Din was thrilled from the moment you announced your pregnancy, he would sit down with Grogu explaining the responsibilities of a big brother.
When you give birth, he helps you. It was his fault that you were on a deserted planet after all. He feared the worst, but you were strong and so was your child.
When he first held his daughter, she was still covered in blood, but in his eyes, she was the definition of perfection.
Jack Daniels
This wasn’t the first time he was about to become a father, but this was the time he was super cautious. Making sure you were safe at every second, he doesn’t want to go through the same pain as before.
When you gave birth, he was on a mission. He was called by Ginger and he immediately dropped everything. But he was late.
By the time he arrived to the hospital, you were sleeping and so, he let you sleep while he walked over to the glass so he could see his child. And surely enough Jack found him. The only baby with just a last name, meaning you wanted to wait until he was there to name him.
He felt a tear fall from his eyes as he looked at him, he knew he would do anything to keep his family safe.
Marcus Moreno
It was a quiet night, everyone was sleeping when you woke up. Marcus didn’t even move an inch when you got out of bed. You were in desperate need to pee.
But on your way back to the bed, you felt a terrible pain.
Of course, when you woke Marcus up, he was running around like a chicken without a head, thank God for Missy who was able to help you out.
This wasn’t the first time Marcus her his own baby and standing there he wouldn’t want this to be the last either. He cried. Tears rolling down his face while he held his youngest daughter.
Of course, Missy took multiple pictures of him which she planned on blackmailing her father later on in his life.
Oberyn Martell
Childbirth was something he was used to. He had many daughters before you even came into the picture.
But this was the very first time he held a son and not a daughter. It felt special, and as much as he loved his daughters, his heart still felt a different way to see the youngest addition to his ever-growing family.
He swore his entire life to protect him as he would be his rightful heir. You even caught a glimpse of a tear running down his cheek before he whiped it.
Javier Pena
Panic wouldn’t even begin to describe what he went through that day. He thought he would rather go after another Escobar guy instead of going through this hell, and he didn’t even had to do anything. He held your hand and that’s all. You did all the work.
His mind often went to that dark place, that dark place which told him to just run, leave and never come back, but he stayed.
And that dark voice in the back of his head disappeared when he held his daughter for the first time. And how glad he was that he didn’t leave.
Tiny little girl with his eyes. Perfection. He just stood there, frozen as he looked at her. Not even giving her to the nurses when they asked.
Pero Tovar
After your third child you thought Pero would have enough. You thought he would have enough and not want more children. But you were wrong. Two girls and a boy weren’t enough. He wanted more. And you were happy to give him more.
Each birth was more terrifying to him than the last. He loved his children all the same and he just loved you a little more as he held his second son. Each time he was reminded just how amazing you were and it made his heart explode.
Him, a rough swordsman, such a soft and kind father and husband. He never saw himself in that position. As you finally fell asleep, he watched the kids, showing them his youngest, like the proud father he was.
summary : no plot, straight to the good stuff, just riding whiskeys big ol’ dick into the sunset which we’d all like to do. enjoy!
•
the warmth of his large hand on your back and his kisses on your cheek help you to relax and open up as you slide down onto his throbbing length.
“almost there. there you go, atta girl.” he whispers in your ear as you successfully take every thick inch of him inside you.
he’s brushing against your cervix and g spot causing the most deep, intense pleasure you’ve ever felt.
“fuck! daddy! it’s so deep!” you gasp out, choking on breaths as he hits the most exquisite spots inside you, just from you moving around slowly in his lap.
“yeah? you feelin’ good?” he says in the most mocking tone which makes you clench around him. you can’t even form the words to answer him. “yeah you’re feelin’ good. i can fuckin’ feel it.”
he starts to fuck into you ever so slowly, softly grunting with each thrust. your eyes roll back involuntarily and the whiniest whimper escapes your lips. he hears this and grabs your hair from the crown of your head so you’re face to face with him, the other hand gently wrapping around your throat.
“keep those fuckin’ eyes on me. keep lookin’ at daddy while he pounds this fuckin’ cunt.” his words cause a sharp cry to leave you, followed by another gasp. you can’t help but let your head drop to his chest and he pulls you right back up. “i fuckin’ told you to look at me. don’t you dare take those eyes off me, i wanna see your face when i make this little pussy cream on my fuckin’ dick.”
“fuckkk daddy it feels so good!” you cry out.
“ohhh fuck daddy.” he fucking mocks you, the smug prick. he knows just what he does to you. you start to clench around him uncontrollably and he knows you’re close.
“i can feel that pussy creamin’ around my cock. you’re just about ready to cum, aren’t ya?” he whispers. all you can do is nod as he continues his assault on your poor pussy. “don’t you fuckin’ dare just yet. you be a good girl and wait for daddy. huh? you gonna be my good girl?”
“yes! yes! daddy i’ll be your good girl!” you’re fucking sobbing and he’s not letting you cum and it’s all getting to be too much and finally he spurs you on.
“come on, honey, i know you’re ready. cum on daddy’s big cock. do it. now. i wanna feel it.” he’s growling in your fucking ear.
your coil snaps so suddenly and you find yourself whimpering out for him. “fuck daddy i’m cumming! i’m cumming, i’m cumming!” you repeat over and over and he chuckles darkly before his balls tighten and he spills inside you with a choked groan.
“mmm fuck yes daddy gimme your cum! i can feel it! it’s so warm in my pussy!” you’re still coming down from your high and you just fall into his lap, completely spent from how hard you’ve cum.
i think we can all agree jack definitely cums a LOT so his huge load is dripping out of your hole already. “oh would you look at that. look down at it, honey. you see that? you see daddy’s cum leaking outta you?”
it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. you feel your ego stroked knowing you made him cum that much.
Warnings: talk of infection/disease, descriptions of violence, not really zombies but sorta zombies???, angst, death (not of the main characters)
Notes: This does not take place in the same universe as my Zombie AU fic At the End of the World. That is a separate thing. And the threat here isn’t really… zombies, because when they die, they stay dead. But they also kind of are zombies because of the whole. Eating People thing. I mainly wanted to explore the reactions and psychology of the characters when there are signs of the world ending, but nothing concrete that effects them directly just yet. As well as an apocalyptic story that doesn’t focus too much on what’s causing said apocalypse.
—- November 03, 20XX, 0900 hours —-
He was at work, looking over an updated report you’d given him when he got the news. An oddly calm intercom message with rushed undertones urged all within earshot to turn on their nearest device and head to any available news source. Jack Daniels, better known as Agent Whiskey among his peers, didn’t have to wait for the news site to load for him to know what he’d see when it did.
New York City had fallen.
He’d called it days ago, right when the first reports of an infected patient had started breaking across the nation. Apparently someone had come home from the airport and suddenly turned violent. It hadn’t taken long from there to connect the dots, especially when word spread that the only reason the infection had been spotted was due to the massacre of Patient Zero’s entire family.
He’d heard the whispers from Agent Champagne’s office mere hours later as Jack’s superior agent spoke with various government officials, all of them begging him for agents to stand guard and perform “mitigation measures”, as they’d called it. Meaning they were asking for trained agents to cull infected populations before they got out of control, not trusting civilians or local law enforcement to be able to gun down the infected that wore their loved ones’ faces. But Champagne had refused, saying his primary duty was to his people, and he intended on keeping his people as far away from the budding disaster as he could, until he could no longer. As a matter of fact, Champagne had completely evacuated the entire New York office as soon as word of the infection first leaked.
