Tumgik
#jack daniels x reader
fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 months
Text
Pressing
Tumblr media
Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU
A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own
{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }
Rating: E
Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.
Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own
Word count: 1.4k
Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️
Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!
Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.
Tumblr media
It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.
It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.
But you endure it all - for days like this. 
It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.
Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.
On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.
But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.
His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.
The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway. 
The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.
‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.
‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.
With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.
Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks. 
Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him. 
You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him. 
‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’
‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’
‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’
You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’
His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you. 
‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’ 
As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.
You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’
There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines - 
And then he thrusts home inside you.
After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.
You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move. 
There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.
Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.
In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure. 
When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge. 
‘Where, darlin’?’
‘Inside me.’
The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.
Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.
You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table. 
‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.
‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.
‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.
Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time. 
He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’
‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’
He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.
‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’
‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.
‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.
You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’
‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’
Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’
Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’
The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.
With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’
Tumblr media
Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!
406 notes · View notes
wardenparker · 3 months
Text
New Year's Surprise
Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨
Tumblr media
"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.
Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.
It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”
“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”
“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.
“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”
“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?
******
While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.
“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”
“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”
“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.
“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.
“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.
You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”
“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”
“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.
“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.
“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.
“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.
“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”
"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.
His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”
"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."
“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”
"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.
“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .
“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”
"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.
Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”
"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.
“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”
"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"
“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”
Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."
He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”
"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."
Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.
It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.
Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.
"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."
His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”
"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."
Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.
The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.
It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.
"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"
“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.
"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."
Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”
"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.
“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”
"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"
“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”
Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."
The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)
"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."
“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”
"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."
He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”
Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.
“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”
"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.
Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”
“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.
Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.
“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”
“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”
“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.
“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.
The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.
The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.
His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.
Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.
It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.
It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.
There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.
It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.
“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.
Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”
“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”
“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.
“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”
“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”
“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.
“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.
At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.
“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.
“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.
Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.
“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”
“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.
The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.
“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.
“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”
“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.
“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.
“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”
“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”
“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.
“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.
“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”
“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”
“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.
"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."
Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”
"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.
Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”
"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."
“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.
Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.
There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”
"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."
Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”
Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."
“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.
"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"
“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”
"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."
“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”
"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."
Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”
“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.
“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.
It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”
Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.
“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”
“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”
“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)
The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"
“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”
His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.
It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.
When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.
Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.
The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.
Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.
“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”
“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”
“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”
“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.
“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”
“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.
Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.
“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.
He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.
“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.
Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.
It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.
His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”
He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.
The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.
It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.
He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.
The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.
There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.
He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.
When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.
"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.
Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.
He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.
You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.
This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.
You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.
Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.
“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”
"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.
He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”
"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.
He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”
The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"
“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”
You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."
“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.
"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.
Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”
This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.
He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”
"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.
"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.
“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.
Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.
It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.
“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”
He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.
Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”
No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.
He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”
If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.
Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.
"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.
He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.
"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.
Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”
Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.
“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”
"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.
He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.
“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.
Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”
"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."
He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.
It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."
“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”
The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.
His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.
No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.
You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.
“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.
Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.
“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”
Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”
“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.
He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”
The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.
“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”
“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”
“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”
“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.
Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”
The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”
“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”
“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”
His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”
You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”
As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”
"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.
Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”
As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.
He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”
“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.
His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.
The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.
“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”
Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.
“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”
“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”
“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.
“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.
He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.
Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.
If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.
It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)
His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”
“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.
Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”
"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."
“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”
A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.
Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”
You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.
Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.
There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.
The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”
He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."
His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.
That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.
It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”
There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.
“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.
"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.
“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.
******
"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.
“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.
"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.
“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”
"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."
Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.
"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."
There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”
The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."
“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.
"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.
“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”
“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.
******
Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.
“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.
Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.
“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.
“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.
Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”
“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”
“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”
“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”
“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.
His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”
“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”
“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”
“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”
Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.
******
It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.
He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.
“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”
Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.
“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”
“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”
Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.
“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.
Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.
It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”
“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.
“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”
“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”
“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.
“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.
The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”
His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.
“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.
He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”
Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”
“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”
Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”
“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”
“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”
“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”
“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”
“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”
“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”
“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”
“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”
“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”
Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.
Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”
Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”
“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”
Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.
“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”
“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”
“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”
“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”
He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”
“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”
"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.
Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”
“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.
“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”
“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”
“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”
“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”
Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”
“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”
“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”
“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”
“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”
“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”
“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04
423 notes · View notes
psychedelic-ink · 5 months
Text
ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒
ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x jack daniels
Tumblr media
genre: smut, minors dni, dude ranch au, modern au
word count: 7.7k
summary: joel challenges jack to make you into the finest there possibly is in two days.
warnings: threesome (mfm), mlm dynamics, some jealousy, outdoor sex, piv, oral sex, dirty talking
a/n: happy birthday @fuckyeahdindjarin 🎉 I hope you enjoy you slutty cowboys--both of them nearly gave me a heart-attack while writing ❤️‍🔥 this gif was made my the lovely @pedrorascal who I am so grateful for helping me out preparing your this bday surprise!
**dividers by @saradika
Tumblr media
You take a breath and sneak out of the cozy room. It had been hard parting away from your cozy bed. The warmth provided by the hand-knitted blanket and the scent of delicious wood made you want to never leave. They’ve really done a great job decorating the rooms of the dude ranch. It still holds the Western theme you love, but it's also adorned with rustic charm, from the weathered leather furniture to the handcrafted wooden accents, creating a welcoming atmosphere.
It had been a couple of days since your arrival. You were tired of... well, everything and desperately needed an out. You wish you could say that it happened like in the movies— a divine sign that made you come here, but no. There was no divine intervention, no mysterious flyer sticking to your face. You had to do an endless amount of research to find the perfect place, and when you were done, you picked the ranch that had the least foot traffic. You were running away from people. Choosing the most touristy one would defeat the purpose—you wanted to be alone.
And you were glad that you did. The place was amazing. Surrounded by large mountains and wide fields. This place wasn’t so people would come and see what was what. It was an actual ranch with actual people working all the time. Accepting guests was the side hustle and not the other way around. 
There were two cowboys that you constantly saw: Joel Miller and Jack Daniels. Both charming, both handsome enough to make you want to scream. Jack had been personally assigned to you, but Joel was always around, watching, observing, and, of course, running his mouth. You’ve grown accustomed to their odd friendship... rivalry? It was actually kind of cute to see Jack turn all red whenever Joel said something to undermine him. And the other seemed to know that well.
Two talented cowboys. And you, who had no idea what the hell you were doing. 
Which is why you were escaping your room like some kind of criminal at the brink of dawn. Joel’s teasing wasn’t only reserved for Jack, you got your fair share as well and it was even worse when Jack chimed in—the two seasoned horse riders letting you know just how out of your element you were. You needed to train without those two constantly spitting quips your way.
You silently make your way to the stables and blindly reach out towards Honeydust, the palomino Jack had gotten you accustomed to. You gently guide her away from the other horses. The rose-pink light of dawn has begun to trickle through the open windows, painting Honeydust’s coat in a gorgeous hue. You regret not bringing your phone; you would’ve loved to show Jack and Joel later on.
“Alright girl,” you mutter as you pat the side of her face. She whinnies slightly and digs her hoof into the ground. “It’s you and me. Let’s show them how it’s done.” 
As you reach for the saddle, you smile to yourself. You might not be that good at horse riding yet but you did learn some things—like the value of a good saddle. You take a moment to inhale the scent of it— a mix of leather, hay, and a hint of earthiness.
Honeydust stands patiently, seemingly aware of your fumbling attempts to secure the saddle. You take a deep breath, remembering the lessons Jack patiently gave you about saddling up. Slowly but surely, you manage to get everything in place. As you tighten the cinch, you feel a sense of accomplishment. A week ago, you hadn’t been able to do this. Maybe you're not a full-on cowboy, but you're determined to learn the ropes.
With the saddle secured, you grab the reins and lead Honeydust out of the stable, into the cool morning air. The sky is a canvas of pastel colors—blues, pinks, and golds blending together as the sun inches higher. It's a breathtaking sight. You pat Honeydust on the muzzle and press your cheek against her, watching the sky.
“Isn’t it beautiful,” you whisper to her. “Honestly I’m gonna hate going back. It’s been a couple of days and I’m already attached to this place.” 
Honeydust snorts and shakes her head. You smile wide as you pat her again, “You’re right. No room for sentimentality.” 
Mounting Honeydust, you settle into the saddle, adjusting to the feel of it beneath you. The quiet creak of leather is drowned out by the sounds of the waking ranch. Birds chirp in the distance, and you take a deep breath, your lungs filling with the fresh scent of the outdoors—
But then you’re slipping. 
And then falling. 
With a loud, sharp gasp, you find yourself unexpectedly upside down beneath Honeydust's belly. Panic sets in as you register the proximity of her powerful legs, your eyes widen, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. Honeydust remains still, your body still miraculously hanging to the saddle. 
Your heartbeat starts to slow, you take a deep breath. You’re fine. You’re okay. You just forgot to fasten one of the belts. 
“Need any help there, sweetheart?” 
Fuck. Busted. 
“I’m fine,” you answer, emphasizing the latter. Jean-clad legs come into view. “Just. . . trying a new riding style.” 
“Is that so?” Joel drawls, amusement dripping with every word. “And what would you call this one? The hangin’ fool?” 
“Rude.” 
His hips cock to the side and you see him placing both hands on his narrow hips, “Would it be better if I called it the hangin’ beauty?” 
“Yes actually, it would.” 
Your cheeks warm as he steps closer. You try not to stare, or perhaps that’s just you lying to yourself, but whatever your true intention was your eyes linger right over his crotch. Even with the thick jeans and the belt buckle, you know he’s packing underneath there. You can especially tell now since this is the closest you’ve ever been to it. Your mouth waters. Your brain delving further into sinful imagination when his low chuckle echoes in your ear. 
“A’right then beautiful, let’s get you out here.” he stops for a beat, his knuckles brushing down the outer part of your leg. You shudder, your legs tighten around Honeydust. “Unless you wanna show me this new ridin’ style of yours?” 
“You know what, I think I’ll take a rain check on that.” your voice is shrill and pitchy. Your eyes start to throb. “Especially since all the blood in my body is currently in my head.” 
“Oh shit—Okay, just gimme a sec.” he slides his hands under your armpits. “A’right now let go.” 
“What?” 
“Just let go, sweetheart. I got you. You’ll be okay, promise.” 
With a sharp breath, you close your eyes and loosen your legs. Joel's arms wrap further beneath yours, drawing you closer. You feel the tightening of his biceps, feel the huff of his breath against your cheek. He takes a step back and suddenly unbalanced, he falls backward, pulling you along.
With a huff, Joel lands on his ass, and you find yourself comfortably nestled against his chest. It takes you only a second for your gaze to find his. You hold your breath and so does he. His hand pleasantly curls around your waist, keeping you from moving away. His chest is firm under your own, your nipples tightening when you shift a bit, the graze of fabric makes you shudder. 
His other hand comes to brush a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You swallow not once but twice. The warmth of Joel’s palm cradles your cheek and a slow breath exits your lungs. 
“You a’right?” 
“Y—Yeah. . . thanks for helping me out.” 
“My pleasure.” His voice is deep, hoarse even, and it scratches your ears just right. You find yourself drawn to him. Your eyes dropping to his lips and back up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. His lips part. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip more prominent than ever. You lean in without a thought, he mimics you, coming in closer and closer. Your chest heaves. Your heart beating madly against your chest. 
“What the hell are you two doin’ canoodling here?” 
You jerk away, your eyes lingering on Joel long enough to see the disappointment in his gaze. His eyes close slowly and he takes a ragged breath. Shifting slightly you see Jack holding a hay bale. His eyes are narrowed, his brows knitted together as his gaze flits between you and Joel. You chew the inside of your cheek, embarrassment heating you from the inside out. 
“We ain’t canoodlin’,” Joel answers, agitated. “I found her hanging upside down under Honeydust’s belly. Who’s fault do you think is that?” 
Jack’s mouth opens and closes, his cheeks suddenly flushed. His gloved hands tighten around the hay as he pushes it up his arms. Then finally, with a softened gaze, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” 
“I’m fine,” you reply, your heart currently beating in your throat. “I just forgot to fasten the other side of the saddle.” 
Joel squeezes your waist and you’re suddenly hyper-aware that you’re basically on his lap still. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You have a shit teacher.” 
“Excuse me?” Jack’s tone is enough to have you scrambling off of Joel’s lap. If looks could kill, Joel would be dead right now. On your feet, you move towards Honeydust, and with great comfort, she nuzzles your chest. Joel smiles lazily when Jack drops the bale of hay and walks up to him. “You better take that back, old man.” 
“Yeah?” his eyes glow with mirth. “Make me.” 
Involuntarily you cover your mouth with a hand. Is it bad that you’re secretly enjoying this? The amount of testosterone in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. 
Joel slowly gets up, as if he has all the time in the world, and faces Jack. He’s slightly taller than the latter, smile still tugging at his lips as he tilts his head ever so slightly down. Jack’s nostrils flare. 
“You want me to knock you out in front of our guest?” 
“I’d love to see you try.” 
Joel takes another step closer, his chest nearly flushed against the other, he jerks his head to the side and places his hands on his hips. You swear you see Jack’s skin darkening with a deep shade of red from his chest to his neck. His jaw is wired tight, the muscle there twitching. 
“How about this,” Joel grins. “You manage to make our sweet girl here a full-on cowgirl in two days and I’ll eat my words right outta your hand, Whiskey.” 
Jack huffs and clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me that.” 
“It’s your name isn’t it?” 
“It ain’t and you know it.” 
“Your parents shouldn’t have named you Jack Daniels,” Joel rolls his eyes, “Do we have a deal or not?” 
You hold your breath when Joel extends a hand. Jack’s eyes briefly find yours, his fingers twitching. The morning chill is still in the air and despite it, beads of sweat appear on your skin. Two days. Two days and you still don’t know how to put on a saddle right. With a small shake, you attempt to warn Jack but that only makes him smile. 
He turns to Joel, “Deal,” he answers, taking his hand. “Two days. Be ready to eat your words, old man.” 
They shake on it and as they do Joel gives you a not so subtle wink. It reminds you of just how close the two of you were a mere couple of minutes ago. You avert your gaze, suddenly shy to face him, and think about what might’ve happened if Jack hadn’t interrupted. 
When Joel leaves, Jack lets out a long sigh and turns to you. 
“You slipped, darlin’, really?” 
“In my defense, it was early.” 
“Fuckin’ hell.” He shakes his head but you see the way his lips curl upwards ever so slightly. “Anyway, wait for me here and I’ll be right back. We gotta get you into tip-top shape because I ain’t gonna lose to Joel.” 
“I warned you, you know,” you softly kick the dirt with the tip of your boot. 
Jack’s tongue moves over his bottom lip, a shudder crawls up your spine and heat pools between your legs. He grips the bale of hay and throws it over his shoulder. 
“That’s why I accepted the challenge, sugar. No guest of mine is gonna leave here without feelin’ like they can conquer the world.” 
Tumblr media
“Jack this is impossible I’m never going to get the hang of this.” 
“With that attitude you sure ain’t gonna.” 
With a crooked smile, Jack watches as you draw your shoulders together and stomp your boot against the soil. The lasso is tight between your fingers, the tips of which are chafed from turning the lasso again and again in an attempt to loop the rope around one of the wooden posts. He tilts his head to the side when you turn to him, a pleading expression etched onto your beautiful face.
"This is never going to happen," you huff. However, instead of keeping his eyes locked on yours, his gaze drops to where your flannel hugs your breasts, the poor buttons struggling to keep it all together. His cock swells at the thought of licking them, sucking on your hard nipples while the sweetest noises flee from your lips. "Jack?"
He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s been staring at your gorgeous tits, he drags his gaze back slowly, his smile only growing upon seeing your parted lips and glazed eyes. “Yeah, sugar?” 
“We’re never going to win this thing with Joel,” you say and he doesn’t fail to notice how breathless you suddenly are. “How am I supposed to learn to do everything a cowboy can in two days? Seems a bit unfair.” 
“Not everythin’,” he struts towards you and peels the lasso from your fingers. “We just need to cover the basics. No one is expectin’ you to catch a knife in mid-air with a lasso.” 
Your brows furrow, “What? You’re saying you can actually do that?” 
“‘Course I can,” he chirps back. “Unlike you, I’m a top-notch cowboy.” 
His heart breaks a little when he sees how defeated you look, with a small nudge to your shoulder, he draws your gaze back to him. “Want me to show you again darlin’?” 
“Sure but I’m not sure it’ll do me any good. I’m horrible at this.” 
With a reassuring grin, Jack steps back, unwinding the lasso he took from you. He takes a moment to adjust the coils and then demonstrates the art of lassoing, the rope flying through the air in a graceful arc before landing perfectly around a wooden post.
“You see, it's all in the wrist,” he explains as he smoothly tightens the loop, making it look deceptively easy. He repeats the motion a couple of times, each throw precise and controlled.
“You know who’s really good at this?” he asks, returning his attention to you. “Joel.”
You snort, “I feel like that man is good at everything. But I’m not sure why you’re telling me that.”
“Well, you know who used to suck at it—me.”
“You?” you raise a sole eyebrow, and a teasing smile touches your lips. “You who can catch a knife in the air, supposedly, that is.”
“It takes a lot of practice, sugar. That's what I’m tryin’ to tell ya. I sucked at it. Couldn’t even do one loop. Then the old timer helped me out.”
“Joel?”
Yup," he says, noticing your shock. He had been shocked too when the man had shown him how to properly do it. It was both amazing and terrifying. Jack had never had someone care about him enough to actually show him how it's done instead of letting him struggle on his own. "And eventually, I got the hang of it. So will you.”
You smile wholeheartedly and take the lasso from him, “Thanks, Jack. I. . . I appreciate it. You actually really respect him, don’t you? Despite all the banter and arguing.” 
“That’s just how I show love, darlin’.” 
“You never argue with me.” 
His eyebrows tilt up, along with the corner of his lips. You avert your eyes as you loosely hold the rope in your hand, the exercise quickly forgotten. Jack closes the distance until there's only a breath of space between you two. He entertains the idea of lifting your head by the chin, forcing your gaze upon him, but he refrains. He wants you to listen to him and oblige.
“Look at me, darlin’,” His eyes shine with delight when you do, he leans closer. “You want me to fight you?” 
Your brows furrow, your lips forming the most adorable pout, “No. Of course not.” 
“You sure?” This time he does cup your cheek to keep your gaze fixed on him. His pinkies move towards your neck, drawing soft patterns up and down your skin. You visibly shudder, a soft breath escaping your lips. “I see how you watch when Joel and I start to bitch and moan at each other, sugar. You sure you’re not into it even a little?” 
He knows your answer. But he allows you to giggle and escape his hold anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” you say and as a response Jack wants to touch on the fact that you can’t look at him anymore, however, he’ll allow you to escape him for now. 
“Come on then, now that you got your giggles on, let’s see you at least pull in one of those cones.” 
While you attempt to just do that, Jack ends up regretting teasing you because he ends up thinking about Joel instead. It’s hard to admit that the constant bickering is the obvious telltale sign of something more. And he knows there’s something. Joel only weaponizes his tongue when you’re around. Or someone else for that matter. But when it’s just the two of them it’s different. It’s lingering touches and heavy scotch-filled conversations. Sometimes Joel would even whisper so he wouldn’t wake the others. Jack shivers as he remembers how Joel’s lips felt against the shell of his ear. Downright sinful. 
It always remained at that, however. Touches and looks and talks. Nothing more and nothing less. 
“Jack,” you say, your voice drawing him away from thoughts he’s happy to be drawn away from. “How did you end up here? Like with Joel and the rest.” 
“It’s not much of a story. I was lookin’ for a job and came here lookin’ for one.” He lifts his hat and combs his hair back with his fingers. “I actually met Tommy first. Joel doesn’t like the hiring process and says his younger brother is a better judge of character. I met him after I was hired. Then I met the little munchkins.” 
“You mean Sarah and Ellie?” 
“Yes ma’am I do,” he reaches forward, letting his fingers nearly brush yours. He chuckles, "I also know what you're doing, so stop stalling and throw the damn lasso already."
You take your bottom lip between your teeth and all Jack wants to do is pry it away from the sharp edges, "Oh, are we arguing? Should I add this moment to my journal?” you manage to lock your gaze with his, a grin spreading across your face. “Does this mean you love me?" 
He takes a step closer, leaning ever so slightly into your personal space. A hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, he breathes, "How 'bout this? You throw that rope, and I'll kiss you, sweetheart. Then you’ll really know what I feel."
Your eyes widen, "You’ll... excuse me?"
A wicked glint in his eyes, he quips, "I'll kiss you, full-blown on the lips. And believe me, it'll be my pleasure to lay one on you."
"Just throw the rope? Aren't you selling a bit short?"
Jack takes another step towards you and you can feel the heat radiating from him. His voice low and husky, he counters, "Fine then, manage to actually lasso something, and then I'll kiss you."
"You're mean. You said you'd only do it if I threw it." You challenge him by taking a step closer and he’s delighted to see it. 
Cupping her face in his hands, he grins, "Changed my mind. And you have yourself to blame for it."
With all his heart Jack wishes for you to make the throw. Something primal and ugly in him finds extreme joy in being the one to kiss you first. He hated to admit it, but his heart broke a little when he found you and Joel together, lips almost about to touch. He hated feeling like an outsider. Especially when it came from Joel.
With a determined glint in your eyes, you take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Gripping the lasso in your hands, you start to swing it in a circular motion above your head. It’s sloppy and uneven but he can see how much care you’ve put into your stance. Jack watches intently, noting the way you shift your weight from one food to another, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
As the lasso gains momentum, you release it at just the right moment. It sails through the air, forming a perfect loop. Jack's eyes follow its trajectory, silently urging it to find its mark. The loop descends gracefully, and, with a satisfying thud, it settles around a nearby plastic cone and you pull it towards yourself, the plastic moving with ease. 
A triumphant grin breaks across your face as you complete the throw. “I did it,” you gasp in a low tone, panting. Your head suddenly snaps towards him, a shit-eating grin plastered over your perfect lips. “I DID IT!”  
Jack only smiles as he leans in and cradles your face in a rush. He crashes into you, lips meeting yours in an eager, lingering kiss. He teases the seam of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. Just a brief preview of how badly he wants this to happen. His hands slip to your ass, kneading the plump flesh, his cock stiffens at how you moan into his mouth. You press against him and Jack can’t help but roll his hips to feel more of you. It’s been so long. Too long since he felt something warm and tight around his cock. 
He parts away by dragging his lips down to your chin and from there to your neck. He nips at your pulse, feeling it beating against his mouth. 
“Jack,” you breathe. “I—Wow—” 
“Kissin’ is one thing I’m better at,” he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Among other things.” 
He holds you by the neck and gently pulls away. He can’t get enough of the expression you’re giving him; pupils blown and lips slightly parted. Your chest heaves heavily, your pulse beating wildly under his palm. Jack brushes your lips together, smiling upon hearing you whimper. 
“Now, throw that lasso again and I’ll give you another kiss.” 
Tumblr media
And it all comes down to horse riding. You should be surprised but you’re not. 
The sun was finally setting over the ranch. A subtle chill settling at the base of your snake as the sun went down. It had been a tiring day full of lasso throwing, ax throwing, and knotting. Your back ached and when the final challenge finally befell you all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep. The only thing that gave you an ounce of energy was Jack’s proud smile after every challenge that was won. Joel seemed genuinely impressed. And you were genuinely surprised to find yourself acing every task. Seeing how smug Jack got made your heart flutter and stomach draw tight. 
The two of you had done a lot of kissing that day. It hadn’t gone any further but deep down you really wanted it to. 
You feel a deep sense of Deja Vu when you find yourself staring at Honeydust with a saddle in hand. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around the leather. The open air gives you a sense of calm, the cloudy sky a pleasure to gaze upon.
Jack touches the small of your back, goosebumps rising across your skin at the gentle touch, “You got this darlin’ don’t worry so much.” 
You briefly glance at the track Joel and Jack had set up for you. Wooden fences stand tall at various intervals, creating a series of jumps that make you sweat just by thinking about them. Your eyes linger on the strategically placed cones that form a zigzag pattern. 
“Honestly no matter what happens I’m impressed,” Joel cuts in, cupping Honeydust’s cheek. Your gaze moves deftly from the track to the man standing before you. As always, he looks amazing in his red and yellow flannel. “You’ve done well sweetheart.” 
“Maybe you should just forfeit and accept we won then,” you answer, smiling. Joel shakes his head. 
“Someone is sure of herself.” 
“Hell yeah, I am.” 
“Look at that,” Jack pipes. “Soundin’ like a true cowboy already.” 
You expertly secure the saddle onto Honeydust's back. The leather feels cool beneath your fingertips as you tighten the straps, ensuring a snug fit. Adjusting the stirrups, you make sure they're the perfect length for your legs. As you stand beside the horse, you can feel the intensity of Joel and Jack's gazes on you. Their eyes trace the curves of your movements, a subtle tension lingering in the air.
With everything in place, you take a deliberate breath and swing yourself onto the saddle. The leather creaks slightly under your weight as you settle into position. Honeydust shifts beneath you. You catch Joel's gaze, and a sly smirk plays on his lips. His eyes linger a moment longer than necessary, you let out a puff of air, your legs tighten around Honeydust..
"Remember, just go with the flow. You and Honeydust are a team," Jack advises and with that, you head off. 
Gently nudging your heels against the horse's side, you urge Honeydust into a graceful gallop around the track. The steadying thud of her hooves pounding against the dirt creates a harmony that molds with the song of the wind, transporting you to a place of serenity. Each hurdle makes your heart jump with excitement. The jumps seem impossible at times. As you zigzag through the cones, you can feel Honeydust's muscles tense and relax under your hands, transitioning from one step to the next with the gracefulness of a dance—
A sudden jolt disrupts the rhythm, and you find yourself tumbling to the ground. You let out a deep groan as your back hits the earth and with the corner of your eye, you see Joel taking hold of Honeydust’s reins, calming the poor palomino. Jack’s face comes into vision a second later. 
"You okay, darlin'?" When you nod and begin to get up, his worry turns to frustration as he glances at Joel. "This was supposed to be about teaching, not pushing her to the damn limit."
"I didn't mean for her to fall, Jack. So don’t act like that was my intention."
“No, your intention was to make me look like I don’t know what I’m doin’.” 
Jack, eyes still glued on Joel, helps you up. Your head is still spinning a little from the adrenaline rush but other than that you feel fine. Your eyes flitting between both men, your stomach twists and turns at how they’re both glaring at each other. This time is different from the arguments. This time they both genuinely look like they’re about to explode. Joel has his jaw tight while Jack has both hands in tight fists. “Guys. . .” 
