle out into the night, merry and full, the heat between the two of you is palpable.

You’re cleaning up the bar area when Jack approaches you, two glasses of wassail in his hands. “Outstanding shindig you threw, darlin’,” he observes, passing you a glass. You clink your cup against his and take a sip, savoring the way the ale, sweet honey, and spices swirl across your tongue. 

“We threw the party, Jack,” you correct. “You were just as good of a host as me, if not better.”

Jack smirks. “Well, it’s easy when you have such fun friends.”

“They are fun for sure, although I was worried they’d be a bit… much,” you admit.

“Pfft, I’m used to dealing with strong personalities,” he scoffs, nudging you pointedly. You roll your eyes but your grin remains, and you scoot closer to him, pressing the side of your body against his. You both lean against the bar, facing the interior of the brewpub, admiring where your hard work has taken you.

“Can you believe this place is real?” you muse, sipping again. Your eyes roam the space above you, when you stop and smile to yourself.

“Yes, I remember you waltzing into this place when it was nothing but concrete and pipes and my brewing equipment, a pretty thing with red lips and determination,” Jack reminisces, ignorant of what you’ve spotted.

Your heart skips a beat. Pretty.

“Oh yeah, cowboy? ‘A pretty thing’?” you purr, turning slightly to face him, your red lips pursed in amusement. Jack looks slightly hesitant, worried he crossed a line, until you point upwards and his eyes follow.

A sparkling sprig of mistletoe hangs between the two of you, above your heads. He meets your eyes again, all hesitation gone. 

“Are you gonna just stare, or are you gonna respect tradition and kiss this ‘pretty thing’?” you whisper, your lips curled flirtatiously.

A smirk spreads across Jack’s face. “I thought you’d never ask, sugar.” And with that, he pulls you into his body and your lips connect.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss when it starts. Jack is gentle, all brushes of the lips, presses and caresses of your body. You lean into him, feeling your nipples press against his dark button up while he cups the back of your head tenderly. A small whimper escapes your lips, and Jack pulls back with concern. 

“Is this still okay?” he murmurs, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. You don’t answer with words, you just nod and pull him into another kiss, gently biting his plush lower lip. Jack moans gruffly, sliding his hands down the lines of your body, pausing to cup and squeeze your silk-covered ass. You feel wetness start to gather at your entrance, your arousal rocketing by the second as your kisses get more and more impassioned. Jack trails wet kisses down your neck, licking at your pulse point and right behind your ear, ripping another whimper from your chest. 

“Sugar, I need to taste you so badly,” Jack groans into the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting softly. 

“Please, Jack,” you breathe out, and Jack lifts you onto the bar counter, rucking your dress up. You spread your legs, helping to pull the golden silk out of the way. Jack pauses, then another smirk blooms on his lips; he takes his black Stetson off his head and places it onto yours in a quiet act of possession. You pant while you watch Jack pull up a barstool in front of you. Seating himself, he spreads you even wider, his eyes glittering with desire when he sets his eyes on your glistening center. You didn’t wear any panties, and he groans at the realization.

“Fuck, you’re prettier than a picture, honey,” he rumbles, tracing his large warm hands up your inner thighs, triggering more slick to seep out of you. Using his thumb, Jack spreads your wetness around your folds, and you inhale sharply, whimpering again. When Jack spies the pearl of your clit, he runs his thumb across it slowly, encouraging it to harden. 

“So fucking pretty,” Jack murmurs to himself, thumbing your clit again and reveling in the twitch of your thighs as he does. He leans down and runs the flat of his tongue across your entire pussy, from bottom to top, swirling around your clit deliciously slowly. Wanton moans snake their way from your throat. You grip Jack’s hair, keeping his face pressed against your most intimate parts. He groans into your folds, devouring you like a man starved, as you whine and whimper and shake for him. He’s observant, noticing when your body twitches and your cries pitch higher, using that information to bring you to the simmering cusp of your orgasm. 

“Come for me, darlin’,” Jack pleads, slicking up two fingers and sliding them inside you, your pussy gripping him tightly. You throw your head back, legs shaking from the intensity, when he reaches a spot deep in you.

With a few more pressured strokes of his fingers and a gentle suck of his mouth on your clit, you shatter around him, cunt clenching and dripping onto his fingers.

“That’s it, such a good girl coming for me when I ask,” Jack coos, his fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm, squelching from your release. Your moans are music to his ears, rapidly hardening his cock. Once you recover a bit, Jack slips his fingers into his mouth right before your eyes, growling quietly at the taste.

“Sweeter than honey,” he grits out, swooping in for a kiss, your own taste lingering on his lips and making you moan yet again. 

“Jack, I need you inside me,” you beg between fevered kisses. Jack pulls away to meet your eyes. 

“I don’t want to fuck you here,” he explains. “Can we go to your place? I want to lay you out, fuck you proper like you deserve.”

“Yes, of course,” you breathe, and he slaps your ass lightly before helping you off of the counter. You giggle, wobbling slightly in the aftermath of your pleasure. Jack helps right you and wraps a steadying arm around your shoulders while the two of you walk the three blocks to your apartment.

As soon as you enter the door, Jack is on you again, grinding his clothed cock into you and kissing you deeply. You walk the two of you backwards to your bedroom, clothing and shoes coming off between lips locking and hands groping, exploring. Both naked, you climb onto your bed, Jack following. Your legs fall open, and Jack can’t help himself from lunging forward to lick at your drenched pussy at the first sight of your slick lips parting. A whine hitches from your lungs, and Jack pulls back, shifting up to kiss you deeply again. Tongues tangle, lips are bitten, breathless moans exchanged. He pulls back again as you chase his lips, but he stops you.

“Hold your horses, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, eyes shining with both hope and concern. “I don’t want you to move faster than you’re ready for.”

Your heart clenches at the display of care and consent. A smile lights your face as you respond, “Yes. I’ve been wanting this for ages… I was just too scared to be wrong about you feeling the same way for me and ruining an amazing business partnership. I’ve been dreaming of you in my bed for months, and now that I have you here, I’m not going to let you get away so fast.”

Jack’s eyes light up, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before getting off the bed. He rummages through his pants briefly until he pulls a gold foil square from his wallet.

“I’ve got a golden ticket here for you, darlin’, but I want you to know that I get tested regularly and that I’m clean,” Jack informs you, a smile warming his face when you giggle at his corny joke. “Is that okay with you?” He climbs back onto the bed, leaning down to kiss your belly.

You nod affirmatively. “So do I, and I’m on the pill.” Sitting up and holding your hand out for the condom, you ask, “May I?”

Jack hands you the packet. “Be my guest, angel.” You lean forward, pressing your lips once again into his, and he groans in surprise as you flip him onto his back in one fluid motion. Climbing up his legs, you push them apart to make room for yourself in between. His impressive cock is achingly hard, viscous droplets of precum bubbling at the tip. You lap them up eagerly, Jack’s head falling onto your pillows with a muffled thump and a whine of pleasure.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” Jack breathes. You suckle at the head, humming in pleasure as the salty-bitter taste floods your senses. Slowly, you begin bobbing up and down his shaft, swirling your tongue across his silky length, making his moans louder and more ragged as you go. After a couple of minutes and an intense suck later, Jack actually whimpers into the thick air of your bedroom, begging you for more. You tear open the foil packet carefully, then suck his cockhead one more time before settling the condom on top and gingerly rolling it down his thick cock. 

You rise to your knees and shuffle upwards, leaning down one more time to kiss him. With your lips locked, Jack presses you back a bit and scooches his body up to sit against the headboard. You settle into his lap and slide yourself down his cock slowly.

The stretch is exquisite. Both of you moan in sync, your hands planted on his tan chest, his hands coming up to grip your hips to keep himself tethered to the moment. You feel as if every empty space in your body is filled; he fits perfectly inside you, like he was meant to be there. 

He feels like coming home.

Once he’s bottomed out inside of you, you both take a moment to breathe and be present. Jack’s eyes are closed, forehead resting against yours, breathing each other’s air. His hands slowly and gently knead your hips while you adjust to his thickness stretching your walls deliciously. Bringing one of your hands to his face, you admire his blissed but tense countenance. It seems like the both of you are barely keeping it together; your pussy throbs against his cock, which twitches in response. Your breathing is heavier. And so is the tension and desire.

You kiss Jack’s lips softly, tracing your thumb down the line of his jaw, and his eyes flutter open, utterly melting when they focus on you. “Baby,” you murmur, “can I ride you now?” A groan claws out of Jack’s mouth, and his lips part as he nods his head affirmatively. 

“Please,” he begs, and fucks up gently into you. Your center clenches in response, and you begin to work yourself on his shaft, rolling your hips as you grind down and back up. The sensation is intense, intimate, and all-consuming.

You clutch at Jack’s well-muscled shoulders, pressing kisses wherever you can reach and nipping his neck. His groans deepen and lengthen, his cock swelling even harder with the feeling of being buried inside you, surrounded by hot velvet. Hands gripping harder, he thrusts back up into you each time you slide down, punching into a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. Dizzying ecstasy lights up your veins as your moans and whines pitch higher with your arousal. The slick, obscene squelching of your pussy only serves to intensify the experience for the both of you.

“Oh god, sweetheart, you’re so fucking wet and tight for me,” Jack slurs, lost in his reverence of you. “Could never get enough of you.” All you can respond with is a devout chant of his name, moaned and sighed and whimpered. He reaches down and slicks his thumb with your juices, swirling it gently around your clit. You keen sharply.

“Jack,” you moan, “don’t stop, you’re getting me there.” Jack hushes you as he works your pearl firmer.

“C’mon, sugar, I wanna feel you come all over my cock,” he encourages urgently, massaging that spot deep in your pussy while he swirls, swirls, swirls with his thumb. Your whines sharpen, your body beginning to shake.

“Oh fuck, Jack, you’re gonna make me come,” you yelp desperately, your pussy contracting and squeezing his cock tightly. Jack digs his fingers harder into the meat of your hips, trying to stave off his own orgasm, as he continues his ministrations.

He leans forward, sucking and kissing your neck, up to your ear, and licking the spot right behind it gently before murmuring, “Come for me, beautiful.”

You shatter.

Flames lick along every nerve ending, and you shove Jack as deeply into you as possible when your high hits you. Wailing his name, you grip his hair, your cunt gushing and contracting against his length, and that’s enough to push Jack over the edge with you, your name tumbling off his lips in a whimper as he buries himself deep and empties his seed into the condom. 

Waves crashing together, the wheel of fate bringing you two to each other. He is meant for you, and you for him.

You both come back into your bodies, breathing heavily with your faces nuzzled against each other. Jack kisses your lips gently, and you part them to allow a deeper kiss to blossom. Slowly, languidly, your tongues dance, lips press and pull. With the tiniest peck, the two of you separate, and Jack brings his hands to cup your face gently, fingertips stroking your soft skin. His eyes shine like the sea on a sunny day, and you see golden flecks catch the light from your bedside lamp. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, mesmerized.