As soon as the first pictures of New York loaded, however, Jack knew that the day had come when he could no longer be protected.
The iconic skyline was ablaze, rooftops equally emblazoned with large, painted calls for help that he could barely see through the smoke in the pictures. Several others were hidden behind “graphic content” warnings, namely the closer pictures taken of blood-spattered streets and mangled corpses that littered the former metropolis. These sorts of images had been coming in for days, but rescue efforts still continued nonetheless.
But now? Now they’d been called off, citing overwhelming first responder casualties. The collateral damage simply wasn’t worth the slim chance of finding any more survivors. From here on out, anyone still in New York was on their own, and judging by the tiny silhouettes of large military planes in the distance of one image, Jack figured they were as good as gone anyway. He’d seen that type of equipment back during his time in the Air Force, and they didn’t use it for rescue ops. If he had to put money on it, he’d wager the city would be carpet bombed within the hour, if it hadn’t been already.
“So what’s the news?”
Your voice startled him away from the screen. You’d come bearing more reports for him, though truthfully he was planning on stalling so you’d have more of an excuse to stick around for a little while. Such news was best not absorbed alone.
“New York’s gone,” Jack said, his own tone surprising him. It was… nonchalant, almost. As if he were telling you the weather as opposed to telling you that an entire city and the millions of people in it were considered beyond saving.
You sighed, placing your folders on his desk and pulling up a chair to sit across from him.
“So… what now?” you asked.
“Dunno,” Jack replied, putting his elbows on his desk and running his hands along his face. “Depends on what DC does, I think. If the folks there think their countermeasures in New York have done the job? Then nothin’ll happen here, probably. But if they start movin’ to bunkers? That’s probably what we’ll be doin’ next.”
“Does Statesman even have bunkers to go to?”
“Oh sure. Well, I dunno about bunkers, per se, but I’m sure Champagne’s got somethin’ up his sleeve. This place has got basements and sub-basements and sub-sub-basements. All sorts’a shit. Never seen ‘em myself, but I’m sure we’ve got somethin’ set up for emergencies like this.”
You fell quiet, as did he. Part of him wanted to switch websites; pull up some sort of 24/7 news feed to get a live look at what was going on. Then again… he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to see.
“Feels like something out of a horror movie,” you said quietly, almost as if speaking to yourself. “Like someone will wake up from a coma in a week like they always do in those things and everything will just be… gone.”
Jack only hummed in agreement, not having anything else to add to the conversation but also not wanting you to leave. He wanted you with him for as long as he could keep you there.
The two of you had danced around each other for months, your position as Jack’s administrative assistant serving to put you both near one another quite often. You’d charmed him almost immediately, though it hadn’t been until mere weeks ago that Jack had ponied up the courage to tell you how he really felt and ask if he could take you to dinner, and you’d graciously agreed. What you were now was… he wasn’t sure. It was that strange in-between zone, where neither of you wanted to label your relationship as a relationship for fear of moving too fast, but you also wanted the exclusivity that came with it.
“Why don’t you stay at my place tonight?” he finally managed. It was like pushing air out of his lungs, forcing himself to ask for what he needed. “Y’don’t havet’a, of course, I just… I know you live closer to the city, and I-”
“It’s okay, Jack,” you interjected, a soft smile blooming across your features. “Just let me run home real quick after work and pack a bag. Then I’ll be by.”
He puffed out a sigh, grateful that you hadn’t made him say what his true intentions behind his question were.
Truthfully, he was scared. New York City, and the almost eight and a half million people in it, had been wiped out in days. Who was to say the infection had been eradicated? Who could give honest reassurance that Patient Zero hadn’t infected everyone else on the plane and thus doomed the entire continent (or planet, for that matter)? Or that an errant infected hadn’t sprinted away into the countryside to continue mangling victims and spreading the disease? There were simply too many variables for Jack to feel comfortable having you spend the night alone, much less close to a large city like Louisville.
Before he could get too bogged down in his thoughts, a sharp knock came at his office door. As it swung open, Jack was met with Agent Champagne, his superior and the head agent of the entire Statesman Agency.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the news,” the older man said simply.
“I have,” Jack replied with a curt nod. “What’s our plan, boss?”
Champagne cleared his throat slightly, looking back and forth between you and Jack for a moment in contemplation before continuing.
“Ah, what the hell,” he said, “I was gonna ask for a private meetin’, but I know you’d just tell’er anyway later.”
Jack had to admit, after over a decade and a half with the company, his boss knew him well.
Champagne pulled up the other chair opposite of Jack’s desk, leaning back in it and removing his Stetson to place it on his knee. Jack knew his body language, and he knew what he saw before him did not mean good news.
“DC’s headed for the bunkers.”
“Shit.”
“Mhm,” Champagne hummed. “They’re concerned that this shit’s gonna spread to Pittsburgh next, and they wanna get ahead of the curve. The government is more concerned about not turnin’ this into a mass panic than they are about lettin’ people know what’s goin’ on, so here I am. Lettin’ y’all know what’s goin’ on.”
“So what’s the plan?” Jack asked.
“Right now? Nothin’. Business as usual. But if I get wind of this shit hittin’ Dayton or Cincinnati, it’s down to the basements. For all’a you. We don’t have a designated bunker, per se, but we’ve got five levels of basements that are more than large enough to accomodate everyone here.”
“In other words, pack a go-bag.”
“Yup. And try to keep this as hush-hush as possible to non-Statesman folks. Ain’t nothin’ to worry about on our end just yet, and I’d like to keep it that way as long as possible. For all we know, this shit’ll stop in the northeast.”
Jack suddenly found himself grateful that his parents had passed on years ago and that he had no other connections to any civilians. But you? You had people on the outside.
“And if it doesn’t?” you asked softly. “What… what do we tell people?”
“Tell ‘em you’re safe,” Champagne said as he stood and replaced his hat on his head. “But we only got enough space and resources for our own people right now. I’m sorry, kid.”
Jack watched as he gently patted your shoulder. You nodded and cast your gaze down, your demeanor suddenly heavy. He didn’t have to know you as well as he did to ask why; Champagne had essentially just told you that if the worst came to pass, you’d have to leave your loved ones outside of Statesman behind to fend for themselves if you wanted a chance at survival.
“I’m gonna have to make some phone calls after work,” you said quietly after Champagne took his leave.
“Make ‘em now,” Jack said, reaching a hand across his desk for you to take. “Ain’t nothin’ I need doin’ that’s so important it can’t wait. Hell, make those calls as many times as you want. I don’t mind.”
You looked at him, eyes glassy, and nodded as you squeezed his hand in appreciation.
—- November 03, 20XX, 1800 hours —-
You agreeing to stay the night with him had served to abate his anxiety, but only just. As he waited for your arrival after work, Jack turned on the news, only to find it was missing critical information. For one, it made no mention of the top echelons of government heading for their bunkers, instead painting it as though life was business as usual in the DC area. For another, the talking heads spoke as if New York was simply abandoned, that in a few weeks’ time people could move back in and re-settle the area.