"Why you gotta make everythin’ personal?" Joel snaps, ignoring you all together. “It was just meant to be a harmless bet.” 
Jack's eyes narrow, he tears his hand away from yours and your heart drops, "You're the one who makes it damn personal by goadin’ me all the damn time."
“That’s. . .” Joel’s eyes grow soft, his demeanor changing entirely. You watch the furrow between his brows relax, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “I’m—” 
“Can it,” Jack hisses through gritted teeth and raises a hand. “I don’t want your apology, I just wanna go. Unless you think I’m gonna be bad at that too.” 
You reach out, head still spinning, your fingers graze the back of his jacket and he slips from between your grasp. You part your lips to call out to him. To tell him to come back. But Joel takes a hold of your hand and lowers it with the shake of his head. 
“I know where he’s goin’. Let’s go.” 
“Are you telling me he has a brooding spot?” 
“He does.”
Tumblr media
The sun had set. The crickets now singing under the starry night, but Joel can't focus on any of it. He can’t because he might’ve actually screwed everything up for good this time— which would be typical of him.  
After months of contemplating whether he should take the next step or not, he’d finally made Jack snap. That had never been Joel’s intention, obviously. But he wasn’t the best at flirting. Never had been. And when Jack came into his life, all fresh faced and a lashing tongue, he couldn’t help but fall for him a little. 
You’re walking just a little bit behind him, trying to keep up. He can feel you staring at him. Your eyes curious like a newborn gazelle’s. 
“If you stare any harder I’m gonna start blushin’ sweetheart.” 
“I’m. . . I wasn’t. . .” 
“Sure you were,” he sighs. “It wasn’t my intention to be hard on him you know. It just. . . sorta happens. I care a lot about him and I just want him to. . . “ He clamps his mouth shut. What was he supposed to say? How he was hoping that all the teasing would finally push Jack into his arms? How he wanted to do more than touch Jack when he knew no one else could see. 
“You want him to. . .  what exactly?” 
“I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s complicated between us.” 
“You both have a crush on each other and don’t know what to do about it. It’s not that complicated.”
Joel’s mouth opens and closes— then opens again. “And how the hell do you know that?” 
“Because he talks about you a lot,” you answer with a soft smile. “He said he cares about you. And about your opinion.” Joel’s eyes narrow as you rub the back of your head, your eyes dropping to where you would be taking your next step. “I just don't know where I fit in all of this.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“You and I almost kissed,” you say finger moving between you two. “Jack and I actually kissed. And well. . . I don’t want to get in the middle of anything. It might be a bit sudden but I like you guys, I care about you, and want you guys to be together if that’s what you want.” 
“It’s not your job to worry about us.” Joel huffs, his guilt gnawing at him. “But I get what you mean. We. . . we didn’t intend to put you in that position. I can assure you this wasn’t some twisted game we were tryin' to play. I can't talk for Jack but I care about you. And I care about him if that makes sense. But I fear that me being emotionally constipated might’ve ruined it with him. He gets mad every time I open my mouth.” 
“That’s because you tease him all the time and honestly he’s not doing any better than you.” Joel’s eyes go wide when you suddenly cradle his cheeks and bring his face towards your own. “And you haven't ruined anything Mr. Miller. You just need to tell him exactly what you’ve been telling me.” 
“You think so?” 
“I know so.” 
Before he can reach he feels the soft touch of your lips. You kiss him slowly—tenderly. Joel follows your lead, parting his lips, he allows you to slip your tongue inside. He sucks on your tongue, enjoying the way your body presses against his. 
When you pull back, you’re completely dazed.
“Now what was that for?” he asks.
“To keep everything even” you answer, smiling. “Now let's go get our brooding cowboy.” 
It doesn’t take long for that to happen. They find Jack sitting on the ground, his back pressed snugly against the wooden fence. He’s staring at the stars. The gentle light streaming down his face and down his neck, Joel’s heart skips a beat at the sight and he feels as though he can’t breathe. 
Only when they walk closer does he notice the bottle of whiskey. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig, Joel’s eyes follow the way drops of amber trickle down his sun-kissed skin. 
All Joel wants to do is lick the bitter drop off of him. 
The two stop before him. Neither of you knowing what to do or what to say. Joel attempts to apologize by parting his lips and that is the exact moment where Jack finally meets his gaze. 
“I know,” he says curtly. “Sit.” Jack extends the bottle of whiskey. Joel, without a word, sits down and takes the bottle. Just as he’s taking a swig, he notices you’re about to leave.  Thankfully Jack stops that from coming to fruition. “And where do you think you’re goin’? Sit your ass over here.” 
Joel almost cackles at how shocked you look. With the tiniest yelp escaping your lips you sit down right next to Jack. Taking a mouthful of whiskey, Joel extends you the bottle. You take it and chug it down immediately—Jack snorts and finally Joel feels comfortable enough to laugh alongside him. 
“Calm down darlin’, it ain’t runnin’ away.” 
“Sorry,” you hiccup, shoving the bottle into Jack’s chest. “I’m nervous.” 
“Well, don’t be,” Jack sighs and his head falls back against the fence. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I—” 
“We know,” Joel says with a fond smile. He throws his arm over Jack’s shoulder and cups the back of his head, his hat tumbling to the ground—it was now or never. 
For the first time, Joel brings their faces together without the tease of what he might or might not do. He kisses Jack tenderly, softly. Just like how he wanted to treat him during all those nights they were alone together. Jack digs his fingers into Joel’s shirt, nails nearly biting into the skin. Much to Joel’s surprise, the other man tastes sweet. Their tongues move together, still unsure but eager to explore. 
When Joel opens his eyes ever so slightly, he sees you staring in awe. 
He nearly breaks away laughing. But also, he can’t really blame you for your expression. 
It really does feel magical. 
Tumblr media
You hold your breath. Every nerve ending you have is buzzing with want and arousal. The space between your legs pulsing as you watch Joel tilting his head, slipping his tongue through Jack’s eager lips. Deep down you feel like you’re intruding. That this is a tender moment that should just be between the two men but you can’t help but stay there, like a deer in headlights, watching.  
You shudder at the sound of Jack moaning, his hands grip Joel’s shoulder and host himself up the older man’s lap. He grinds down, swallowing Joel’s gasps, he parts away, a trail of saliva connecting the two. You’re still holding your breath. The tips of your fingers numb, your brain a whirlwind as it registers the sight before you. 
“Stupid old man,” Jack rasps, tilting his head to the side. “Gettin’ all sappy.” Then his heavy gaze finds your struck ones. He reaches out and in a dream-like state you take his hand, his fingers hastily close around your wrist and tugs you towards him. Your gasp is caught in your throat when he kisses you. The taste of Joel and whiskey still heavy on his tongue. 
A hand that doesn’t belong to Jack trails up the curve of your ass and squeezes. A choked-out moan drops from your lips only for Jack to shove his tongue between them. He sucks on your tongue and nips at your bottom lip all the while rolling his hips over Joel’s lap. 
“God, look at you two,” Joel groans, giving your ass another firm squeeze before moving his attention to Jack’s spread thighs. “I want to watch you eat that pretty pussy up, Jack. Bet you want that too. . .” 
Joel palms Jack’s cock through the denim, stroking him with a smug smile. Jack parts away from your lips with a whimper. His chest heaves. “Yeah,” he gasps, staring into your eyes, and his hips jerk, chasing the heat of the other’s palm. “Want you to make a mess of me, sugar.”
“Please,” you answer albeit not really needed. Your body falls back to sit on your heels, Joel crashes his lips against the younger cowboy’s, drinking the noises in like a starved man. He rips his flannel open while straightening himself, the momentum of the movement forcing Jack to grip Joel’s shoulders. He slides off of Joel’s lap, the kiss breaking when he directs his full lust-addled attention to you. 
His gaze is enough for you to start struggling with the buttons of your jeans. You kick them off in a rush and before you can take off your shirt Jack is already laying you down upon the soil, the stars above blinking down at you with mischief. Joel sitting close, pulls your head so you’re nestled comfortably above his lap. His hands cradle your face, thumbs stroking your skin gently. It’s a complete contrast compared to how Jack is. He slides your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb resting right above your clit, he stares at your from between your spread-out thighs. 
“Fuckin’ delicious,” he mutters right before delving in. He drags his tongue slowly up your folds while tenderly stroking your clit. Your back arches off of the earth, your eyes fluttering closed as he goes back down, only to kiss you tenderly. He takes his time with you. His jaw moving and tongue teasing your fluttering entrance. Your breath catches in your throat, your chest rattling, Joel shushes you while praising Jack at the same time. 
When your eyes finally open, you find Joel looking down at you. His thumb traces the underline of your bottom lip and moves down until he reaches the hem of your flannel. Flattening his thumb over your stomach, he pushes the fabric up until he exposes you to the sky completely. He cups both your breasts and smooths his fingers over your tingling nipples. 
“So hard already. . . you must really like what he’s doin’ down there huh?” 
Tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you nod. Your silent reply is answered with a sharp bite to the inside of your thigh. Your body jolts, a gasp of pain rattling your throat. Joel smiles. “I think he wants to hear you, sweetheart.”
“I love it,” you moan and as a reward, he pinches your nipples. 
“Good girl.” 
Jack presses his tongue deeper, your body clenching at both the words and the movement. He groans into your cunt, the bridge of his nose brushing your aching clit deliciously as he swirls his tongue. Your stomach coils tight and you push more of yourself into Joel’s palms, your mouth drops wide. You want more. You need more. You want them both to take and take and take—take until you forget your own damn name. 
“Joel. . .” you breathe. He looks down at you curiously. “I want to suck your cock.” 
Jack stops only for a moment before his eyes flutter closed and loses himself in you. Vaguely you can see the way he grinds down, a groan reverberating between your legs. Joel sucks in a breath and exhales from his nose. “You sure?” 
Your answer is ready on your tongue, and as soon as you give it to him, he expertly unbuttons himself. The tip of his cock pushes against your lips and your breath hitches. Precome smears over the soft flesh, your tongue darting out for a taste, you end up tasting from the source instead. Joel’s hips stutter. 
“Holy fuckin’ hell,” his hips jerk a second time, this time thrusting himself deeper into your mouth. You feel him leaning over, a second later you understand he’s reaching for the other man who is working you toward your orgasm. “Jack com’ere—Let me taste her.” 
Jack doesn’t make Joel repeat himself and unwillingly pulls himself away from between your legs. Your tongue swirls around Joel’s cock as Jack kisses him deeply. He licks himself deep into the older man’s mouth, stealing a moan deep within Joel’s chest. While Jack steals the breath from Joel’s lungs, he pushes two fingers into you with ease. Your eyes rolling, you take more of Joel into your mouth, prompting the other to instinctively thrust deep enough to make you choke around him. 
He parts from Jack with a gasp, “Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart, choke on it.” he says through gritted teeth. Both men look down at you with dark eyes, the shadows caused by the moonlight caress their backs, deepening every crease of their faces. You shudder. 
You’re surprised to see Jack dipping down, lower from where you’re sucking Joel’s cock, he sucks the tender skin of the base, and the sound that Joel makes almost feels inhumane. 
But Jack doesn’t linger. He pulls away from both of you, his torso tall between your legs, he strokes himself at the sight of your mouth full of the man he admires. 
“You like having your mouth full, darlin’? Such a dirty girl allowing two men to have you like this out in the open.” 
You whimper and nod, eyes flooding with tears as Joel shoves himself deeper. Spit and precome trickle down from where his cock stretches your lips. 
“Fuckin’ filthy,” Jack says giving himself a firm squeeze before swiping his palm over the head of his cock. With his other hand, he follows the contour of your leg, reaches all the way to your hip. “You’re ‘bout to feel much fuller.” 
He shoves himself inside you with a single thrust; your channel tightens around him, a moan escaping your throat. Your mouth is pulled away from Joel briefly, gasping for air, before he pulls you back. He adjusts his hips and slides back into your mouth, kneading the back of your neck.
“You feel that? How hot and wet you are? Both of us stretching you?” Jack's voice is gruff as he thrusts into you; your eyes close as pleasure radiates through your body, your skin left tingling. You can hear Joel moan and pant in the background, his cock throbs above your tongue and you hollow out your cheeks.
Your eyes flutter as Jack's cock glides in and out of you; his plunges getting deeper with every thrust. You feel overwhelmed by both of them. You’re left breathless and spinning. You feel only them and nothing else. 
You grip onto Joel to keep yourself teetered to the moment as Jack's movements become more desperate, Joel matching him thrust for thrust. With each gasp, Joel's cock slides further down your throat. 
The tightness inside your body grows; waves of pleasure cascade through you. The pressure builds and builds and builds—You’re so close you can taste it. Jack presses a palm over your mound, adding pressure as he draws quick and tight circles around your clit. Your throat convulses around Joel’s cock and he pulls out, his length resting comfortably above your lips. You breathe heavily against him, his cock slick and warm on your skin. 
“Atta girl,” he coos. “Just a bit more. . . Show us how pretty you look when you come.” 
You feel the pressure between your legs mounting with each hard thrust from Jack, your moans becoming louder and more desperate. Joel encourages Jack to go faster, and with each plunge you feel the tension in your core build higher and higher. 
And finally the coil snaps. 
Your whole body trembles and shakes. Your orgasm still rolling over your body like a violent wave. Jack pumps his hips into yours as he digs his hands into your hips. He keeps thrusting relentlessly, pushing himself as far in as he can before he pulls out. His jaw goes slack, cock gliding over your mound, he spills over your skin. You shudder at the trickle of his seed. 
Joel’s cock slides across your lips, teasing you. Your tongue darts out and quickly wraps around him, you tilt your head to take in all of his length. You push your mouth onto him, bobbing your head up and down until he groans. His hips buck erratically and at the same time you feel the touch of Jack’s mouth against the side of your neck. 
You swallow everything that he offers you, savoring every moment of the taste of him. You stay close to him until his breathing returns to normal, his thighs shaking underneath you as he pulls out. 
“Holy shit,” Jack chokes out as he collapses on top of you, head right above your chest. Joel wipes the sole tear that had escaped you eye and smiles. You bring his palm to your lips and kiss the rough skin. 
“It’s going to be hard walking away from all of this,” you whisper, shuddering when Jack’s mouth moves against the side of your breasts. 
“Who says you have to walk away?” 
You don’t have it in you to go into the details of your life and how you have to go. Or entertain the idea that maybe the things that you thought were important aren’t as essential that you thought after all. It’s pure chaos and right now all you want is to feel their warmth against your bare skin under the stars. 
For now, you are content and feeling grateful for the two amazing men who coincidentally made themselves an inseparable part of your life.  
668 notes · View notes
rosepascal · 2 months
Text
Pedro Character Writer Blog Rec List
In no particular order here are some Pedro character writers + their masterlists. This is an ongoing list so it will be updated continuously
If there is no masterlist link it means I couldn't find it.
If you think an acct should be here plz let me know and ill add them!
@coulsons-fullmetal-cellist - masterlist (Dieter Bravo)
@chronically-ghosted - masterlist (Javier Pena, Dieter Bravo, Max Phillips, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike, Frankie Morales)
@grogusmum - masterlist (Pero Tovar, Javi G, Oberyn Martell, Ezra, Frankie Morales, Din Djarin)
@huffle-punk - masterlist
@beardedjoel - masterlist (Joel Miller)
@punkette1026 - masterlist (Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Marcus Pike)
@thefrogdalorian - masterlist (Din Djarin)
@jobean12-blog - masterlist (Joel Miller)
@burntheedges - masterlist (Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Din Djarin)
@theywhowriteandknowthings - masterlist (Javier Pena, Dieter Bravo, Frankie Morales), Joel Miller, Dave York, Din Djarin)
@covetyou - masterlist (Joel Miller, Dieter Bravo)
@janaispunk - masterlist (Joel Miller, Dave York, Javier Pena)
@gasolinerainbowpuddles - masterlist (Joel Miller)
@missredherring - masterlist (Agent Whiskey, Dieter Bravo, Din Djarin, Eddie BTVS, Ezra, Frankie Morales, Joel Miller, Marcus Pike, Marcus Moreno, Maxwell Lord, Oberyn Martell, Tim Rockford)
@hyzer34 - masterlist (Joel Miller, Frankie Morales)
@beskarandblasters - masterlist (Din Djarin, Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Ezra, Dieter Bravo, Tim Rockford, Mr. Ben)
@studioghibelli - masterlist (Joel Miller)
@pimosworld - masterlist (Frankie Morales, Joel Miller, Dave York, Javier Pena)
@toomanystoriessolittletime - masterlist (Agent Whiskey, Dieter Bravo, Din Djarin, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Max Phillips, Joel Miller, Marcus Pike, Marcus Moreno, Maxwell Lord, Oberyn Martell, Pero Tovar, Javi G, Javier Pena)
@magpiepills - masterlist (Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dieter Bravo, Javi Pena, Marcus Moreno, Ezra, Marcus Pike)
@lincolndjarin - masterlist (Din Djarin, Joel Miller, Agent Whiskey, Frankie Morales, Javier Pena, Ezra)
@thot-of-khonshu - masterlist (Frankie Morales)
@gg-pedro - masterlist
@punkshort - masterlist (Joel Miller)
@wheresarizona - masterlist (Javier Pena, Joel Miller, Dave York, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Agent Whiskey, Javi G, Marcus Pike, Max Phillips, Oberyn Martell)
@joelalorian - masterlist (Joel Miller)
@iamasaddie - masterlist (Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Frankie Morales, Veracruz, Dave York, Oberyn Martell, Marcus Pike, Tim Rockford)
@auteurdelabre - masterlist (Joel Miller, Dieter Bravo, Javier Pena, Frankie Morales)
@undercoverpena - masterlist (Javier Pena, Frankie Morales, Joel Miller, Marcus Pike)
@fhatbhabie - masterlist (Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Frankie Morales, Dieter Bravo)
@sweetenerobert - masterlist (Joel Miller, Dave York, Dieter Bravo, Frankie Morales, Oberyn Martell)
@whxtedreams - masterlist (Joel Miller, Javier Pena)
@anabdaniels - masterlist (Agent Whiskey)
@psychedelic-ink - masterlist (Agent Whiskey, Dieter Bravo, Din Djarin, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Max Phillips, Joel Miller, Marcus Pike, Marcus Moreno, Oberyn Martell, Pero Tovar, Javi G, Javier Pena, Ezra)
@hellishjoel - masterlist (Joel Miller, Frankie Morales)
@mypoisonedvine - masterlist (Javier Pena, Din Djarin, Joel Miller, Dieter Bravo, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike)
@flightlessangelwings - masterlist (Din Djarin, Veracruz, Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Marcus Pike, Pero Tovar, Marcus Moreno, Javi G, Ezra, Agent Whiskey, Max Lord)
@penvisions - masterlist (Din Djarin, Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Javier Pena)
@popcornforone - masterlist (Dave York, Javi Gutierrez, Din Djarin, Tim Rockford, Oberyn Martell, Frankie Morales, Marcus Pike, Max Phillips, Mr. Ben, Joel Miller, Marcus Moreno, Dieter Bravo, Max Lord)
@idolatrybarbie - masterlist (Frankie Morales, Marcus Pike, Dieter Bravo, Max Phillips)
@albertasunrise - masterlist (Frankie Morales, Marcus Pike, Ezra, Din Djarin)
@princessanglophile - masterlist (Oberyn Martell, Din Djarin,
@tightjeansjavi - masterlist (Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dieter Bravo, Frankie Morales, Javi G)
@morallyinept - masterlist (Ezra, Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Javier Pena, Dave York, Agent Whiskey, Oberyn Martell, Dieter Bravo, Marcus Pike, Din Djarin, Max Phillips, Marcus Moreno)
@thelastofhyde - masterlist (Javier Pena, Joel Miller)
@honeyedmiller - masterlist (Din Djarin, Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Frankie Morales)
@welcometodrama - masterlist (Joel Miller)
@lumoverheaven - masterlist (Joel Miller)
@swiftispunk - masterlist (Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Ezra, Frankie Morales, Tim Rockford, Marcus Pike, Javi G)
@dilfspitdrinker - masterlist (Joel Miller, Frankie Morales)
@ghotifishreads - masterlist (Joel Miller, Dieter Bravo, Frankie Morales, Tim Rockford)
297 notes · View notes
kedsandtubesocks · 1 month
Text
cowboys like us
Bull Rider!Din Djarin x F!Reader x Bronco Rider!Jack Daniels
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: one cowboy is already a challenge, but two is either going to be your best blessing or worst curse
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, modern rodeo cowboys AU, Din is still a papa and has his baby, light discussion of the rodeo and events, light angst & miscommunication with eventual resolution, Jack & his sweet talk with calling reader ‘baby, honey, sugar,” bar scene with moments of drinking, heavy making out, intense grinding & dry humping, spicy moments, M/M/F & M/M dynamics, polyamorous exploration that leads to eventual poly relationship
word count: 5.9k
a/n: welcome to the first fic of the ‘Let’s Rodeo’ series! I know, I know, this is such a strange combo & AU but I’m such a sucker for cowboy Din and of course Jack decided to barge in and here we are lol, the biggest and deepest thank you’s go to @perotovar @lowlights @nothoughtsjustmeds & @beskarandblasters - this wouldn’t be here without y’all and I’m so eternally grateful…and to you if you’re reading this thank you so much
Tumblr media
You wonder if maybe you’ve unknowingly slipped into a strange country song and not realized it.
Popcorn litters the floor all around. The plastic arena seat is a bit uncomfortable. A drunk woman behind you almost spilled beer on you but apologized profusely. There are more cowboy hats here than you’ve ever seen in your entire life.
But as you sit in this strange existence a voice over the loudspeaker comes and sparks up your soul. As the announcer’s voice booms, loud screams swallow up the air of the stadium.
You spot him already climbing onto the bronco and your heart jumps into your throat.
“The man smooth as whiskey!” The announcer screams clear and booming with an accented southern pride.
“Give it up for Jack Daniels!”
Shrill shrieks erupt fanatically loud as if the place now morphes into a boy band concert instead of a rodeo competition.
That is until the alarm sounds. The chute opens, and the ride begins.
Focusing on Jack is chaotic. The bronco bucks frenzied trying to throw the cowboy off with a wild strength. His black Stetson hat goes flying and your stomach drops at how rapidly his body whips around. Back and forth, back and forth, he tries holding on with simply one hand.
It’s terrifying. It’s hypnotic.
Then it’s over fast.
The beautiful horse flings off Jack and he lands on the dirt. You clutch the edge of your plastic seat. The horse continues bucking and your mind rushes to the worst case scenario of the creature’s strong might rearing down on Jack.
Then the cowboy springs up like nothing.
A smile even illuminates his handsome face and it ignites the crowd into a gleeful roar.
You don’t even know if he did good. You barely understand the point system or average or whatever it is.
The horse thankfully settles and Jack struts away effortless.
Suddenly Jack’s salt of the earth eyes flick up. He scans the crowd until his gaze lands on you.
The seat you’re in sits close to the edge of the arena, on the floor just right outside the ring.
Then, with all the confidence of a man whose job it is to ride a bucking bronco, Jack blows you a kiss.
The drunk woman behind you along with her friends scream their heads off thinking he blew the kiss to them. Maybe he did. He’s a damn flirt. You even glance backward to see one of the girls, very drunk, tries to calm herself down from freaking out.
Jack now walks heads to the side to exit. His eyes however stay glued to you. And the minute you turn back to stare at him…he winks.
Then he vanishes.
This cowboy might be this event’s closer, but this isn’t the end of the rodeo for you. The incoming bull rides shift the air. It’s considered another heavy hitter main event and the anticipation bubbles.
Unlike Jack, who arrives like a firecracker ready to brighten up any room he enters, this cowboy emerges like a shadow.
Keeping his head down, it doesn’t help that a protective mask covers his handsome face. However, the energy radiating off the cowboy’s deadly focus composure is like a quiet storm on the horizon.
He stays silent, doesn’t even lift his eyes up, almost in a focused trance.
“Mr. Silent and Deadly himself… Din Djarin!” The announcers boom out his name.
Then you watch as the man becomes a myth, one who tames a wild force of nature.
Din and bull fly out of the chute with a choking force.
In the same way your breath stopped watching Jack getting bucked around, the same dizzying panic fills you as Din battles the same force.
He stubbornly stays on, rides as the bull thrashes around. You wonder if this is where some mythologies stem from because it is something unreal watching this man move with this powerful creature.
The crowd hoots and hollers cheering Din on. You stay petrified in your seat.
Then the ride finishes fast.
Din flies off the bull and your breathing stops. Rapidly the trainers along with other cowboys scramble to settle the bull and check on Din. The bull rider casually rises up unbothered, unshaken, and the crowd goes wild.
You exhale a loud shaken sigh of relief. Your body feels like jello, as if fear has finally been exorcized from your body leaving you a boneless mess.
Suddenly Din rips the guard mask off and all attention falls to him. Sweat adds a shine to his face and his hair is a tousled mess but he’s never looked more gorgeous.
“What the fuck?! Dude, he’s hot too?!” Someone squawks out.
The ladies sitting behind you of course notice Din and squeal out feverishly. Unlike Jack, an actual peacock who owns the crowd basking in the attention, Din’s face stays lowered with his eyes averted shyly.
Until his dark eyes suddenly flicker up, like a viper peering out from a cave. His eyes find you surprisingly fast.
You and him simply stare at each other. Then so quickly Din averts his eyes away again and heads off.
The shakiest exhale leaves you.
Your heartbeat drums loud in your ears as if you were the one who just finished the wild rides. And maybe you did in your own way.
“Oh my fucking god!” Behind you one of the girls screams. “So many hot cowboys! Like, how the fuck do you pick just one?!”
Alcohol drenches her playful words. However, to you they become barbed and catch on your heart. Because how do you pick between two handsome cowboys different as day and night.
“Babe!” One of the girls giggles. “That’s the secret, you don’t pick just one! You have ‘em all!”
She howls a wild laugh and the others scream scandalized but gleeful. One of them even jokingly says ‘so you gotta catch ‘em all like pokemon!’ which almost makes you laugh.
But the words hang in your heart like a rusting anchor.
Grabbing your bag, you head out. Arriving at the backstage area of the arena, you flash the visitor’s access pass to security who lets you through. You’ve only done this a few times before but your heart still races getting this type of entrance.
Earlier today Din said he’d wait for you after in the small rest waiting room. When you open the door, you stumble upon a sight.
Jack's hand firmly holding Din’s face -
As the two men passionately kiss each other.
Jack’s taller than Din, slightly, not by much. Din’s build however is firmer, solid, compared to Jack’s sleek stature.
Immediately they both break away from each other as if electrocuted.
Din and Jack’s eyes catch sight of you and their faces fall. Din whispers your name out while Jack stays silent.
Reality rams into you like a released wild bull.
Because you realize you’ve interrupted them. You're barging in, an actual third wheel.