You huff a laugh. “Hardly,” you reply, “but I feel like we’re perfect for each other, no?” Jack nods.

“Perfectly suited for each other,” he agrees. “You are my fire, and I am your ocean. You motivate me to push myself and our business further, and keep my passions burning.”

“And you go with the flow, move with the tides, helping me get through rough waters,” you mutter sweetly at him, kissing his strong, aquiline nose. You both sit and absorb each other’s presence, soaking in the new stage of your relationship.

“Where do we go from here?” you whisper to Jack. Your lover, your confidante, your partner in business - and now, in life.

“I don’t quite know what our future holds, sugar,” Jack responds, kissing your forehead, “but where your heart is, there I will be also.”

a/n part 2: Thank you for reading! Below I've included the brief that Erin wrote about Ægir, as well as some details/inspo from the fic. Disclaimer: I am not inherently familiar with Norse mythology or traditions, so apologies if there's anything that is off-base!

-- Beers are inspired by Allagash Brewing's saison and seasonal Ski House Wheat.

-- The winter holiday party decorations are inspired by traditional Norse decorations for Yule.

-- The "wheel of fate" and the last line Jack says are a nod to traditional Norse wedding vows.

-- For Erin's Frith Challenge, Thor was assigned to Pero Tovar, and Tyr was assigned to Ezra.

God: Ægir  Character: Jack Daniels / Agent Whiskey

God of the sea and brewing ale. A Jotun (which translates to “devour” or “consume”, despite being connected to “giant” more often), suggesting that he would devour or consume the ships that would sink into the sea, and his wife, Rán (the death goddess of the sea), would consume the men upon the ships.

“The brother of air and fire”. Father of 9 daughters, who themselves are the waves. Not only represents the sea, but also personifies it. Symbolizes the strength and power of the ocean, so many view him as a great warrior.

Framed as a terrible and devouring Jotun, he’s also a welcoming host. It’s said that Thor and Tyr would visit to have some of Ægir’s ale, and every winter, the gods would come to feast in his hall. This makes him a great match for Rán, the caretaker of those who died at sea, as his hospitality would be extended to them through Rán. This could be seen one of two ways: that either the dead would reside in their hall, or that they would rest there until they were ready to move on.

The sea was seen as a source of great wealth, since sailors would find treasure through industry, trade or plunder. Gold itself was referred to as “Ægir’s Fire”, because he “lights his hall with gold in his hearth”. He’s wealthy, but he shares that wealth as he entertains his guests.

However, he sort of wanted to get out of being the gods’ host. He said he’d do it on the condition that they find a big enough cauldron to account for the amount of ale he’d have to make, since the gods liked to party so much.

To follow Ægir is to be hospitable to those who enter your hold seeking comfort.

Offerings: Ocean/water iconography. Gold. Fire/flames. Ale/alcohol.

Tags for those who may be interested: @mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @sin-djarin @nerdieforpedro @mermaidgirl30 @missredherring @morallyinept @qveerthe0ry @guiltyasdave @almostfoxglove @almostempty @schnarfer @kedsandtubesocks @djarinmuse @agentmarcuspike @gasolinerainbowpuddles @yopossum

[socksracoon10]

𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 ��𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫? 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘹 𝘍!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 Warnings: Fluff, a bit of angst? Author’s Note: This movie may not be the best, but hey it’s Taron Egerton and we shall write for our King Taron Egerton. That is all I have to say 😌. All mistakes are mine!

John had told him before the plan. He had it memorized within his mind for the past few days. Hop over the ledge, get past the wagons with bread, sneak past the ever-lazy guards, climb up the stone bricks and right into the side room where the guest room was. Simple. He knew he could handle it. He’d done something like this at least a million times, none of this was new. Then why was he so worried about it?

He tossed and turned a few more times in his stiff bed, well... a bed would be an overstatement. It was a wooden plank in the back of a wagon that John had situated for him to stay until dawn.  “Get some good rest, this will be quite the extraneous task, considering the Lady of the Manor is within those walls,” John instructed him. Robin had nodded his head, paying no mind to the warning. He hadn’t heard much about the Lady, other than that she was a stubborn mule that often bit the hand that fed it. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she was ruthless just like her father. He was very well aware of the fight she had started in the town square for her own selfish benefit of gaining a few extra gold coins at the expense of the men fighting for their life over a petty cause. John had seen the Lady escape that day, right after she had shoved a man down the stairs nearby, so much so that he was rendered blind due to the bruises on his head. She was part of the scum, she was part of the problem, John had spewed into Robin’s ears. Once again, the archer just nodded his head and listened, carefully. He didn’t want to give an opinion so soon of a Lady. Perhaps there were extra circumstances that he needed to skepticize; at least that’s what he had told himself when he had seen Marian with the Sheriff. 

Robin shut his eyes, tightly, turning around once again in an effort to shake the image of his past lover with someone else. It wasn’t working at all. He sighed, opening his eyes to face the stars above him. Each star twinkled and danced around, just like the reflections off of the coins he stole, each with it’s own tale. He chuckled, softly, to himself as he tried his best to remember the last escapade he did. He almost lost his arm; it was such a close call. Luckily, John was there to yank him out of sight from the guards, or else he would’ve been finished. He let out a yawn, momentarily covering it with the back of his hand before his eyes slowly drooped, before ultimately closing as he let sleep take over him. The breeze that cooled him down flew over to where the Lady sat, right outside her window. She frowned, looking at the town from her high angle and realized how pitiful everyone was. However, they couldn’t be more in a state of misery as she was; always locked away inside her room. She scoffed, leaning out the window to take a glance at where the guards were. They were always stationed in the worst possible places, but as she did so, she noticed someone’s feet sticking out of the wagon where only half of it was visible to her naked eyes. 

Taking this as a new responsibility, she grabbed a couple of her dresses and descended down the side, using the stone bricks as her ladder with the help of her dresses that was currently anchored to her bed. When she finally landed down onto the ground, she scurried past a few guards and made sure not to disrupt the horses in the stables as she jumped over the ledge. No one in her family would ever use those horses in the first place, but ever since that puny Robin Hood had managed to create a ruckus around the town, all the important individuals were forced to house a few guards in their houses in exchange for protection. She thought it was quite disgusting at first, because she had convinced her family that protecting one’s self did not have to be done through guards who were clearly lusting after her. The Sheriff, however, paid no mind to her requests and she scowled, storming off to her room then for an hour of reflection.

When she had approached the wagon more closely, she noticed the bow and arrow sitting upright, above the sleeping man. She couldn’t make out his face as he had turned over to the side, his face covered in the position that he was currently sleeping in. She huffed out loud, hands on her hips as she decided that whoever this man was, he’d have to leave soon. Sleeping on her family’s land was the last thing she needed. She moved to the side of the wagon and grabbed the bow to see who’s it belonged to and much to either her dismay or astonishment, her fingers had brushed past the carved initials of R and H. It was Robin Hood. She gasped, slightly, a hand flying to her mouth as she made her way back around to face the sleeping man. He had moved in his position, now facing the sky again with an arm propped underneath his head. His lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and then falling as his eyes flickered at times underneath his closed eyelids. The Robin Hood was sleeping in a wagon right outside her manor. 

My, my, my, she thought to herself, isn’t this truly something?

She could easily call the guards over and capture him. Yes, she should do that and as she placed the bow back and stepped back from the wagon, a thought came flying to her head. A man as skilled and mischievous as him, wouldn’t be sleeping here in plain sight like a fool. He couldn’t possibly be that idiot, now could he? No. Perhaps... perhaps he was purposely sleeping here so she would’ve seen him. Because he’d have wanted her attention. She proudly smiled, lifting her chin up at the thought. She knew she quite beautiful, but this was fueling her ego on a completely different level. 

Ah, so if games is what he was to play... then she would gladly play along.

She clasped her hands together at the thought. He would come into the manor, tomorrow, hopefully and she would catch him by surprise. Once she’d have her fun with him, she could then use him for her plan. She began to make her way back, clearly giddy at her own idea of fooling the one man she was sworn to hate...

Robin had groaned in the early morning, stretching his arms and legs a bit as he stood straight up. He was startled, however, by the sight of John in front of him with his head shaking in disappointment.

“Could’ve slept with the maids inside, no one would have ever seen you...” John scoffed. “Really?” Robin asked, tilting his head.

“No, you fool, I was jesting. Now, come, you have much work to do. I shall be waiting outside of these walls with the wagon. You know what to do... do it well,” John stated, patting his back. Robin grumbled, standing up and grabbing his belongings before secretly making his way to the side wall. He looked up, noticing the stone bricks that stuck out in certain places, almost as if someone used them regularly to climb along. He had raised his eyebrow, staring at those bricks for a while before grabbing one and hoisting himself up. Well, whatever was up there, he’d have to be extremely careful.

When he hoisted himself over the window’s edge, he groaned as his gut hit the edge as he tumbled inwards. He stood up, immediately, and looked around the room to make sure no one saw that. He shook his head, stifling a small yawn as he scanned the room before him. The tossed bed covers, the messy dresses laid out on a table and some jewelry displayed out on the nightstand. Ah, so there was a guest in this room. Perfect, he cursed under his breath before stashing the jewels into his bag. 

With that, he exited the room, quietly and creeped over to the stairs at the end that led to the cellar downstairs. From what he had inquired, the Lord of the Manor had decided to shift all their personal belongings to a place that wasn’t easily accessible to commoners. Lucky for Robin, he had managed to find a blacksmith that created a similar key to the cellar room. This was too easy, he thought to himself, but then again... after all the fighting he had to previously, this would be a vacation of sorts.

He had slipped the key in, turning it to the right before entering the cellar. God, it was dark in here and as he grabbed a torch hanging beside him, he heard a voice in front of him, “Well, well, well, if it’s Robin of Locksley.” His head snapped towards the direction of the voice, moving the torch closer before it illuminated the face of (Y/N). She had a frown on her, chin upwards as she faced him. The corner of his lips slowly curved upwards at the sight of her, and he didn’t fail to notice the way her eyes had faltered down to glimpse at his bow before climbing right back up to his set of green eyes. 

“Shouldn’t you be tucked into your bed by now?” He teased, cocking his head to the side as he did so. Her frown deepened, hands balled into fists as she took a step towards him,

“Shouldn’t you be rotting in prison, Locksley?” She snapped and his jaw dropped for a moment before a cheeky grin formed on his face. 

“I didn’t think someone like you could fire back instantly like that, I see this hellhole has a lot to offer to you too!” He cried out, beginning to walk away. She latched onto his arm, pulling him onto her,

“A honorable man like you shouldn’t leave a Lady just like that, perhaps I can accompany you,” She offered and he raised an eyebrow in response; she was planning something, he could see it in her eyes. Well, he had been working tirelessly just days prior, he could at least have some fun with her. If worst comes to worst, he could simply just take her with him at the end. He sighed, deep in thought at the consequences that could follow as she remained impatient, her eyes darting out the door in case any of the maids or guards would appear. 