As if Jack hadn’t been tapping into Statesman drone footage with you all afternoon only to find that the entire city had been razed to the ground, a smoldering crater where the mighty metropolis used to be.
To their credit, they were careful to outline the illness to their viewers and relay the severity of it. The virus could incubate for days, its future victims never showing a single detectable sign or symptom until it was past the point of no return. Not unlike the rabies virus, where if someone started showing signs it was already too late.
And when symptoms did start presenting, it was fast. Within 48 hours the victim would be dead, most likely having taken a dozen others with them and infecting dozens more. Those final hours though… they were hell on earth if Jack had ever seen it.
A fever so high it induced hallucinations. A fear of water, rendering the infected unable to drink. Blood pressure, breathing rate, and heart rate through the roof, leading to excess energy and anxiety that made the victim helpless in their desire to sprint and run and move as much as possible. And, above all else, a deep, insatiable hunger accompanied by towering, blinding rage.
Put all of it together, and you ended up with someone who was perfectly fine one day, and manically chasing after loved ones the next in an attempt to take them down like a wolf to an injured deer. From the accounts he’d read from those who’d barely managed to escape with their lives, it was like a light switch. One second they were sitting and chatting like nothing was wrong, and within the hour they were being hunted like prey animals by someone hallucinating them to be dangerous and a source of food at the same time. It was no wonder that the virus, transmissible through bites or any contact with infected bodily fluids, had spread so quickly.
He heard your car pull up before he could go too far down the rabbit hole, thanking the sky that you’d made it there safely.
Jack opened his front door for you, kissing your cheek as you walked inside with just a backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Packed light, didn’t’cha?” he teased.
“Yeah,” you reciprocated, “I’ve got more in a suitcase outside though, in case… in case I need it.”
He caught the undertones. You’d packed your essentials and valuables, ready to go should he get that midnight call to evacuate to HQ. He’d heard when you’d made your calls earlier that day, as you hadn’t left his office before doing so. You’d done your best to reassure your loved ones that everything was fine, that you were sure all of this would blow over. More than one of them must have offered to house you in some way, as he’d overheard you gently turning them down and saying you were in a safe place as you’d asked them not to worry.
He’d held you as you’d cried after each call, telling him through your tears that you hadn’t wanted to lie to them but that you’d felt like you hadn’t had a choice.
Once again, he’d felt guiltily grateful that he had no one left outside of Statesman to worry about.
As you placed your backpack down on his sofa, Jack enveloped you in an embrace. He felt you deflate against him as you reciprocated, a quiet sigh leaving your chest as you did.
“Been watching the news?” you asked.
“Mhm.”
“Anything new?”
“Nah,” Jack said, “sounds like they’re coverin’ up the worst of it. No mention of DC headed to the bunkers, and they’re talkin’ as if New York’s still in one piece.”
“Not even mentioning the bombings, huh?”
“Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “Not a word.”
Neither of you spoke after that, content to simply be still and hold each other. Neither of you needed to - you both knew that the news would only cover the next city when it was deemed uninhabitable. Couldn’t risk “inciting a panic”, after all.
As if that mattered in the grand scheme of things anymore.
—- November 17, 20XX, 2245 hours —-
It was quiet. Too quiet.
No new developments had broken about the infection for weeks. After a full seven days of staying overnight at his house, you’d gone back home. Jack had willingly let you, not wanting you to feel confined, but something ugly still gnawed at his insides. Something wasn’t right.
He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. His sleep schedule had suffered these past few days without you next to him, though he never admitted to as much when you asked during the day. Surely some sort of news should have cropped up around Pittsburgh by now, or even DC itself. But there was nothing. The news cycle had broken and revealed that New York was uninhabitable, but beyond that, there was nothing else, and it had since gone back to its usual rotation of politics and world events that had nothing to do with the infection. Even Champagne hadn’t come to offer any more information since the day that New York fell. Part of him tried to assure himself that it was a good thing, that no news meant that the countermeasures in New York worked and that the infection had been properly eradicated.
A bigger part of him knew better.
It felt strange, going about his normal business when an entire city lay decimated. He would get up. Go to work. Go to the store. Everything he typically did, except now it was with an unsettling undercurrent coursing through his veins. It felt as though he were standing atop a dam, watching below as the concrete cracked ever so slowly. Knowing it was only a matter of time before it burst and destroyed everything downstream, but being powerless to stop it.
Something had to give.
—- November 20, 20XX, 0815 hours —-
And give it did.
Agent Champagne rushed into his office as soon as he sat down. Well, perhaps “rushed” wasn’t the correct term. To the uninitiated layperson, there wasn’t anything different about Champagne’s mannerisms. But Jack knew better. He could tell the man was rattled, and that alone was enough to set Jack on edge before Champagne could even sit down. His superior was not the type of man to rattle easily.
“New York didn’t work.”
That was all he had to say for Jack’s heart to fall.
“Where’s it at now?”
“The DC area’s got the most reports comin’ in this mornin’,” Champagne said. “But there are some scattered ones in the suburbs of Pittsburgh too.”
“All at once? How could things have been quiet for so long an’ now it’s all goin’ to shit?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, son,” Champagne said, exasperated. “We barely know anythin’ about what this whole infection even is. We don’t know where Patient Zero picked it up from or how. Don’t know really how it spreads beyond infected blood or saliva. Hell, from what I understand we don’t even really know the incubation period yet. Just that it’s less than a week.”
“News picked up on it yet?”
“Hell no. Can’t go incitin’ a panic, remember? Or whatever other stupid shit congress has come up with to keep a lid on it.”
“So we’re just lettin’ people get blindsided instead?”
“You’re actin’ as though I have a say in the matter, Jack.”
He had to admit, Champagne was right. Even an agency as powerful as Statesman was still defenseless against the will of the State. Once more, Champagne asked him to keep the information confidential, then he left, saying something about “needing to inform some other folks”.
As soon as his office door closed, he grabbed his phone to call you to him.
—- November 22, 20XX, 1200 hours —-
Just as he’d expected, news crossed his screen that day that Pittsburgh was infected and any citizens still alive and within it were instructed to remain sheltered in place. “Prevention measures”, they called it. Wanted to make sure no one who was still asymptomatic and carrying the virus got evac’d out.
Unfortunately, that also condemned a few hundred thousand to death, since Jack was fairly sure the city would go the same way as New York within the next day or so, mostly due to the fact that the powers that be kept the entire thing under wraps for so long. If they’d acted sooner, perhaps it could have been quarantined better. In a way, he supposed the country was lucky; it appeared that Patient Zero hadn’t infected anyone else on his flight that fateful day so it hadn’t appeared to spread to other areas separate from the initial zone just yet. Either that, or whoever else had been infected had succumbed alone, unable to spread it to anyone else before their demise.
And they said a single person couldn’t make a difference.
You’d rarely left his side over the past few days, having stayed the night at his place both the previous night and the night before after he divulged the new information to you. He was grateful for that fact; he didn’t want to pressure you to stay near him, but he also didn’t want to spend half the night awake fearing for your safety.
However, as news of Pittsburgh spread, so did the talk. Agent Champagne had only divulged his contingency plan to the top members of the agency and you by extension, which meant the lower-level agents and staff were still in the dark. As such, more and more of them had begun to come to you, knowing you had a direct line to Jack and the knowledge he possessed. None of them knew that you’d been privy to his and Champagne’s conversation, and you never offered them any indication that you knew any more than they did. Still, Jack could tell it rattled you, having to tell your peers that you didn’t know what was coming.