You want to move, want to say something. But you can’t even imagine what. It clicks that you read this whole situation wrong. Maybe neither of them actually held feelings for you.
A sudden loud knock on the wall makes you and the cowboys practically jump.
One of the event announcers pops his head in casually.
“Hey sorry, but you’re needed out back Djarin.” He says to Din then leaves.
Even with the surprise arrival and then departure, the thick tension doesn’t leave the air. If anything it’s caused a strange vacuum to form.
Jack now breathes out your name hesitantly. Yet, his eyebrows are furrowed hard, concerned and upset. Din’s dark eyes shine so visibly soaked with worry.
Before you can even say anything one of Jack’s main coaches and manager, Champ, waltzes in. He’s a striking presence that draws all the focuses to him
Champ whistles loud. “Who died in here?”
No one says a word.
“Alrighty then,” Champ shrugs, not wanting to dive into whatever he senses.
“Daniels come on,” he urges. “I ain’t waiting anymore. They’re probably waiting for you too Dinny.”
Champ’s nickname for Din, which Din himself detests, makes you smirk and brightens your spirit for a moment.
But the awful tension stays sticking to your skin allowing a poison to seep in.
“Hey there, sweet pea.” Champ nods his head acknowledging you. With a weak smile you nod back.
You politely excuse yourself and leave.
The walk out of the arena is the longest of your life.
Everything you just saw flashes through your mind a rapid flip picture book. You can process what you saw but can’t fully grasp it.
Even outside, the roar of the rodeo swirls around even in you.
You might have wandered into a country song earlier but you didn’t realize it was going to be a heartbreak one.
Tumblr media
You met Din first in a grocery store parking lot.
It had been a total accident. Literally. You had gotten into a small fender bender with him in the parking lot of a grocery store.
He drove the oldest silver Honda Civic ever still existing and still can’t believe it didn’t even manage to take a hit. You were also horrified when you saw there was a baby sleeping away in the car.
Yet the entire time Din was so kind and concerned about your wellbeing.
You didn’t realize it then, but that shy and very handsome scruffy man with his ancient Honda Civic would change the orbit of your life.
Because that day you accidentally collided with a cowboy, it opened your world like a vast desert horizon.
Jack arrived soon after.
If Din was the soft daybreak, then Jack came in like a dust devil.
Though they competed in two different categories, you discovered many rodeo circuits crossed paths.
When you went to visit Din months ago at the ranch housing many of the cowboys for training, that’s when you first met Jack.
He walked straight up to you and asked if you were lost because he was concerned heaven was missing an angel.
He hasn’t shut his mouth since.
Before it was simply you and Din. But Jack is a force that seems to barge his way in like the wild broncos he rode.
He is shameless in flirting. He often playfully touches yours and Din’s cheeks often, or casually drapes himself over you or his fellow cowboy.
Din on the other hand is quietly sweet. He routinely sends you photos of the sunrises of all the cities he travels to.
So opposite, they almost are like the sun and moon.
You began caring for them fiercely and fell so fast.
But now, you contemplate if you simply played yourself a fool becoming your own rodeo clown.
All the ideas, all the heavy conflict of having to pick between the two of them, taste bitter on your tongue. You take a long swing of your drink to hopefully wash it away. It doesn’t.
Din texted you asking to please meet him here at this bar near the secondary training arena and now you wait.
It’s lively tonight. Even after being thrown into the world of cowboys, or rodeo circuits, sitting in the honky tonk bar feels as if you’re on another planet. The music thankfully has a nice beat so you enjoy the song playing.
Someone slides in besides you, not even sitting on the bar stool.
“You seem lonely.” The voice of a stranger.
Besides you, a lanky college freshman looking guy leans against the bar staring at you.
“Just waiting for a friend.” You politely answer.
“Well, maybe you’d like some company waiting?”
You’re about to decline when a looming presence arrives at your back.
“Sorry there buckaroo, but this lovely peach is taken for the night.”
Jack’s smooth voice rings out and shocks your system.
The stranger’s face drops comedically fast and the punk scrambles away without another word.
You turn around and it isn't just Jack behind you but Din is as well.
Jack wears his black cowboy hat and you’re surprised to see Din in one as well. He rarely wears his Stetson but it transforms him.
In typical western, the dark midnight cowboy hats are that of the outlaws, the bandits. One of Din’s managers, an older man named Cobb Vanth, once told you that.
And maybe these two are.
Yet, even as bandits, they stand before you like two country romance song dreams. The kaleidoscopic lights dance and radiate off them.
Din mutters your name with hesitation swirling in his eyes.
Panic prickles against your skin. You’re not ready yet.
So you turn to the bartender and order three rounds.
“Honeypie, we gotta talk.” Jack says low, strikingly somber.
Shaking your head, you swallow hard. “Not now. I just…can we just please…just wait for a moment.”
Please let’s just enjoy this false dream a little longer, is what your heart whispers out.
“Of course.” Din mutters and they both move to sit on either side of you, a sort of barricade you’re already missing.
The drinks come and in a nervous quiet move you and the cowboys cling your glasses together. Everyone tosses the shot back. The tequila burns and helps slightly.
You decide if this a goodbye to this dream, you want to at least enjoy it a bit tipsy. So you order another round.
“Careful.” Din urges, ever the cautious one.
“Come on.” You now perk up. “You two both scored high yesterday! We gotta celebrate.”
Which is true. Even with your brewing heartbreak, you still got excited seeing their scores from the app alert. Because that’s the person you’ve become. You have apps on your phone dedicated to rodeo cowboy scores. Well, you might be deleting those apps soon.
You move to take the next shot.
You raise your glass to your two dear cowboys - the ones who you text everyday, the ones you try facetiming as much as you can, your dearest friends.
And maybe that’s all they will be.
You toast to their scores and to them.
Din’s eyes hold a pained shine in them that makes your heart twist. Jack instead wears a rather terrifying steeled up composed face.
You feel empty taking this shot and only Jack throws his back with you. Din even doesn’t touch his drink.
This time the tequila goes down warm and numbing.
The alcohol begins to work its confidence magic in you as you tease Din for not wanting to drink with you. He however glares at you and you’re reminded of an unwavering mesquite tree.
Maybe this is a bad decision.
You can’t be selfish about this. These two found each other. All those moments you thought they had feelings you simply had read the situation wrong.
“Look,” you sigh now, deflated. “I’m sorry-”
Jack suddenly smacks his hand against the bar countertop. It’s aggressively firm, a loud startling whack of a noise.
“Dancin’.” Jack declares loudly. “We’re gonna dance.”
“What? You and him?” You ask over the music.
“No.” Jack snaps. “We’re all goin’. So get your asses up.”
Din scoffs.
Jack, with firm hands yanking on yours and Din’s sleeves, actually drags everyone to the dance floor.
You can’t comprehend what’s happening. The floor is heavily crowded and no one notices three more additions.
“I don’t dance.”
“I can’t dance.”
Both you and Din fling out the same hurried replies to Jack.
He barks a laugh.
“It ain’t about being good at dancin’. S’about feelin’ the music, feelin’ the beat.” He yells back and then instantly transforms into a commanding force.
Sliding behind you, Jack turns you around to face Din.
His and your eyes go wide.
Jack then reaches to yank at Din’s dusty jacket, effectively pulling him forward -
Straight to your front.
Your heart hammers loud in your ears, so loud it drowns out the music blaring.
“Relax.” Jack purrs out. “Just…feel.”
You want to bark back about how that’s easier said than done. But your tongue gets tied up so badly you can’t form words.
Then one of Jack’s solid hands moves to your hips while the other reaches across to rest against Din’s shoulder.
You’re locked into them.
Jack begins to move you slowly.
The music shifts into something sultry, almost aching to be a slow dance, but a lively beat keeps it moving. You didn’t even think country songs could have this kind of vibe. Even though Jack mainly guides your hips, you already start swaying to the beat on your own.
That’s when Jack slowly bumps and nudges his hip against yours, fully pressing you closer to Din.
The position isn’t lost on you. It’s undeniably intimate, overly sexual, and you’re worried how this looks to others in the bar.
Then Din presses forward firmer against you and your mind blanks for a moment. Now sandwiched between a cowboy canyon, a dangerous heat burst from your chest.
Jack moves his nose against your face.
“Relax gorgeous,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”
Your eyes hazing over flicker to Din who stares out with a deep desire swimming in his eyes. Cautiously his hands now move to rest on your hips. One of them goes on top of Jack’s.
You swallow hard and pray the lingering liquid courage will bless you.
Deliberately, sensually, your hips wiggle and grind between the two of them. You might not be properly dancing right or even swaying to the beat, but desire is the one guiding your body.
Many times nights alone in your bed you've thought of them like this with you. And now, you’re here caught in the sticky heart of that passionate desire.
Din dives forward and presses his face against yours.
Jack groans as his nose buries into your hair. Their cowboy hats create a sort of cover over you casting a shade against the glittering bar lights.
You’re literally under their shadow.
“Oh baby.” Jack whimpers.
Your hands, which you awkwardly kept close to your chest almost afraid to touch this dream and have it pop like a soap bubble, now tingle. You want to touch them both as much as you can.
So one of your hands slides up to hold onto Jack’s face while your other runs up Din’s broad chest to his shoulder. Your hips continue to sway and grind between them.
Then, like a spark ignited, something shifts.
Maybe it’s more people crowding in on the dance floor, or the heat finally bubbling over, but you’re suddenly squished firmly between them, practically glued together. Din’s face, his striking nose, presses against yours while Jack burrows the side of his face against your cheek.
They purposely rut into you. You think this is maybe the closest taste of what it would feel like for them to fuck you and you drown in it.
With Din and Jack, both hard, grinding against your front and back, your eyes close. A debauched sensation sinks its claws into you. It’s sinful and utterly deliriously delicious. You worry you’re about to melt.
Lust rips through you, an incinerating beast, and you bow to it.
In that haze, Din leans down and licks the sweat on your neck. His tongue against your skin, electrifies you. You ascend out of your body and moan.
Your body bucks up hard begging for attention and release only to find you’re still firmly caught between a cowboy canyon.
Jack shushes you firm but low. “G’damn y’all ‘re gonna be the death of me.”
His voice slurs, almost sounded drunk in something dangerous. Din continues licking at your neck not stopping once.
Suddenly Jack moves and shifts your body. The jostling breaks the movement and snaps you aware, like you’re slowly waking up, wearily trying to recapture your focus.
Quickly he snags your hand and Din’s. Out of reflex you clutch onto Din’s jacket. Jack, now a focused man on a mission, guides the three of you out of the crowd.
“Where are we going?” Din mutters against your face.
“Don’t know.” You answer truthfully.
You can’t tell where Jack guides you. The haze still fogging up your focus keeps you surprisingly pliant. It also doesn’t help that Din now practically drapes himself against your back, a protective cowboy like cloak. His lips continue to softly try and kiss any inch of skin he can reach.
You never thought he’d be the greedier one.
Jack guides everyone down a hallway past the restrooms. He even shouts a friendly greeting at someone. Of course he would know people here.
“Get your asses in here.” Jack now growls and his accent seems stronger.
That’s where he opens a door to a small back office type room and barrels everyone inside.
Jack’s not gentle. He almost yanks everyone in like a panicking kid trying to hide something from their parents. The door slams behind him. You’re transported into a badly lit mess of an office.
Jack whips around, pitches forward and before you can react he moves to attack your neck alongside Din.
His tongue licks a possessive strip up to your jaw then starts biting at your skin.
A wild moan escapes you as your eyes blissfully close.
You’re burning up. Your body, now molten, is only held up by your cowboys pressing flat against you. Both Jack’s mustache and Din’s faint beard scrape against your skin beautifully. Two tongues maping out your skin makes your mind evaporate. Every inch of your body screams for them.
That’s when you feel Jack drag his tongue on your neck down towards Din.
With another playful nip at your skin, Jack moves to lick against Din’s mouth still on you.
The wildest moan escapes you and you almost come right then.
Both cowboys almost kiss each other while also trying to still taste at your neck has you absolutely dizzy.
It’s hot and consumes every inch of you. You’re panting ridiculously loud and you can’t even hold back your whines or whimpers anymore. Slick pools between your thighs and sticks to your body. Your neck feels just as wet with the spit covering your skin.
Suddenly a loud aggressive bang rattles the door and your perfect illusion pops.
Panic barrels into you like a wild bull and your eyes go wide.
But your cowboys react fast. Din protectively curls his sturdy arm over you and draws you closer. Jack whips around and stands protectively in front as if to block the view.
Thankfully no one opens the door.
“Ya better not be fuckin’ on my god damn couch, Daniels!” A man howls with laughter.
“No fuckin’ way in hell.” Jack hollers back. “Not when your nasty ol’ ass calls its home.”
From the other side of the door the owner of this room laughs electrically loud. The man smacks on the door twice, an almost playfully goodbye.
The blazing heat that was melting you now simmers out like a fast dying out ember. An awkwardness settles in its place.
Your mind sorts through the heavy doubts again. Were you just a toy for them to play with? And even though a more aggressive side urges you to just enjoy and not think more into this, you don't want to be seen as just an accessory to their duo.
So slowly and quietly you untangle yourself from them.
Din mutters your name slightly confused and Jack turns around looking towards you.
“Where ya headin’ out to, peach?” Jack asks surprisingly composed.
You quietly tell them you’re gonna head home. A thick tension returns, choking the room.
Din calls your name, solid and striking.
“We need to talk.” His words are firm.
You want to make a sarcastic quip that they weren’t much for talking a few moments ago. But you don’t. You want to go home, maybe wash your skin off till you reach bone. You want to wash them away because it’s sinking in.
This last taste of desire is maybe your goodbye.
“Now why ya gotta make it sound like we’re talkin’ about a goddamn funeral, darlin’?!” Jack huffs annoyed.
Din shoots him a sharp annoyed look.
Darlin’
You’ve never heard Jack call his fellow cowboy that.
His nicknames for Din ranged from ‘pigeon’ to ‘sourpuss’ all were affectionately teasing in nature. Now the tender pet name holds the unspoken truth, as if seeing them kissing didn’t solidify it earlier.
“I’m sorry, I just…I read this wrong…” your voice becomes small and deflated. You would head home with a broken pride, but you didn’t want to be bitter about this.
Your eyes flicker up to them.
“You two… I’m glad you both found each other.” You smile weakly, the strongest attempt at being honorable and good. Yet the words turn to ash on your tongue.
You promise you’ll text them when you get home and now turn to leave again.
“The fuck s’that all about?” Jack snarls and his words snap your spine straight.
“Jack.” Din chides him sharp and your attention whips back to them a bit panicked.
Anger, along with the faintest edge of annoyance, colors Jack’s handsome face as he glares at you.
Your face scrunches up confused. What is he so upset about?
“The three of us were practically just humping like fuckin’ barn animals in heat and you wanna say shit like that?” A hot flash runs in Jack’s eye and you swear he even sounds hurt.
“Don’t say it like that.” Din glares.
Your eyes flicker between them and an edge of panic starts crawling on your skin.
“Wait, what?” You mutter out confused.
Silence suffocates the room and it feels like you’ve entered into a classic western standoff waiting to see who will strike first.
“Oh baby,” Jack’s gentle exhale shatters the moment as his eyes stare so directly at you. “Ya haven’t realized it?”
“What?” You squeak out confused.
“We’re crazy for ya… like a bunch of fools tangled up in a damn lasso.”
Jack’s words ignite a flurry of sparks within your chest that knock you breathless.
Turning towards Din, you notice his Stetson hat slid off, possibly during the heat of the moment earlier. But it allows you the clearest view of his gruff face and you think he’s never looked younger. His face is open. Hesitation and worry linger in Din’s dark road eyes reminding you of how secretly tender hearted this cowboy is.
Then Din nods so slowly, agreeing.
You almost choke on an inhale.
The sudden thought of picking between them has a fanged spike of anxiety rushing through you.
You didn’t want to pick. But, were you being selfish because of that?
Sensing your hesitation, or catching whatever emotions now flood your face, both cowboys now hesitantly move towards you.
“Talk to us, please.” Din softly urges.
Your voice cracks, tripping on itself annoyingly conflicted. But you manage to cough out that you don’t think you can pick between them. You don’t think you ever could and you’re worried your heart might not even handle it.
“Oh sweet baby,” Jack breathes out.
Suddenly the back of his hand tenderly strokes your cheek. Din gently glides his hand to your back and softly rubs you soothingly.
Your heart jumps into your throat at their sudden shift in affections.
“You don’t have to worry…or pick.” Din explains softly and with comfort.
Wait.
“You both…” you exhale shakily. “You two want me? Want us?”
For some reason, the notion of ‘us’ strikes you right then and there. That idea of you and them becoming an ‘us’ feels like the most natural progression in your mind.
Your best friend, when you told her about you and these cowboys, had cautiously asked if there was maybe a possibility of a poly type relationship happening. You immediately shot her down, not even wanting to think of the option.
But if you had been honest, a part of you started feeling guilty at the thought of wanting that. You enjoyed spending time with Jack just as much as Din. And you enjoyed spending time with them together.
Now you stand on the new ground of something beautiful waiting for you to step into.
“Sweetheart, hate to break it to ya…but we’ve been an us even before our dumbasses even realized it.” Jack snorts.
Din rolls his eyes and you snicker. But Jack is right.
Tentative date-like nights included Jack joining. Jack constantly invited both you and Din to his ridiculously lavish RV he used for the rodeo road trip days. That eventually led to days where you and Jack waited together for Din to finish. Or Din and you watching Jack practice. Din even began bringing his adoptive son over and Jack took to the baby like a fish to water.
This path you unknowingly had been on now is about to be crystalized before you and it warms every bit of your soul.
But a sharp fanged doubt suddenly gnaws at you.
“Wait,” your voice wavers. “This…this isn’t the alcohol talking right?”
Din sighs, shaking his head no but Jack answers first.
“‘Fraid not gorgeous. Been wanting this for a while.”
All worries get snipped and float out of your body leaving you so limitless.
Din leans to draw you into his side embrace and burrows his face against you.
“Sorry we didn’t discuss this sooner.” He mutters. “It all just…kind of happened.”
You understand and lean back against him. Din exhales shaky, soaked in a relief you can almost feel in your bones.
“Now, now, you two angels can’t go leavin’ out ‘ol Jack.” Of course Jack chimes in.
“Maybe it’s time we rethink this.” Din dryly comments and you laugh when Jack squawks out like a disgruntled crow.
But he effortlessly manages to borrow against both you and Din. It’s a little cluster, a soft clanging of bodies, but it’s cozy and feels right.
Someone yells outside the door laughing and your heart jumps.
“Whose office are we even in?” Din mutters out.
“Jimmy’s. Well technically mine too since I own the bar with him.” Jack casually drops.
Of course he did.
“And as cozy as it is here,” Jack adds gently. Both of their hands now intertwine against your hip.
“I say we move this little party somewhere nicer, like let’s say…my trailer?” Jack offers.
His RV is nice. Din’s is very spartan compared to Jack’s that had a full king sized bed and jacuzzi.
They truly are your sun and moon, so opposite and yet so beautifully brightening up your sky. A beautiful buoyant bliss fills you knowing you’re in their orbit, just as much as they’re in yours.
Tumblr media
Din’s baby boy is a fidgety one. While he enjoys running around, he also loves to watch the world form anyone’s welcoming arms.
Which at the moment happens to be yours.
The baby chews happily on his favorite adorable stuffed longhorn plushie while the two of you enjoy the peace of the arena.
Without the noise, the yells and commotion of the crowd, or the sea of cowboy hats, the arena is strangely quiet, almost church-like in its own way. You understand now how it can even inspire a deep devotion.
After all, you see it through the eyes of two cowboys.
The baby happily shrieks and begins twisting in your arms. You turn to see what’s gotten his attention.
“Why howdy there my lil’ tumbleweed!” Jack warmly cries out and without hesitation scoops the sweet little boy into his arms.
The baby squeals in delight as Jack peppers him with kisses. Your heart melts at the sight.
“Don’t worry, didn’t forget about you too darlin’.” Jack winks and leans to kiss you soft now.
His mustache tickles your lips and you smirk. He also playfully and lightly smacks your bottom. You shoot him a look while Jack innocently shrugs.
“Our cowboy come out yet?” He asks.
You shake your head. Not yet. Din being ever the respectful man he is, allowed the others to use the practice bull first and took the last slot available for the practice times.
However, his team and the others arrive just as fast. Din steps out, the true silent assassin he’s regarded as. He’s memorizing to watch, so deeply focused and intense.
The baby now whines at being held and demands to be put down.
“Don’t worry I’ll watch him, you watch Din.” You reassure Jack while he places baby boy on his feet. The baby immediately waddles away, absolutely giddy to be free.
“Lil’ stinker.” Jack affectionately teases with adoration shining in his eyes.
Your eyes now watch the curious little babe you treasure so dearly. Behind you though, the training starts.
The clang of the chute being prepared and the commotion of the team getting ready fills the arena.
Then the alarm blares. The loud noise has the baby jolting in surprise. Before he can cry at the sudden noise, you quickly scurry over and swoop him back in your arms. You playfully press a loud raspberry against his sweet chubby cheeks and he giggles.
The noise of the ride erupts with the thrashing of the bull and the upheaval of the dirt.
Then, it’s all over.
“Attaboy!” Jack cries with a loud proud clap.
The baby, now fully distracted by the commotion, seems happy in your arms again as you approach Jack’s side.
Quickly your gaze goes to the arena to make sure Din’s alright.
“How did he do?” You ask about Din.
“Better! Still ain’t as good as yesterday's time but rides like these just help keep ya warm and flexible.” Jack explains.
With the bull settled, Din moves towards Vanth to discuss the ride.
Din draws his helmet up and already has so much sweat on his face. It’s unfair how handsome he is, rugged and adorably scruffy.
“Bweh!” The baby happily spots his papa and squeaks.
The noise causes all in the ring to turn towards where you three stand. Cobb Vanth grins kindly and Din’s eyes soften immediately spotting your little cheering group.
“Yeah lil cowpoke, you didn’t get to see how good your papa was, but he did great.” Jack coo’s as he softly smooths out the baby’s hair.
With a pat on the back from his manager, Din jogs over to you and Jack.
It’s unique, this new carved out existence of yours with them. But it’s beautiful and feels as if it’s always meant to be, like this has been in your veins long before you even knew.
Din reaches the edge of the ring and you and Jack shower him with praise. It’s adorable watching him get flustered at all the attention given to him, especially when you lean and Jack lean to kiss his cheeks.
“Seems like your ridin’s was a little rusty today though, cowboy.” Jack purrs. “Maybe we should all have a nice private lesson after this.”
“Hope those lessons aren’t with you. Last time you were out by the second count.” Din, like the surprisingly snarky man he is, effortlessly replies back as snatches the baby wiggling trying to for him.
Jack squawks hilariously upset and you snicker as your heart fills to the brim.
The arena is quiet, a sacred space that watches over all of you together like this. And it’s special, having this moment here with both of them.
You think there might not be many country songs about snagging two cowboys, but it’s okay.
You find this song in your heart feels eternal.
260 notes · View notes
ravensmadreads · 7 months
Text
Unhinged totally unasked for thots about Riding Pedro Boys
Authors Note: So this came from me chugging entirely too many energy drinks and then projectile vomiting in Taylors inbox. I'd like to warn you that: English isn't my first language, I have never written smut before, I'm not a real writer, and also I'm trash goblin levels of unhinged about this. That being said; Enjoy and uhh. Forgive me Fandom
JAVIER PEÑA
Tumblr media
Javier Pena doesn't let you do it.
Don't @ me LISTEN! (YES I STARTED OFF WITH A CONTROVERSIAL THOT FUCKING BITE ME.)
That man does not have the time, or the patience, or the good sense (the sense is at the other end) to let you ride. He needs the control okay? And sometimes it's not even about the control ! It's the frustration. It piles and piles and piles until he snaps. He needs to do. He will bend you over and work his frustration away until he has had enough and you let him because he needs it. (And lets be real he makes it worth your while every single time)
BUT. When he finally fucking retires, and gets a ranch, and breaths air not tinged with the smells of death, cigarettes and guns for the first time in however many years, and maybe drinks some fucking water, he takes you out on a date. He fumbles through the entire thing, panics because he thinks he blew it, still manages to get you home, gets ridden for the first time in like 6 years, and can't walk straight for an entire day and stammers every time someone asks him why.
JAVIER GUTIERREZ
Tumblr media
Javi G loves it. He loves watching you. Gets all puppy dog wide eyed (remember the pool scene face??? Thats it.) and you have to really focus because his look of straight up wonder and awe and bright eyed eagerness makes you want to cry. He's panting like he's running a marathon, running his big hands EVERYWHERE he can reach. He makes you feel worshipped and adored and so very very loved. Thanks you after. For being so amazing, and so wonderful to him, and thanks the universe that he found you. Cause he's sap. You definitely cry after.
JOEL MILLER
Tumblr media
(Watch me be controversial again) Joel is fucking tired okay? He has old man bones and creaky joints and his back is achy. Patrol was agony, Jesse wouldn't shut up the entire time, and Tommy was giving him shit, and he has no energy to drill anyone into the mattress (as much as we all want him to). He's just plain tired. He likes you on top. Likes it slow (like a roast chicken on a sunday slow). Enjoys the gradual build up, likes to lean back, watch with half open eyes as you take your time. Wants to indulge in something beautiful at the end of the world, and that something is you. He makes sexy grunting noises, mutters a whole lot of praise ~and filth~ and just y'know. Savours it. 🫠🫠🫠 savours you. 🫠
DIETER BRAVO
Tumblr media
Dieter is a maniac. (Leave him alone he has adhd!!) He can't still still for the life of him so you best believe he changes positions 6 times and the only way you're getting to ride is if you're also putting some weight elsewhere. To hold him down! You squeeze his neck once and he MELTS. INSTANTLY. Loses all sense. Starts babbling and whimpering and making extremely pathetic noises. Will definitely buck up and whine. PRAISES YOU. BEGGING. LOUD NOISES.