“Quit thinking so much, you’re here for the jewels aren’t you?” She hissed, 

“Listen, I’m trying to work out some things in the hopes that you won’t betray me,” He seethed, pushing her hand off his shoulder as he marched out the door. With her trailing behind, he sometimes peered over his shoulder to make sure she wouldn’t do anything outrageous, especially in such a small space of a hallway. The steps to the cellar downstairs were spotted at the end of the hallway and he made haste, before she had stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“Lady, I suggest you move to the side, we can make it all quicker. Besides you’re the one that offered-”

“I didn’t offer anything, you fool, I asked if you were here for the jewels, that was all. Now, I’ll give you a deal-”

“I don’t have time for deals,” Robin replied, looking around to make sure the coast was still clear. He turned back to face her, clearly agitated,

“Well, then your companion waiting outside my manor’s walls will have to remain single then. I know why you’ve come here, you can’t fool me.”

“I think everyone at this point knows why I come to someone’s house or property, it’s for their jewels.”

“Haha! You’re lying right through your teeth, I know why you’re here. You’re here for me,” She huffed, crossing her arms with a proud smile on her face. Robin, on the other hand, had completely lost her, not understanding a word that flowed out of her mouth.

“I’ve... I’ve what?” He questioned, still trying to process what she said.

“Oh come now! Don’t be so dull, sleeping so openly like that where only I could spot you last night? You... You were trying to get my attention, were you not?”

He blinked, before a grin slowly formed on his lips. She couldn’t have been more of an idiot than she was now.

“Aw, you’ve caught me, Lady,” He cooed, “you are truly an intelligent being, seeing right through my deceptions.” He had to stifle a laugh as she seemed so proud of herself. He instantly knew he could use this as leverage to get what he wanted and this was perfect. “Surely, you would allow me your secret admirer to... well, take just a few coins to help the poor?”

“Perhaps, but I would like something out of it.”

“You want your own coins back?”

“No, you idiot,” She rolled her eyes, “A token of your love if you will, would be most appropriate. You are so desperate after all,” She exclaimed and as much as Robin wanted to protest, he had heard footsteps from across the hallway. He inhaled, sharply, promising to offer her something very precious before grabbing onto her arm and descending into the cellar. Without even his asking, she had gone out of the way to show him the secret corridor in which her family’s fortune was placed. He had held out a bag to her and she had started openly stuffing the bag with whatever she could grab onto. It was quite strange, the whole sight of it.

“Lady (Y/N), your work is exceptional,” A voice called out from behind and Robin groaned, turning around to face her father whose hands were clasped behind his back. The archer scanned the room for any more individuals, deciding whether this would be an easy fight or not. Without any warning, a knife had come across his throat and he peered slightly to see (Y/N) with a smirk on her face,

“It’s a shame, love,” He cried out, “I really thought we had something there.”

“Father, take the bag with you and go upstairs, I can finish him.” She instructed and as her father forcefully grabbed the bag from her hands, Robin managed to find a way to break free from her grasp, knock the knife out of her hands and launch it onto her father’s head. The sound of metal crushing bone echoed into the room and when Robin had turned back to face his traitor, he realized his arrows were missing.

“You looking for this, Locksley?” She called out, standing a few feet away from him.

“Give it back, and there shall no longer be any more deaths. I’m warning you right now.”

“I asked for a token of your love, perhaps you could give me at least one of your arrows to keep?”

“Your father has just died, you show no remorse at all whatsoever and then you have the audacity of acting in such a manner? Are you insane?” Robin questioned, his brows furrowed together as he stepped closer to her.

“You’re here for the jewels, I’m here for you,” She responded and Robin, once again, was at a loss for words.

“What is your obsession with me? I don’t think I could ever trust someone who almost got me killed and once again, I will emphasize this, you show no remorse for your dead father!”

“I know a way out of here,” She began, completely ignoring his comments as she pointed to a pathway. It would lead right to Little John, as he was still waiting outside, growing more anxious as time passed on. As she tossed him all but one of his arrows, Robin forcefully grabbed her arm,

“What are you hiding from me? Was this your plan all along? Using me as bait to get rid of your father?” He whispered,

“Locksley, there are many things that wouldn’t make sense even if I told you. You have your own secrets, and I have my own. Do not think I am on your side, I am simply doing what I must do for my own happiness. Now come, grab your bag, add a few more of the jewels and then follow me-”

“How can I trust you?” Robin asked, making way to stuff more items into the flimsy fabric, he turned over to face her, kneeling onto the ground. When she remained silent, he laughed to himself and stood up,

“Every man for himself, then I suppose.”

“I suppose so.”

“Little John wouldn’t be very fond of the idea of bringing you along.”

“B-But wouldn’t you like that?” She asked, almost begging him to take her along with him. 

He thought about it, thought about it very deeply. If he had shown up with the woman to his partner, there would be many questions. Based on her stupidity at certain moments, it would be hard to even convince John that she was worth it. But he also knew what it felt like to be stuck in one position and have no means of ever gaining hope. He sighed, meeting her eyes once again,

“You shall stay here until I come back,” He ordered and she gasped out loud,

“What!?! I go out of my way to show you to the cellar and kill my father and this is your idea of repaying me? How cruel of a man could you be? You arrogant scum! I shall call the guards at once and-” He clasped onto her mouth, silencing her as his other hand held onto the back of her neck,

“I know you are speaking out of anger, because I also know you wouldn’t dare expose me to the guards. You’re seeking for a new life, I understand that. However, I cannot trust you at the moment as much as I want to. Don’t get me wrong, your services to me as of today are plentiful, but it isn’t enough for me to fully trust you. You have my respect however.” He explained and she glowered at him,

“Your respect means nothing to me,” She mumbled under the palm of his hand. He let go of her, stepping back as he briefly looked onto the single arrow in her hand,

“Keep that safe with you, I shall return one day for it.”

“What if you’re lying?” She asked, “What if you never come back?”

Before he could even form a proper answer to her questions, he had heard the sound of the guards above, their steps growing louder and louder. He had to make haste, he needed to return back and distribute the wealth. 

“Then you shall keep the arrow as a token of my love,” He replied, softly before running down the pathway and climbing up the bricks into the fresh open air. Lady (Y/N) stood there, the arrow still tightly wound in her hand as she faced the guards. She would have to place the blame on him, anyway, for her own safety. If he had not returned within a month’s time, she would personally see to it that his body be hung along the multiple prisoners in the town square. Yes, that would do. 

“You surely took your time,” John grumbled as he and Robin both rode off. The latter remained silent, not wishing to speak further about what had happened in the manor. It was the last thing that he had expected and it pained him more than he would’ve liked to admit. He would have to go back. One day. But he didn’t know when...

The arrow had been confiscated by the guards that day and Lady (Y/N) had forced herself to remain hopeful. However, as the days passed on, they turned into weeks. And weeks turned into months. By the end, she had lost all hope but she couldn’t bring herself to enact revenge on him because no matter what she did, she was still going to end up all alone, stuck in the same grey manor. 

One fortunate day, she had gone into the market to collect some bread as her pantry had been emptied by the guards one night. As she was passing an alley with her basket of bread, she noticed an arrow attach itself right next to her, startling her slightly until her eyes fixated on a small green handkerchief. A token of love and gratitude, she assumed and she looked up to see the source of the arrow.

“Well, love, where’s the arrow?” Robin asked, jokingly, climbing down from the heap of carts before finally landing right in front of her.

“They took it away,” She whispered, a surge of anger rising in her as she wanted to smack his soul right out but upon seeing him, all she could do was hug him tightly, unsure of her feelings towards him. His hands softly trailed down her hair, before he leaned into her hair,

“Though I haven’t fully fulfilled my promise to you, it shall be known that I have come back for you. I could never leave you, no matter how many horrid things people have said about you and your abhorrent manners,” She pulled back, lightly smacking his arm as he laughed in response. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, before continuing, “but now that you’re here, I suppose you would very much like something fun to do. So, tell me love, when shall we retrieve my arrow from those nasty guards?”

She smiled in response, “What about now?”

[simpingcowboy]

I've never posted any art on here, but I wanted to try out my posco pens on Agent Whiskey <3

I think he turned out pretty nice! Click for better detail

If you see my sketch on underneath you're anti-indigenous

[lokischocolatefountain]

Pedro Pascal choosing roles

[sw33th3art666]

I'm looking at this like...

this edit changed the trajectory of my life forever.

[pinklemonadesociety]

The Javi P/Whiskey era was top tier.

[biggestsimponhere]

“I'd never sing of love if it does not exist, but darling, you are the only exception”

Once again this man is so hug shaped and i need a hug

[castrian-amore]

DC x DP x Kingsmen

(This is the most niche thing ever but I love it sm and am not sorry)

Danny was recruited an unknown agency but they promise him one thing if he accepts: train the newbies and do his job. In turn they promise him global protection. Protection from the world powers, the JL, the GIW and a chance to expand upon his current skill sets.

The JL are at a loss by just finding out about this organization having slipped under their noses. At the dapper dressed but obviously incredibly skilled fighter in the middle of the Watch tower.

“You know I didn’t think the doomsday protocol would lead me here…”

“Where are you from?”Batman presses. The man gives a fanged smile offering a hand.

“I’m from Kingsman.”

“The tailors?!?”Barry exclaims. The man only gives a nod.

“The very same.”

[magpiepills]

Rope & Ride

Pairing: Jack Daniels x f!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Jack gets more than he bargained for when he gets too comfortable doing surveillance.

Warnings: SMUT Dub/non-con, NOT SSC/RACK compliant! Oral (f receiving), restraints, denied orgasms, stalking, breaking and entering, unprotected PIV, creampie, smoking, implied plot, but no substantial story,

A word from the author: Here is my very late entry in @wannab-urs ‘s The Dom That Middle Aged Man Campaign 2025 event. It’s been so much fun getting to share ideas and read stories written by the many wonderful writers involved and I’m so sorry that I’m past the deadline for posting. This is my first time writing Jack and I am so grateful to Gin for putting this whole thing together so that I could try something new.

Masterlist Turgid Members DMAMC25 Masterlist

He must be losing his edge.

You walked down the sidewalk toward your walk up, heels clicking against the concrete, and there he was, following along.

At the cafe drinking your coffee, at the library doing research, and as you shopped, there he was.

Maybe it wasn’t all his fault. A handsome man stands out, just naturally stands out, doesn’t he? Jack certainly does. He’s tall and slim waisted, but broad, broad, broad across his shoulders. He was neat, hair brushed into place, mustache trimmed, face sporting only the barest little scratch of whisker.

He might disguise himself, a suit, a leather jacket, dark aviators, a cowboy hat. Dark brown, never white. He knew he wasn’t a good guy deep down. A good guy wouldn’t follow a woman at all hours of the day and night. He wouldn’t peek in her windows or photograph her when she stopped to talk to someone. He wouldn’t tap her phone.