“It’s like I’m taking their chance away to properly say goodbye to their people,” you’d confided in him last night.
He felt for you. Truly, he did. But at the same time, he knew why things had to be kept under wraps until the situation developed more. The more people that knew of the plan and the earlier they knew it, the more Statesman risked having a horde of scared civilians showing up at their doors and overwhelming what little shelter they had available if shit hit the fan.
Talk around the breakroom that day was… polarized. More than once, Jack had to step in and separate people before their “discussions” devolved into screaming matches. Some were convinced the news was telling the whole truth and that there was nothing to worry about, while others were rightfully scared out of their minds and sure the plague was coming for them next. It messed with Jack’s mind, hearing two tales of the same event. A part of him even started to wonder if he’d simply blown the entire thing out of proportion. If the photos he’d seen were of another place, another time, and that New York was actually still standing and congress was still on Capitol Hill. Hell, maybe all of this was one big fever dream and he’d snap awake any minute now and everything will have gone back to normal.
But deep down, as much as he wished it were, Jack knew none of that was true.
Later that night, you softly asked Jack to take you to bed. To let you forget about your friends and family on the outside who were blind to what was coming. To let you focus on something other than the impending dread that was a constant resident in your body now.
And Jack, needing just as much to forget and focus on something outside of himself, wholeheartedly obliged.
—- November 23, 20XX, 1630 hours —-
Agent Champagne had called the agency-wide meeting a full hour ago. Jack had known immediately it was to clue the rest of the staff in on the impending relocation, as word had spread that the infection had been spotted as close as Columbus, Ohio. It was only a matter of time before it hit Cincinnati, and from there Statesman HQ was on borrowed time. It seemed the initial slow period between developments had been a fluke, and now the infection was spreading with a vengeful speed.
However, as soon as Champagne had revealed his contingency plan to the rest of the facility, things had devolved into a cacophony of indignant yelling and fearful murmuring. Not that Jack could blame them, with the way the infection was spreading he assumed Champagne would be sending out the call to retreat within the next 24-36 hours. Not exactly a lot of time to bid farewell to your loved ones and the entire life you’d known up until that moment. Not to mention Champagne had had the unenviable task of telling everyone that they could not bring any… guests with them. Agents and Statesman staff only, by strict order.
That was when the yelling had really started.
More than a few people had put their foot down, saying they wouldn’t be coming if that were the case. That they’d rather die with their families than live without them.
“That’s your choice to make,” Champagne had said. “I ain’t gonna force you to come with us.”
Jack had remained quiet, but now the overlapping voices were beginning to grate on him. He removed his earpiece, content to simply watch the holograms through his glasses and watch their mouths move angrily. You were seated next to him, having removed your own earpiece several minutes before. You’d made your decision days ago, you didn’t need to hear others shouting as they struggled to make theirs.
Jack had caught bits and pieces of hushed conversations while you were on the phone the night before. He’d heard you softly tell people that you had a place to go that was safe, but that only you were allowed in. He’d heard your loved ones urge you to go without them; heard them tell you that at least one of your number surviving was a better fate than all of you perishing together. He’d heard you tearfully tell them you loved them, that if anything at all came up as an option for them that they’d be the first to know.
He’d known that, strictly speaking, you were breaking the cardinal sin of not letting outsiders be privy to what was going on. He’d also known that he couldn’t care less at that moment. After your calls, you’d found him, eyes puffy and cheeks stained with tears. He’d held you close, murmuring to you that he’d do everything in his power to keep you safe.
Now, he merely sat and watched you as you in turn observed the others. You were stony-faced, revealing no emotion as you looked upon the sea of agent holograms angrily gesticulating as Champagne’s image remained still and composed. Jack turned his attention to his computer, pulling up Statesman’s company-wide instant messaging service before telling Champagne that you’d both already made your choice and that he saw no reason to keep you both in the quickly-dissolving veneer of a corporate meeting. He saw Champagne’s hologram look to the side and give a slight nod, a signal that he’d received the message.
Jack turned off and removed his glasses, then reached over to take yours.
“Here, honey,” he said softly, reaching for them. “Let me.”
He placed your specialty glasses next to his own, then turned back to you.
“So whaddya wanna do?” he asked. “An’ I don’t mean about the evac situation.”
“I think…” you started, voice lead-lined, “I think I want to visit some people. And then I want to go home and pack. Really pack.”
He nodded, then stood up and grabbed his coat.
“I’ll drive.”
—- November 23, 20XX, 1845 hours —-
Jack pondered as he sat outside in his Bronco, waiting for you. You only had a handful of people close enough to truly visit, and he’d promised to drive you to each one and wait outside as you said your goodbyes without really saying them. No matter how long it took. And then he’d drive you home and help you discern what was worth taking with you as you walked into the apocalypse.
Truthfully, he was worried for your wellbeing and safety, and on more than just the physical level. He was a trained, top-level agent, and had years of experience compartmentalizing and repressing emotions and trauma when the situation called for it. But you? Up until a little under a year ago, you were a normal civilian. You’d never been in the field, never had to wager your life and the lives of those around you. You were coping well so far, but something told him the severity of the situation hadn’t truly set in yet, and likely wouldn’t until you were bolted down in one of HQ’s sub-basements. This was through no fault of your own - he didn’t expect you to fully grasp the situation yet. Not while you were still topside and able to talk to and see your loved ones.
The news over the past few hours had gotten harrowing. Even the national media had stopped pretending the infection was a minor blip on the country’s radar and had turned to reporting actual eyewitness accounts.
People who had survived the initial onslaught, only to be caught on a plane with an infected pilot. That one had ended in 236 lives taken when it had inevitably crashed into a highrise in West Virginia. Busloads of evacuees decimated by one or two infected passengers, leading to a dozen others prowling the countryside after their vehicle ran into a ditch somewhere.
“All we have to do is hold out,” one talking head assured the audience. “We know victims cannot survive more than 48 hours past the first sign of symptoms. All we have to do is quarantine, and the infection will burn itself out.”
That in and of itself would be a lovely sentiment, if the infected didn’t behave like feral animals with superhuman strength and stamina, with a sense of smell and hearing to match. People reported boarding up their homes only to have someone crash through their defenses anyway. Others reported car doors being ripped off their hinges.
Human beings were being turned into the true apex predators they had evolved to be.
Granted, it probably didn’t help that most business owners were content to force their employees to “stay the course”. Jack had lost count of how many horrors he’d read about that involved a pack of infected raiding a fully-staffed supermarket or a factory filled with assembly-line workers. Not to mention those (mostly on the west coast) who were convinced that all of this was a hoax and were hell-bent on living life as normal. Even some of the politicians were spouting such nonsense from the cushy safety of their underground bunkers, no doubt trying to pander to voters that Jack wagered wouldn’t even be alive within a few months.
He shuddered to think about what would happen should someone come sprinting out of the dark, intent on breaking into the house before him to get to you and the people inside. He reassured himself that it wouldn’t happen, that the infection hadn’t spread this far yet, and if it had, he was there. He’d keep you safe.