MAX PHILLIPS
Tumblr media
Max is a heathen. He just likes watching you bounce. That's it. That's the post :p
MARCUS PIKE
Tumblr media
Marcus P is a romantic. He will be doing the whole "lean forward and try to get kisses in between" while also "moaning and maintaining eye contact" and he's holding you so tight , squeezing your sides and also muttering declarations of love. About how he wants a life with you, and a family, and a home, and a future. How he's going to "make you so happy baby, I promise I will, I swear to you". Doesn't let you off for from on top of him for atleast a half hour after; kissing all over your face and rubbing your back and petting your hair "I meant all of it sweetheart. I want all of you." shsbzgwgsvsg ilovehimsomuch and I've only ever seen gifsets of this man what is wrong with me
MARCUS MORENO
Tumblr media
Marcus M is A MENACE. He wears his stupid glasses, and has his stupid shirt off, while he does stupid taxes/meeting plans in bed. You keep throwing side glances and getting increasingly wound up and he just has this gentle smirk but he's mostly ignoring you. You sidle up to him and maybe start kissing his jaw, laying gentle pecks down his neck, and he's still fukcungh working "Baby. I need to finish this. I'm sorry, you need to wait." But that smirk is still there and it's driving you crazy and maybe you keep kissing until you reach his *coughs* and then you're working on getting him interested. You can still hear the fucking pen scratching though and so you go deeper, and he raises an eyebrow. "be good now honey" You're settling in his lap and he has you sitting there until he has finished his paperwork with you whimpering and trying not to squirm because you want to be good you really do and you know he'll make it so much better but he feels so good and when he's finally finally done you get to move but you're so wound up you can't pull yourself together enough to find a rhythm and you're nearly in tears and he has to grip your sides and murmur instructions in your ear and help you until you're satisfied and just when you think he's done, and about to flip you over, he adjusts his grip and starts moving from underneath you until you're crying and he's finished ~which doesnt happen until you've come 2 more times~
DAVE YORK
Tumblr media
Dave. Oh my gosh Dave. Dave is a strict dom if ever there was one. With him it's a punishment. He'll tell you to hold off until he's done which is freaking impossible with how deep he gets, and how he likes to warm up his hands on your butt while you're trying desperately to hold onto that last thread of control. He is muttering absolute filth, holding your arms behind your back with one hand while the other is either laying smack after smack or rubbing you furiously all the while he's got the smuggest look. "Don't you dare baby. Be a good girl now. Listen and obey for once". But you can't because he's not fair and he knows it. And when you do finally fall apart he's clenching his teeth trying to hold back himself and his hands are holding you up as you gasp his name like it's the only word you know. He's running his hands down your back and kissing you softly and helping you catch your breath and when you finally get your heart to stop pounding and look up at him, he's watching you with this dangerously soft smile and he goes "oh you're in for it now aren't you honey?" and kisses your forehead while you try not to whimper.
FRANKIE MORALES
Tumblr media
Frankie is a soft boy. He loves it. Craves it. He loves giving up control. Wants you to tie him up and have your way until he has no thoughts left in that pretty little head. He is swearing like an absolute sailor the entire time, calling you ma'am, begging to be released so he can kiss you and touch you, absolutely nearly breaks the head board once he was so desperate. Wants to be edged but also is the biggest WIMP about it. Will pout and swear and beg and plead but then want you to deny him again. Will definitely be mumbling absolute nonsense once you're done. Needs all the aftercare. Blushes pink when he gets it. Wraps himself around you like a HUGE koala bear after. ~and returns the edging favour 3 times over when he gets in his Captain Francisco Morales Mood~
JACK DANIELS
Tumblr media
BONUS TWO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT and tumblr won't let me put gifs for:
Jack makes every single cowboy joke known to man. You have to put your hand on his mouth to get him to shut the hell up. His eyes get all glassy when you do. He puts his hat on top of your head and busies himself in your neck (dual benefits: A. He shuts up and B. HICKIES) will definitely drag you on top of him in his Bronco (he likes to show off) will pull up on the side of the road almost 70% of the times you drive together. Bites you over your clothes. Loves the way you grab desperately at this leather jacket. Definitely makes you bend over and 'clean up the mess sugar' before driving like the hounds of hell are after him all the way back home and doing it all over again because "we gotta make you a mama now love"
PERO TOVAR
Pero got married after he came back and retired as a sell sword. His wife is a soft but sassy thing who's a little (read: not at all, she returns his snark twice over) intimidated by him but also thinks he's a good man because he saved her village from raiders. She has seen him grumble and snark at but then also share his food with the orphans who works at the village inn. She's inexperienced (let me live my victorian life) and he doesn't really think he deserves her but also he's not so much an idiot to say no to someone like her. She's the village "healer" and he met her when he got stabbed by one of the raiders (arm wound: not serious.) He has to teach her. She gets shy and flustered, which is a total 180 from her sassy self, and Pero loves it. She makes the most amazing sounds that have him thinking that maybe he did something right in his life to end up in her arms. She wants to please her new husband and asks her married friends for advice and they tell her about this new position. So she asks him, stuttering and tripping over words, if she could try something she heard about? From a friend? She straddles him and Pero loses his mind. He's closing his eyes and clenching his jaw so hard and she's whimpering in the most DELICIOUS way and he's trying so hard to hold back and let her take her pace and she's so worried "am I not doing it right?" Pero has to take 3 deep breaths before he's centred enough to answer and then he helps her. Puts his hands on her hips to guide her. Puts one of her hands on his shoulder "steady now pequenita" and puts the other low on her belly and presses in so she can feel him. Loves the way she cries out. Bends forward to leave little marks everywhere he can reach. She's scrambling at his chest, leaving nail marks he loves, and finally grabbing his hair and pulling until he groans. And when they're both done and sated and sweaty he kisses her, looks her in the eye and winks. "I'm going to have to go thank your friend now, mi esposa."
DIN DJARIN
Din and you dont have time. The razor crest is finally in hyperspace, you got shot at for the 50th time in 2 weeks, (because Murphys Law seems to be the only law Mando never breaks), you're exhausted, sweaty, and the giggly green monster of chaos only made you chase him down from the top of a weapons cabinet twice before he finally decided to take a nap. You're frustrated, and in desperate need of a shower, and a nap, but also you can't get the image of Mando fighting out of your head. Before you know it, the hormones have taken over and you're attacking him in the pilot seat. The bucket is off (I refuse to look at my own reflection in the tin cans helmet while we do the do), he's got you arching into him, your shirt is half torn from the top because Din refuses to wait for "so many fucking buttons Meshla" the gloved hand is squeezing the back of your neck, his mouth is on your chest, his other hand (you only managed to get one glove off) is splayed out on your back. You're riding him like you're trying to break him and his thigh holster? thing (do i look like i can figure out what they're called?) is digging marks into your skin but you're too turned on to care. It's frantic, it's messy, you're PRAYING the tiny green menace stays asleep as you do your best to muffle your sounds. The refresher isn't big enough for a round two, (you still do your best), and your legs feel like jelly, when you finally pass out; curled up on top of the human space heater while he hums Mando'a in your ear.
*****
TAGGING: @chronically-ghosted (you are a menace but ily)
@fuckyeahdindjarin (here I go trying that writing thing again, stop me pls)
967 notes · View notes
sugadolly · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
i think i need someone older ⸜❤︎⸝‍
869 notes · View notes
deardjarin · 1 year
Text
save a horse (ride a cowboy)
Tumblr media
agent whiskey x f!reader
sometimes you get a little… jealous
words: 1.5k
warnings: smut, office sex, mentions of voyeurism
⋆⭑✦⭑⋆
You know your partner.
You know how he flirts with most people he meets, but you also know how he would never be unfaithful to you. But, you can’t help but get a bit jealous when you hear him tease other girls.
You checked in two women for a meeting with the Agent: an older lady and a young college student who both work for a private investigation company. You can hear the younger girl giggling through the glass door- giggling. You’re sure Whiskey is pulling his usual tricks to strike a deal with the ladies.
You find yourself gripping your pen harder than usual.
The meeting ends at precisely 4:35.
The women kindly bid their goodbye, but the younger’s face is bright red.
Frustrated, you input the time into your system.
You smooth out your pencil skirt and fix your hair when you stand up. The room is awfully quiet; you need a certain Statesman agent to break the silence.
The automatic door opens with a quiet swish, revealing Whiskey sitting behind his desk. He’s staring intently at his computer, most likely sending off emails to his fellow agents.
“Jack Daniels.”
Whiskey beams, leaning back in his office chair.
“Well hell-o little miss,” He drawls, slightly tilting his head to the side. He beckons you with one hand, and pats his thigh twice. “C’mere, sugar.”
You keep your gaze firm, even though you want to stumble over to him like a newborn deer and collapse in his arms. Your heels click softly on the polished hardwood as you approach him, and instead of slipping into his lap, you stand behind him. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you give him a little squeeze.
“Did you have a productive meeting?” You ask, kissing his cheek. A bit of stubble pokes your lips, but you don’t mind.
“I sure did,” He replies, smoothing the fabric of his pants.
You twist a lock of his dark hair between your fingers, and trail more kisses down the sharp line of his jaw. He exhales a shaky breath, tightening his grip on the arms of the chair.
“Were those girls nice, Agent?” You continue. Whiskey shifts in his seat, noticeably aroused.
“They sure were- sweetheart, may I ask why you’re interrogatin’ me right now?”
You hum, running your fingers over the knot of his tie.
“I’m sure if you’d given them the chance, they’d be all over you,” You comment. “I mean, who wouldn’t? That’s what happened with us.”
The corner of Whiskey’s mouth turns upwards.
“Is that what this is all about?” He asks.
You maneuver yourself around and slip onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs with yours. His calloused hands immediately fly to your waist, steadying you.
“Maybe,” You breathe, cupping his face in both of your hands.
“You and I both know that I’d never touch another woman as long as you’re with me,” He says. His fingers find their way under the hem of your pencil skirt, and his touch burns.
“That so?” You ask, trying not to melt at his words. He hums, turning his head to the side and kissing your palm.
“You gonna let me show you how much you mean to me?”
You nod, breathless, and kiss him.
His kisses are always sloppy, a little messy, but they’re so full of passion that you don’t mind. Accidentally, you knock his cowboy hat off of his head.
“Are-“ You whine when his lips meet your neck, mustache rubbing against your sensitive skin. “Are you going to lock the door?’
“Maybe I’ll keep it open,” Whiskey drawls between kisses. “I’m sure those girls would love to see you, squirmin’ like a bug on my lap. Or maybe that shy little intern- what was his name? Frankie? I see the way he looks at you when he brings up papers.”
You moan, grinding your clothed cunt against his thighs.
“Jack…”
You’ve given up on your original plan. Whenever his hands- oh, his hands, cup your ass, you lose any semblance of rational thought.
Whiskey pulls away, making sure you’re balanced, and fiddles with the top button of your blouse. You usually keep a few undone because Whiskey likes it, but it’s clear he wants to see a little more than what you’re showing.
“Just gorgeous,” He groans when he fiddles with the last button, leaving your stomach and bra exposed.
“C-Can you lock the door?” You ask bashfully, shivering when Whiskey’s fingers brush over the curves of your hips.
“‘Course,” He says. Wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you steady, he leans forward and logs on to his high tech computer. There’s a faint beeping sound from the keypad outside of the frosted glass door.
“Make me so fuckin’ hard, baby,” Whiskey groans, gripping your wrist and guiding your hand to his crotch. As expected, your hand brushes against the hard outline of his cock, trapped in the fabric of his jeans. “Feel that? S’all for you.”
A strangled moan falls from your lips, and you give him a gentle squeeze.
“Let me-“ You stop mid-thought and hastily undo the clasp of his belt. The metal clang interrupts the sound of your heavy breathing: the only sound in the office. Your hands shake as you fiddle with his zipper, and with a deep breath you pull out his cock from his boxers.
Whiskey moans deeply at your touch. He’s warm and hard and you want him inside you so bad.
“Stand up, baby, take off your skirt,” He orders. You can see him clench his jaw, most likely restraining himself from standing up and throwing you against the desk.
Your legs are shaky as you unzip the back of your skirt, pulling the black fabric downwards. Watching you with dark eyes, your partner slowly pumps his cock.
“Sit back down, princess,” He murmurs, patting his thigh with his free hand.
Damn straight, You think. I’m his princess.
“Jack, I- I want to feel you.”
You notice the way his dick has left a wet spot on his dress shirt- shit, now he’s going to have to go home and change, all because of you-
“Mm!” You exclaim when Whiskey’s rough fingers find themselves inside your panties, pressing against your swollen clit. You have to grip onto his broad shoulders while he massages your wet cunt.
You’re a little upset when he pulls his hand away.
“Soaked.”
You feel like the air gets knocked out of your chest when he brings his fingers to his lips, tasting you.
“So sweet,” He growls. “Sweet like a goddamn Georgia peach. Wish I could taste you all day.”
His words feel like they make your body temperature rise to a thousand.
“Whiskey,” You half scold, half moan.
“Fuckin’- wanna bend over the desk? Let me fuck you from behind?”
You shake your head, gripping onto the expensive fabric of his suit jacket.
“Let me ride you, Jack.”
Whiskey throws his head back and swears. You let out a breathy laugh; you, and only you, can have him wrapped around your finger.
“I’ll let you do whatever you want,” He blurts, cock twitching against his stomach. “You gonna ride this cowboy, sugar?”
“Yeah,” You breathe, and your thighs shake as you lift your core enough so he can slip inside you. Whiskey holds your panties to the side while he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance. The two of you moan as you drop downwards, your ass pressing against his thighs.
“Shit,” He grunts through his teeth.
You take a moment to catch your breath before moving.
Jack keeps his hands on your waist, but leans forward to chase your lips. You cup his face in your hands, mindlessly kissing him while you move your hips. He fills you up so well, stretching and stuffing you in a way no one else can. You’re no stranger to this, in fact you’re quite skilled, but your legs still burn from the effort. It’s nothing compared to the way Whiskey’s cock slides in and out of you, though.
“Just like that,” He mumbles in between kisses.
You clench around him every time your clit brushes against his jeans. You’re sure Whiskey can feel it too; he squeezes his eyes shut each time it happens.
“S’good, sweetheart,” He praises. “Ready to cum?”
You shout in pleasure, nodding vigorously. His fingers find their way back to your clit, rubbing quick circles against you.
Your whole body shakes from your release.
It’s embarrassingly quick, but Jack keeps mumbling “that’s a good girl” in your ear. He continues to thrust into you, his movements becoming sloppy and erratic.
You slump against his chest while he finishes deep inside you, hips stuttering against your skin.
“Ain’t never had a better girl than you,” He says softly, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. You smile; he always gets soft after he’s with you.
Before you can respond, the computer lights up.
Incoming Video Call: Agent Champagne
2K notes · View notes
shellshocklove · 3 months
Text
❀ 2023 fic recs
Tumblr media
hi friends <3 like last year i wanted to make a list of some of my favorite fics i’ve read that was posted throughout 2023. please read the warnings on the fics before reading, and minors do not interact with smut!
* = smut
Tumblr media
❀ peter parker
Tumblr media
burnt face and second base by @waitimcomingtoo (one shot)
pairing: peter parker x reader summary: peter can’t seem to stop accidentally hurting his crush.
blurb by @hollandsangel (blurb)
pairing: peter parker x reader summary: “oh please, who’s gonna stop us?”, “the police.”
*angel unaware by @silkscream (one shot)
pairing: peter parker x silk!reader summary: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.
*blurb by @/silkscream (blurb)
pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: reader fucks peter in his suit, the other suit.
*delay by @sparklingsin (blurb)
pairing: peter parker x gn!reader summary: you stop peter from going on patrol.
blurb by @t-lostinworlds (blurb)
pairing: peter parker x avenger!female!reader summary: "this movie is really scary, but you're into it so i'm trying not to cover my face the whole time, but-what is that?" and "i mean… i-i'm cool with sharing the bed if you are."
i spy, no spy by @/t-lostinworlds (one shot)
pairing: peter parker x avenger/secret agent!female!reader summary: You’re a trained spy, Peter was not. But you two ended up on a mission together where he was needed to be less of the chatty superhero in red & blue tights and more of a debonair undercover agent in a suit & tie. It shouldn’t be too difficult, right? No mask, no web shooters. Just you and him pretending to be fiancés, hiding and making out in a closet to avoid getting caught—simple. Unless he included his overgrowing feelings for you, of course.
a strange(er's) comfort by @/t-lostinworlds (one shot)
pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: peter found a strange comfort in the graveyard, no less. but hearing about your day-to-day had been the highlight of his. and when one night led to the both you showing vulnerability, suddenly, peter didn’t feel so alone anymore. maybe a stranger’s comfort wasn’t so bad.
*in lust we trust by @scorpiomother (one shot)
pairing: mcu!peter parker x silk!female!reader summary: they don’t know one thing about each other, but they do know that they want each other. bad. little do they know, they are at the mercy of an influx of hormones caused by a radioactive spider.
*blurb by @webslingingslasher (blurb)
pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: you get a bad calf cramp midway through sex.
break my heart by @hollandweather (blurb)
pairing: frat!peter parker x female!reader summary: peter wants to spend time with you.
your kiss, my cheek by @/hollandweather (one shot)
pairing: frat!peter parker x female!reader summary: better late than never? bullshit. frat!peter realises he loves you a little too late.
you're always gonna be mine by @darling-im-wonderstruck (blurb)
pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: late nights with peter never failed to put your heart at ease at the end of each long day. all your worries and doubts seem to disappear in his presence, including your fears about first loves (and first heartbreaks).
subway by @tnmdfhgkg (blurb)
pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: you met a cute boy on the train.
blurb by @/luveline (blurb)
pairing: peter parker x reader summary: peter catch you wearing spider-man merch.
blurb by @parkerpeter24 (blurb)
pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: peter's hand gets stuck to your shirt.
Tumblr media
❀ joel miller
Tumblr media
*soft!dom joel miller by @joelscruff (series)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: a collection of important moments between you and joel miller, your grumpy new patrol partner in jackson, wyoming.
*feelings on fire by @/joelscruff (series, ongoing)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.
*boyfriend's!dad!joel miller by @/joelscruff (series)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: moments between you and your boyfriend's father, joel miller, who you have a secret relationship with.
*to freeze or to thaw & *a kindness you can't afford by @/joelscruff (two part one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel stole you away to be his special girl.
*truth or dare by @/joelscruff (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage.
*this one thing you did by @/joelscruff (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: dancing with a stranger at your favorite club leads to something filthy.
*mad love by @swiftispunk (drabble)
pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader summary: reader gets turned on after joel goes feral on some guy who tried to touch her.
*holding back by @/swiftispunk (drabble)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: smut from joel's pov.
*your summer dream by @/swiftispunk (series, ongoing)
pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.
*good to me by @/swiftispunk (three part series)
pairing: gynecologist!joel miller x female!reader summary: with your usual doctor out, you're stuck having to get your routine pap smear done by the gorgeous dr. miller.
*say it with your hands & *put your lips close to mine by @/swiftispunk (one shots)
pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!masseuse!reader  summary: ellie convinces joel to see the town masseuse. it goes mostly okay.
*creep it real by @/swiftispunk (one shot)
pairing: dbf!joel miller x female!reader summary: a masked angel. a rugged cowboy. you're the answer to joel's prayers...until he realizes who you are.
*stay here, honey by @/swiftispunk (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: you sit on dbf!joel's lap at a party, it's a whole thing.
no strings attached by @dustydaddyyy (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: you can’t deny there’s always been something between you and joel miller. The question is, is either of you going to do something about it?
*sweetheart by @/dustydaddyyy (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: you're home from college for summer '99 to visit your parents, when your eye wanders upon their next-door neighbor, joel miller.
*flash point by @/dustydaddyyy (series, ongoing)
pairing: pre-TLOU! joel miller x female!reader summary: 18 years after the world ended, and you never thought you'd find yourself stranded and alone in the Boston QZ. you've got one friend, a tendency for violence and sticky fingers, so what happens when you run across two notoriously ruthless smugglers one night and they chose to save your life?
*look at me, *give me some & *can't help it aka tinder!joel miller by @pascalisbaby (mini series)
pairing: DILF!joel miller x female!reader summary: ellie and sarah set joel up on a tinder date.
*say yes to heaven & *no angel by @/pascalisbaby (one shots)
pairing: chiro!joel miller x female!patient!reader summary: dr. joel miller gives you a little more than an adjustment.
*saved too many times by @/pascalisbaby (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel doesn’t mind punishing you, so long as he gets to watch you cry.
*signs i don't read by @/pascalisbaby (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel likes things done his way, especially when he’s fucking you.
*rock me to sleep by @randofantfic
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel makes love to you in a rocking chair.
*dbf!joel miller by @notjustjavierpena (series)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel, your dad’s best friend, finds you in your room crying and wants to comfort you.
*grab the bull by the horns by @proxima-writes (one shot)
pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.
*joel is such a sap after sex by @inklore (drabble)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel is a sap after sex.
*kinktober – body worship by @palioom (blurb)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: you worship joel's body.
*only need ten by @pascalpvnk (blurb)
pairing: jackson era!joel miller x afab!reader summary: morning sex with joel.
*sweetened breath and tongue so mean by @moonlight-prose (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel couldn’t fathom what you saw in him. a man bloodied with the ravages of life. he’d taken life, killed to survive, and there were times he even fucking enjoyed it. but you were soft. you were the good that remained. the light he shouldn’t be allowed to tarnish.
unlikely friends by @sweetercalypso (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x reader summary: joel and your cat have never gotten along, but maybe they’re more alike than they realize.
*need that charles dickens by @janaispunk (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: “what do you say, have i been a good elf for santa?”, “am i santa in that scenario?”, “sure,” you grin mischievously, “if you come down my chimney.”
*in the next room by @atticrissfinch (one shot)
pairing: neighbor’s fuckbuddy!joel miller x female!reader summary: when the peace and quiet of your apartment is disturbed by the noisy escapades of the couple in the neighboring unit, you find yourself entranced by the mystery man on the other side of the wall. and when you stumble upon him on a dating app…well, it might just be fate.
*between blurred lines by @livingemkayde (one shot)
pairing: best friend's dad!/dad's best friend!joel miller x female!reader summary: joel miller has always been...there. never different, always sporting a brooding scowl etched into his handsome face. he's your best friend sarah miller's dad, arguably worse, your dad's long time buddy. things are never different. not until this summer. not until now.
*for you, i would by @javiscigarette (one shot)
pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: Joel catches you doing something you definitely shouldn't be doing and teaches you you lesson.
*tricks of the trade by @mypoisonedvine (one shot)
pairing: dark-ish!joel miller x female!reader summary: when you don't have enough rations to get your fix, you have to find something else to trade.
Tumblr media
❀ javier peña
Tumblr media
*soaked by @/joelscruff (one shot)
pairing: javi peña x female!reader summary: it’s hard being an intern for a man who won’t even look at you, but maybe there’s something else to it that you don’t see.
*(re)union with elvis by @tieronecrush (one shot)
pairing: javi peña x female!reader summary: reader and javi haven't seen each other since after graduation, until one night they bump into each other in las vegas, while both are there for their friends’ birthday parties. the next morning they wake up in the same bed, hangover and married.
*late night text by @undercoverpena (series)
pairing: javi peña x female!reader summary: it’s the year 2000. javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop’s ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. the only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.
*keep me in your glow by @/atticrissfinch (one shot)
pairing: javi peña x female!reader summary: on a sleepy saturday morning, javi has one small request.
Tumblr media
❀ jack daniels
Tumblr media
*cupcake by @ezrasbirdie (one shot)
pairing: car salesman!jack daniels x female!reader summary: jack daniels, lead used car salesman at his dealership, has a crush on you, the pretty receptionist. it's too bad he can't get out of his own way. luckily for him, you have patience and a soft spot for shy cowboys.
Tumblr media
❀ ezra (prospect)
Tumblr media
*darkness by @/ezrasbirdie (one shot)
pairing: ezra x female!reader summary: ezra likes to watch you sleep.
Tumblr media
❀ dieter bravo
Tumblr media
*bouquet, *bloom & *blossom by @/mypoisonedvine (mini series)
pairing: dieter bravo x camgirl!reader summary: being quarantined in his hotel room has dieter getting a little stir crazy, and when the drugs run out, he has to find a new vice. that's how he found you.
Tumblr media
❀ eddie munson
Tumblr media
blurb by @luveline (blurb)
pairing: eddie munson x shy!female!reader summary: reader is into the same music as eddie & has a similar aesthetic but not the confidence that is associated with it. eddie takes the initiative to interact with her because she’s nervous too do so?
was that so hard? by @/luveline (one shot)
pairing: eddie munson x shy!female!reader summary: your best friend eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. he could show you, though, if you want?
if it barks by @/luveline (series, ongoing)
pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!female!reader summary: you don’t mean to make an enemy of eddie munson — he’s handsome and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating.
*smut by @/luveline (blurb)
pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x afab!reader summary: rockstar eddie and his gf get a little rough before/after a show.
a quest for bed by @/luveline (one shot)
pairing: eddie munson x female!reader summary: eddie fights to get his usually shy and moderately intoxicated girlfriend to bed when you insist on clinging to him at every turn.
too much by @/luveline (one shot)
pairing: eddie munson x female!reader summary: you get upset when eddie's friends think you're clingy. he sets you straight with some unbridled affection.
our ghost by @/luveline (one shot)
pairing: eddie munson x female!reader summary: best friends since middle school, you tell eddie everything, which is why he's so surprised to find out you've been keeping a secret —you’re hearing a voice whenever you're home alone. he’s always had a thing for the fantastical but he can't believe in ghosts, and the longer you insist on it, the more worried he becomes. this would be bad enough if eddie didn’t have a secret too, and it threatens to change everything between you.
blurb by @/luveline (blurb)
pairing: eddie munson x shy!female!reader summary: eddie insists on taking care of you when you get overwhelmed in the middle of a concert.
one shot by @/luveline (one shot)
pairing: eddie munson x female!reader summary: eddie is a hockey player.
is it cool if i hold your hand? by @/luveline (one shot)
pairing: eddie munson x shy!female!reader summary: eddie asks you out on your very first date, indulging you in huge philly cheesesteaks, a vanilla milkshake (with two straws), a largely neglected bucket of popcorn, and a sugary first kiss.
a thread of time by @/luveline (one shot)
pairing: soulmate au, eddie munson x female!reader summary: eddie wakes up with a red string tied from his finger to yours, no idea where he got it, and no idea how to tell you that you're caught on the end of it.
Tumblr media
❀ hobie brown
Tumblr media
can i kiss you? by @spiderg0th (blurb)
pairing: hobie brown x spider person!reader summary: you visit his world for the first time.
Tumblr media
❀ tom holland
Tumblr media
*girls talk boys by @luciwritesstuff (series, ongoing)
pairing: actor!tom holland x female!reader summary: coming home for the holidays only to find your old, formerly pain-in-your-ass neighbour got. . . hot?
all the time in the world by @/luciwritesstuff (one shot)
pairing: tom holland x female!reader summary: tom thinks you're pregnant.
the end by @lauras-collection (one shot)
pairing: tom holland x reader summary: this is not how you thought your evening would end.
*little birdie by @youandtom2 (one shot, part. 2)
pairing: rich!dom!tom holland x inexperienced!rich!female!reader summary: you always thought you hated tom more. but after a wild night that has now led into a confusing situationship you start to question who you should be hating more: your nightmare brother andy, or his best friend tom?