You wondered what he did with all the “evidence.” And you wondered how much longer you’d need to keep up the charade before he was finally done.

…

The day came one gray, drizzling evening three and a half weeks after you first spotted him. You’d received an urgent call from your sister in Dubuque, begging you to fly home right away, to take the first available flight and tend to an urgent family matter.

You hastily flung your suitcase onto your bed, threw in some clothes and took your coat and left. You hailed a cab beneath a lamp post, obscured by rain and your black umbrella, and disappeared into the night. A week, you’d said. He didn’t know if that included travel, but it was still plenty of time.

Jack got out of his car, a pale blue Mercury, nondescript, nothing flashy, and shut the door quietly. He crossed the street casually, with the confidence of someone who belonged right where they were. Your locked front door was little deterrent. Jack picked it easily, producing two slim tools from his jacket pocket and in less time than it would take to fumble with a key ring in the dark, he was inside.

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of your apartment, and tuned his ears to the sounds of your apartment. Silent, save for a table fan left on by accident, a ticking clock, and the rain that tapped gently against your windows.

After a few still minutes standing stone still, Jack relaxed. He was careful to be quiet, even though he was alone. A small flashlight was fished from the same pocket where he kept his lock picking tools. He held it in his mouth while he retrieved two gloves from another pocket and put them on, flexing his knuckles against the soft leather. Jack swept the first floor, moving fluidly through your sitting room, your kitchen, past the laundry nook.

Each room was neat, but lived in. You’d obviously left in a hurry, a newspaper was draped over the back of your sofa, stockings dried in the bathroom. He brought the fabric to his nose and breathed in the scent, but only detergent was there, nothing of you. In your medicine cabinet he found the usual things, bandaids, toothpaste, hair pins, ibuprofen. Nothing unsavory or incriminating there, not under your sink. A rummage through your linen closet was the same, revealing only a predilection for soft pinks and fuzzy blankets.

Finding nothing of note in your bathroom, Jack moved to your bedroom. He closed the door behind him and inhaled deeply. It was, like the rest of your apartment, tidy and pretty. Unlike the others, this room smelled like you. Light, sweet, it reminded him of candy and flowers and warm, bare skin. Your bedside table was the first target of his snooping. A small lamp, a book, a framed photo of two young girls and a dog, and your telephone. He held the flashlight in his mouth again, freeing his hands to inspect the book. He flipped the pages and found nothing but a bookmark.

“I know there’s something here. Give it up,” he complained to himself, voice deep and twangy. Your drawer, your dresser, your closet, under your bed, he found nothing he could use. He checked his watch. It had been close to an hour that he had spent exploring your home, violating your privacy, and he had nothing to show for it. Annoyed, he sat on your unmade bed to think. He sat on the edge. He sank into the plush mattress, then took off his hat to lay back. He sighed, relaxing further, and closed his eyes.

Your scent was stronger here, where you slept. With his searching concluded, Jack let himself revel in the sick pleasure of being in your bed. He turned his head and breathed in deeply. He pulled your pillow over his face, and grunted into it as he palmed his thickening cock.

He was never one to take a souvenir, but he made a quick decision. Jack got up from your queen size bed and went back to your dresser. He upended the top drawer and found a silky pair of panties, pink, like you like.

He was certainly losing his edge.

So absorbed in his own pleasure, Jack didn’t hear you come back in. He tilted his hips, bucking against the scrap of girly fabric in his big fist. His jean were shoved halfway down his thighs.

It amused you to watch him. After so many weeks of his stalking and spying, you got the chance to do the same. You were sure he’d seen you in moments of undress. You hadn’t changed your routine after you figured him out, free all. You carried on like normal.

Now, with him in your bed, jerking off with your panties, he was exposed and vulnerable for once. You didn’t feel any shame when you stared at his cock. You studied it, the veins of his thick shaft, the dark hair around the base, the blunt head, blushing and leaking precum that smeared onto your panties with each stroke.

The carpet muffled your footsteps and you were standing between his knees, pistol pointed at his handsome face. Your voice startled him.

“Don’t come.” Your voice was velvety and smooth, but he startled anyway. It made you smile. His hands flew to reach for his own weapon, but he couldn’t reach. How foolish of him.

“Is this what you wanted, Mr. Daniels? You’ve been following me for weeks, everywhere I go, everything I do, there you are. You’ve heard my telephone calls, you’ve got enough pictures for quite an album. If all you wanted was a pair of panties, you should have asked me to dinner like a gentleman.”

“You know what I want,” he spat back, "tell me where it is.”

You hummed thoughtfully, as if you were really considering his demand, then brought your knee to rest on the mattress between his legs.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack. Right now you are in my apartment, uninvited, lying in my bed, and doing something very nasty with my panties. I think that it’s time to talk about what I want.” You brought your other knee onto the bed and leaned forward, letting the snub nose of your revolver press into the fabric of his white button up. He didn’t seem to breathe as you dragged it downward over his belly, only making a panicked little cry as the cold gunmetal reached his still hard cock.

You took your panties from his hand, “say ah.”

He obeyed, letting you poke the fabric into his mouth.

“Now, I’m going to get up for just a moment and you are not going to move.” You raised your eyebrows, and nudged him with the short barrel of the gun until he nodded.

Jack closed his eyes and dropped his head onto your bed with a weary sigh.

You returned with a length of pink fabric, the sash of your bathrobe and pulled your reading chair closer to the bed. As instructed, Jack didn’t move. He was still hard and leaking.

“Stand up and strip, Mr. Daniels. Nice and slow.”

The panties in his mouth muffled his hostile ranting, so you pulled them back out, laying the wet, delicate fabric on his chest.

“This isn’t a game,” he hissed, lifting up on his elbows. “You know why I’m here.”

“You’re handsome when you’re angry. Strip.” You wished you had a cocktail right now.

He stood and glared at you, cock bobbing between his legs as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“Slower.” He started to argue but held his tongue, tossing the shirt onto the bed. He pulled his belt from his dark jeans, but you stopped him, holding out your hand for his belt buckle flask.

Of course Jack “Whiskey” Daniels had a full flask. You sipped his bourbon, letting it warm you and nodded for him to continue.

His shirt was first. He unbuttoned it without flair, tossing it onto your bed. His pants were next, already around his thighs, along with his black boxers. He shoved them down and stepped out of them. It wasn’t as sexy as he could have made it if he tried. He’s got a nice body, and he may be unhappy with his predicament, but he’s still hard.

“Turn around for me Jack, give me a little show,” you say, eyes dancing with mischief.

He huffed and turned stiffly. Even if he was mad as a wet hen you were going to enjoy yourself. It wasn’t often you had a man in your bedroom. Not with Jack tailing you, anyway. You weren’t about to give him a free thrill. You tilted your head and drank him in. He was aging, scarred and a little worse for the wear. You liked it. You liked how he looked with a little gray beginning to thread through his hair. He was still lean and strong, fit despite the slight paunch of his belly.

His legs were gorgeous, not the skinny chicken legs a lot of men have, they were shapely, same as his arms. Not bulging with too much silly looking muscle, just right. Nice and toned. His back was the same, his chest, with its sparse hair, dark, tight nipples, skin that must taste salty.

His softening belly, his weak spot, bore a dark patch of hair that lead you gladly down between his legs where your real nemesis hung. That cock of his, long, thick, still hard, even as he scowled at you. It leaned slightly left, which you could have guessed from the bulge you often noticed in his very tight jeans.

Taking the robe belt in your hands, you reached out to wrap it around his cock. You wanted to tie a bow, but Jack’s hands blocked you, hiding himself. That earned him a smack, and a warning.

“Don’t move, Agent Whiskey. Not one move without my permission, do you understand?”

He raised his hands in surrender and muttered. You let the smooth fabric drag over his turgid member, but instead of the bow, you made him turn again.

“Hands behind your back. Turn around for me.”

He closed his eyes, not bothering to argue, and you heard him exhale when you tied his wrists together in a pretty, but very secure pink bow.

You fluffed your bow and turned him to face you once more.

“There. I bet that feels a lot nicer than some old piece of rope, doesn’t it?” You smiled at him.

Jack couldn’t believe his predicament. He had made sure you were gone, he had checked his time, he hadn’t left evidence behind. He was going to jerk himself off into your silky underthings and leave, the panties his only souvenir.he doubted you’d even miss them the way your drawer was full of so many lacy, silky, soft little things. He made a mistake somewhere, and now here he is, naked, hard, tied up in between your bed and your chiffarobe, while you bossed him around. He dare not acknowledge the throbbing erection. It was plain enough for you to see.

You put him on his knees, guiding him down with your dainty little manicured hand on his shoulder. His tired knees sank into the mercifully plush carpet, and he sighed.

He watched you walk back and forth in front of him, small steps in your tall heels. He wondered what you were thinking. He wondered if you really knew what he was looking for. His mind raced, all of his training leaving him woefully unprepared for a scenario like this, especially when your panties fell to your ankles.

You stepped out of them gingerly and swept them aside with the toe of your high heel.

You liked him on his knees. He was better behaved when he was at a disadvantage. His pretty lips pouted, his big dark eyes searched your face for a hint of your next move, widening when you raked your fingers through his hair and gripped it, holding him as you stood before him, balancing on one foot with the other pressing into the edge of the bed behind him.

Jack welcomed your bare pussy against his face. He took it like an offering and accepted your soft, damp lips against his tongue. You stayed still, letting him lap at your folds for a few moments, then began to roll your hips, using his face. His nose, lips, chin, even the scratch of his mustache felt heavenly against your achy center. You kept on, soaking his face until you came.

Jacks cock throbbed between his legs, untouched and rock hard. Droplets of precum dribbled from his tip. You caught your breath on the edge of the bed and watched him, chest expanding between his wide shoulders. You placed one ankle on his shoulder, and leaned back on your palms.

“That was a good start, don’t you think?”

Agent Whiskey licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Real good. Untie me and I’ll make it a good finish too.”

It made you laugh, his confidence. It preceded him, of course, but you hadn’t experienced it for yourself.

“Really, Daniels? I can’t untie you now. We’re just getting started.”

There was only your dainty watch on your bedside table to tell you that more than an hour had passed since you pulled Jack up and onto your bed. More than an hour of him gasping each time you touched him, lip quivering each time you denied him an orgasm.

“Please. Please!” He plead for your mercy as you held his body down with yours, hand around his cock, twisting around it, working upwards and back down tortuously slow. His hairline was damp with sweat.

Each time he got too close you stopped, plucked a cigarette from your case and smoked it, appraising his deconstructed state from a few feet away, then ashed it in a crystal dish.

When his breathing steadied and his whimpering quieted, you took your place on top of him again. This time with his cock situated beneath you, slipping back and forth between your wet folds, never taking him inside, just using his pulsing cock to bring yourself to orgasm once more.