So he waited. Leaned back in his seat and tapped his fingers along the leather headrest on the passenger side. He was anything but impatient; he’d gladly stay parked outside for the rest of the night if that’s what you needed. He breathed in the fresh air, faintly wondering if he’d have to spend the rest of his days inhaling recycled oxygen instead.
—- November 24, 20XX, 0230 hours —-
Just as Jack had expected, the two of you hadn’t gotten to his home until much, much later than normal. About midnight, once you’d said your goodbyes and he’d helped you pack. You’d come away from your visits with a few trinkets - an old ring, a photo, an antique lighter that still held its flame. Mementos given to you by your loved ones, tangible objects to remember them by. Those had then been housed in a small tin box and packed away gently with your other belongings.
Truthfully, Jack hadn’t wanted to go to sleep. Something had told him that he’d want nothing more than to hold onto these last few moments later. But he’d bedded down anyway, holding you in his arms as you’d both drifted off.
That is, until his work phone started ringing at 2:30 in the morning.
He answered with a groggy “hello”, only to be met by Champagne’s steady voice on the other side.
“It’s time, son.”
Jack sighed, looked over at your still-sleeping form as you faced away from him, then whispered back.
“You’re sure?”
“Yup. Shit’s spreadin’ faster than we thought. Just got word of a case in Cincinnati. Woman started showin’ symptoms and wiped out her entire family 15 hours later. Took a few chunks outta the first responders and medical staff too before she kicked it. My guess is that it’ll be in Louisville by this time tomorrow.”
Jack cursed under his breath, then sighed.
“Alright,” he finally said. “How you wanna do this, boss?”
“Just come in like you normally do,” Champagne replied. “We’ll start fillin’ up the fifth sub-basement first then move our way up to the first. They’ve all got plenty of livin’ spaces, big areas, and a decently-sized kitchen and washroom facility. Oughta be enough to let us hold out for a while. Then once we’re full up… we shut it down. Secure our provisions, block off the elevator and the stairs, and just… wait.”
“Understood.”
He hung up, sighed, then turned to you. He placed his hand gently on your shoulder, and leaned close.
Only to find you already awake.
“It’s time to go, isn’t it?” you asked softly.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing your cheek. “It’s time to go.”
But still, you didn’t move.
“…I’m scared.”
“I know, darlin’. I know.”
—- November 24, 20XX, 0400 hours —-
It had taken you both some time to truly get up and going. The sky wasn’t on fire yet, so to speak, so neither of you were in any particular rush to say goodbye to the lives you’d known up until that point. Jack had loaded your suitcases into his Bronco, taken one last look around his home, and locked up. He’d felt silly doing so, but a habit was a habit.
The streets were quiet leading into town. The highrises glowed, blissfully unaware of the oncoming storm. Jack held your hand across the center console, neither of you speaking as he winded through the city blocks on his way to headquarters.
As he pulled into the underground parking garage reserved for Statesman employees, he caught sight of several other vehicles already parked and several more following him. He wondered if Agent Champagne had personally called every agent to inform them of the news, or if the senior agent had only made a private call to a select few and had sent out a generic message to everyone else.
He supposed it didn’t matter.
Jack drove to the lowest level of the garage, part of him having some naive hope that the lower he went, the more chance his beloved Bronco had of surviving should the city be wiped off the map. As he parked, he turned to you to try and talk to you about what was coming. How he wanted you to know he’d be there for you when the night terrors came, how he’d hold you when you broke under the weight of the scorched earth above.
But you already had your door open, and were sliding out of his passenger seat.
The two of you silently trekked with the rest of the faculty that had arrived, all of you looking very much like the refugees you currently were. Most were dressed in day clothes, some were not, and all in attendance were carrying some form of suitcase, bag, or backpack. Dozens of lives, reduced dozens of portable knapsacks.
You were welcomed to Statesman’s fifth sub-basement by Champagne himself, who indicated for everyone to gather ‘round in the main open area. He informed the crowd that each floor could house 200 people, maybe a bit more if people wanted to double up like you and Jack were planning to do. Either way, once either every staff member was accounted for or each basement was filled, the lockdown process would begin. The elevator would be taken out of commission, and the staircases out of the basement closest to the surface would be barricaded and blocked, allowing for only transportation between floors. He also announced that accommodations would be created for those who weren’t able to use the stairs for any reason.
Until then, everyone in attendance would be quarantined for a minimum of four weeks. Statesman had a small arsenal of automated robots capable of delivering food and water, administering fever checks daily, and sanitizing the bathrooms after every use. Only one person was allowed to use said facilities at any given time, including the showers, in order to allow for thorough cleaning procedures.
Jack led you to one of the rooms that had been reclaimed as a habitation space, and prepared to hunker down with you for the coming month of isolation. It was sparse, only housing a bed, dresser, and small table, but it would do. Again, he wanted to talk to you about the development, but you softly requested that he wait until you’d gotten more sleep. Naturally, he obliged, and with that he turned the light off and you curled up in bed next to him to return to sleep.
Jack took advantage of the moment of free time to check the news on his phone. He almost wished he hadn’t.
Other continents, as it turned out, had not been spared. Reports were coming in about the disease in multiple other countries. Spain. Switzerland. Australia. Japan. China. India. The middle east and more remote locations like Iceland and Madagascar appeared to be holding their own for the time being, but Jack wagered that they, too, would fall within a few weeks. He assumed it was due to the lengthy incubation period - someone could easily come into contact with infected blood without realizing it through something as simple as a cut on their hand, and before they knew it, their plan to evacuate one country had all but doomed another.
Instead of allowing himself to be pulled even further into the depths of his dread, Jack put his phone aside, pulled you to his chest, and slept as well.
—- November 27, 20XX, 1030 hours —-
Three days. It had only taken three days before the bombings started.
If he didn’t have any means of communication with the agents on the higher floors, Jack wouldn’t have known. Down in the fifth basement, the only evidence that anyone could hear of the armageddon above were dull thuds. Like their upstairs neighbors were dropping weights on the floor.
Apparently, up in other areas, it was much, much more apparent. The ground shook, lights flickered. Explosions rocked the area just above their heads. Some agents talked as if it felt like the ceiling would cave in on them at any moment. It made no sense to Jack, the fact that they continued to destroy entire cities. They had to know that it was hopeless to contain the threat at this point, why bother leveling buildings when they could continue looking for survivors? But alas, that was not his choice to make.
It didn’t take long after reading about the terror on the upper floors for Jack to contact Champagne and thank him for the early heads-up that allowed him and you into the safer fifth basement.
Jack never did get the chance to talk to you before your trauma began to settle into your bones. So he settled for allowing his actions to speak for him instead.
He held you through the bombings, allowing you to dry your tears on his shirt as you sobbed about the people you cared about up above. You’d stopped hearing from them 2 days after you arrived in the basements, and that was when the reality of the situation had truly hit. Jack had no words of reassurance to give, so he did the only things he could think to do - he held you, let you cry, and kissed the crown of your head. He could only hope it was enough. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t.
—- December 03, 20XX, 1200 hours —-
You thanked the little automated food delivery robot as you took two plates from it and refilled yours and Jack’s water bottles. Jack remembered you smiling once when you’d told him that humans would pack-bond with just about anything, and though he was doubtful then, he believed you now. Between the little robotic butlers, the mementos you received, and being able to video call with your former-coworkers-turned-friends, they were all you had.