*hunting ground by @/youandtom2 (one shot)
pairing: dom!tom holland x sub!bratty!reader summary: how else would you get adventure back into your life than to visit a speakeasy that’s definitly not a kinky-cult-sex-club?
Tumblr media
❀ harry styles
Tumblr media
*soft by @moonchildstyles (one shot)
pairing: harry styles x female!reader summary: harry is y/n’s best friend, so she thought she knew everything about him. but, it looks like they both had some secrets: harry thought about her a lot more than she realized and y/n has really soft hands.
feathery by @/moonchildstyles (one shot)
pairing: harry styles x cupid!female!reader summary: y/n is a cupid and harry might be her soulmate. if that’s even possible anyway.
*élan by @/moonchildstyles (series)
pairing: bodyguard!harry styles x rich socialite!female!reader summary: harry is a bodyguard by trade and y/n would do anything just to be left alone.
Tumblr media
for more fic recs check out my #read tag <3
Tumblr media
374 notes · View notes
fuckyeahdindjarin · 7 months
Text
IX ║ Warmblood
Tumblr media
Jack Daniels x f!reader
{ Part 8: Silver Pony | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }
Rating: E
Summary: The hardest goodbye you'll ever say.
Warnings: Mentions of food and cooking, angst, feelings, flirting, sexual innuendoes, semi-pubic sex, oral sex (F receiving), risky unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), dirty talk, language, no use of Y/N
Word count: 7.6k
Notes: Here we are, at the end of the longest packtrip ever, and we did it with only one (1) little meltdown last night 😜 More notes at the end, but I just want to say - this has been a once-in-a-lifetime story for me. If a fic can be a soulmate, Palomino is mine.
Thank you for coming on this journey with me, I love every single one of you ❤️ Last thing, I never do this, but I must insist that you play this song when you get there. You'll know when 🥹
Tumblr media
Warmblood: An athletic, agile horse that is noted for its trainability and usually calm temperament, is commonly used in equestrian competition, and typically possesses Thoroughbred, Arabian, and draft horse bloodlines.
Tumblr media
Your awakening is gentle, soft and blurry around the edges, as if you’re looking through the lens of a Polaroid camera, tinted in sepia. The morning hour creeps across the ceiling of Jack’s bedroom in equal parts light and shadow, the curtains having been left undrawn last night. A crack in the window lets in the faintest breeze, but mutes all the sounds you’ve grown used to seeking out first thing in the morning, when your eyelids are too heavy to lift.
The hum of flying things, feathered or otherwise, charting their flight paths in your head by the buzz of their wings. The brush of the wind like a hand combing through grass and meadow. Even the sun speaks in the morning, raw energy strumming between constantly shifting air particles.
This stillness comes off as almost - unnatural. Even when straddling the divide between sleep and wake, you feel yourself making tiny adjustments to the physicality of being indoors again. Regret stains the corners of your consciousness, knowing it won’t take you long to recalibrate. Your body will return to what it knows, shedding your once-upon-a-time existence in the mountains like a coat discarded at the turn of the season. 
When the mattress dips behind you, sensation floods your veins like a shock to the system, flushing out the pins and needles in your limbs that you haven’t even noticed. Jack is warm and solid behind you, where he belongs. One leg nudged between yours, his sun-kissed arm across your waist, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the edge. His breath whistles sweetly over the shell of your ear, and you smile. You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know that his mouth is parted in slumber.
The next time you come to, it’s the rude buzz of metal on wood that jolts you out of sleep. You squeak when Jack follows, almost inadvertently shoving you off the bed as he startles awake. But thankfully, his instincts are fully intact, and he catches you squarely in the stomach, biceps flexing as he pulls you back into his chest with an easy strength.
‘Sorry, darlin’,’ he rasps groggily, burying his face in your neck in an apology. You uncoil in a languid stretch, opening up your throat to the rough scratch of his moustache, wanting to feel the burn.
‘Phone, cowboy,’ you gripe when the vibration doesn’t stop.
With a heave-ho, Jack reaches over you to grab it, before falling back onto the mattress so heavily that the bedframe shakes. Rubbing his thumb and index finger over his eyes, he grouses into the receiver, ‘What?’
Teak’s voice on the other line is clear as day even though he’s not on speaker. ‘Where are you, man?’
You burrow into Jack’s side, and the wide span of his palm on your hip holds you to him possessively. ‘Where do you think I am?’
‘Listen. Poppy made sausage gravy and buttermilk pancakes. Y’all know what that means.’
You venture a peek at Jack, whose lips are pursed thoughtfully. You prompt, ‘What does it mean?’
He smiles down at you. ‘She really likes you, darlin’.’
Teak interrupts with a scoff. ‘Like her? She’s basically adopting you, sunshine!’
Your lips wobble - if you soften any further, you might melt into the mattress.  ‘Oh, Poppy.’
‘Look, I’ve been stallin’ them, but they’re fixin’ to break down her door. You lovebirds best get here quick!’
Tossing away his phone without a goodbye, Jack drops a kiss to your forehead. ‘Listen, we don’t have to go anywhere, you stay here and I’ll make you - cereal in bed?’ He pauses with a wince. ‘Actually, I’m outta milk. And cereal.’
You chuckle, reaching up to run your fingers through his endearingly askew bed hair. ‘It’s ok, cowboy, we should go. I need to pack anyway.’
Your tummy takes the inopportune moment to rumble audibly, and he pins you with a knowing look. ‘And you want that sausage gravy, don’t you?’
‘Shut up,’ you laugh, pushing him off the bed.
When you step out of Jack’s bedroom in last night’s clothes after a quick refresh in his neat ensuite, he’s already outside, warming up the Silver Pony.
The house is even cosier in the morning. Facing east, daylight fills every corner of every room, bringing out the patterns in the wooden panels. Your gaze lingers where you can’t. You want to study the cracked spines of the paperbacks on his bookshelf one by one, you want to press your nose into the shirts hanging in his closet, you want to peer around the door to a second room that is temptingly ajar - 
‘Darlin’?’
You look up, and Christ on a cracker - it’s downright unfair that even after a week of spending every waking minute together, this damn cowboy can still make your heart skip a beat just by standing.
Jack is on the doorstep, in what you assume is his ‘off-duty’ uniform. Instead of a plaid shirt, he’s wearing a simple white tshirt with a round neck that is decidedly not sweat- nor dirt-friendly, tucked loosely into the waistband of dark jeans that look a bit more polished, and if you would believe it, even tighter than the pair he wears in the saddle. While it’s business as usual with the Stetson and work boots, something unfamiliar hangs from the neckline of his top.
Plucking the gold-rimmed aviators from his tshirt, you slide them onto your face, winking at him through the tinted lens. ‘Nice shades. Gotta say, I didn’t peg you for such a snazzy dresser off the trail.’
He grins, all tidy teeth with a deliberately libertine edge, clearly enjoying the attention. Scooping you into his broad frame, he drawls, ‘Gotta look good for the ladies in town, y’know. They’re famished ‘cause you been hoardin’ me all week, darlin’.’
With an exaggerated huff, you elbow past him. ‘I don’t know how you manage to zip your ego into those tightass pants, cowboy!’
‘With lots of practice,’ he retorts, smacking you firmly on the backside.
‘Do you need your sunnies?’ you ask as you climb onto the Silver Pony behind him, pushing the aviators a bit higher on your nose where they’ve slid down.
He shrugs. ‘Keep ‘em. Gives you a reason to come back.’
You smile into his broad shoulders, palms sliding to interlock over his soft belly. The bike revs, startling a flock of birds into flight from a nearby tree, and you realise those six little words are the first to breach the subject of what comes after - which will come to be in a matter of hours, with your flight in the early afternoon, a prospect suddenly so frighteningly real. 
But in the same breath, it becomes blindingly clear that you don’t even need to hear the words.
Because you know there is a space for you in his bed, tucked into his body, curled around you. A spot for you under his arm resting on the back of his couch in the living room, in front of a woodfire when it snows outside. A seat for you at the back of his motorcycle, where you are now, breezing effortlessly downhill towards the ranch, the white fences and red roofs winking at you between the gaps in the trees that line the winding country roads.
When you dream in the months to come, you will always smell pine, white cotton, and well-worn leather as the Silver Pony carries you home.
Tumblr media
It’s a shorter drive than you remember. Jack’s watch reads just past half eight when you pull into the parking lot. He kills the engine as you dismount, passing him your star-spangled helmet to be returned to its place in the little cabinet for next time. You’ve turned on your heel towards the ranch when a hand on your wrist grounds you to the spot.
Hands that have made you feel safe, protected, wanted in turn over the past week.
There’s no fanfare, no declarations, as you watch Jack lace his fingers with yours, filling the gaps and the tips curling into the valleys between your knuckles. Palm to weathered palm, calloused from ropework and heavy lifting, you look up to meet his eyes. 
He peers at you, almost shyly, an incomprehensible notion after all that he’s done to you, and what you’ve done to him, across the expanse of the Wyoming wilderness. But there’s a chastity to this simple action, and you find your throat tight when he asks, ‘Is this ok, darlin’?’
Your heart swells, as if it’s going to grow claws and tear itself right out of your chest cavity. Bringing up your tangled hands, you brush a kiss across his knuckles, and his whole countenance lifts with the upward curl of his mouth. 
‘Yes, cowboy.’
The Statesman is putting on a show for your last morning. The sun is out, climbing high into the cloudless sky, with Jack’s aviators bearing the brunt of the harsh glare. It’s déjà vu when you retrace the path you took on the day of your arrival, the same crunch of gravel under your boots, the familiar scent of hay and horse on the breeze. 
The bird’s eye view of the ranch has your breath stuttering just like that first time you cast your gaze on the green pastures and the red roofs. And beyond, like a perfectly painted stage set piece, the Bighorns loom tall and majestic. You’ve seen the mountains in all their incarnations over the past week - they change colour as the sun and clouds move during the day, and sometimes, you swear they morph in shape too. 
It strikes you suddenly that just yesterday, you were but three specks moving across the vast landscape, the realisation almost bowling you over. 
Before all this, it wouldn’t have taken much to convince yourself that you don’t deserve it. That it was the horses doing all the legwork and Jack the navigating, that you haven’t really done anything but sit in the saddle. But something’s shifted, it’s been a baptism by long summer days and the great outdoors - and damn it all, you’re proud of yourself. 
You came on this trip alone, with nothing but a broken relationship behind you, a suitcase full of anxieties and riding gear covered in years of dust and neglect. You said yes, perhaps recklessly, when offered the chance to spend a week alone in the mountains with a complete stranger and the glamour of sleeping bags and portable showers, when it would’ve been easier (and certainly more comfortable) to turn it down. 
Somehow, you’ve come out the other end, long gallops over untouched grassland and starry campfire nights piecing you back together, only to fall so damn hard for this cowboy that you’re sure to break again when you get on that plane this afternoon -
An unexpected tug on your arm has you tumbling clumsily. ‘Jack!’
He arches an eyebrow and remarks, ‘Ain’t heard those cogs in your pretty head grind that loud since the first coupl'a days, darlin’.’
You shrug and, not wanting to sour the mood, deflect his attention with a lighthearted fib. ‘Just realised that I didn’t even come close to falling off once the entire week.’
When he chuckles, the thought comes to you that you’ll miss the way he laughs with his whole body. 
‘You did real good for your first rodeo,’ he pauses, then flashes you a lascivious smirk. ‘You ain’t bad at ridin’ bareback either.’
A rebuke of his crude quip is on the tip of your tongue, but then your nose picks up on the scent of bitter coffee and maple syrup, which is quickly followed by the sighting of the al fresco table set up not far from the grill last night, the singe of smoke and whiskey still hanging in the air.
From a distance, you can see Poppy and Champ engaged in what looks like a heated debate, both gesticulating wildly with fork and knife. On the opposite side of the table, an unbothered Teak mows down his breakfast as if he’s heard it all before, and Ginger is feeding Jameson pancakes under the table.
It’s the younger cowboy who spots you two first. He freezes, brows disappearing under the brim of his Stetson when his eyes flit downwards to your interlocked hands. A huge grin would’ve split his handsome face in two if his mouth wasn’t stuffed full of half-chewed pancakes. The beans are well and truly spilled when Jameson comes bounding over, barking his demands for morning cuddles.
Champ looks up, his argument with Poppy promptly dropped. ‘Aha! There she is! Howdy young lady, we were just wonderin’ where you -’ 
He halts mid-sentence, his head whipping towards his right where the guest lodges are situated beyond the stables, decidedly not the direction you’re coming from. The penny drops as he takes in your hand in Jack’s, eyes wide, and all the occupants of the table seem to inhale a collective breath that stops you in your tracks.
But not Jack. He ignores the gawking with a practised air of been there, done that, and ushers you into the empty seat next to Teak without skipping a beat. Planting a sweet peck on your cheek, he settles to your left and unfolds his starched napkin with a flourished flick of his wrist, which he tucks into the neckline of his tshirt.
‘Mornin’,’ he addresses the silent table in an exaggerated southern drawl. ‘If y’all would be so kind to shut your mouths, you’re embarrassin’ me in front of my lady. Now, pass the coffee if you please, Teak.’
Fittingly, it’s Champ who breaks the silence with a rip-roaring howl of laughter, palms hitting the table so hard you’re convinced everything on it jumps a foot from the surface, the ruckus sending Jameson scampering for cover. ‘Well, well, well! Butter my butt and call it a biscuit!’
Poppy leaps to her feet, halfway to the kitchen before shouting over her shoulder. ‘We’re celebrating! This calls for strawberry milkshake!’
Teak elbows you in the side. ‘Just so y’know, Poppy ain’t the type to make strawberry milkshake for just anybody.’ He salutes you with a crooked grin. ‘Welcome to the family, sweetheart.’ 
It’s a brand of chaos that is distinctly Statesman. Ginger and Champ are fighting each other to load up your plate with far too much food over your protests, Teak pours coffee into your glass and orange juice in the mug, and Jameson is probing your knees under the table for scraps. You meet Jack’s eyes, and he grins back at you with a wink over the rim of his cup.
There’s no reason why you should be this hungry after the barbeque last night, but you don’t stop until you’ve polished off the sausage gravy and biscuits, the welcome richness settling in the pit of your stomach and making you second guess if you have any room left for pancakes.
‘Young lady, I hope this means you forgive me for the strings I pulled to set you two up,’ pipes up Champ around a mouthful of bacon, washed down by black coffee.
‘You’ll hear no complaints from me, sir,’ you reassure him.
He raises a fist in a pantomime of indignation. ‘You wouldn’t believe the grief Jack and Ginger put me through for playin’ matchmaker! I demand a retraction from y’all!’
Ginger raises both hands in surrender. ‘Fine, I take it all back, even if it means you’ll be downright insufferable about it! But I’ll happily live with that!'
Jack slings an arm around your shoulder. ‘It kills me to say it, but you have damn good taste, boss.’
‘Well, y’all know what they say - ain’t a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit!’ needles Teak.
‘Hey!’ You reach across to slap him on the arm as Jack chuckles behind you. ‘I don’t see you with a lid, you loud-mouthed kettle!’
Teak sasses back, ‘Fine, fine, how ‘bout - there ain’t a man that can’t be thrown, or a cowboy that can’t be rode -’
Right on cue, Poppy’s distant shout interrupts, ‘Tequila!’
Jumping onto his feet, the cowboy winks at you. ‘Hold that thought, sunshine - right away, ma’am!’
Unperturbed by the double entendres, Champ brings the conversation right back around. ‘Well, I do declare, this nosy old man gets it right -’
‘For once!’ heckles Ginger.
‘Joke’s on you, m’dear. I only need to be right once!’
There are oohs and ahhs when Poppy and Teak reappear with the decadent milkshakes in retro fountain glasses, topped with whipped cream and strawberry slices, distributed around the table.
‘So, what are we drinking to?’ asks Poppy.
You turn to Jack, holding up your milkshake. ‘To crooked pots.’
There are cheers and laughs up and down the table, and Jack clinks your glass with a grin as he adds, ‘And cowboys that can be rode.’
Tumblr media
You think about the cassette tapes that you used to watch when you were young. How at the end of a film, the black tape is all rolled up in the right window, and you were always the one to press the rewind button on the VCR. You still remember the whirr of the film as it went backwards, round and round, right back to the beginning.
When the coffee has gone cold and the morning chores come calling, the breakfast table empties, and you hear the click of that button when Jack offers you his upturned palm to walk you back to your cabin.
The tape rewinds as you pack. The outfit you agonised over that first day or your introductory ride with the cowboy has been laundered, and you slowly fold up each piece - the jodhpurs, the plaid shirt, the socks - and put them into your open suitcase.
The tape rewinds as you close the door to the cabin, and Jack carries your luggage across the yard in one hand, yours nestled snugly in his other.
The tape rewinds as you walk by the stables - you nip in quickly to say goodbye to Whiskey and Bourbon - past the main lodge, and the grazing field next to the parking lot.
Putting your suitcase down, Jack whistles with his fingers, the sound carrying in the wind. You see a familiar golden head pop up from across the field, and your nose prickles with the threat of tears as you watch Scotch canter towards you, ears forward and tail swishing with an attitude you can spot from a mile away. Climbing onto the first rung of the fence, you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his snowy mane as he snoops around your pockets, always looking for treats.
You pull an apple out of your travel bag, neatly cut in two. Scotch nickers, his velvety nuzzle tickles as he carefully plucks each half from your palm.
Combing through his forelock, you coo at him, ‘I’m gonna miss you, boy. You behave with your rider next week, you hear me?’
The key is already in the ignition of your rental pickup when Champ puts your suitcase and tote bag on the backseat floor, while Teak and Jack load the Silver Pony onto the back. 
Your arm almost falls out of its socket when Poppy passes you the promised takeaway lunch, packed into a chiller bag. 
‘You’re flying Delta right?’ she asks. ‘I’ll call them up with instructions on how to heat up the food. It’ll be good as fresh off the barbeque.’
‘Thank you so, so much Poppy,’ you say as she pulls you into a warm hug. ‘I hope you know you’ve ruined food for me. Nothing will ever come close to being good enough.’
She winks. ‘You’re welcome, honey. Come back soon, ok? There’s more where it came from!’
Ginger is next, and emotion clutches at your chest as you squeeze her slender frame in a tight embrace. ‘Just so you know, I was furious that you wouldn’t give me a refund when I called you up all those months ago.’
‘What can I say? I’m a tough cookie,’ she giggles, and hangs onto you for just a moment longer. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t cancel on us.’
Champ surprises you, forgoing your outstretched hand and giving you a hug for the first time. His tweed suit is softer than expected under your cheek, and smells like pipeweed and leather. 
‘It’s been an absolute pleasure, young lady. I’m sure we’ll see you again very soon,’ he winks. ‘And I’ll be in touch about the social media.’
Three steps away, Teak is waiting with his arms crossed, and he pushes off the truck to bundle you into his embrace, the hug as big and as bear-like as him, which makes you chuckle.
‘Anything parting Southern wisdom for me?’ you quip.
‘I’m all out, sweetheart,’ he says, giving you a pat on the back. ‘’Cept, y’know, that cowboy’s been grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet ‘tater all week, and it’s damn annoyin’.’
Jack rolls his eyes, one palm on your back as he herds you towards the truck. ‘C’mon, darlin’, we should make a move.’
Saving himself for last, Jameson trots up to you with a bark, tail wagging. The grass is warm and tickles your bare knees when you crouch down to give him one last hug, giggling at the wet kiss he leaves on your cheek. 
The leather of the passenger seat is soft as you sink down into it, while Jack closes the door behind you and crosses to the driver’s side. Inhaling deeply as the engine starts with a rusty rumble, you look up when he gives your hand a grounding squeeze.
‘Ready, darlin’?’
You nod, though not entirely convincingly. ‘Let’s go, cowboy.’
The Statesman gets smaller and smaller behind you as the truck eases down the driveway, and the four figures waving in the rearview mirror blur into tiny shadows through the mist of your tears. The metal frame of the vehicle squeaks with the movement as it rolls over bumps on the long dirt track, at the end of which, Jack takes a right with a one-handed turn of the steering wheel onto the main road, and the ranch slips out of sight.
Tumblr media
The midday sun streams through the windshield, hot on your skin. You’re glad you changed out of the jeans from last night into a lightweight dress, a slightly frivolous last-minute addition to your luggage that’s paid off. 
Staring out of the open window at the rolling landscape, it takes you right back to exactly eight days ago when you were driving down the dusty road - except this time, the Bighorn Mountains are behind you, and next to you is a cowboy instead of an empty seat. 
Unabashedly, you watch him drive. His right hand is woven in yours, disengaging only to shift gears every now and then. Under the brim of his hat, his eyes are on the road, occasionally darting sideways to find himself on the receiving end of your attention.
It’s certainly an adjustment to see him in the driver’s seat after a week in the saddle - Whiskey’s, then the Silver Pony’s. But it doesn’t matter, there’s no mistaking the competence behind his every movement, be it to ease his horse to a slower gait with the lightest closing of his fingers on the leather reins, or to redirect the truck with an effortless palm on the steering wheel -
‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer,’ he drawls, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.
‘Not long enough,’ you grumble, shuffling in close.
He half-turns, moustache brushing your temple as he murmurs, ‘Have I told you that you look beautiful in that dress?’
You press a secret smile into his shoulder. ‘You sure you don’t prefer me in jodhpurs?’
Untangling his fingers to slide blunt nails under the hem of your dress and up the inside of your leg, he replies diplomatically, ‘I can see pros and cons to both.’
Your breath hitches with a warning, but the instinctive parting of your thighs gives you away. ‘Cowboy -’
You startle at what sounds like a sudden crack of thunder, but it turns out to be an enormous interstate truck charging down the opposite lane. In a panic, your knees snap shut, trapping Jack’s wandering hand between the soft cushion of your legs. To your chagrin, he makes a point of waving to the driver as he passes by.
‘Jack, he definitely saw your hand up my dress!’ you chide.
He flashes you a knowing smirk, and you shudder when he digs into the meat of your thigh with a firm squeeze. ‘Somethin’ tells me you enjoyed that, darlin’.’
Your mouth opens, ready to object, but a familiar heat warms the back of your neck the same time your throat goes dry. It’s the same thrill from last night, in the cellar, not knowing if you’ll get caught bent over a whiskey cask, jeans pulled down just enough so that this cowboy could bury his cock deep inside you. 
Despite yourself, you shift in your seat, and Jack’s knuckles scrape the fast dampening seat of your panties. Choking on a strangled noise, he turns his wrist so that he can rub the outline of your folds through the thin fabric, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. ‘Fuck. I feel that, darlin’.’
Another car comes down the opposite lane, a smaller sedan this time, and you’re bold enough to spread your thighs, letting him slip under your panties.
The car swerves sharply as hisses at the wetness he finds, fingertip gliding slickly between the lips of your pussy, smearing the mess all over as your hips rock into the contact. 
Through gritted teeth, Jack groans, ‘Darlin’, you’re soaked for me.’
‘Pull over. Now.’
He does - parking haphazardly behind a tree, barely a couple of yards off the main road before killing the ignition. 
You mount him immediately, throwing your right leg over his lap as if pulling yourself into the saddle, the pain an afterthought when your knee jams into the control panel on the door in your haste. Jack grunts as your hips slot flush against his, his usual composure nowhere to be found as he’s caught between undoing his seatbelt, pushing your dress up and scrabbling down the sides of the driver’s seat for the adjustment lever.
The sudden recline of the seatback pulls a squeak from you while knocking Jack’s hat clean off, and you follow to claim his lips in a messy kiss as he palms the swell of your ass.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he bites out, rocking up against your pussy, head thrown back. ‘You’re so fuckin’ sexy.’
He doesn't question you when you climb over him, taking the chance to scrape open-mouthed kisses down your neck instead - and when you sit back down on your haunches, his pupils blow wide at the sight of you wearing his hat and a flirtatious grin.
‘How about now, cowboy?’ you tease.
He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing hard as his eyes darken. ‘You’ll look even better sittin’ on my face, darlin’.’
Your jaw goes slack. ‘Jack -’
‘I want to taste you one more time. Need to. Please.’
Something breaks loose inside you, unhinges, and you crawl over the length of his lean body to steal a bruising kiss that has him hot in pursuit when you pull back. The hem of the dress brushes his face when your knees make landing on the backseat, on either side of the headrest he’s lying on. Reaching for the grab handle above, you pull yourself upright, bracing the roof of the truck while you hover over his beautiful nose.
Calloused fingers bunch up your dress to the waist, and Jack hums at the display of your drenched panties, before hooking one thumb around the seams and pulling it unceremoniously to one side.
‘Look at that pussy,’ he groans brokenly. ‘Always fuckin’ soakin’ for me. Just beggin’ for me to taste it, hmm?’
‘Jaaaack,’ you whine on an exhale. Looking down at how he’s so wantonly eyeing you, your back arches with a confidence you didn’t know you have. Thighs splaying wider, you know he hears the slick parting of your folds when he stutters a pained moan.
‘C’mere and let me eat that pretty pussy, darlin’.’
From the moment his lips close around your clit in a sloppy suckle, you know this is a different beast from that first time he took you apart with his mouth, deep in the mountains, under the secret cloak of night. The afternoon sun casts shadows where his brow is creased in studious concentration, his keen gaze flitting from where he delicately holds you open with his fingertips, to your cleavage, to your face, and all the way down again. Every twitch of muscle, every whimper caught in the web of his determination to relish all of you.
In no mood to tease, each measured lick and curl of his tongue hits its mark, your physical reflexes compounded by this show of devastating competence. He draws desperate sounds that you don't even register as your own, your needy cunt leaking all over his face and chin.
‘Cowboy,’ you mewl, reaching down to coil your fingers into his hair, the strands beaded with sweat and sticking to his forehead as he doubles down. Your squirming only makes him tighten his grip on your hips to hold you still, the bite of his fingers bordering on painful. ‘I’m so close -’
The insides of your thighs are cool and slippery, a sensation you’re well used to now, his spit and your slick completely soaking through your panties. His three-day stubble rubs your sensitive skin raw, and the top of his Stetson bumps against the ceiling as you angle your hips to catch his puckered lips where you need him most, chasing friction.
‘Jack,’ you whimper when you feel the first spark of orgasm deep inside you, the spiral instant and relentless. ‘Jack, Jack, oh fuck, - I’m there, that’s it - I’m cumming, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’t -’
Somewhere on the fringes of your scattered mind, you’re aware that the windows are down, not that you can do anything about it now - you thrash and wail and sob his name, all the while he laps at the mouth of your throbbing cunt. The sounds are obscene as he slurps and wrings every last drop of you until you’re pushing him away, nerves firing blindly from overstimulation, choking hoarsely when you catch your breath.
Watching you in a drunken daze, Jack finally draws back with a lewd pop, wiping his thoroughly soaked chin on your knee, which narrowly misses his nose as a violent, full-body shudder ripples through you.