Jack's eyes shone with unshed tears of frustration and he tried in vain to chase his own orgasm. He wondered if he would ever come again or if you’d always stop him. He was crazy with need, mind poisoned with unspent cum.

Not long before the two hour mark, you decided how you’d wrap up this meeting of minds.

You straightened your back, lifted your hips, and slowly sank onto his cock. Your pussy squeezed and pulled him in, making him groan and tug against his restraints.

He was thick and long, filling you, pressing against your body, a wonderful counterpressure to your clenching cunt.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck! Yes!” He babbled, thrusting, stomach tensing, hips pushing up as much as he could manage to meet your thrusts.

You sped up, riding him hard with quick up and down strokes intended to thoroughly drain him of every last drop of cum. His face was a study in surrender. Glassy eyes, mouth slack. You watched him closely and pumped his body with yours. Your own pleasure was undeniable, you’d used his body for countless orgasms since you first caught him in your web. You took another, the first he felt for himself and it was enough. Jack “Whiskey” Daniels flooded you with his milky white cum.

You left him, panting, used up, and wet, not yet aware of how fucked he truly is now, and returned with a Polaroid camera. You snapped shot after shot, his face, his body, his softening cock, and one last shot of yourself, smiling, satisfied, triumphant wearing his hat.

[asterias-record-shop]

Hyiaa!! If these prompts are still free can I please request

BINGO: Bimbo , Eggsy Unwin with the prompt

"I like having you covered in me. Smothered in me, full of me. Want all of you, and you need all of me." ?

Thank you for your time!

—𓆩[your majesty]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Eggsy Unwin x Fem! Princess! Bimbo! Kingsman Agent! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, maybe slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2.6K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Eggsy truly didn’t know how you were recruited into Kingsmen, but he wasn’t complaining. You helped him out a lot during training, but for fucks sake, were you blind to how Charlie and his friends looked at you? When you go missing, though, Eggsy has to save you. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - foul language and cursing || reader is portrayed as very naive and kind of an airhead || reader is portrayed as wearing tight and revealing clothes and likes makeup || sex positive reader || again, kinda ditsy || you’re an undercover spy princess now || you get kidnapped || edited timeline || lovesick eggsy || smut || fingering || masterbating || different positions || multiple rounds || size kink || cum kink || marking kink || rough sex turned soft sex ||

“Your mission,” Merlin spoke as you handed Eggsy, Roxy, and Charlie. “Is to win over the asset shown in the folder. And when I say win over, I do mean biblically.”

Eggsy smiles, opening and showing off the picture. “Easy. Posh girls love a little rough.”

Charlie scoffed, showing the exact same image. “We’ll see about that.”

Roxy giggled. “We certainly shall.”

“Yep! Mhm, sex! You need to fuck her,” you filled in, Charlie scoffing a slight laugh as Merlin smiled slightly and nodded. “Nicely! She’s an heiress.”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m sure they are aware she is an heiress,” Merlin spoke, a sheepish smile developing on your lips. “Anyways, you will be going to the club-”

“Oh, I love clubbing!” You say, Merlin looking over at you with a slight raise of his brows. “O-Oh I’m sorry… I’ll be quiet now.”

Eggsy smiled slightly as he stared at you, but his stomach twisted slightly at the thought of sleeping with someone else. Eggsy was faithful, he always was no matter what, and to be honest, he wasn’t very excited about sleeping with someone else when he wanted to be sleeping with you – both sexually and when he woke up.

“Anyways, you leave at 2200. Please be ready by then. Y/N, come with me.” Merlin smiled at you as you nod, smiling back.

“Yes, Merlin.”

As you both walked out, Eggsy quickly ran after you before Roxy could say anything. “Y/N! Y/N, wait up!”

“Oh, uhm,” you looked back at Merlin who nodded slightly, walking away as you turned. “What’s up, Eggsy?”

“I-I uhm… just wanted to talk to you real quick,” he whispered, looking back at the other two with a slight sigh. “If uhm… If I don’t go past this session-”

“You will,” you say, giggling. “I’m sure a rough boy like you can handle your liquor. And you’re very loyal too!”

Eggsy paused, tilting his head. “Loyal?”

You froze, humming. “Forget I said that. Anyways. Like you were saying?”

Eggsy cleared his throat, swallowing. “If uhm… I wanted to say that when I sleep with this girl,” he ignored your giggle. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m aware,” you say with a shrug. “I had to sleep with a pair of guys, but not for the initiation part. The initiation part was actually easier than sleeping with those guys, how are you gonna be a crime lord with a small dick…”

He smiled as you continued to ramble off, his eyes slowly trailing over your pretty face all the way down to your tight clothes and perfect body, round and soft in every perfect place, and the thought of having your thighs around his head truly was a dream.

“Oh, I am so sorry… you had a question, what was it?” You tilted your head, smiling at him.

“I-I uhm… I just wanted to ask if after this session… if you would want to go out with me? On like… a real date?” He whispers, tilting his head slightly as you gaped at him.

“R-Really? You want… you want to take me out on a date?” You whisper, eyes narrowing. “Why? I have nothing to do with the choosing process.”

“I’m not trying to get points for the choosing process,” Eggsy clarified immediately, taking a step closer toward you. “I just… I want to take you out to see if we could… go out together as a couple.”

You paused, swallowing. “Oh…” you looked back at Merlin who was tapping on his tablet, then turned around with a nod. “I would like that. I would like that very much.”

“You would? Good. Good, perfect,” he smiled widely as you inhaled, smiling. “Go. I’m sure Merlin needs something important.”

You smiled, nodding as you leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. “I can’t wait.”

Eggsy smiled widely as you walked off, turning around to see Charlie and Roxy staring at him. “Did you just ask Y/N out on a date?” She spoke, tilting her head. “Really?”

You didn’t have a code name because there was no point. You were already known to the world, Princess Y/N who was the face of her kingdom, perfect in every way, though slightly naive – it didn’t make one bit of a difference to Eggsy. He truly, truly wanted to see how far he would get with you, and just maybe he would get you to the altar.

Right when they were about to leave, Eggsy noticed you in the corner, staring at yourself in the mirror as you flattened out the sides of your dress. For fucks sake, you looked absolutely stunning. Perfect in every way, the dark blue dress pooling at the floor as you slowly turned in the mirror.

He wasn’t used to seeing you in such a dark color, but you looked just as beautiful in it as you did any other color.

He couldn’t speak for a minute, but when it finally came to mind, all he could say was, “Wow.”

You looked over immediately, smiling as you walked toward him, heels clicking. “Going undercover,” you whisper, then shrug. “Kind of.”

“Well, I wish you luck,” Eggsy whispered back, trying to keep his eyes on yours and not trail over your body like a pervert. “You look… so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Eggsy, really,” you smiled back at him as he looked down at his clothes, completely underdressed compared to you. “You look great too.”

“You don’t have to lie, love,” he laughed slightly, embarrassed. How could he think a pretty girl like you would want to be with him? “W-Well… good luck on your mission. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I could come to the barracks tonight,” you suggest, shrugging. “It’ll just be you and someone else anyways. I’ll bring you to my room.”

Eggsy smiled. “That sounds perfect, Y/N. Good luck, I’ll see you later.”

“See you, Eggsy.” You smiled as he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before slowly turning around and walking off.

After he finished his initiation sequence, he waited in the barracks, reading a book as he slowly stroked JBs back, waiting for you to come in and take him back to your apartment for the night.

“Eggsy? Are you waiting for Y/N?” Roxy spoke, Eggsy looking up with a slight sigh.

“I was, yeah,” he whispered, shaking his head. Tomorrow was his day with Harry, and he couldn’t have thoughts of you interrupting it. “But I’m going to go to sleep now.”

“Oh, okay. Goodnight, Eggsy.”

“Goodnight, Rox.”

When morning came and Eggsy walked toward Harry who was speaking with Merlin, he inhaled as he heard your name on the TV. “Princess Y/N has been missing for three days now, gone and we haven’t been able to locate her since.”

“Y-Y/N’s missing?” His voice came out broken and hoarse, Harry turning around with a slight sigh.

“She didn’t come back from her mission last night,” Merlin says, shaking his head. “Y/N is a strong girl, she can handle herself. Now, go enjoy your day and we’ll keep looking for her.”

Oh, and then everything stacked up. With you missing, Harry being fucking murdered, figuring out that Arthur was with Valentine the entire time, he was so fucking tired. Now, about to die from Valentines dumbass soldiers, he couldn’t stop thinking about you — until the microchips came to mind.

After telling Merlin about the microchips, he could’ve sworn he heard your voice.

“Eggsy! Eggsy, is that you?!”

He quickly turned around, at this time ignoring the announcement that Valentine said and storing it for later, gasping when he saw you. “Y/N! You’re here!”

“Yes I’m here!” You giggled, sighing. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come back and-”

“Don’t worry about that now, darling, what matters is that you’re safe,” he smiled as you leaned forward, pushing yourself closer to the opening, Eggsy doing the same before he heard Merlin’s voice.

“Hate to interrupt this lovely moment, but the fate of the world is about to be decided, Eggsy!”

Eggsy sighed as he pulled away, shaking his head. “As much as I’ve always wanted to kiss a princess, my darling, but I have to go save the world.”

You smiled, giggling. “You save the world, you can get me pregnant.”

Eggsy paused, blinking before nodding slightly. “I’ll be right back.”

You laughed, biting your lip slightly as he ran off. “Good luck!”

And as soon as he said his wicked last line to Valentine, he was already running to your cell and tried to open the door. He heard your laugh when it didn't open, clearing his throat. “Merlin, what’s the code?”

Merlin laughed and told him, Eggsy smirking as he slipped off his glasses and slowly walked in, holding back a loud groan when he saw your legs spread and your fingers working your cunt as you groaned loudly. “Fucking finally Eggsy, what took you so long?”

He laughed as he set down the champagne and the champagne flutes on the table, slipping off his tie before you pull your fingers out of your cunt and quickly moved to your feet, stumbling slightly before falling into his chest. “Are you alright, darling?” He laughed slightly as you giggled.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… need you. So bad. Gotta hold up my end of the deal,” you tilted your head, winking up at him with another giggle. “You gotta put a baby in me, Unwin.”

He groaned loudly as he easily lifted you up, moving you back to the bed and dropping you gently onto the bed. He watched as you quickly parted your legs, sighing as Eggsy kicked off his shoes – carefully of course – taking off his suit before you leaned forward and held his tie. “Keep this on.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he whispers, slipping his button down off from under his tie that you immediately took hold of and pulled him down. He leaned down, kissing you and savoring your lips on his as you moved your legs to wrap your legs around his waist. “For fucks sake, never thought I’d be kissing an actual princess.”

You giggled as he pushed down his slacks, pulling him down for another kiss and rutting your hips into his. “Oh please, please… just forget about the fact that I’m a princess and just fuck me. Not like a prince, I need that roughness.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” he whispers back, smiling as he watches you slowly lay back. “Are you sure you want it rough? Darling, I-”

“I’m a princess, Eggsy, just not one made out of glass,” you whisper back, smiling. “Fuck me, Eggsy, hard.”