—- December 10, 20XX, 1330 hours —-
“Do you think we’ll ever leave this place?”
Your voice was small and ragged. Most of the time these days, you slept, and the rest of the time you either read, wrote in a little journal, or had discussions like this with Jack or your friends. Much the same routine that he himself had, if he were to be honest.
“Sure,” Jack said. “We’ll be home free in a couple’a months, tops. Just you watch.”
He felt guilty, lying to you. But if that was what it took to instill even the smallest grain of hope, then he’d do it a million times over.
—- December 24, 20XX, 1545 hours —-
The end of the collective quarantine couldn’t have come at a better time. Everyone was on edge, the stress of missing and grieving for their friends and family piling up with the desperate need to see any change of scenery.
News of the outside world had dwindled in the last two weeks, not only because of the lack of internet service in most places, but also because people were more concerned with trying to survive than they were about posting to online forums. The rate of spread among the infection had increased, and it seemed that in the later days of the quarantine, Agent Champagne had come over the intercom to announce the fall of another major city or country every day. The US as a whole had yet to be declared dead, though Jack suspected that was only because the upper echelons of the government were still alive. Instead, Champagne had continued to relay news of other places that were declared total losses. Chicago. Denver. Dallas. Los Angeles. Spain. Egypt. Japan. The list went on for morbid miles. And that was only because he possessed a satellite connection to the heads of each Statesman regional office - who had also gone down into their respective underground areas - and various government and military officials, making information easier to come by. HQ itself was powered by various renewable energy generators and had its own water treatment area somewhere just off of basement three, so at least electricity and clean water weren’t an issue.
As you and Jack made your way to the main communal area, he noticed how haggard his peers were. Those who had shacked up with someone else fared only slightly better.
The numbers had dwindled ever so slightly in very conspicuous ways throughout the lockdown, and it was very evident now that people who had been cut off without a means of communication were allowed out and about to speak to others. As you went around hugging the friends you’d only spoken to over the phone for the past number of weeks, Jack caught wind of a few hushed comments.
“What happened to Rum?”
“Didn’t you hear?”
“He was infected. I could hear him screaming and pounding on the steel door to his room for hours, about five days after we locked in. A team of people dressed in hazmat suits went by after the noise stopped and brought him out in a bag.”
“I’m surprised the door didn’t come off the hinges.”
“These doors? Nah. Statesman brand steel, those are. No infected’s gettin’ through ‘em.”
“Thank god.”
“Just be grateful we have an incinerator and a damn good cleanup crew.” Jack bowed his head in purposeful silence for a moment. He’d known Rum, gone through basic Statesman training with him. He was a good man.
News continued to filter down as the day progressed, with more losses being reported. A tech here, a receptionist there. Most were people Jack had never met. Some were people he only vaguely knew by name. All of them made him thank whoever was listening up above that it hadn’t been him or you.
—- January 01, 20XX, 0030 hours —-
The new year was brought in with solemn reverence. There was only a small gathering of survivors, the rest choosing to tuck themselves away in their rooms. Jack couldn’t say he blamed them; after all, what was New Year’s Eve but another reminder of passing time and what had been lost as it marched mercilessly along?
A single bottle of Statesman bourbon was brought out for the occasion and shared between the attending members. You only had one shot, an amount that was wildly on the low end of what others consumed.
Jack included.
In his drunken haze, he became… contemplative. Quiet. He sat next to you, an arm around you as he pulled you to his side and rested his forehead on your shoulder.
The two of you had long since properly labeled your relationship. Had long since moved past the apprehension that was characteristic of all new entanglements. He was yours, and you were his. And now, aside from a small scattering of friends here in Basement Five with you… you were all each other had left.
Some had begun to tease the two of you, asking when they’d be hearing wedding bells. Neither of you gave the questions much stock, choosing instead to simply brush them off. You had better things to worry about at the moment. Others began asking about children, as if you or Jack would even begin to consider bringing another life into a world like this in good conscience.
No, for now the two of you were content to only have each other. Far less worries and concerns that way, as far as Jack was concerned. He didn’t need anything more than you by his side, anyway.
He woke the following morning to a pitch black room with a throbbing headache. Upon making the painful decision to turn the light on to find his way around, he found a glass of water and a single tablet of ibuprofen on the bedside table.
The quiet gestures of love always did speak the loudest.
—- March 03, 20XX, 1145 hours —-
Whispers had begun to cascade down from the upper basements. People were becoming restless, not that anyone could blame them.
“It’s been four months. Surely the infection must have run its course by now.”
“We’ve got the equipment, we could easily lift off whatever debris was blocking the entrance.”
“Do you think they’re keeping us here on purpose? Like some kind of experiment in captivity?”
Unfortunately, the answer as to whether or not there was any infection left on the surface was woefully out of reach. The energy grids across the world had failed months ago; the basements were powered through geothermal generators courtesy of Statesman technicians. The internet was out of the question; it had collapsed long ago with no one to maintain it or electricity to power the servers around the world. Some of the more knowledgeable technicians lightly convernsed amongst themselves about the possibility that any of the nuclear power plants were still standing and hadn’t melted down. If so, entire swaths of land would be uninhabitable for centuries to come. Overall, no one, not even Champagne, could give anyone even a glimpse into the outside world and whether or not it was safe to venture out to.
Overall, the world inside was much more mundane. Some areas of the underground had been repurposed to growing fresh food from seeds that Statesman had packed away, with a large number of people taking on the task of tending to the new crops. You and Jack often worked together in this area, as Jack had previous experience with it from his childhood on his parents’ farm.
He found it ironic, in a way. Back when he was an agent, he would’ve given anything to settle down and simply tend to plants all day. Now, it seemed suffocating.
—- May 25, 20XX, 1430 hours —-
The past six months in the basements had begun to blend together, a consequence of the routine that had developed. Wake up, tend to the crops, find a few times per day to eat, then go to bed. It was a simple existence. Perhaps a little too simple.
Jack still frequently awoke to you tossing and turning in your sleep. Of all your trauma responses, it appeared that the nightmares were proving to be the most persistent. They tended to be the same few subjects each time - Jack leaving for the basements without you, you watching your loved ones become infected with no means of escape from them, and you waking one day to find yourself alone in the tiny concrete room you lived in, just to name a few.
Most mornings were spent with Jack holding you close to him as you properly came to and processed the horrors you’d endured in your sleep yet again. You mentioned to him several times that you were jealous of his ability to push down such emotions, but he neglected to tell you about his own brand of nightmares.
The ones where he tried to find you to bring you to safety, only to be unsuccessful. The ones where he would wake only to find you suffering from a fever and hallucinations and him having to make the decision to put you down or go down with you.
The ones where you were violently yanked away from him by a hungry, manic mob full of gnashing teeth.
Deep down, he knew he should tell you. You were always telling him not to suffer on his own, that you were there for him whenever he needed you and that no one needed to process the events of the end alone, especially not when he was doing all he could to comfort you. But that was the exact problem - how could he, in good faith, burden you with such atrocities, when you were struggling to cope with what you experienced already?
In time, he promised himself, he would tell you.
—- July 08, 20XX, 1700 hours —-
The word had come not a moment too soon.
All five sub-basements had become a powder keg, with emotions running high and stress levels unbearable. Being secluded underground without sun, fresh air, and socialization with more than the same group of people for the past eight months had done terrible things to the collective psyche of the remaining survivors.