‘Relax, darlin’,’ he cooes. All your joints have capitulated, so Jack has to bodily rearrange you, dislodging your shaky knees from his shoulders down to his sides to pull you in for a kiss. You moan at the sticky release his moustache smears all over your face, the taste of yourself thick and heavy on his tongue.
His brown eyes snap open when you sneak between your bodies to palm his erection through his jeans, voice strained. ‘Darlin’, we ain’t got the time -’
Deftly undoing his belt, that damned flask-shaped buckle that looks as ridiculous as the first time you laid eyes on it, you assure him, ‘Don’t worry, it won’t take long.’
He arches an eyebrow, taking in your face shadowed by his cowboy hat, but stays put otherwise, almost docile as he lets you take the reins. ‘Is that so? And you’re so confident, how?’
Shoving down his boxers and jeans, his cock springs free, hard and ready. With a brazen grin, you sit up and line yourself up to the swollen tip, declaring, ‘Because I want you to cum inside me, cowboy.’
You’re not sure if it’s you sinking down on him, or him snapping his hips upwards. All you know is that by the time your head catches up, he’s driven to the hilt inside you.
‘What are you - fuck you’re so tight -’ he wheezes against your lips, giving you no pause as he ruts into you recklessly, the crude slap of skin on skin filling every space the truck. ‘Whatcha mean by cummin’ inside you?’
‘I don’t know how I can be more clear, cowboy,’ you sass, when a particularly deep thrust almost jolts you off his lap.
‘But you’re not on birth control, darlin’ -’ he tries to reason.
‘I’ll take the morning after pill as soon as I land,’ you promise, holding his unfocused gaze. ‘Do you trust me?’
The wind is knocked out of you when his strong arms pull you flush to his front, his answer immediate and irrevocable. ‘With everythin’.’
There’s too much going on. The coarse scratch of denim on the inside of your thighs, his nails scraping down your ass, the desperate whimpers he leaves in the secret place behind your ear. The air grows humid and thick as Jack feels himself slipping, your pussy gripping him so tightly that his eyes threaten to roll back into his skull.
He gasps in a breathless warning. ‘Darlin' -’
‘It’s ok, cowboy,’ you croon, fingers carding through his dark hair. ‘I want to feel you deep inside me. All of you.’
His bones rattle with a vicious shudder at your words. Snarling, he bucks into you at a pace so unrelenting that you cry out with each snap of his hips. 
‘Gonna stuff you so fuckin’ full,’ he vows in between slippery kisses. ‘Been wantin’ to since the first time. Gonna fill your pussy with my cum, darlin’, you’ll be drippin’ with me for days -’
‘Yes yes yes do it cowboy, please -’ you beg, voice cracking.
‘Look at me,’ he orders, nostrils flaring as you knock foreheads. ‘Look at me while I fuck you full, darlin’.’
Choking on a whine, you feel him swell inside you until he teeters right on the brink. The raw need in his eyes robs you of your breath, and you grow faint on empty lungs as you sway with him -
And then his neck strains, his hips jerk, and you feel his abdomen cave in on itself when he lets go with your name on his lips, and his on yours. A primal roar fills your ears as he pumps you full of him, spilling into you again and again until all you feel is his cum hot and deep inside you, flooding your cunt, his whole body spasming as he pants raggedly for air.
A carnal musk hangs ripe and sweltering in the confines of the truck. Floating on a lazy stupor, you draw soothing circles on his quickly rising and falling chest through the aftershocks, his tshirt clammy with sweat, heart pounding under your palm.
Jack reaches up to push off his hat so that he can see all of you before pulling you in for a lingering kiss. When he softens, his spend dribbling slow and hot out of you, two thick fingers nudge between your thighs, and your back arches when he tenderly pushes it back inside.
His plea is a hoarse mumble into the side of your neck. ‘Keep me in you, darlin’. Take me with you.’
You nod, and smile, ‘Always.’
Tumblr media
The airport is tiny, and Jack seems to know everyone you cross paths with. From the security guard at the carpark (previously a groom at the Statesman) to the staffer at the car rental counter (Champ’s nephew), he’s busy tipping his hat and dispatching howdy’s left, right and centre.
‘Small town, huh?’ you quip.
He hums, ‘Welcome to cowboy country.’
And he definitely knows the brunette checking you in at the airline counter, all the while glowering at you over the top of your driving licence.
‘Ain’t seen you 'round town much lately, Jack,’ she says, affixing you with a none too subtle glare.
‘Y’know how it is in the summer, always busy,’ he replies a touch too politely. As soon as he drops your suitcase onto the baggage belt, he wraps one even less subtle arm around your waist and pulls you pointedly into his side.
You bite your lip as the woman’s eyes narrow and she aggressively punches your details into the computer system, surprised that the keyboard doesn’t break. Once your suitcase is on its merry way, Jack wastes no time spiriting you away from the counter without so much of a fare-thee-well.
You burst into laughter, elbowing him in the ribs. ‘Brrrrrr. That was cold!’
Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, admitting, ‘To be fair to her, she didn’t catch me at my finest moment.’
‘Do I want to know?’
‘Let’s just say there ain’t enough of this ol’ cowboy to go ‘round for the ladies in town,’ he winks.
‘Well, I hope they know there’s about to be even less of you going forward,’ you sniff primly.
Preening at the possessiveness in your tone, Jack ribs, ‘A tragedy, some might say.’
You huff, but can’t help a smile. ‘Well, aren’t I lucky to have roped you in, cowboy.’
‘And she can’t even lasso!’ he teases, leaning down to steal a kiss.
Feeling eyes on you, you duck your head, protesting, ‘Jack, people are looking.’
‘Let ‘em,’ he counters, prompting a gasp from you when he brazenly squeezes your ass through your dress. ‘I’m stakin’ my claim, darlin’.’
‘You already did in the truck, cowboy,’ you remind him, instinctively rubbing your thighs together, feeling the weight of his cum wet in your panties.
He hums, as if he knows, the sound deep and satisfied. His lips linger at the crown of your head, and he holds you close with his whole body, wrapping himself around your soul.
Tumblr media
All too soon, the old-fashioned Solari board you’re sitting under whirrs into action. The retro split-flap display spins and flips with a mechanical staccato to spell out ‘final boarding call’ next to your flight number, one of five scheduled for that afternoon. 
Stubbornly, you turn your face into Jack’s shoulder, inhaling him. He smells like horses and dappled sun filtered through leaves in a tree - you wish you could distil it into a bottle and take it with you.
You’re in denial, that much you know. You’ve warded off the thought of leaving too well, compartmentalised it and pushed it down somewhere it wouldn't be able to resurface.
But that’s the irony - even if you can keep it buried, it doesn’t change the fact that your suitcase is in the belly of the plane parked on the runway, that you’re about to leave Wyoming behind and put thousands of miles between you and this cowboy, who has gone uncharacteristically quiet as the minutes tick down.
Eventually, he murmurs slowly into your hair, as if the words are physically weighing him down. ‘C’mon, darlin.’
Your feet are heavy, dragging, and Jack has to practically strong-arm you out of the airport terminal and onto the tarmac. He holds you as you loiter at the back of the queue, until the crowd disperses, and the stewardess at the top of the boarding stairs gives you both a knowing but firm look.
That’s when the tears spill over the seams of your lashes where they’ve been teetering, held back by sheer willpower and clenched teeth. Ugly sobs bubble out of your throat, and Jack pulls you into him, his own voice thick as he rocks you soothingly. ‘It’s ok, darlin’. I’ll see you before you know it.’
‘But when?’ you wail, almost petulantly.
He answers with no hesitation, and it’s obvious to you that he isn’t just thinking on his feet, that he’s been making plans, but kept it close to his chest. 
‘We have back-to-back pack trips the next three weeks, so I can’t get away. But next month, after the Kingsman’s rescheduled bookin’, I’ll take a whole week off.’
‘That’s an entire month away,’ you grumble into the soaked front of his tshirt.
‘I know, but you’ll need time to plan all the things we’re gonna see,’ he jokes, recalling your fireside conversation. ‘You’re gonna take this country mouse to all the museums and art galleries and all kinds of big city adventures, ain’t that right?’
You give him a watery smile. ‘I stand by the sex and Thai takeaway in bed plan.’
‘Even better,’ he answers, and you hold onto the way the crease of his smile lines bring out the soul in his eyes. ‘I’ll call you, darlin’, ok?’
Somehow, you muster the good humour to tease, ‘The cool kids FaceTime nowadays, and I hear your phone doesn’t have a working camera.’
He laughs, and you can’t quite tell if it’s tears clinging to his lashes, or if it’s a trick of the light. He thumbs away the wet streaks from your cheeks, nose brushing yours in a solemn promise. ‘I’ll get a new one.’
‘Just for me?’
And then he’s kissing you, plush lips slanting across yours, dragging slow like honey. When he pulls back, he breathes, ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’
Jack has to physically unclench his fingers to let you step back. When your hand slides out of his, it takes him everything not to pull you back, or run after you up the stairs. He grasps the railing so hard his knuckles go bone-white as you turn back to him one last time at the aircraft door.
You blow him a kiss, your smile brave but wobbly. ‘Goodbye, cowboy.’
He swallows hard, wanting to be strong for you, but still, his voice wavers. ‘I’ll see you, darlin’. So soon.’
You nod, your tears catching the afternoon light as the stewardess ushers you into the cabin.
Then it hits him. 
You’re not going to be in his arms when he wakes up tomorrow. You’re not going to be there when he reaches around for you - your face, your neck, your voice.
You’re not going to be there.
Jack watches your tear-streaked face appear at one of the windows, and he tries to smile at you, wishing he’d insisted on one last kiss. The heat from the jet engines and the sun is bouncing off the tarmac, but he’s cold, so cold, that his fingers have gone stiff. Nothing feels real, as if he’s been wrapped in cling film and dunked underwater, and he almost doesn’t hear the voice to his left.
The air traffic controller says apologetically, ‘’Mfraid we gotta clear the runway, sir.’
He fumbles over his words. ‘’Course. Sorry.’
Pressing his index and middle fingers to his lips, he waves the kiss at you, which you catch with your palm against the glass. Determined not to miss one single second, he slowly walks backwards with the controller beside him as he waves the batons.
He says sympathetically, ‘It’s always hard, but it gets easier.’ 
Jack glances at him with a questioning look.
He chuckles good-naturedly. ‘You ain’t the first lovelorn cowboy I seen on this runway sayin’ ‘bye to his city girl.’
His lips quirk despite himself, eyes still on you even as the plane slowly taxis away. He says, ‘I sure hope you’re right, man.’
With one last wave, the plane pivots, and you disappear around the bend.
Tumblr media
Empty. He feels empty.
The sadness is helium in his chest, inflating between the gaps of his ribs, and he feels himself drift even with each footfall of his heavy boots on the concrete, while a dull ache ricochets in the hollow spaces of his skull.
Grappling for an anchor, Jack forces himself to focus, one thing at a time. Key in the ignition, twist, the whirr of the engine. Switching on the radio, it cackles between the frequencies as he straps his Stetson to the backseat, then swings one leg over the saddle and puts on his helmet.
The static starts taking on shape, lyrics and guitar riffs cutting through the white noise and catching his attention just as he wraps his fingers around the rubber grip of the handlebars.
I want to ride off on a palomino
Feel the fire in my breath and the breeze in my hair as I go
Why the hell am I even looking back for?
For I know, where you go my love goes
For I know, where you go my love goes
He misses the ghost of your arms around his waist, the slope of your nose tucked into his nape. He misses you. He wants to see your face the minute you get off that plane on the other side of the country. He wants to hear your voice before he goes to bed tonight. He wants to tell you mornin’ first thing tomorrow when he gets up. 
As the 737 roars overhead, the shadow passing over him, he wonders if you can spot him from the clouds. 
He’d better crack on and get to the shop in town before it closes.
Steering smoothly out of the parking lot, Jack takes a left, the Silver Pony kicking up dust with a purr as she cruises down the country roads -
The same country roads that brought you to him.
Fin
Tumblr media
More notes: I've been writing fanfiction on and off for the past 17 years. Corny as it sounds, it feels like everything I've ever written has been leading up to this fic. I put my heart and soul into Palomino, and it's repaid me tenfold. It gave me the chance to write about my love for horses, to fall in love not only with cowboy Jack, but with Darlin', Teak, the entire cast and the horses, this whole universe that I built in my head. And it gave me all of you - the most wonderful, supportive friends and readers I've had the pleasure of writing for.
I hope I will have the chance to revisit the Palomino universe one day. But for now, I'm ridiculously proud for finishing this series and for giving it the ending it deserves. I don't think I will ever write a fic that I love so deeply again. Palomino was it for me, and I'm forever grateful that I got to share this incredible journey with all of you.
There are some special people I need to thank, please forgive me if I leave anyone out, I appreciate each and everyone of you ❤️
LJ @prolix-yuy: The wonderful friend and writer who made me fall in love with cowboy Jack in first place with her epic Westworld Whiskey series, which is also coming to an end next week. I've said this many times and I'll never stop saying it - there would've been no Palomino if not for LJ. Thank you for being my inspiration bestie, you are the literal best.
Ash @mandoblowmybackout: My OG bestie and fellow cat mum, one of the first people I screeched about cowboy Jack to, I treasure our friendship so much, thank you for your support.
Maddie @imaswellkid: Maddie, thank you for being in my corner throughout Palomino and for holding my hand when I need it (which is often). Talking to you about Palomino in person - well, talking about anything and everything to you in person - was one of the most surreal moments of last year, and I'm hoping it won't be long before I see you again.
Sil @psychedelic-ink: Sil, light of my life, thank you for always being there for me, for listening and talking me down from the ledge many times. I'm so lucky to have you, and to have you love cowboy Jack as much as I do. Talking to you is always the highlight of my day!
Peaches @ohsomightypeaches: Screaming at you/being screamed at by you about anything cowboy Jack is always so much fun, and not just Jack, but also Teak, Champ, etc.. Your love for this series is beyond infectious, thank you for your support and for always making me smile!
Skye @iamskyereads: Skye my love, I believe I was admiring you from afar when you popped up in my notifs with a reblog of the first chapter, and I remember how excited I was! So grateful that Palomino brought you into my life.
Heidi @wildemaven: Thank you for gifting Palomino with not one beautiful video edit, but also a gorgeous moodboard! You are an angel!
Jules @julesonrecord: My fellow cowboy aficionado, your enthusiasm for s'mores and Jack always makes me smile. Thank you for your support, truly.
Jo @mvtthewmurdvck: Thank you for listening to me rant and rave and holding my hand during my meltdown. I'm so grateful for you!
Snowsuit anon: It's always a joy to hear from you, and I will hold you forever responsible for sparking the snowsuit craze (affectionate) 💙 Thank you for your support my lovely!
A special shoutout to my lovely readers who have followed Palomino from the very beginning. Thank you for sticking with me, I really feel like we went on this trip together, all of us: @lola-lola-lola, @harriedandharassed, @witchisenpai, @miss-mandalorian, @fireproofmarta, @dreamymyrrh, @inkededucatednnerdy, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @freakrenaissance, @axshadows, @damnyoupedro, @thosewickedlovelies, @peridotsparadox, @radiowallet, @sherala007, @shirks-all-responsibilities
And needless to say, thank you for every single one of you (I wish I could tag everyone but we'll be here all day!), every comment, reblog, ask, tag for Palomino. You have been an absolutely joy to write for, your love and encouragement kept me going, I really don't know how I've been so lucky, y'all have my heart forever ❤️
Last but not least, thank you @saradika for these adorable dividers!
466 notes · View notes
palioom · 6 months
Text
day three - hate sex
Tumblr media
pairing: jack "whiskey" daniels x f!reader word count: 534 warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n; hate sex duh, insults, degradation, hair pulling, doggystyle, creampie
• kinktober 2023 masterlist •
She hated him, his cocky smile and that stupid fucking dark mustache that stretched over his lips when he grinned. That fucking cowboy hat, his boots. Fuck, she even hated his fucking accent.
She specifically hated his accent. That fucking southern drawl that almost seemed over the top sometimes.
Whiskey always found a way to fuck up a mission and somehow Champ kept insisting on putting them together.
Because they made such an amazing team.
Sure. 
Their trips were fuelled by snide comments and hate, only managing to act up somehow when undercover, stalking after a suspect..
Still, the way he fucked her made up for his attitude, his hips snapping into her harshly, the palm of his hand cracking against her already red ass cheek in quick succession.
That thick, heavy cock of his, hitting her cervix over and over, his thick fingers curling into her hips so hard she would certainly wake up with bruises, moaning and grunting into the pillow in front of her. 
“Take it, c’mon.” He groaned behind her, smacking her ass again, her pussy clenching around him from the contact. “Fucking bitch, couldn’t even let me handle it.”
Whiskey accentuated each of his words with a particularly harsh thrust, making her cry out into the pillow.
“Because you were fucking it up royally, you asshole!” She replied, lifting her head to look over her shoulder at him. Seeing his stupid face, sweat on his forehead, teeth bared as he kept pounding into her. “You’re not good for shit, Whiskey!”
One of his hands left her hip, curling his fingers into her hair instead, pulling her up, enjoying the way she yelped, reaching behind her, finding his waist.
“Good at nothin’ except fucking you, huh, sugar?” He rasped against her ear, that thick accent only making her hate him more. The sting from his tight grip on her hair only got her closer, his hips reaching a punishing pace. “And you ain’t got no use besides takin’ my cock, sweetheart.”
Reaching her orgasm with a guttural moan, her whole body shook as she gripped his cock tight, her fingers digging into his skin behind her. It consumed all of her, mingling with the hate she felt for him.
He followed close behind, grunting into her ear as he came inside of her, feeling him twitch when he stilled deep inside of her pussy.
For a moment, all of the hate and rivalry was forgotten. In the brief first seconds of the afterglow they simply were two people who had quenched the need for release.
Then, he pushed her back down onto the bed, cock slipping out of her, and climbed off the bed to walk over into the bathroom.
She looked after him, used to his brevity after he had fucked her full of his cum. Looked at those stupid muscles on his back, his round ass.
Fucking hell, she really hated Whiskey and every moment they had to spend together.
But she enjoyed the brief moments they had where they just let off steam.
“Fucking asshole.” She muttered, turning onto her back with a groan.
The next time where he fucked up a mission couldn’t come fast enough.
340 notes · View notes
psychedelic-ink · 9 months
Text
𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄
pairing: stripper!jack daniels x f!reader
genre: stripper AU, explicit, minors dni
word count: 6.5k
series summary: frustrated by your everyday life, you seek solace at a male strip club. It's your first time and you're instantly mesmerized by the one that calls himself "Whiskey".
chapter summary: you bump into "whiskey" at the farmer's market and learn more about him.
warnings: awkward moments, fluff, mutual pining, sexual tension, bondage via jack's belt, piv, oral (female receiving), praise kink, fingering, dirty talking, brief mention of jack being widowed, angst & arguing at the end
a/n: sadly no stripping in this one folks but I promise we're gonna get some more (and our happy ending) in part three!
part two of i can feel your heartbeat
dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜
Tumblr media
You don’t visit the farmer’s market as often as you used to but when you do, man, do you love it. 
It’s almost therapeutic. You love the gentle morning sun warming your skin, you love the scent of fresh produce wafting through the air. You enjoy looking at the colorful display of flowers. While you walk, you look up into the sky, the clouds looking fluffier than ever. A soft wind blows and ruffles the leaves of the trees, the sound of it strong enough to make you believe you’re in another, more exciting world. 
The crowd mimics the motion of waves in the sea. You follow the current, not having a particular stand in mind. The only thing on your list is buying some fresh fruit; some juicy peaches, and maybe some strawberries. 
Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice a man stepping into your path until it's too late.
With an unexpected jolt, you collide into him, your momentum abruptly halting. Startled, you blink and take a step back, a mix of embarrassment and surprise washing over you. 
It’s then that you notice an item slipping from his bag, plummeting toward the ground.
In that split second, your senses heighten, and you catch a whiff of familiar leather and a trace of a perfume that sparks a distant memory. But you can't dwell on it for long as your gaze fixates on what has fallen—a meticulously hand-carved wooden horse.
The delicate figurine lies there, its intricate details captivating your attention. The sunlight dances upon its smooth surface, casting intricate shadows that accentuate the craftsmanship. It is a thing of beauty, captivating in its simplicity and elegance.
You kneel down, carefully picking up the wooden horse. Its weight in your hand feels grounding. Your fingertips trace the curves and contours, marveling at the artistry that brings it to life.
Distracted by the wooden horse, you momentarily forget about the man with whom you collided. But as you rise to your feet, you finally take notice of him, standing there with a surprised expression on his face. Recognition flickers in his eyes, and a smile slowly curves his lips; meanwhile, you’re absolutely shocked. Your mouth falls open and your eyes go wide at the sight of a cowboy hat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing almost every night. 
“Whiskey?” you say in a hushed, yet loud, whisper. “W-What are you—” 
His smile falters at the sound of his stage name, it seems to you that he’s forgotten that you don’t actually know his birth-given name. He crowds your space, the scent of pine filling the air, unmistakable and comforting. When you part your lips the second time, it’s to apologize, but before you can, he claps a hand over your mouth and gently pushes you towards the back of one of the market stalls. Your heart races, his grip firm yet strangely gentle. 
The rough surface of wood meets your back. You feel the subtle grooves and indentations beneath your palms and a shiver runs down your spine as his intense stare penetrates your defenses. He breathes heavily through his nostrils, lips a thin line.
“It’s Jack,” he grunts, almost begrudgingly. “My name’s Jack.” 
“Jack,” you say, enjoying the way his name rolls off of your tongue. Then your brows furrow with realization. “Wait, is that why you call yourself Whiskey? Like, Jack, as in Jack Daniels?” 
He gives you a pained expression, the corner of his lips lifting, “Guess my last name.” 
“Nooooo,” you let out a hushed gasp. “Your last name is Daniels?” 
“I told you my real name wasn’t any less embarrassin’.” 
You tut with a grin, “You poor thing.” 
He inches closer, leg almost between your thighs but not quite. Jack always makes his presence known. He is used to being center stage, garnering all the attention and whisking anyone away from their thoughts. His very being overwhelming and affective. You stiffen as awareness starts creeping in— the large hand cupping the column of your neck, his body imposing as it blankets yours, the thick wood behind your back. In the distance, you still hear the clamoring of people. Your breath catches in your throat, he’s only an inch away. 
Your fingers twitch and you remember the wooden horse he’d dropped. 
“Um, I think this is yours,” you blurt out, handing him the carving. He’s briefly startled but then pulls away, taking it from you. “It’s lovely by the way. Where’d you get it?” 
“I. . . uh. . . I made it,” he mutters, tilting his head forward. Hiding from you. 
“You made it?” 
He nods and steps away from you. 
“Is there anything you can’t do?” you tease, pushing yourself away from the market wall. You follow him into the crowd. “You’re truly a man of many talents. . . Jack.” 
“Don’t make me regret tellin’ you my name.” 
“I won’t,” you answer with a hint of mischief. You eye the bags he’s holding. “Are all of those wood carvings?” 
“Yea,” he says. “I bring them for my mother-in-law, she sells them along with other stuff.” 
“You—” your mouth dries and you swallow around the know forming rapidly in your throat.  “Wait, you told me you were single.” 
“Widowed.” 
He says it in a way that doesn’t allow for any follow-up questions. His voice is curt, nonchalant. Tearing your gaze away from the crowd, you stare at him, your heart squeezing in your chest. You want to hold him, whether it's a hug or just a delicate brush of your fingers. You want him to know that you're here for him.
But you just can’t. 
If you two hadn’t bumped into each other, he wouldn’t have ever told you. This was a truth that was spoken due to circumstance, not something he wanted to admit and that makes you feel incredibly guilty. “I’m sorry,” is the only thing you’re able to say. 
You might be imagining it, but you think he starts walking closer to you. His hand brushes your waist and pulls you close—right then you realize you were about to crash into some poor unsuspecting woman with enough goods to feed an army. 
He snorts, “You really out to be more careful, sweetheart.” 
“Sorry,” you mumble, distracted by the hand cupping your side. The woman had already disappeared into the crowd but he’s still holding you close. Heat drips down your spine. 
“What’s your favorite animal?” 
The question takes you by surprise but you indulge him with an answer, “Foxes.” 
“Hmm,” he looks down at his bag. “Darn, I don’t think I made a fox.” 
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” a nervous chuckle bubbles from your lips. He makes a sound and the two of you continue walking through the crowd. When you reach almost the end of the stalls, he stops you. 
“Wait here,” he says. “I’ll drop these off and we can look around together.” 
“O-Oh you don’t have to—” 
“If today is any indication you can’t function properly without me, sunshine,” he grins. “You’ll probably headbutt a fruit stand or somethin’.” 
You stand there, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaves you. Your eyes trace his figure until he stops beside a middle-aged, elegant-looking blond woman at a nearby stand. They engage in conversation, their voices carrying faintly to your ears.
They seem comfortable in each other's presence, their conversation carrying a lightness that betrays a shared history. Her smile lights up her face, and for a moment, her eyes meet yours. You feel a jolt of nervousness, your instinct urging you to avert your gaze, fearing that you may be intruding upon a private moment.
You don’t want to pry, but you would be damned if you said you weren’t hungry for more information. . . .among other things. 
Soon Jack returns, the bags he carried earlier now gone. His presence draws you back to the present, grounding you in the here and now. “You ready to go?” he asks.
“Sure.” 
When your eyes find the woman’s once more, she waves at the both of you. Jack tilts his hat as he places his hand protectively over the small of your back, heat seeping through the fabric of your shirt and into your skin. You stumble for a moment before waving back. 
You’re not sure how to react to any of this. Seeing Jack outside of the strip club feels forbidden, in a way. Like a certain spell has been broken. Before you knew his name it was easy to pretend your growing emotions were nothing other than you enoying the attention he was giving you. But now you’re in the real world. He has his hand on your back unprompted and is willing to walk around with you at the farmer’s market. In the club, a curtain of illusion looms most of the time. It’s another world. A separate little nook where you can disappear into and be pampered in.
That spell is broken now. 
He’s a real person. Your emotions are real. Everything is. 
And that terrifies you. 
Tumblr media
With the heel of his palm pressed firmly against the steering wheel, Jack parks in your driveway. Your eyes drop to his lap where his legs are spread, an enticing view by any means. His belt buckle shines under the street light coming through the windshield. The soft yellow softens the edges of his face, giving him an almost somber look. 
He kills the engine, you wait for him to speak but he doesn’t say anything. 
“Thank you for dropping me off,” you say, breaking the silence. You unwillingly grip the latch of the door. “So,” you add. 
“So,” he clears his throat, and drags a thumb down the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see you around darlin’. Today was nice.” 