Oh, you truly didn’t have to tell him twice.

He was quick to snap his hips into you, groaning loudly as your head tilted back, leaning down to tuck his face under your chin. His hips moved rough and quick, fucking into you like he was infatuated. In a way, he was, his mind blurring in pleasure as moans unconsciously fell from his lips, your cunt tight and perfect around him.

His cock was perfect inside of you, just the right length but heavy on the girth, thick and filling you up just right and absolutely fucking perfect. You gasped as you tilted your head back, savoring the feeling of him inside of you. Even with his strong and rough thrusts, he was still holding himself back, and you could feel it every time he held back from slamming his pelvis into yours.

It makes you take matters into your own hands, easily pushing him over and straddling his hips. “I said that I want rough Eggsy,” you whisper, placing your hands on his perfectly toned chest, roughly rolling your hips as you threw back your head. Oh, it was finally perfect. You could feel him in all of the places you desperately wanted him to be, letting out a loud groan as you rut your hips roughly into his. “I don’t want you to hold back, please, Eggsy.”

He groaned, his head tilting back just like yours, his hands automatically finding your hips to help guide you into his hips. Sadly, they were trying to get you to go slower. “Fuck, darling, don’t do this to me. I don’t want to hurt you, please baby-”

“I want it to be rough,” you responded, gasping as his hips roughly snap into yours. It was perfect, just like you wanted to, but it was a singular movement. “No! Eggsy please, please don’t stop!”

“Fuck, please… please, you need to tell me if I hurt you. Promise?” His voice was breathless as you nod, pulling his hands upward toward your tits.

“I promise. Just fuck me, Eggsy.”

This time he really didn’t hold back, immediately twisting you to lay on your back, inhaling as he snapped his hips forward to fuck you, rough and hard just like you wanted him to. He didn’t hold back, his hands holding your hips roughly. Oh, it was perfect and everything you wanted.

He was rough just like you wanted him to be, your body bouncing along with every thrust, head tilting back with pornographic moans falling from your mouth. The way you were being fucked was as though Eggsy was never given the chance to let loose, using your body as a way to escape.

His roughness wasn’t subjected to just his thrusts, leaning down and marking up every inch of your skin with hickies and bite marks from his mouth, his rough hands rubbing and gripping your body. You were basically sobbing when he was done, not even done as he panted above you, his cum dripping down your ass as he pumped his cock.

“Can I keep going, baby? Please, darling? I want to keep fucking you, want to fuck you so bad,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss against your ear. “Please?”

“I want you to keep going,” you didn’t care how sore you were, how full your stomach was of his cum. You felt sticky, gasping as he slid back inside of you, rolling his hips softly instead of what he was previously doing. “N-No, no, roughly. Rougher. Please.”

“You’re sure you can handle it?” His voice wasn’t taunting you, his lips pressing soft kisses to your skin. “I like having you covered in me. Smothered in me, full of me. Want all of you, and you need all of me. But I can’t give it to you if it’s gonna hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” you whispered back, shaking your head as you kissed his lips softly. “You could never hurt me. Keep going.”

He smiled, nodding. “Whatever you say, your majesty.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “It’s your highness. I’m not queen yet.”

“You’re almost there,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Your majesty.”

“There you go.”

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[grogusmum]

Via pascalispunkfanpage IG

I'm not kicking him outta bed for eating crackers twix

[lotusbxtch]

Lotusbxtch's Master List

Hello darlings! Check below for a list of all of my fics, broken down by characters. I'll continue updating this as I write more, but since I reblog like a maniac, it's easier to use this to navigate my writings.

As a general rule, my writing is mature/explicit and 18+. Please check the ratings, warnings, and tags before reading so you know what you're getting!

I'm also on AO3 if you prefer reading there, at lotusbxtch.

Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe

Joel Miller - The Last of Us

Series:

-- SoCal to NorCal masterlist- Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Joel Miller (ft. Santiago Garcia) Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together? || You and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. NEW CHAPTER 12/29!

One-Shots:

-- Juno - Joel Miller x f!Reader

Your honeymoon with Joel is off to a bang.

— Lightning of the Blaze - Joel Miller x f!Reader

-- don't ruin this on me - Joel Miller x f! Reader

— and I lost you (Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge) - Joel Miller x f!Reader

— Sunlight (Hozier Drabble Challenge) - Joel Miller x gn!Reader Joel Miller has avoided love, pushed it away at the first sight to stay in the darkness. But then he meets you, and he wonders if he was wrong after all.

— a morning after drabble - Joel Miller x gn!Reader

— Joel Miller in the kitchen in the morning drabble - Joel Miller x gn!Reader

Frankie Morales - Triple Frontier

Series:

-- SoCal to NorCal masterlist - Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Joel Miller (ft. Santiago Garcia) NEW CHAPTER 12/29!

Jack Daniels - Kingsmen: The Golden Circle

One-shots:

-- Ocean's Gold: An Offering Of Frith Story - Jack Daniels x f!Reader [Offering of Frith Challenge] Jack Daniels, retired from the Statesmen, signs you on as the business partner for his new brewpub. Sparks fly, and you wonder if it could ever be more.

Javier Peña - Narcos

One-shots:

-- A New Year's Distraction - Javier Pena x f!Reader NEW! Javi doesn't know you have a surprise waiting for him at home.

Oscar Isaac Cinematic Universe

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

One-Shots:

-- The Best Ride in the Galaxy - Poe Dameron x f!Reader You have a thing for Poe's flight suit. He decides to be a cocky asshole about it. Sexy shenanigans ensue.

-- The Best Ride in the Galaxy, Pt. 2 - Poe Dameron x f!Reader You and Poe play bedroom games, but who ends up the winner?

Santiago Garcia - Triple Frontier

-- SoCal to NorCal Ch. 1: Malibu - Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Santiago Garcia You & Frankie visit your friend Santi at his Malibu mansion to kick off your roadtrip north, and you let desires guide the night.

Last updated: 01/12/25

[justsomerandomfanfic]

We Meet Again - Eggsy Unwin X Female Reader

Title: We Meet Again

Eggsy Unwin X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's boss

| Part 2 |

WC: 3,004

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I understand that, sir," You huffed, "I thought I could just talk it out of him... I wasn't expecting the gun-"

"Agent Montgomery." Your boss cut you off, "How long have you been an agent?"

You sighed, rubbing your cheek before getting down on your knees and collecting the gun, magazine, and stray bullet, pocketing them. "Six years, sir."

"Then you already know that you should always assume another spy has a gun or any other weapon, no matter where you go or what you do." You nodded, even though he couldn't see; his voice was stern as he continued, "Even if you think your target won't be armed, you should always assume they will be. I shouldn’t have to say this. If this happens again, you’re back on desk duty."

Running a hand through your hair, you pinched the bridge of your nose, "I'll get the file back, sir." You assured him before grabbing the books on the floor and taking them into your arms once more, "He can't get any further without the key." You finished, placing the books back on the shelf that you had gotten them from.

"Good." Your boss responded. You took a deep breath and wiped your still-warm cheeks with your palms, sighing as you straightened out your attire.

"He left in a black car, the license plate is '2FD224.'" You added while proceeding to leave the small bookstore that you made a mental note to come back and visit in the future.

Slipping your shades securely upon the bridge of your nose, your boss spoke up, "Do you know where he's heading next, Agent?"

You pursed your lips, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets, as you venture out into the bright sun. "Italy."

---

Main Masterlist | Kingsman Masterlist

---

Should I make a part 2?

[simpingcowboy]

Updated ~Pastel Whiskey~ because it felt very unfinished

Click for better quality <3

[thischarmingmandalorian]

Like A Man Without Skin

Ghost!Agent Whiskey x Reader

Summary: Your new apartment is haunted by the ghost of the sexiest man you've ever seen. My entry for @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett-writes Monster Smash!

Pairing: Ghost!Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit!

Warnings: Just… so much dirty talk. Pet names (Sugar, baby, sweet girl, good girl), groping, fingering, oral (f receiving but super briefly), pussy pronouns, is it vouyerism if you're watching each other?, obviously monster fucking, reader very briefly pulls her own hair? Not very heavily edited, I tried my best but if I read it one more time I'm gonna get embarrassed. Also very much a believer I ghosts (ask me about my own haunted apartments!) but I don't know how that shit works suspend your disbelief, babes!

Word Count: 3.1k

The first night, you blamed the house settling.

You had just moved to a new apartment and always had a hard time sleeping in a new place. You weren't used to the shadows that danced across your walls, that just repainted "landlord special" smell, or whatever that sound was.

That incessant crack that echoed through your living room, right outside your bedroom door, for hours. Literally fucking hours. You wanted to believe it was the floorboards creaking. This apartment was old, part of a three-story row house in a big city, and if the sleaziness of your landlord was anything to go by, it definitely wasn't up to code. You'd actually be more worried if it was silent in your apartment.

But still, the crack that… cracked… just outside your bedroom door was unnerving to say the least. It didn't sound like any "settling house" noise you were used to, but any alternative scared you too much.

That night you slept with the light on and a desk chair propped against your doorknob.

You got used to the crack in the living room after a few nights. You'd resigned yourself to the fact that it wasn't the house settling, but what it was eluded you. It never stopped, but it became a normal part of your nightly routine. Every night around 10 pm, when you'd leave your hall bathroom and shut the bedroom door behind you, it would begin.

Crack

And then a pause. You'd count to 30, and

Crack

This went on until you fell asleep. You soon started to count the noises behind your door until you dozed off - your record was 20 cracks.

On day five you got curious. Why was the noise only at night? Why was it always in the same spot? Most importantly, what the hell was making that noise?

You weren't someone who found the idea of ghosts ridiculous. In fact, the thought of being haunted seemed like a fun story to tell your friends over drinks on your usual Friday night bar crawl. If it was a ghost making that noise in the living room, that would be fine. You just didn't love not knowing.

That fifth night you performed your nightly routine like normal. Skincare, brushed teeth, pajamas. You shut the bathroom light off and walked down the hall to your bedroom. Only tonight, you left your bedroom door open. It was 9:55, so you sat upright on your bed and waited for the crack.

10 pm came and went. 10:30, 11. The crack never came. Dejected and confused, you finally shut the lights off and laid down to sleep.

You fell into a restless slumber, tossing and turning. The lack of… crack… bothered you. Why did it stop? What the hell was it?!

In your fitful sleep, you were acutely aware of the fact that your hair had found its way in front of your face, tickling your nose. You woke very briefly to push it away, but stopped any movement the second you were conscious.

Because you felt the slightest touch sweeping your hair from your face. Which was troubling because you were, of course, alone.

You shot up in bed, slamming the light switch and illuminating the room in a soft glow. You were still alone. But then… who, or what, had touched you?

"What the fuck is happening?" you mused out loud, expecting to be met with silence. Except a new sound emerged from the empty room -

Shhhhh.