But blessedly, at 10am that day, Champagne had relented.
He’d agreed to open the entrance and allow people back into the outside world again.
“What do you think?” you asked Jack, sitting next to him on your bed with his hands in yours. “Do you think we should go?”
His mind flashed with his nightmares. He’d shared the contents of them last month, as he’d promised he would, when your own appeared to be lessening slightly. Naturally, you’d scolded him for not telling you sooner, but you’d begun helping him through his own trauma nonetheless. More than once he’d thanked you for having the patience of a saint. And every time you’d answered with a soft “you’ll always be worth it, Jack”.
But now, with the prospect of the sunlight being just within your grasp again, along with every potential danger that went with it, Jack was hesitant.
“I… I don’t know,” he answered quietly, looking down at your intertwined hands. “I really don’t know.”
“I don’t either,” you admitted. “It just… I want to be there. To see what it’s like now. But on the other hand…”
“It’s safe here,” Jack finished.
“Yeah. It’s safe here.”
Both of you were silent for a moment, contemplating the various options, scenarios, and outcomes before you spoke again.
“What do you miss the most?” you asked softly. “About the outside?”
“Sunshine,” Jack replied. “Fresh air. Animals. You?”
“…I miss the stars.”
Silence fell again. More consideration. More thought. Until Jack realized that the decision was likely already made, and was simply waiting to be spoken aloud before being cemented.
“We’re goin’ topside when they open it up, ain’t we, darlin’?”
“Yeah… I think we are.”
—- July 10, 20XX, 1030 hours —-
You and Jack stood side by side as the last few bits of rubble were set to be removed from the last staircase to the surface. He held your hand in his, reassuringly running his thumb along your skin every so often when he would notice you start to fidget. Others talked amongst themselves, excitedly listing off all the things they’d missed from the outside.
Jack’s heart raced, the possibility of everything going horribly, horribly wrong not at all lost on him. For all anyone knew, a mob of hungry infected could be waiting just outside the stairwell, having somehow survived for the past eight months. But he simply shook his head, struggling to put the thought out of his mind and focus on the handful of non-fatal possible outcomes.
And then, all at once, the last large boulder slipped free, and light poured in on the group.
The sun blinded him, depositing spots in his vision as he tried desperately to blink them away so he could properly focus on the green at the edges of his line of sight.
Green… so much green. Of course, the concrete rubble was still very clearly visible, but it was now covered with a spattering of roots, weeds, and grass. It seemed that the large amount of dirt kicked up by the carpet bombings had settled in and sped along the process of nature’s reclamation.
Grass, concrete, a few infant trees, and not a single human being, infected or not, in sight.
Jack turned to the side and stole a look at your awestruck face, smiling as you did at the breeze that cascaded over you. You did not move, as if glued to the spot at the overwhelming sensations bombarding you all at once.
He heard others murmuring excitedly and saw a few begin to run towards the fresh landscape. Now it was your turn to come back to yourself and find his loving gaze, returning it as you did so.
“Time to go?” he asked.
“Time to go.” This time, you were not afraid. And neither was he.
With that, you both took your first steps into the brave new world.
A/N: Something Spicey from me? Unheard of! But for real, this is probably the only spicy thing I will ever write, so enjoy it! I had fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading it. There is no horribly obvious spice before the cut, so anyone who is underage, please turn back! This isn’t for your sensitive eyes!
The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.
You’d been here for hours, and he hadn’t even looked at you.
It was practically cruel at this point, how casually he was doing his paperwork while you were tied up on his couch, quite literally. You pouted, sighing out through your nose. Deep breaths, be patient. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t, leave you here without paying you any attention.
Would he?
Jack flipped his paper, not even looking up. His pen scratched against whatever document he was signing. You imagined the flow of the ink, the swirls of his signature. The warm grip of his fingers against the pen.
You tugged against the cuffs. They were lined in soft fur so as not to damage your skin, but this long in the restraints and your fingers were starting to tingle. Knowing Jack, you could absolutely safeword out of this, but if he wanted to play the long game, you were happy to oblige. Nearly four and a half hours ago, he’d pulled you into his office and bound you in your favorite leather harness and cuffs, telling you to wait for him on the couch. You’d patiently waited, watching him intently, knowing your pointed staring was making his skin prickle. Every time he shifted, you smirked. If he wanted to play the long and uncomfortable game, well, two could play like that.
“Whiskey.”
A voice broke you from your spell, and you looked at the office door, almost scared. He wouldn’t, would he?
“Yes Ginger?” Jack asked, standing and pulling the wooden room divider open, so it hid the couch you were on from the view of the door. As he did so, he didn’t even look at you, not one glance to at least acknowledge your bound form. You wanted to scream.
The door opened, and although you couldn’t see her, you could hear Ginger enter the office. Jack’s words were tilted with a smile as he spoke.
“Ah, I was waiting for this. Thank you Ginge.”
Ginger’s footsteps shuffled. “Of course,” she said. “Have you seen Mojito? Tequila says they entered your office and never left?”
Jack chuckled. “Haven’t seen ‘em,” he said, and you rolled your eyes.
Ginger left, her heels clicking on the floor. Jack set whatever Ginger had given him down and smoothly slid the divider back to its original position, revealing you in all your practically naked glory. “Good afternoon Mojito,” Jack drawled. “I didn’t see you there.”
You almost wished he’d gagged you. Thousands of witty and borderline mean comments bubbled on your lips, but you settled for silence. You didn’t even know what you’d done to end up here. Sass would most definitely only make it worse.
Jack tapped the side of his thigh twice, and you nodded once. A silent reassurance you were still okay.
“Kitten, I bought you a present,” Jack said, pulling a box into view. It was small, and you desperately hoped it wasn’t a punishment for some action you couldn’t remember. “Do you want to know what it is?”
You nodded, wiggling in your cuffs, feeling the leather straps criss-crossing your body shift.
Jack tutted, setting his hat on the corner of the divider. He leaned in close, examining you with dark eyes. “Use your words,” he commanded slowly.
“Yes,” you rasped out, voice quiet from lack of recent use. “Yes sir, please.”
Jack’s lips curled in a triumphant smile. “Good kitten,” he purred, flicking open his pocket knife and startling you slightly. But he didn’t press the blade to your skin, merely dragged it along the tape on the box.
Your heart began to beat faster as Jack revealed your gift. It was the most beautiful collar you’d ever seen, made of fine black leather and lined with soft black fur. It had two D rings on the front and a locking clasp on the back, although that wasn’t what excited you. No, what excited you was the large silver bell dangling from the middle of the collar.
Jack shook the bell, causing it to jingle cheerily. “Do you want this?” He asked. “Does my kitten want to be collared?”
“Yes sir!” You were certain you’d never answered him faster, your heart beating wildly in your chest.
Chuckling, Jack hummed, reaching down the front of his smooth black shirt and pulling out a necklace with a thin silver key. He slipped the key into the clasp on your current collar, the slim work-appropriate collar sliding away and being immediately replaced by the new one, the bell chiming as it lay to rest on your throat.
“There,” Jack hummed softly, flicking the bell. “Now I can find my kitten no matter where they go.”