“Yeah. It was.” 
The two of you had ended up spending time together until the sun had set. You even had dinner together which was a pleasant surprise. It wasn’t awkward then, so you have no idea why you feel so unnerved right now. It’s as if your entire vocabulary had dropped from your head. 
You swallow, thinking of your next words very carefully, “Would you. . . like to come in? I have a bottle of wine.” 
Time seems to slow down, every sound around you amplified. The cacophony of crickets fills the night air, a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees. You hold your breath as the car emits a soft creak. The muscle in his jaw twitches. He seems hesitant, his eyes glazed as if looking at the horizon. You shouldn’t have asked. Just because he was friendly doesn’t mean he wants to date, or have a relationship. And from what you’ve learned today, there is a very high chance that Jack wouldn’t be interested in any form of intimacy. 
“Sure,” he finally says, his voice rough. “Lead the way, sugar.” 
Despite the hot summer air, your skin is ice cold. He follows you inside, his body close yet painfully far at the same time. The skin at the base of your spine tingles. You have a feeling that he wants to wrap his arms around you but it remains only a thought. Briefly you imagine the phantom feel of his limbs coiling around you, the warmth you would feel. 
You quickly unlock the door and invite him inside. You’re not sure what to do now that he’s in your apartment. Hands in his pockets, he gives his surroundings a quick once-over. 
“Cozy,” he says. 
“Thanks,” you mumble, not sure if that was a compliment or not. “So, wine?” without waiting for an answer you head to the kitchen. Jack follows. You're desperately racking your brain for conversation topics that won't be awkward, but your mind seems determined to make your life miserable by providing no ideas.
“Today was fun,” you say, reaching for the glasses. He makes a sound of approval and your gut simmers with something unpleasant. You grab the bottle of wine from the fridge and the cork from the drawer. With a frown, you struggle with pulling out the cork. “I hope. . .” you pull at it again. “you had fun. . .” you let out a loud grunt, too distracted to realize he’s rounding the small island. “. . . too—shit!” 
Jack is right behind you when the cork finally comes loose and sends your arm flying back. 
Your elbow slams loudly against something hard and pointy, the pain that blossoms from skin to bone immediate. Jack lets out a shout and when you turn you see him hunched over, holding his chin. 
Oh god, you’re a moron. 
“What were you doing behind me!?” you chide, your voice shrill. 
“I should be the one fuckin’ yellin’,” he hisses, each word bouncing against the back of his teeth. He breathes heavily through his nose and slowly stands back up. He moves his jaw as if he’s testing if it’s broken. “I was gonna offer help. It didn’t look like you were gettin’ anywhere with the bottle.”
Your chest heaves, heart pounding maniacally beneath the cage, “I’m so so so sorry,” you say quickly. “I—I wasn’t paying attention. Do you need anything? Should I get the first aid kit?” 
He’s still moving his jaw when his eyes meet yours. You hear the faint clicking of bone, the sound ominous to your ears. “Sorry,” you whisper again, feeling like a parrot. 
Jack’s gaze grows softer the longer he stares at you. Momentarily his eyes flutter closed. He takes a deep breath and opens them back up again. The air around you is still, the only sound not drowned by the drum of your heart is the faint traffic coming from outside. With long strides, he’s at you in an instant, his body feeling larger than life itself. His fingers gingerly brush your cheek and you swear you feel electricity crackling across the skin. 
“I should be the one apologizin’. It’s my fault for sneaking up on you like that,” he sighs, turning his hand, he drags his knuckles down your face. You’re reminded of the first time he danced for you, how he wrapped his hands around your neck. “I didn’t mean to shut down like that. Of course, I had fun today. I’m glad we ran into each other.” 
In order to avoid appearing desperate and insecure, you sink your teeth into the tip of your tongue, consciously refraining from uttering the question: "Really?"
“That’s good,” you say instead, hating how unsure you sound. He definitely thinks that you don’t believe him. “For a while there I felt bad. I didn’t want to intrude.” 
“Well, you didn’t.” 
“Okay.” 
His touch feels good on your skin. You don’t ever want him to leave, at least, not for tonight. It’s odd really, you’ve been much closer than this before but this feels more intimate, more nerve-wracking. His head tilts towards the bottle, the corner’s of his mouth curling up.  
“Now pour us what’s left in the bottle.” 
You’re grinning now, a sound between a chuckle and a snort dropping from your lips, “Okay.” 
Jack picks up the glasses of wine as you lead him to the living room. You can definitely sense an energy shift between you two. You don’t need to force yourself to fill the silence anymore. Everything is more natural, just like it was before. 
“I’m just glad you didn’t get my nose,” he says as he takes a seat on the couch. “It would’ve been bad for business.” 
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you roll your tongue. “People love a rugged handsome man with a bit of blood.” 
As soon as you sit, his arm comes up to lay above the backrest. His fingers draw patterns across your skin; stars, hearts, circles. Your muscles tighten, nipples left tingling at his touch. You breathe out slowly. Jack shuffles closer and spreads his legs, his knee digging into the meat of your thigh. His thumb smooths over the stem of the wine glass. You have his full focus, gaze brimming with intrigue. 
“Is that what you like?” Every word is said tantalizingly slow, you shudder. “A bit of blood.” 
Not the blood, you want to say, but the thought of someone stepping in to be a shield for me. 
The words don’t come however and you just stare, your cheeks warm as he continues to toy with the small hairs scattered across the back of your neck. You’re actually glad you managed not to answer. You’re not sure if he’d want to stay after hearing it. There’s just something so intoxicating about another person caring enough to want to protect you, no matter what happens. And your lizard brain just thinks it’s hot. You’re aware it’s not the strangest thing but still, you don’t think it’s the best course of action to admit this to your stripper. 
Well, not your stripper. He doesn’t belong to anyone but you digress. 
“Tell me whatcha thinkin’ pretty girl,” he spreads his fingers around your nape, gently squeezing the side. You practically purr at the pressure. “You should know by now that I’m good at keepin’ secrets.” 
The reminder brings a rush of warmth between your legs. You squirm and bring the glass of wine to your lips, taking two large gulps. “I don’t know what I’m thinking,” you answer, swallowing at the same time. “Besides you already know what the people want, don’t pretend that you don’t.” 
“I do,” he hums. “But right now I’m more interested in what you want, sugar.” 
“You. . .” you furrow your brows. “What?” 
Placing the wine glass on the coffee table, he leans closer. His lips are tinted from the wine. “What do you want, darlin’?” he pressed his palm flat on your thigh. “Because to me, it seems like you have an itch you just can’t seem to scratch.” 
Holy freaking hell. 
You’re a goner— what kind of steamy cowboy romance book did this man climb out of? 
“What about you?” 
Your question startles him and his fingers twitch around your thigh, “What do you mean ‘what about me’?” 
“Well,” you shrug. “What do you want?” 
You’re giving yourself mental pats on the back for keeping your voice leveled. The fabric of your underwear is damp with arousal, your clit throbbing and aching for his fingers. There’s a storm raging inside you. A storm that you’re glad he’s not able to witness. You keep your breathing even. Nice and slow. His hand starts sliding up your leg, stopping when he reaches the crease between your legs. He smiles. 
“I want to fuck you, darlin'.” 
You hold your breath, your pussy bottoming out at his deep southern drawl. He leans in, lips brushing your ear before gently nipping the hard shell. Electricity spikes up your spine, a strangled moan parting your lips. 
“I want to fuck you slow,” he continues on, tongue wet and warm over your skin. “Then I want to fuck you hard. I want to look in your eyes as you come for me again, sunshine.” without warning Jack cups your sex, fingers digging into your clothed folds. Your head snaps up, every bone going rigid in your body. “Want to feel that pretty pussy chokin’ my cock.” 
You’re shaking and your ears are left ringing. It’s just one touch. One touch and your entire body is locked up, aching, begging. Your jaw hurts from how hard you’re clenching your teeth. He blows a puff of air, goosebumps rising over your skin. He kisses your neck, such a gentle, fleeting feeling. All blood gathers under his lips, pounding. You swallow. 
“Your turn,” he rasps, circling your clit with two fingers. “What do you want, gorgeous?” 
“I—I—” you look down to where his hand is, the sight knocking the air from your lungs. He’s actually touching you, fingers deep between your legs. Sweat beads at your temple. “I want that too.” 
“Hm?” he’s amused, you can tell. A tone you’d grown accustomed to that you both hate and adore. You refuse to look at him. “You like the sound of that, pretty girl? Me fucking this neglected pussy? Has a man ever made you come before, sunshine?” 
You don’t want to answer but you forget that silence is an answer on its own. “What is this a questionnaire?” His eyes glimmer under the dimmed light, how can he look so delighted while taking you apart you’ll never know. 
“I’m takin’ that as a no,” he tuts and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor thing.” 
You might not admit it, but that doesn’t make him any less right. You haven’t really been lucky when it came to previous sexual endeavors. None of them really made you that comfortable to just let go. There were some that came really close, and some felt good despite you not finishing—some were just downright bad at it— That’s why his dance had surprised you. He worked you up so thoroughly and that added with the thought that you’d never see him again bred the perfect ground for you to just relax. 
You had no idea the end result would be him in your apartment, telling you how badly he wanted to fuck you. If this is a dream you never want to wake up from it. 
His hands slide to your hip, holding you tight as he leans over. You gasp when you feel his lips, so soft, so tender. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip hungrily, not asking but demanding to be let inside. You part your lips with a feverish groan and he slips inside. You seize him by the collar, pulling him closer, wanting more of him. Your head spins as he tilts his head, shoving more of him inside you, your tongue eagerly backing down so he takes full control. He squeezes the breath out of you, swallowing your tender moans of his name. 
Jack’s hand tenderly cups your cheek as he pulls away, a string of saliva still connecting you two together. You breathe heavily, your lips stinging in the best way. Your eyes flit over his face. His lips kiss swollen, chocolate eyes a shade darker. With a thumb, he tugs down your bottom lip and swallows. 
“Take me to your bedroom.” 
Tumblr media
“I’ve never seen you take off your clothes so fast before.” 
He snorts, “Shut up. I ain’t on the clock. You think that’s how I undress all the time? I would get nothin’ else done.” 
Jack unbuckles his belt while you take in the sight of his bare torso. A shudder crawls up your spine at the sound of the metal buckle coming loose. He has a smooth chest, which you already knew but still, to have it all to yourself makes your entire mouth water. 
Your eyes drop when he rips the belt away with one smooth motion. Anticipation stirs in your chest, causing your eyebrows to raise. Before you can avert your eyes, he catches your gaze, his trademark grin tugging at his mouth. Belt still in hand, he comes closer. With a gentle touch, Jack's hands grasp the fabric of your shirt. Carefully, he pulls upward, the fabric gradually lifts, revealing the tender skin beneath. You instinctively raise your arms for him and he slids it completely off, leaving you in nothing else but your bra. 
He dips down, kissing the soft swell of your breasts, one by one, “Can’t do anythin’ without me,” he says with no conviction. His lips move over your skin. “My helpless sweetheart.” 
You barely hear the second part of his sentence, he had uttered the words softly, just above a whisper. The words resonate in you, short-circuiting your brain and shutting out unrelated thoughts. You like this. You like him taking care of you, guiding you. His tone holds no pity, only care. 
His thumb follows the lace of your bra, tongue tasting the salt of your skin. You whine as your knees weeken, his mouth has no right feeling this good. He cups them from underneath and slowly pushes the satin fabric up, calloused palm grazing your peaked nipples. He swirls his tongue around the areola then closes his lips around the hardened flesh. Your back arches, filling his mouth with more of you. He groans as he opens his mouth wider, teeth softly caressing the skin. 
“Jaack,” you breathe out as you shift from one leg to the other. Your panties stick uncomfortably to your core. You palm him through his jeans, feeling the weight of him. He sucks your nipple harder, pinching the other one. You want to taste him. “Let me,” you say, already going down. 
Much to your surprise, he stills your movements. “No,” he groans. “Let me take care of you first.” 
He pushes your arms behind you, locking your wrists together with one hand. Your breath stills when you feel the leather of his belt circling your wrists. “Can I?” he asks, breath fanning your neck. 
Your stomach flips and not trusting yourself to remain upright, you brace yourself by dropping your forehead to his shoulder. Your entire body is winded. You place a small, chaste kiss over his clavicle, his chest raises with a deep inhale.  
“Just promise this isn’t where you tie me up and steal my watch,” you joke, immediately regretting it when you look up to see his brows drawn together, a small snarl tracing his lips. “Sorry, that was in bad taste.” 
“We don’t have to,” he says, his grip around your hands loosening. “And if we do we can stop whenever. I just. . .” he swallows thickly. Anticipation burrows into your skin. “I like the idea of you trustin’ me to make you feel good.” 
“I do trust you,” you answer quickly. “And I want to. I just wasn’t aware how much I wanted it which is why I made that dumb joke.” 
“I’m sure you can make it up to me,” he answers with a crooked grin. Suddenly, he tightens the belt around you and you let out a quick gasp, his lips are on your instantly, teeth nipping at your chin. “Does this feel okay?” he asks, slightly tugging on the leather. 
It’s funny how such a simple thing can alter one’s mindset. You’re almost subdued, in a way, completely at his mercy. However, you don’t feel helpless either. His heavy palms move up and down your arms, you quiver as you drip for him, wetness gathering between your folds.  You’re breathing heavily, heart bellowing in your chest, loud and strong. His skin against yours feels warmer somehow. 
“Yeah,” you answer. “Feels more than okay.” 
You hear the smile in his voice, “Well a’right then,” he helps you towards the bed, you drop head first into the pillows, hands securely at your back. His lips brush the tender skin between your shoulder blades. “Gonna taste this sweet pussy now, sunshine. I’ve been eager for dessert.” 
“God, the mouth on you,” you swallow, feeling his breath ghosting your wet core. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” 
“Not yet,” he sighs, kissing right where the curve of your ass begins. “First I gotta make you come.” 
You’re in the midst of thinking of a quip to answer with when you feel it. The wet, warmth of his tongue gliding up between your folds. Your body coils and unwinds almost simultaneously. He moves his jaw, pushing his tongue deeper. He traces your entrance with a pointed tip, licking himself deeper. The sound he makes are sinful—loud in the silence of the room. 
Your wrists strain against the restraint, you push back wanting more of him. He groans into you, the reverberations seeping into your cunt. You’re withering helplessly, heat coiling tight in your stomach as your insides flutter and clench around nothing. Jack parts you with two fingers, his teeth like daggers against the sensitive flesh. With a loud cry, you feel your slick dripping out of you, making a mess of his face. 
“That’s my girl,” he rasps, giving you another fat stroke of his tongue. His hand comes up to your asscheek, kneading the flesh playfully. You relax at the touch and drool over the pillows. It’s too much, yet not nearly enough. He circles his tongue around your throbbing clit and sucks it between his lips, you jolt at the pleasure and wiggle helplessly. 
He gives you a gentle, yet firm, smack on the ass. A whimper echoes in your throat, your eyes shutting closed as your nails bite into your sweaty palms. “Settle,” he warns, voice deep and rich like molasses. “Use your words when you want something darlin’. Or else you ain’t getting it.” 
You make a sound between a choke and a moan, despite your non-answer answer, he seems to understand. 
“You want my fingers, sweetheart?” 
You nod, another moan slipping from your lips. 
He presses his lips over the heated skin and you keen at the soft touch of his mouth. “Can’t wait to be filled, hm?” he grins “You think you’re wet enough to take two, darlin’?” 
The tips of his fingers press against your entrance, his touch nothing but a tease. “Yeah,” you answer, voice hoarse. He kisses your core before pushing two fingers in, they slide in easily, the sound of how et you are making you shudder. 
“That’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuckin’ soaked for her cowboy.” 
He moves his fingers in and out of your slickened depths, coating them. His tongue returns to your cunt, your head left spinning as his talented tongue flicks, licks, and swirls. He moves his fingers in time with his tongue, plunging deeper into your sopping core. 
Jack’s free hand roams your body, cupping your breasts as the intensity of his movements increases. His thumb brushes your hard nipple as he pulls you closer to his mouth, greedy to take more of you. Sparks of pleasure zig-zag through your body and you gasp as pleasure heaves through you.
Your hips buck as he moves his fingers faster, slipping them in then out with a maddening rhythm. His tongue slides faster and harder against your clit and you arch your back. You feel yourself clenching around his fingers, pleasure building and building until you’re a trembling mass panting for release. 
Jack’s fingers fill you up to the brim, your inner walls quivering and contracting around them, eager for more. He pinches your nipples, sending shivers up your spine. You gasp and cry out as you build up towards your peak, trembling against him. 
Finally, with one final thrust of his fingers and swipe of his tongue, you let out a loud moan as your orgasm rocks your entire body. Your walls weakly gripping his fingers as the pleasure spreads through your body, leaving you a boneless, exhausted mess. 
He pulls his fingers from you and kisses your neck tenderly. “Oh darlin’,” his deep voice whispers into your ear before trailing kisses down your jaw. “Look at you, fuckin’ gorgeous.”
His cock lays heavy above your ass, smearing precum across your skin. You whimper, rolling your hips back, showing him what you need. His breath hitches. He meets your movements, slowly, grinding onto you. 
“You want my cock?” 
“Y-Yes, please,” your eyes roll as he teases you with the fat tip of his lenght. But before he fills you, a longing stirs in your chest. “Wait,” you gasp and he still in an instant, without looking at him you know his eyes are painted with worry. “I want to see you.” 
“See me?” he repeats slowly, as if the words are foreign to his tongue. 
“Please,” you add. “I want to touch you too.” 
Swiftly, he unties you and throws the belt to the floor. Your arms drop loosely to your sides, a pleasant ache stirring in your muscles. Jack turns you side ways, your thighs offering him a velvet entrance to your tight heat. He caresses your back, his touch soothing. When your gaze meet his, there’s a slightly hesitation in them. Almost like he’s afraid of something. 
“Is this alright?” he asks and you nod, reaching out to him. He sighs as your arms weakly wrap themselves around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. 
While your tongues intertwine, he enters you. Just like he promised, he does it slowly, every ridge felt by you. You tear away from him with a gasp, you’re overwhelmed by the size of him, stretching your sensitive cunt perfectly. When he’s buried himself in your completey, he pulls out in an equally slow manner. Your jaw drops wide, your walls trembling at the slow guide. The inside of your thighs shake. With only the tip inside, he pushes forward, slowly. Your nails bite into his back, tension coiling in your stomach as he presses his lips against yours once more. 
“So warm,” he groans, eyes staring deep into yours. “Fuckin’ pussy was made for me.” 
“Yes,” you cry out, holding him closer. “Made for you, Jack. Made for your cock.” 
His hips stutter and your eyes go wide, a gutteral moan tainting your lips. “Please,” you beg. “Please, please, please—” 
“Please. . . what, darlin’?” his lips brush your teary eyelids. 
“Fuck me,” you whisper. “I-It’s too much, please just fuck me. Stop teasing.” 
“Alright, sugar. I won’t.” 
There’s a small window of clarity where the softness of his voice catches you off guard, but that feeling is quickly replaced by the overwhelming strike of pleasure hitting your spine. His demeanour completely changes. Slow and sensual grind of his hips becoming fast and merciless, he snaps into you, length gliding against a spot you can barely reach with your fingers. He breathes into your neck. Your mind is in a complete haze, the four walls around you dssapearing from existence. 
You yelp when he flips you over to your back, spreading your trembling legs wide, his thumb falls on your clit and he begins to draw fast, precise circles around the bundle of nerves. You scream his name, pulsing around him as he fucks you deeper, harder until you’re coming undone around him once again. 
You squeeze him tight before gushing around him, your back arching almost painfully with his continued thrusts. Pleasure rolls over your body in the form of tidal waves, and just as you’re coming down from your high, he pulls out, spilling over your stomach. 
You look at him blearily, eyes barely able to focus on the heavy way his chest moves. He breathes heavily, the muscles that surround his stomach tense. Before you can utter a word, Jack dips down, claiming your lips in a heady kiss that you can only describe as a finality. 
Jack parts away and hops off of the bed. 
Your eyes widen, confusion swirling in them. Why is he getting dressed? You’re still within a heavy haze of pleasure, your surroundings feeling disoriented and dreamlike. With a weak hand, you reach towards him, hoping the action will convey to him not to go. 
Jack already has one leg shoved into his pants when he sees you. Helpless. Needy. Your heart suddenly feels too big for your chest, tears build in your eyes. He hasn’t said anything yet, but you know. You just do. 
He’s quick to clamber over to you, dropping to his knees and taking your hand into his own before dragging damp lips over your knuckles. Your chest heaves. You don’t want him to go. 
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice choked. “I can’t stay.” 
“Why?” 
He ignores your question, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stop by the club either, darlin’.” 
“Don’t call me that,” you snap. He stiffens at your tongue, shoulders raising. He still has your hand enclosed in his. Your eyes sting. “I thought. . . I thought you liked me. . .” 
You hate the way your voice cracks. You hate seeing the remorse in his eyes. You hate how tortured he looks, as if you’re the one hurting him. 
“This ain’t gonna work out. Whatever it is.” 
“Then why even come here? Why even. . .” you viciously pull your hand back, startling him. He stands as you straighten,  leaning against the bed rest. You reek of sweat and sex. Marks of him, all of it, on you, on the bed, on the pillows. You cross your arms over your chest, refusing to pull up a blanket over your naked body. Refusing to be ashamed. 
It doesn’t matter. Embarrassment sears your skin. 
He doesn’t answer and you realize. Your heart lurches, your stomach dropping and churning uncomfortably. You can’t breathe—fuck, you can’t breathe. 
“This was a goodbye,” you say coldly, the next words you whisper, broken. “That’s why you were distracted in the kitchen. You knew this was going to be a one-time thing.” 
Anger flashes in his eyes, surprising you, “I thought somewhere along the way you would’ve figured that out too,” he snarls. “Wans’t it obvious from the start this couldn’t go anywhere?” 
“It wasn’t obvious to me!” your hands drop from your chest and you’re crawling off the bed to meet him halfway. Just as you’re stepping down, your knees gave way beneath you, still weak. Jack takes a step forward and catches you, one arm securely wrapped around your torso. You push him away. “Fuck you—stop being nice to me!” 
“Fuck me?” he repeats, bewildered. “Fuck you! I was just tryin’ to help.” 
“Oh please, you were just helping yourself,” you hiss between gritted teeth. “Spare me any favors!” 
Silence falls, the air still crackling with tension. You breathe heavily. Both your gazes remain locked on one another, both of you refusing to step down. You feel like a wounded animal, trying to bite back after being kicked. 
“Just because someone does the bare minimum,” he says slowly, pulling up his pants. “Don’t mean their kind. I’m not the type of person you think I am, I’m just savin’ you the trouble of figuring it out yourself.” 
He shakes his head, tormented. 
“I’m sorry whoever it was who hurt you. I’m sorry they made you believe that every person is a shithead that’ll treat you like crap—but that just ain’t true. They are better people out there,” he sighs and pulls his shirt over his head. “I hate the way you look at me.” 
“I look at you the same way I look at everyone else.” 
“No, you don’t,” he smiles and all oxygen leaves your lungs. It’s a broken smile, the corners of his lips twitch. “You look at me like I’m more than I am. I can’t handle it. Not again.” 
Not again. 
Not again. 
Not again. 
Not again. 
What does that mean? What happened? What’s again? 
The face of the elderly blond woman you barely saw flashes before your eyes. His mother-in-law. You shrink under his gaze, guilt, and regret coursing through your veins. You didn’t ask him how she died. He didn’t let you as and you figured he’d tell you when the time was right. 
Now it looks like such a time won’t ever come. 
“I’m sorry,” he says for how many times you lost count. His voice cracks. “This is the best for you, I promise, sunshine.” 
He leaves and you break. 
The way he said sunshine. . . it echoes in the loud emptiness of your bedroom. 
758 notes · View notes
rosepascal · 10 months
Text
how i think different pedro characters would eat pussy
ft: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Jack Daniels, Marcus Pike, Marcus Moreno, Max Phillips
NSFW - 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI
hello this is the first time im writing anything for pedro characters that aren't joel miller or din djarin so i hope they're in character lol.
Tumblr media
Joel Miller
Okay. this man is a little rough with it. Never rough enough to hurt you (unless u want him too) but he goes down on you as stress relief for him. He fucking loves eating pussy though. His hands would hold you down, he’d tie your hands behind your back, and he’d go to town. His beard would scratch your thighs and fuck would it feel so good. He doesn’t talk much during it. Instead letting out grunts and the occasional “fuck”. He gets a lot of pleasure out of rendering you into a screaming, fucked out mess. Sometimes he pushes your legs to your chest and pulls your ass up for a different angle. Just because its an apocalypse doesn’t mean Joel’s lost any of his pussy eating skills tyvm.
Din Djarin
He doesn't get the chance to go down on you as much as he would like. The fact that you can't see his face doesn't help either. But when he does get the chance, he makes sure your legs shake at the very thought of what he does to you. He's messy with it. Sloppy and uncaring. He doesn't have the most experience but when his tongue is shoving itself inside of you and his hands are desperately pawing at your thighs and stomach. It doesn't fucking matter how much experience he has. He is eager to please and eager to learn. He wants the sounds of your moans and the quiver of your thighs to be ingrained in his memory forever. Sometimes he doesn't even bother taking off his armor. So when his beskar rubs against your burning skin, it only adds to the sensation.
Frankie Morales
Frankie is a pussy worshiper. To him there’s nothing better than spreading your legs going down on you until you’re clawing at his hair and begging him to fuck you. He’s methodical about it too ngl. Every time he eats you out he takes note of what makes you moan louder and what drives you crazy. He makes sure to do it all in the order you love it most. Not to say that it’s not exciting. He’ll switch up his tactics. Add his fingers here and there, leave hickies on your thighs, change pressure of his licks. It’s all a beautiful, fun game to him that always leads to you coming at least twice.
Jack Daniels
Cowboy here is a tease with a capital T. He’s also a talker. He knows how to please you and pulls a feeling from you that you didn’t ever think you could feel. He’ll make lots of jokes too. He draws out his words and teases you with his tongue until you’re crying and squirming under him. Begging for something more. He talks you through it too. In a teasing manner but also because he loves hearing just how desperate you become for him and him alone. Jack will lift his head and ask you cheeky questions. Ask if you’re enjoying it. If it feels good. How bad you need it and he won’t go back to fucking you with his tongue until you answer him.
Marcus Pike
Sweet Marcus is gentle and sweet when be eats your pussy. He is 100% a man to get pleasure from eating you out. He moans loud and grinds down on the bed until you’re both coming. Marcus has come in his pants while going down on you before and probably will again. He is eager and ready to drop to his knees if you ask. I also think he likes to hold your hands as he does it. Half to hold you down but also because he wants to feel as much of you as he can. He doesn’t do much teasing, preferring to get right to the main course. He’ll give you anything you ask for tbh.