"Don't tell me to 'shhh!' You 'shhh!'"

You felt crazy shouting at no one. Even crazier when you heard the noise again.

Shhhhh.

You realized this wasn't just a sound; it was… a voice. So it was a ghost!

Internally high-fiving yourself for solving this mystery, you remembered it was the middle of the night, and you had work in the morning.

"We're not done here," you said to your invisible guest, "we'll talk about this tomorrow."

Somehow you willed yourself to shut the light back off and lay back down. Still uncomfortable with the silence, you set your phone on the nightstand and let it cycle through a playlist of ambient noise. You're back to dozing off when you hear it again.

Shhhhh.

This time the sound is joined by the feeling of someone stroking your hair. A gentle, feather-light touch against your head, sometimes letting a finger trail down your cheek. You didn't want to admit it was soothing, and you already felt crazy. Thinking your apartment was haunted was one thing, but talking to the ghost seemed like a bad way to handle it. But you were oddly comforted by the presence you felt.

"You can stay until I fall asleep, then you gotta go for tonight," you whisper. The phantom hand stills on the side of your face as you speak, resuming it's soothing strokes through your hair once you finish addressing it.

The touch continues until you fall asleep, and so does the new noise.

Shhhhh.

Shhhhh.

Right before you fell into a deep sleep, you swear the noise changed a little bit.

Shhhhh.

Shhhhh.

"Sugar."

The next morning you want to chalk up the weirdness of the night before to a dream, but you know that's not the case. You wake up well-rested and ready to start the day, and notice your bedroom door had somehow shut during the night.

"Thanks for shutting the door," you speak into the empty bedroom, opening your closet to pick out an outfit for the day. You weren't expecting a response to your gratitude, but you smile when a familiar crack sounded from the living room.

You rush to open the bedroom door, knowing the living room will be empty, but knowing your ghost was there. "Hey, crack once for yes, twice for no, ok?" You feel ridiculous until one crack echoes through the room.

While you get ready for work, you play 20 questions.

"Are you a ghost?"

Crack.

"Are you… a woman?"

Crack. Crack.

Interesting… a dude ghost.

"Did you leave after I fell asleep like I asked?"

One incredibly quick crack. You appreciate him respecting you.

By now you're ready to change into your work clothes, so you decide to up the ante. "Do you watch when I get dressed?"

The two cracks couldn't have come quicker. You grin, loving that you have a gentlemanly ghost. But you want to have some fun. It's been a while since you've met a nice, living guy, and having a ghost seems like the perfect opportunity for some built-in male attention.

"Do you… want to watch me get dressed?"

Your smirk falls when no noise is made in response. You kick yourself for scaring him away. You start to stumble over an apology when you hear the same noise from last night.

"Sugar…"

"You talk?! What the hell, dude? I've been having you crack that… whatever it is, when you could've been talking to me this whole time?"

"Sorry, Sugar."

You soften. "Why wouldn't you talk to me before?"

"Too weak."

An interesting response. "What gives you energy?"

"Your attention."

Well. That felt nice to hear. "Lucky for you, dude, I have no one else to talk to around here. If it's attention you need, attention is what you'll get! Now, back to the task at hand… do you want to watch me get dressed?"

This time, a noise you haven't heard yet. A whimper.

"Please, Sugar."

You smirk, moving to stand in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom. Slowly, you bunch your oversized t shirt up over your ass, draw it above your hips, and fist the material up under your breasts, pausing to admire your own figure in the mirror. You turn to the side, watching as your reflection shakes its ass gently.

It's weird flirting with someone you can't see and barely hear. You're feeling both emboldened and shy, sexy and self-conscious. "How's this?"

"Teasin' me?"

You grin. "You said you need my attention to get strong! The longer this takes, the more attention I'm giving you! I'll ask again: this good?"

Crack. Yes.

"What the hell is that noise, anyway?" you ask, mercifully removing your shirt entirely, standing in front of your mirror in nothing but your underwear.

"Uh… a…" another whimper interrupted your ghost's train of thought. "Whip."

"A whip?!"

Crack. Yes.

"Why does a ghost have a whip?" you ask idly, thumbing the hemline of your underwear before sliding them down your legs with a shimmy.

"Long story. How long d'ya have, Sugar?"

You grab for your phone on the nightstand, realizing that if you tease this ghost anymore you'll be late for work. "No time! Last looks, dude! Gotta get dressed!" You pose for a second with your hands on your knees, bent at the waist with your ass wiggling before pulling on your work clothes.

"Really, Sugar? You're gonna leave?"

"I gotta work if I want to be able to afford this place! You don't want me to have to move out so soon, do you? There's so much more attention I want to give you," you pout into the mirror, bottom half clothed, briefly pausing to give your ghost one last look of your bare chest.

"Before you leave, Sugar, let me touch you."

You let your hands fall to your sides, remembering the featherlight touches against your cheek the night before, shivering at the thought of feeling it again. "Go ahead," you whisper into the empty room.

The touch is similar to the one last night, only now it seems stronger. This ghost wasn't kidding about attention making him stronger. Even though you couldn't see him, you can feel his presence behind you. You can feel fingers skating up your arms, stopping at the elbows and trailing back down. The touch disappears only to return on your hips, sliding from the small of your back to wrap around your front. You lift your arms slightly to accommodate him as his hands trail further up your torso, stopping just below the swell of your chest. You feel the ghost hesitate. Normally, if this were happening with someone you could see, you'd lace your fingers through his and coax his hand up to where you need to feel him, but this was all so new still. The ghost can touch you, but can you touch him? Would it look stupid to grope around for his hand? You decide your voice is your greatest asset at this moment.

"I said go ahead."

A groan erupted from behind you, right against your ear, making you shudder. You could almost feel breath against your neck, could almost feel the weight of a head against your shoulder as the ghostly hands dragged themselves up to grope at your chest. Your head falls back and you let out a sigh, your eyes falling closed. The hands tweak at your nipples before soothing the sting with a swipe of a thumb.

You're brought out of your trance when your phone rings. You feel the phantom hands retreat from your chest, a sigh heaving from behind you. Reaching to the bed to grab your phone, you see it's your boss calling. "I've gotta take this, I'm so sorry - hello? Yeah I'm just about to - oh? That sucks, what's the - yeah, no I can do that. OK, see ya!" You hang up and throw your phone back on the bed. The clothes you had yet to put on stay neglected, and what you have put on gets shucked off your body with haste. "You still here?" you call into the seemingly empty room.

Crack.

"Dude, now that I know you can talk, I'm not accepting whip cracks for an answer."

"Still here, Sugar. What was that about?"

"Good news! A pipe burst at my office - I get to 'work from home' today," you explain, making air quotes around "work from home." You know you're not getting shit done today. "So get back over here, we're not done."

You're still standing in front of your full length mirror, admiring your naked form when something starts to… happen… behind you. At first it's a thin mist, then it slowly turns into a more solid, human form. You stare in the reflection dumbfounded as your ghost materializes - he's still somewhat transparent, very obviously not human or living, but shit.

He's hot.

He's dressed in a cowboy hat and two-piece suit. And he wasn't kidding about the whip. It was curled neatly with the handle stuck in his back pocket.

"Oh my god. My house is haunted by the sexiest man alive," you muse, forgetting for a second that he can hear you. The ghost meets your eyes in the mirror's reflection, lips curling into a smirk as he tips his hat.

"Well I'm not alive, but that's mighty kind of you to say, Sugar," the ghost replies, moving closer to you again, "can I finish what I started, now that you don't have to leave? Please? It'd make me a very happy man."

You nod, watching in the mirror as the ghost reaches for you again. He skips the pretense this time, hands going straight to your chest, resuming his kneading and pinching.

"Wha- shit - what's your name? Seems backwards to let you touch me like this when I don't know anything about you," you tease.

"Whiskey. Agent Whiskey, Sugar."

You giggle. "Agent Whiskey isn't a name. What's your real name, and what are you an agent of?"

"Jack Daniels. And I'm stuck haunting this apartment, we have time to learn everything about each other. Stop distractin' me," the ghost punctuates his request with a nibble to your earlobe.

His hands, his mouth, while mostly solid, feel tingly, cold in a way that's akin to walking through fog. His breath is warm as it huffs against your neck, a delicious push and pull of sensation. He kisses down your neck and lands a bite to your shoulder, growling quietly as you moan in front of him.

"Ain't we a sight to see, Sugar? Keep your eyes forward."

Your eyes blink back open as you meet Jack's eyes in the mirror. You watch as his hands skate down your torso, hesitating close to where you want his touch the most. "Can you… will I be able to see you…?" You're not sure how being a ghost wearing clothes works, and you don't know how to ask; you hope he gets the hint.

"The suit stays on; sorry, baby. Gonna have to use your imagination. But, if it's any consolation, I used to look real nice under all this."

"I believe you. Now quit stalling and touch me," you make an experimental grab for his ghostly hand, delighted to be able to curl your fingers around his wrist and tugging it down, down to where he dips into your folds, fingers gathering the slick from your entrance and dragging it up against your clit.

"Let's move to the bed, Sugar. Need to see her."

You waste no time pulling Jack by the wrist to your bed. You prop yourself up against your pillow, legs spread wide and face flush with arousal and anticipation. You watch Jack as he stands at the foot of your bed, gazing intently at your body laid out for him.

"Jesus, Sugar. She's drippin' - it all for me?"

You give Jack a curt nod, beckoning him closer with your outstretched hand. "Come here and touch me, please." You see Jack's face change; where there was once a pained look of arousal, there's now a feral darkness that excites you.

"Since you asked so nicely, baby."

Jack puts his knees onto the edge of your bed and you feel the faintest dip on the mattress. Your breath hitches as you watch him crawl on hands and knees to situate himself between your legs. One hand holds tight to your hip while the other dips once again into your wetness, pulling away and chuckling when you try to buck up into his touch.

"Gotta be patient, beautiful. Your attention made me stronger, but I'll never be back at a hundred percent. 'm tryin'a hold you down, play along."

You agree to Jack's game and push your hips down into the mattress, curling your hand around his at your side. "I'll be good, I promise."

Jack smirks and bends his head down to whisper praise close to your ear, "that's my good fucking girl."

Jack punctuates his words with two ghostly fingers plunging into you. You moan loudly while your free hand grapples for purchase, twisting into your hair and gently pulling. "How long…"

"More than long enough, Sugar."

You swat at Jack's arm; he grins and moves his hand from your hip to slowly circle your clit. "That's not - oh fuck - what I meant. How long have you - uh huh, just like that - been stuck here?"

"Tryin'a focus, woman. Ask me in five minutes."

"Won't have to wait that long, Jack. Not gonna last."

Jack's thumb on your clit speeds up. He adds a third finger to the two working you open, the stretch delicious. Cold and warm, solid and ethereal. You could get used to this.

Suddenly Jack shifts and takes his thumb off your clit. You begin to protest, but find yourself gazing down at him, his face now level with your dripping pussy.

"Just wanna see if I still got it, Sugar."

You feel a sudden emptiness as Jack pulls his fingers free from you and you're about to protest, but before any words can leave your mouth he licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, pointing his tongue at the last second and flicking it against you once, twice…

"Fuck, I'm… shit. Jack, I'm…" Your orgasm hits so hard that what you are is incoherent. So fucked out you can't think straight. If someone asked you your name at this very moment, you wouldn't remember.

"Oh, I know you're comin', sweet girl, ain't gotta tell me. I've got a front row seat to the show. Let go, Sugar. I've got ya."

You ride the wave of pleasure for what feels like forever, hips rolling and panting, soft moans escaping from deep in your throat as you come down. When your eyes open, you find Jack staring intently at your pussy, watching it leak and pulse around nothing.

"So fucking gorgeous, Sugar. Could get used to this."

You instinctually grab at Jack's hair, gently tugging to get him to your eye level. You feel his touch against your face, gentle and cool. "You better get used to it," you smirk, "you're kinda stuck here. Don't know how hauntings work, but trust that I'm not gonna try and get rid of you. Like, ever. Not after that."

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day four: a blind date

ᰔ pairing: agent whiskey x reader

ᰔ summary: your best friend told you to show up in your best dive bar attire on a friday night, only for her to bail. by luck— or something else— you find a handsome cowboy looking for some company.

ᰔ author's note: agent whiskey was my gateway into the ppcu when it came out. my first on the list of many of pedro boys. agent whiskey i know you fucked around and found out but the light is on and the door is open 🙂‍↕️

ᰔ content warning: dive bar setting. non-canon/au agent whiskey. alcohol consumption. flirting. vague suggestive ending. no description of reader/use of y/n. my hatred of the song free bird by lynyrd skynyrd.

For a dive bar, you expected shittier music. Well, maybe the music was shitty— your friends gave you enough grief when you were on the aux cord. It wasn't your fault you had a wide range in your liked songs.

As you looked around, the sound of Free Bird caught your attention. A grimace washed over your face and you weaved your way to the jukebox. It had seen better days in the last few decades, and the song selection had nothing from the last ten years. Just how you liked it, along with every other patron in the bar.

You glanced over your shoulder as you looked for your friend, only to be met with the same crowd you've been surrounded by. The only newcomer looked to be an older gentleman leaned against the bar. His broad shoulders shifted as he reached for a glass in front of him. As he glanced around, he caught your gaze. He gave a polite smile and tipped his hat before he took a long swig of his drink.

Before you moved towards the bar, you slipped a few coins in the jukebox and chose the song you had been eyeing. Once Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac began to play, you finally tore yourself away. You slipped between the man and an empty seat, arms barely brushed against one another.

"Got something against Lynyrd Skynyrd?" The man asked as he placed his glass back down on the bar. You chuckled, one elbow on the bar as you turned to face him.

"Only Free Bird. We get it, the bird's free. Been free longer than this bar's been standin'." Your cheeks flushed as he laughed. Part of you wished your friend would show up, just so she could get a look at the man.

"I suppose you've got a point," he smirked. "But it's Lynyrd Skynyrd. They're as good as it gets, darlin'." He looked you up and down without even trying to hide it.

"Look, Simple Man will always be one of my top five songs but you lose me with the bird." You ordered a Jack and Coke when the bartender passed by. As you handed her the bill, you heard the man beside you chuckle.

"Name's Jack Daniels, ma'am."

You raised an eyebrow. It was hard to discern if he was just jesting, or if that was the truth. You leaned in a bit closer, unable to deny yourself the draw he had. Even if it wasn't true, you weren't sure you cared.

"You bullshittin' me?" When he shook his head, you smiled again. You thanked the bartender for the drink and sipped on it. The drink warmed you, but it was nothing compared to whatever Jack's gaze did. Something warm settled in your chest, all the way down to the pit of your stomach.

"God's honest truth, ma'am," Jack reached for his wallet. He pulled out his license, and it confirmed that his name was, in fact, Jack Daniels. You ran a thumb over it before you handed it back to him.

"What brings you to this spot on a Friday night? All by yourself?" You felt yourself loosen up as you sipped on your drink. Partially, at least.

"Friend said he'd meet me here, but seems he's caught in traffic," Jack shrugged. He leaned on the bar, closing some of the space between the two of you. Between the music and the gaggles of loud patrons around, it made for easier conversation.

"Really? You know, I'm in the same boat. One of my girlfriends was supposed to meet me here tonight, but I haven't heard from her," you sighed. While a small part of you was disappointed, you didn't mind having your company kept by Jack. He was kind enough, and good to look at.

"Shame," Jack shook his head. "Guess we'll have to keep each other company instead." His smile felt like a blow to the chest, the air in your lungs all but disappeared. Your head felt woozy, but you couldn't blame it on the drink in your hand.

"If we must," you chuckled. "So, Jack Daniels, what's with the cowboy getup? Not that it's not doing you any favors." You pressed your arm against his as you finished off your drink. Even out of the corner of your eye, you saw the smirk on his lips.

Before Jack answered, he ordered another round for both of you. His fingers, the one near your arm, tapped against your elbow. Everything he did seemed so effortless, from the way he held himself to the way his hands moved as he spoke.

"I work at a distillery, of sorts. Got some other tricks of the trade, but that's the long and short." Jack watched your expression, watched the way your eyes followed his lips and studied his face. Not that he'd admit it out loud, but your gaze made his skin feel electric.

"A man named Jack Daniels who works at a distillery?" You smiled, your cheeks flush from both your drink and the look on his eyes.

"I'm full of surprises," Jack huffed a laugh.

"I'm starting to think you're too good to be true, Mr. Daniels." You nudged his elbow, winking at him before you took a seat in the empty bar stool. As you moved away, he followed. His arm still pressed against yours, a hand on the back of the chair as he boxed you in. Not that you minded.

"You flatter me, darlin'."

The two of you continued to fall into an easy conversation. Jack made you laugh, did anything to see that smile on yours. If his friend had been here, he was sure he would've teased him for the way he acted.

"You play darts?" You asked after you finished off your third drink. You glanced up from your glass to look at Jack. He'd taken off the hat, a few strands of his hair fell in front of his forehead. It took everything in you to not run a hand through his hair. Instead, you busied yourself with ordering another drink for yourself and Jack.

"I do. Think you got it in you to play a coupla rounds?" Jack thanked the bartender as she handed him another beer. He watched as you hopped off the chair, only to sway a bit. His hand settled on the small of your back as he guided you towards the dart board.

"I'm so good at darts," you assured him. While it was true, the drinks were starting to get to you and your vision. Still though, you were determined to impress the tall, handsome cowboy holding you.

"Wanna put your money where your mouth is?" Jack asked as the two of you stood before the board. He let go of you to grab the basket of darts, mismatched and as beat up at the jukebox. He held it to you as he let you pick your darts.

"I can think of a few things I'd put in my mouth." You winked before you finished off the last of your drink. He bit his bottom lip, looking you up and down as you turned to put the glass down.

"Twenty dollars that I'll beat you." You reached into your purse and pulled out a crisp twenty. Without a word, you reached over and placed it in the pocket of his jean jacket.

"I'll take that bet," Jack cleared his throat. As you queued up for your first toss, he felt his phone buzz. He fished it out of his pocket to read whatever the text was.

Teq: Sorry I couldn't make it. Hope you're enjoying your time at the bar ;)

Jack glanced up from his phone, the dots connected as you hit the twenty. Of course it was a setup. Tequila had been on him about entering the dating scene again— he went on and on about how 'lonely' he seemed. What would his luck be that you also got stood up by your friend on a Friday night in the same bar, around the same time?

What irked him was that he was having fun. Jack hadn't been out in months, at least for his own sake. Being out with you reminded him of something he had missed, though he wasn't sure what that was.

You cheered as you hit a bullseye. That pulled Jack back to the present, his phone shoved in his pocket and his words for Tequila saved for a different time. He'd save it for Monday. For now, he has a beauty standing right in front of him, all smiles and oblivious to the plan her friend had orchestrated.

"Well I'll be damned," Jack chuckled. He sipped on his beer and stepped towards the dart board. Low and behold, you had knocked a clean 75 off your score.

"Show me what you're workin' with. Hope you can put those hands to good use," you hummed. You shot him a wink as you stepped away from the faded piece of tape on the floor. With your arms crossed over your chest, you watched his expression shift from impressed to calculated.

Jack threw it, only for it to hit one of the numbers and clatter to the ground. He was decent at darts, but his mission to impress you was off to a rocky start. The only thing that eased his nerves was your sweet laughter, followed by you grabbing the dart for him.

"Looks like it'll be an easy twenty bucks." You handed him the dart.

An easy twenty bucks, it was. You left him in the dust and ended the game without breaking a sweat. It was all worth it to see the look on his face as you returned from the board with your darts in hand. He looked you up and down, both in awe and something simmering beneath the surface.

"I'll be damned. You a professional or somethin'?" Jack asked as he took the darts and put them in the basket. You shook your head, leaned against one of the tall tables nearby.

"One of my party tricks," you tilted your head. "Think I could make it in the big leagues?" Jack stood next to you, only a few inches separating the two of you. He smelled divine between his cologne and whatever he had used to wash up before he went out.

"If you throw like that with four drinks knocked back? Darlin', you'd be the reigning champion." Jack leaned in a bit closer, a smile on his lips. You tried to not make it obvious how handsome you found him, but when he had his undivided attention on you, it made your heart hammer in your chest. While you wanted to blame it on the alcohol, you knew well enough that even a buzz couldn't make you feel like this.

"You think?" You asked. You leaned in as well, your bodies near flush against each other. There were so many thoughts that rushed through your head, yet they all went silent as Jack's nose brushed against yours.

"I know it."

You weren't sure who made the first move, but his lips on yours made your eyes flutter closed. Everything fell to the wayside— the music, the rowdy patrons, whatever else surrounded you in the dive bar. Jack filled your senses, his presence demanded without a word exchanged. His hands settled at your sides, polite even as his fingers suck into your flesh. It elicited a soft gasp between kisses; electricity settled under your skin as a zip shot down your spine.

You pulled away, the air from your lungs all but gone as you looked at him. Jack looked you over. From what you could tell, he was just as breathless as you were. You only hoped he felt even a sliver of what you did

"I know this may be improper, but I was wondering if you had any other plans for the night." Jack hadn't taken his hands off of you as he searched your expression for an answer. He'd be an idiot to not take you home, to not kindle whatever had sparked between you.

"My only plans involve a man who's ass I can kick when it comes to darts," you teased. Jack smirked as he let a chuckle, rolling his eyes. He squeezed your side before he stood up straight. He grabbed for his hat and started to put it back on. Before he put it back on, you took it out of his hand and put it on top of your head.

"Come on, cowboy. Let's get out of here." You leaned into Jack's side as he led you out of the bar.