Marcus Moreno
Mr Moreno is a giver 100%. If you ask he’d drop everything and indulge in your pussy. Marcus is a busy man though and raising Missy doesn’t always leave much alone time for the two of you which is why he feels the need to make it up to you when you do have time alone. At first you thought he did it only because he felt bad but he reassured you he did it because he wants to. He wants you to know how much he loves you and cares for you by taking care of you in the best way he can think of. There are also times where he needs to forget about the stress of being a superhero. Try as he might he can’t save everyone and it takes a toll. In the morning you’ll talk to him about it but in the moment he doesn’t need to talk he needs to feel you. So he spreads your legs and loses himself.
Max Phillips
Max is not afraid to declare to the world how much he wants to devour your pussy. Look he’s an asshole at work and he does have that feat boy energy sometimes but he is not the kind of man to think its gross or weird to go down on his partner. In fact he finds it incredibly childish to hear that some people refuse to do it. Your pussy deserves to be eaten at least once a day he has so bravely volunteered to be the one to do it. His words. He is a tease though. He’s also cocky as fuck but he has the skills to back it up. He is completely unashamed and pretty vulgar about it too. Max would have you not wear underwear if he could. Just bare for him so whenever he wants to he could just bend you over and have a little taste. A snack if you will. He’d also whisper dirty things at work just to make you horny. Don’t even get me started on when you get your period. He’s a menace but a menace with a talented mouth.
996 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Southern Nights
Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader.
Summary: Gettin' caught in the rain with a cowboy.
Word Count: 2.8k
Rating: Mature 18+
Warnings: Complete absence of horse lore. Jack’s hat. Brief alcohol references. Flannel shirts. Hay bales. British author writing cowboy stuff. Reader is shorter than Jack and he can pick her up. Heavy petting.
Quiet Moments collection masterlist | Main masterlist
Tumblr media
Nicknames drove you to despair and always had. As the shortest and, frankly, dorkiest looking kid in your class at school you’d heard them all, and they never got any funnier or more original. 
So it was just your luck to take a job on a horse ranch with a bunch of cowboys who told you their first names once and once only. You needed a spreadsheet to match up their names with their booze themed monikers. Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels seemed to delight in this enforced joviality, playing up to his merry persona every chance he got. 
You'd gotten the job, in part, because you were a woman. The other guy's testosterone filled whip-cracking was becoming a little old-fashioned in today's world. Your interview consisted of little more than you proving you knew how to tack a horse and confirming whether or not you could start right away. You'd half expected a tobacco spitting contest.
Jack charmed pretty much all the visiting day guests, and the guestbook on reception read like a teenage girl's diary. For the most part, you saw through his corporate sponsored flirting, and you tried to ignore what it did to you when he turned that molasses deep voice on you while you brushed the horses or rode quietly together in his truck to the feed store, his hand drumming against the open window frame as you rumbled along the dirt roads into town.
You wouldn’t necessarily say that you and Jack got off on the wrong foot, but at first, you thought he just wasn’t your kind of person. He'd swagger over and drop down onto the bench next to you at lunchtime and you'd end up eating in silence because you were so determined to avoid both his cheeky questions about your weekend plans, and that little honey flecked flash that would creep into his eyes.
You wanted to pass the weeks as quickly as you could, to keep your head down and work hard. He spent a large majority of his time just leaning on things, watching you, and making heat prickle under your skin.
You were as Southern as they came, so his dashing cowboy routine should have had you rolling your eyes into next week but, most days it left you flustered and a tad irritable and you found yourself dropping things a lot more when he was around.
The boss seemed to pick up on something and kept pairing the two of you up to work together. “We’re a family here”, he’d said knowingly as he slapped you on the back a little too hard. This was how you’d ended up mapping out a new trail route together ahead of the summer season of guests arriving. 
You had set off late in the afternoon once all the daily chores were done and the midday heat had started to ease up. The air was thick with humidity and beads of sweat dripped from underneath your ageing hat, running off the end of your nose at regular intervals and carving salty rivets through the last of the sunscreen on your face. You tugged at the long point of the red cotton bandana around your neck and wiped your cheeks with it, a somewhat pointless endeavour, but at least it gave a few moments relief.
Jack was up ahead, his narrow denim clad hips swaying gently in the saddle as the clip-clop of his silver dappled horse’s hooves matched the steady rhythm of your chestnut mare. There was a peaceful silence between you both that you were grateful for after a busy morning’s work.
After an hour, he caught your attention with a quick, high-pitched whistle and pointed towards the pebbled edge of the riverbank, signalling that it was time for a rest stop.
“Hot as hell out here.” He said as he dismounted with a thud and fished his water canteen out of the saddle bag. He downed the whole thing in a couple of large gulps, and you watched an errant drip run down his chin and disappear beneath the open collar of his shirt. He crunched his way over the shingle to the water's edge, where he crouched down to refill.
“Yup.” You nodded and wiped your itchy eyes with the sleeve of your linen shirt. “Hot as Hades, as my Momma would say.” 
He chuckled at how you always over exaggerated your Southern lilt when you talked about your family.
You hopped off your horse and led her down to the river for a drink, letting the reins drop to the ground as you pulled a worn map out of your pocket. You sat down on the hot stones and leaned the paper against your thigh, tracing the faded colours of the route with your finger.
“So, we have about another mile and a half of the riverside path, then we cross the bridge, and it should be an easy ride through these fields as we come back around on ourselves.”
Jack took off his brown leather Stetson and splashed his face with some cool water. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he ran his hand through his damp hair and smoothed down the corners of his moustache with his fingertips. He really was infuriatingly handsome.
“Ok, Calam’.” He nodded. “Let’s keep movin’.”
You bristled at the nickname. ‘Calamity Jane’ he’d christened you one night in the town’s only bar when he’d seen you down a whole beer without taking a breath and almost break some fella’s wrist when he stood way too close to you and called you “Sugar.” 
Mostly, you liked that he thought of you as tough, that you weren't some delicate flower angling your petals towards his megawatt smile. But there was a small part of you, one that you couldn't quiet, that felt a little deflated at him thinking of you as ‘just one of the guys.’ You saw the softness underneath his bravado, and you hoped he saw yours too.
You heaved yourself back into the saddle, and Jack tossed you two apples from his pack. You fed one to your horse and kept the other for yourself. 
“See how you have everyone eatin’ out of the palm of your hand?” Jack joked. 
You shielded your eyes from the sun, which had dipped low enough to shine under the brim of your hat. “I’d need to be real careful around you, Jack. Wouldn’t want to lose a finger now.”
He laughed and snapped his jaw at you before giving his horse a firm ‘giddy up’.
The two of you set off again, trotting your way towards the bridge, the river quietly babbling at the side of you.
When you reached the old beam bridge, your horse needed a little gentle encouragement to cross the rickety wooden slats. Jack turned his head to check on you, his mirrored aviators slung low on his face. “Ah, come on now, gorgeous. Nothin’ to be afraid of."
You patted her softly on the mane. “She doesn’t need you sweet talkin’ her, Jack.” Your horse let out a small nicker of agreement. “This here’s an independent lady.”
“You’re assumin’ I was talkin’ to the horse.” He winked at you from beneath his shades before pushing them back up the bridge of his nose.
When you reached the other side, you paused to check the map again. You were pretty sure you were heading west, but didn’t want to give Jack the pleasure of proving you wrong. The teasing would be unbearable. 
“Ok, so we just need to be headin-” You were cut off by a loud whinny from both horses.
“Well, shit.” Jack pointed to some ominous looking black clouds that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “We’d better get goin’ before that hits us.”
You scanned the map again. “There’s some sort of barn three fields over. If we can get there, we can sit it out.”
“Passin’ the time with Jack in the hayloft?” His mouth curved into a crooked smirk, showing off the deep dimple in his cheek. “Can’t say I mind that idea one bit.”
“Oh be quiet, would you?” You kicked your heels in the stirrups and kept your eyes forward. You didn’t trust yourself not to return that smirk. “Let’s get goin’.”
By the time the barn was in sight, the rain had caught up with you and was bouncing off the rim of your hat in increasingly large droplets. The damp leather rubbed the skin of your forehead, and you lost grip of the reins more than once. 
Your horse huffed and snorted, the change in the air making her nervous. You hummed to her absentmindedly for a few minutes and stroked her mane with your knuckles.
“That’s a nice tune you’re hummin’ there, Calam’". Jack said playfully from up ahead. “I’m guessin’ that it’s just in your head on account of your nickname, not cause’ you’re tryin’ to tell me somethin’?’”
You felt embarrassment burn under your skin at the realisation that you’d been humming ‘Secret Love’ from the movie Calamity Jane. Jesus Christ. You couldn't have chosen any other song from any other old movie, could you?
“Don’t get your hopes up now, Jack.” You shook your head as he chuckled and started whistling the same tune, only louder.
The ground underneath you was rapidly turning from dust to mud, and you were keen to get to shelter sooner rather than later. As you reached the brow of the hill, you saw the barn up ahead, all red timber and orange rusted metal.
“Roof looks like it’s hangin’ on for dear life, but it’s better than nothin’.” You shouted ahead to Jack. 
It was at that moment that the first rumble of lightning and crack of thunder hit. Your poor spooked mare reared up before you could calm her and sent you sliding off the back of her. You hit the ground with a thump and heard something pop in your ankle.
“Fuck!” You cried out as you hissed at the pain and the indignity of falling flat on your ass.
“Shit, you alright down there darlin’?” Jack was off his horse and striding towards you.
You rubbed your ankle and wiggled your toes tentatively inside your boots. “Yeah. Think it’s just a sprain, but dammit it hurts.”
There was a flash of concern in his warm brown eyes. “Think you’ll be alright for just a minute while I get these two inside?” He gestured his thumb towards the barn, which was now just 100 feet away.
You chewed the inside of your cheek as you calculated how long it would take him to get there and back to you. “Yeah, I think so. So long as you don’t take your sweet time about it.” 
Jack huffed out a laugh. “Don’t go anywhere, now.” He said as he mounted his horse and grabbed the reins of yours. You watched him gallop away, dismount, and tie them both up underneath the shelter. He gave them both a nuzzle and a scratch behind the ear before he sprinted back to you.
You were turning your sodden hat around in your hands when he returned, and the leather flopped apologetically in your lap. “Safe to say the waterproofin’ on this has seen better days.” 
“Now, haven’t I been tellin’ you for weeks you need a new one?” Jack lifted his hat off his head and placed it on top of yours.
His hat was warm and comfortable, but much too large. The brim covered almost all of your eyes.  You held it in place with your palm as you tipped your face up to look at him. “Hold up, did you just give me your hat there, Jack? Are we betrothed now?” You fluttered your eyelashes sarcastically at him.
"True." You smirked up at him. "But usually, when you're talkin', I'm waiting for you to be quiet."
He stretched out his hand to pull you up. “More of a loan, darlin’.” He had his usual cocksure expression on his face, but there was that softness there too. That one that sometimes seemed like it was just for you.
You grabbed his hand, heaved yourself up to standing, and winced in pain. “I don’t think I can weight-bear on it, Jack.” You said as you wobbled into his side.
He caught you, wrapping his arm around your waist and sliding two fingers through the belt loop of your drenched jeans.
He patted you on the waist affectionately. “Ah, hush now, enough of this grousin’.” He said, smiling. “Looks like I’m gonna have to carry you, I’m afraid.” 
You felt foolish and self-conscious all at the same time, but his arm around you felt comforting, like it wasn’t the first time he’d held you.
“You think you can?” You pulled down the hem of your t-shirt a little further down over the curve of your belly.
Jack scooped you up with a grunt, hooking his arms underneath your knees.
“Little half-pint like you? No problem.” He said as he gave your thighs a reassuring squeeze “Need you to keep quiet and turn the complainin’ down, though?” He winked. “You're scarin’ the horses.” 
He hurried towards the barn, his boots splashing through the increasingly deep puddles as you rested your head against his chest. You felt safe here. He was damp but warm, and his shirt smelt like straw.
Once inside, he gently placed you on top of a hay bale, the sharp stalks spiking your legs through your jeans just a little. He pushed the sleeves of his soaked grey flannel shirt up to his elbows, knelt down beside you, and set about delicately pulling your boots off your feet. The rain hammered against the worn-out tin roof above you, and drips of it were falling around you both, making the hay smell warm and sweet.
“Ooof.” He let out a long, slow sigh. “That’s gonna bruise up a treat, darlin’.” 
He began to lightly massage your swollen ankle with his fingertips.
You put your hand on top of his, and he looked up at you, one eyebrow raised like a question. 
You decided to be brave. 
“Jack.” You said softly as you rubbed his thumb with yours and felt him sigh a little at your touch. “You’ve called me darlin’ three times now.”
He cleared his throat and moved to slump down onto the hay bale next to you. Your hand fell to your side, and he captured it inside both of his before the thoughts in your head got too loud.
“Well,” he paused and ran his palm over his jaw, “that’s right. I have.” 
He brought your hand up to his face and kissed your knuckles lightly. “The way I see it, you can keep bein’ my buddy Calamity Jane. Or-.” He took a beat and swallowed. Your heart was now hammering in your chest. “Or you can let me kiss you, and you can be my darlin’. What d’you think about that?”
You shifted forwards to close the gap between you, tipped the brim of his hat upwards with two fingers, and let your lips hover over his for just a moment. A little jolt of electricity sparked through you when you saw him run the tip of his tongue over the cleft in his bottom lip in anticipation. 
“I never really liked that nickname, anyhow.” You said in a breath.
A blast of thunder made you jump back with a squeal, and Jack pulled you back under his arm with a laugh. Your wet clothes had started to make you shiver a little, but he felt like a furnace. “Can you keep it down, please, darlin’?” He buried his face into the velvety skin of your neck and kissed you softly, once, twice, before he said with a growl. “Those horses are scared enough as it is without you screamin’ the barn down.”
As you pressed your lips to his, he glided his hands from your waist and slowly up your arms until one was cupping your face and the other was wrapped around your shoulders. Your tongue tasted apples and the cold water from the river, and he hummed softly as he dug his fingertips into the fleshy part of your bicep, a marked contrast to the gentleness of his kisses.
He hissed quietly as you untucked his shirt from his jeans so that you could slide your hands underneath his shirt and feel the warm skin on his back.
You poked him in the side with your elbow. “Jack Daniels! You kiss me, and now you’re teasin’ me?”
Tumblr media
He flicked his hat off your head with his finger and titled your chin up with his thumb. “Hmm. You’re right.” He nudged your nose with his own and slanted his mouth against yours. “No more teasin’. We’ll let this storm pass, shall we?”
Taglist:
@nerdieforpedro @chujo-hime @5oh5 @katareyoudrilling @maried01 @survivingandenduring @pedrit0-pascalit0 @casa-boiardi @iloveenya @lwfics @rhoorl @msjarvis @heareball @yorksgirl @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @khindahra @inept-the-magnificent @angiewatson @auteurdelabre @trulybetty @lizzie-cakes @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @julesonrecord @magpie-to-the-morning
A/N: Here's the song she was humming 🤠
138 notes · View notes
Note
Can you do a shy reader who is not very good with social cues and agent Whiskey please 
oh boy, with agent whiskey who's a serial flirt? this reminds me of that scene from grey's anatomy of mark sloan and cristina yang lol. anyway, hope you enjoy! ❣️
Social Cues
Tumblr media
warnings: flirting. fluff.
pairing: agent whiskey (jack daniels) x female reader
-----
when jack was informed that there will be a new recruit, he wasn't expecting you. you, in all your glory, and jack can't help but stare as you introduce yourself to the others.
like a moth to a flame, jack volunteers every time there's an opening on your case, has lunch with you, offers you a ride home, everything he could think of just so that he can get a (longer) whiff of you.
but jack is slowly losing his mind. he knows he's got game-- he's jack daniels, for god's sake. jack was just poking fun at first, but now he's actually interested in you and wondering why in hell aren't you?
there's a number of times when jack's trying to flirt with you but you just don't get it. it frustrates and intrigues him.
"hey sugar, why don't you join me for dinner tonight and afterwards i can show you just how my whip works, yeah?" jack smirks. "thanks jack, but ginger already showed me the mechanics. maybe just dinner?"
another time;
"oh, jack, you look like a tomato." jack chuckles, he just returned from a mission that had him stand in the sun for hours. he's sunburnt. "yeah? was hopin' you like tomatoes." "yeah! they're good as a sauce or soup."
"maybe try just telling her you're interested?" ginger suggests.
jack looks at her like she's crazy. "now where's the fun in that?"
"well you're clearly not going anywhere with your current approach." she says. "doesn't seem like your regular charm is working."
"it works. usually." he presses. "i just need to figure out what she likes."
jack spends the next few days coming up with the perfect way to approach you and impress you. he now knows what you like and dislike, what you can't tolerate, and what you absolutely love.
it's not until he sees tequila flirting with you, and you blushing that it gets him mad.
"what's going on here?" he casually asks.
"oh, tequila's just telling me a funny story." you giggle.
jack raises his brow. "oh really? 'bout what?"
tequila shrugs. "had to be there for it to be funny, you know? i'll see you later." he sends a wink your way before leaving.
you shake your head with a smile and look at jack. "so, what can i do for you, jack?"
jack's lips are still pursed. he can't believe tequila would stab him in the back like that.
"jack?"
"huh? oh, nothin-" jack clicks his tongue. enough is enough. "no, actually, i do have a question for you."
"shoot." you nod.
jack looks at you deeply and takes a breath. "what is wrong with you?"
"huh??"
"i- i've been trying to flirt with you all week, and you ignore me. you shoot me down, but you're all smiles and sweetness when you do it." he says. "sugar, i don't know if i should be insulted or what."
your eyes are wide as you stare at him. "you've been flirting with me?"
"yeah." jack replies, stating the obvious. "wait, you don't know?"
you shake your head. "i'm.. okay, it's probably my bad," you grimace, "i've been told that i don't pickup social cues very well."
jack groans and sighs. "no kidding."
you can't help the small chuckle escaping you at jack's obvious struggle. "why don't you ask me directly?"
"what?"
"ask me. directly."
jack blinks a few times and straightens himself. "can- no. will you give me the honor of taking you out on a date?"
you smile. "of course, jack. see, that was easy, right?"
413 notes · View notes
foli-vora · 3 months
Note
congrats on 3k!! Not sure if you're still doing this, but can I request something smutty with agent whiskey with the prompt "can we go home yet?"
Tumblr media
Thank you for the request, my sweet! I'm so sorry for the time it took to get around to it, but I hope you enjoy! ❤️
Tumblr media
errands
jack daniels x f!reader
word count: 1.7k warnings: i love him sm, sweet husband jack will give you everything, jack being a sexy menace, semi public/parking lot activities, swearing, SMUT 18+ ONLY: what's a domesticity kink called? idk, whatever it is we've got that. fingering, orgasm denial, can't not use this gif lmao
Tumblr media
The familiar churning of warmth in the pit of your stomach has followed you relentlessly throughout the day, despite you leaving your shared bed much later than socially acceptable after a long morning lost in Jack’s hold. There’s a gentle ache between your thighs from his dedicated efforts, the feeling never once letting your mind wander from the way he unravelled every part of your body and soul over and over.
And this? This wasn’t helping.
The confidence he oozed striding through the hardware store, knowing exactly what he wanted and where he would get it. The way he would ramble about the house renovation plans; what rooms could be what, where he could build you a little reading nook with a window overlooking the endless rolling green fields, or what materials he would need to make some floor to ceiling built in bookcases for your shared collection of books…
His excitement at dedicating his variety of skills into bringing your dream home to life is palpable, bringing forth such a fond tenderness to your chest that it makes you swear you couldn’t possibly love this man anymore if you tried. It rolls from him in waves now, as he wanders with his full cart of various renovation necessities and voicing his thoughts on what particular paint colours would match your shared vision.
It’s just all so sweet, so domestic.
It’s driving you wild.
Lips wrapping around the straw of your soda cup, you study the broad planes of his back, covered by his ever present leather jacket that thankfully stops just above the soft swell of his ass—bless that man for knowing how to pick his jeans. If it weren’t for the sweet elderly couple flicking through colour swatches at the end of the aisle, you simply would’ve crowded him into the shelves just for a much needed taste of his mouth, and maybe a quick feel—
“You listenin’ to me back there?”
“Not really,” you admit honestly, tongue rolling across your lower lip as he gives you a playful frown of disapproval from over his shoulder. That familiar heat rises and swells in your core, and you shift impatiently on your feet. “Can we go home yet?”
He chuckles, reaching out to pluck a paintbrush from the shelf and feeling the synthetic fibres between his fingers. “You gettin’ bored, darlin’? Is that why you’ve been poutin’ the last two aisles?”
“I haven’t been pouting.”
“Mhm,” he rumbles deeply, lips tugged up into a small smile of amusement as he continues his perusal of the variety of painting accessories. Eventually he lands on the ones he finds somewhat satisfactory, and tosses them into the cart before beckoning you closer with an open hand reached out behind him.
You take it and press up into his side easily, sighing softly at the heavy arm that wraps around your shoulders and the lips that press gently against your temple. The heat from his body seeps into yours while a wash of his familiar cologne assaults your nostrils, and it takes every bit of strength to not tilt your head and catch his lips in a searing kiss that would go scaring away any and everyone within range.
God, he just smells so damn good. 
“Okay, so I may have been pouting—but it’s all your fault.”
He chuckles, the deep throaty timbre of it twisting pleasantly in your core, and what really kills you is that he has no idea the actual effect he has on you. Everything about him either sends you into a sweet and dizzying lovesick spiral, or hurtling straight into the fiery depths of hell with the thoughts that turn in your mind.
“Is that right? How so, sugar?”
You sigh, turning in his hold and raking a finger down his chest, winding around the buttons of his shirt as it goes. “All I can think about is fucking you right in the middle of this aisle, Jack.”
He blinks in surprise, taken off guard and rendered slightly bewildered by your admittance. “Come again?”
“Yes—I’m planning on it actually, again and again.”
A grin quickly tugs at his lips and his eyes flicker to the passersby going about their days as he tugs you closer, his thick drawl oozing into your ears, “You’re gonna get us thrown out if you keep that talk up, sugar.”
“Good, then we could go home and waste the afternoon away.”
He sighs, trying to appear vexed by your apparent disinterest in your errands, but the smile still tugging insistently at his lips gives him away. You see the playful sparkle in his eyes, the desperate want to give you everything you need and more, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him.
“Come on, Jack,” you coo, dragging him in for another kiss with just a taste of everything you’re feeling that leaves him chasing your lips when you eventually pull away, “let’s go home. Let me have you.”
“You’ll be the end of me, you know that?” He grumbles quietly before shaking his head, winding a hand down to grab teasingly at your ass cheek and giving it a firm tap that sends a rocket of heat hurtling straight to your core. “Fine. Registers—now. And no dawdlin’, go on now.”
It takes an agonisingly long time to pay, and you’re sure he does it on purpose. Jack lingers, happily chatting away to the older man serving you, and he has to know how impatient it’s making you because you swear you spy a smirk lingering at the edge of his lips as you start to shift from foot to foot. 
You pounce as soon as he slides into the driver's seat, curling a hand around his neck and bringing his mouth greedily to yours. He responds quickly, unable to pull away from the lure of your kiss, lips parting and tongue meeting yours in a tangle of need. You groan into the heat of his mouth, relishing in the burn of his moustache as the kiss deepens. It does nothing to douse the fire wreaking havoc on your body, and you shift restlessly in your seat, thighs rubbing as you search for something to aid in your distress.
He chuckles, the force of his kiss moving you back into your seat as he crowds into you over the middle console, a hot hand splaying on the skin of your thigh to calm your agitation. 
The words rumble against your lips softly, “You want it right here, sugar?”
Public indecency be damned—you need something. It’s not like you’re close to the store where people mill about, with Jack always preferring to park a ways away so there’s minimal risk of someone scratching the sleek and shiny paint of the Bronco. There’s no one around, it’s just you two… just you two, in your own little piece of bliss. 
You pant softly into his mouth while nodding, fire growing up and along your spine as his rough fingers start to push up beneath the hem of your sundress. You’re already squirming from the familiar feel of them, system wired tightly in keen anticipation to feel them brush against you.
“You’re a greedy little thing today,” he murmurs, fingers coaxing your thighs to widen as they begin to dip their way beneath the waistband of your underwear.
A groan reverberates from his chest when he gently glides them along your slit to feel the heavy build up of arousal, taking a painfully long moment to simply feel you, before zoning in on your clit with the lightest of pressures. He circles softly over it, darkened eyes bouncing over your features as you relish in the hazy roll of pleasure taking over your body.
He ducks to press a series of open mouthed kisses to the side of your throat, teeth teasingly nipping at the sensitive skin and tongue soothing the brief pinch of pain away before the curve of his nose traces the shell of your ear. His honeyed drawl brings a shiver across your skin, and it really should be fucking illegal with the things it makes you feel.
“You been walkin’ around like this all morning, honey? You poor thing.”
Finally—God, finally—he allows his fingers to dip down and tease at your entrance, swirling two thick digits shamelessly through your arousal before sliding and curling them deep against the walls of your cunt. He’s quick to swallow the broken sounds that fall from your throat, his lips quirking up into a self satisfied smirk against yours as your hips squirm needily against the pressure of his hand.
“Go on, sugar. Take what you need, I’ve got you.”
You begin a somewhat messy rock of your hips, unashamedly beginning to fuck yourself on his fingers and ensuring to keep the calloused heel of his hand pressed up hard against your swollen clit. It provides the friction you need, you crave, with every back and forth roll against the rough surface of it causing the overwhelming heat in your core to build.
It’s just what you need. It’s just—it’s perfect. The feel of his thick digits dragging against your hot, slick walls; the relentless pressure against your clit; the perfect harmony of both working in tandem to bring a wash of electricity across your nerves, to bring you closer to that blissful edge you feel coming with every tense second—
“G-god, Jack—”
“I know, baby. I know.”
And… fuck. It’s right there, you’re right there—
—only for it to be just out of reach.
The feeling heightens, lingers, and then horrifically melts away into a throbbing ache as Jack retracts his fingers completely, the thick digits glistening from your flood of arousal in the sunlight filled cab.
He ignores your agonised cry of denial from the sudden loss and emptiness, and sucks them into his mouth, before reaching and turning the keys in the ignition, the truck rumbling to life loudly beneath you while you’re left trembling against the leather, thighs spread and cunt weeping.
“That’s what you get for bein’ impatient,” he drawls, a wicked shine to those warm honey eyes. “Now you sit pretty for the ride home, and I may be nicer when I get that sweet ass of yours inside.”
269 notes · View notes