Dread filled your belly. “Sir?” He wasn’t going to punish you for that, was he? It was a month ago, and he’d already chewed you out for it.
“You know what I mean.” Jack’s voice turned into a low growl. “Don’t you kitten?”
“I-“ You couldn’t answer, tears burning your throat. “Yes sir.” Your words were slow, raspy and quiet as you fought back tears.
Jack hesitated, waiting for you to compose yourself. He put a hand on your shoulder, tapping gently, and when you nodded back, he stepped away. “You know what you’ve done,” he said. “And you know that there are consequences for disobeying me, especially when you could be hurt.”
You nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Do you know how many times I called your name in that forest?” Jack asked, slowly removing his belt and causing your face to go cold as the blood drained from it.
“No sir.”
“Fifteen times.” The belt buckle clattered as Jack removed his belt and laid the buckle in his hand. “You know what that means.”
“Yes sir.” As you spoke, you shook your head twice. Jack nodded once, setting his belt down and instead picking up an ornate paddle.
Jack stood beside the couch, undoing your cuffs and laying them to the side. “On your belly,” he growled, and you rubbed your wrists for all of two seconds before you flipped over, making room for Jack as he sat on the couch. You slowly lay across his lap, instinctively trying to grab for the pillow that wasn’t there. Jack’s hands smoothed across your skin, readjusting you as he saw fit. Your lip trembled, waiting for the inevitable punishment.
“Count,” came Jack’s firm command, and you nodded, your words stuck in your throat.
A harsh smack came, the sting of the paddle on your ass reverberating through your whole body as you yelped, a shaking whine following the squeak of surprise. As your body bucked forward with the force of the smack, your bell bounced against your neck, ringing out cheerfully. “One!”
Jack leaned down low towards your ear, his voice a dangerously smooth purr. “Say my name,” he drawled, another smack coming down on the other side of your ass.
“Two!” You panted. “Jack.”
Jack hummed his approval. “Louder,” he decided, smacking your ass yet again.
“Three!” You shouted, hands scrambling for something, anything, to hold. “Jack!”
“That’s a good kitten.” Jack’s praise warmed your belly right before he dropped it to the floor with a harsh smack to the sensitive tops of your thighs.
This time, your words were breathy and stuttering, trying to push past the pulsing in your body. “F-four! Jack!”
With the next smack, Jack didn’t say a single word, only rested his other hand on the small of your back, pushing you closer against his legs to control your bouncing.
“Five!” Your core was starting to heat, a distinct wetness gathering below your waist. “Jack!”
Jack paused, his hand abandoning the paddle to grip your thigh, causing you to gasp as his fingers dug into your flesh. “Is my kitten enjoying this?” He asked, fingers moving over the slick patch of skin and pressing against the soaked spot on your underwear. “Are you?”
“N-no sir,” you promised.
Jack chuckled, ripping your underwear off you. Internally, somewhere beyond pain and punishment, you sighed. Those had been expensive, and now they were expensive in three different pieces on Jack’s office floor. His hand smoothed over your ass, and you could feel the warmth difference between your mildly abused skin and his hand.
Jack lifted his hand, bringing it back down swiftly and causing you to bite back a scream. Jack’s office was soundproofed to a certain degree, but your screams could definitely be heard down the hall. “Six!“ Your voice was whiny, pitched loud with need. “Jack!” You all but moaned his name, the high volume definitely audible just beyond the door.
A growl came from behind you, and you yelped as Jack grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled your head back. “Do you want the whole building to know what we’re doing in here, hm?” Jack taunted. “Do you want them to know you’re all mine? That only I get to punish my kitten like this?” His other hand snaked around your throat, disrupting your bell and causing it to ring.
You nodded against Jack’s hands. “Yes sir,” you said softly. “Yes I do.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jack smirk. “Alright then kitten,” he said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The next few snacks came in quick succession, all with the flat of the paddle. You gasped, Jack’s firm grip on your hair never relinquishing. “Seven,” you moaned when you finally composed yourself just a tad. “Eight! Nine! Jack!” You drew out the vowel on Jack’s name, trying to shift on his leg for any sort of friction you could get, anything to relieve the burn in your belly.
Jack delivered another smack to your thighs, and you gasped, feeling the coil in your stomach wind ever so tighter. “Ten!” You all but screamed. “Jack please!”
“Hush up!” Jack demanded. “You don’t get to ask for anything!” He smacked your ass again, this time with his hand.
“Eleven!” You said shakily, voice low as you bypassed pleasure and began to feel nothing but overstimulation. Every pulse of your heart sent a beat through your body, and you whimpered in the back of your throat. Tears burned the corners of your eyes, and your entire ass stung like you’d sat on a live wire. It was all too much, even the tiniest sounds and touches grating against your senses, but you didn’t want to give up now. “Jack.” Your voice was no longer a shout of budding ecstasy, and instead came out in a near whisper of pain. But you couldn’t disappoint him. Not now.
“Do you know how worried I was?” Jack asked harshly, smacking you again. “I thought you were dead!”
“Twelve!“ you were sobbing now, tears rolling down your cheeks. You couldn’t find the energy to say Jack’s name anymore. He didn’t seem to care.
“You scared me!” Jack said, his voice filled with an anger you’d never heard before. “Do you understand that? That because of you, I was scared!” He smacked you again, and you hiccuped, the chiming of the bell around your neck the tipping point. The high noise broke you, causing you to let out one loud, broken sob.
“Mint!” You screamed, collapsing and feeling nothing but pain, hearing nothing but the blood roaring in your ears. “Mint!”
Instantly, Jack’s demeanor changed. His grip on your hair loosened, and he bent down to set the paddle carelessly on the floor and grab a pillow for you to hold.
“Good job kitten,” Jack praised sweetly, flipping you over and kissing your cheeks, kissing away your tears. “You did so well for me, my love, so well. I’m so proud of you.”
You gasped, gripping Jack’s neck and burying yourself in the shoulder of his black shirt. “I’m sorry!” You wailed, body wracked with sobs. “I’m so sorry!”
Jack hugged you close, undoing your collar and the harness still squeezing your chest. “I know,” he promised. “I forgive you kitten. I know you didn’t mean to make me worry.”
While you continued to cry, Jack cradled you gently, carrying you off to the bathroom. By the time you were completely spent of tears, he had a nice warm bath set up for you, and you sniffled one last time before he sunk your body beneath the bubbles.
You sighed out, watching Jack remove his shirt and grab a bottle of oil from your aftercare cabinet. He also grabbed a small water bottle and a sandwich baggie full of chocolate covered pretzels. Passing you the food and drink, he dragged a stool behind the tub, sitting on it and rolling his sleeves up.
“Are you feeling okay?” He asked gently, his voice soft as he watched you drink small sips of water. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You shook your head, hearing Jack’s sigh of relief behind you. He opened the oil bottle, spreading some onto his hands before digging them into your hair, massaging away the tingling he left behind when he pulled on your hair. You moaned, low and pleased, and leaned up into Jack’s hands. He chuckled, tipping your head back and kissing your forehead. “Eat your food,” he murmured, smiling when you did, the chocolate on the pretzel melting in your mouth.
Your bath lasted an hour, during which you pretty much fell asleep, listening to Jack clean his office and finish his paperwork. You almost regretted doing this at work. You wanted nothing more than to lay on Jack’s bed right now, surrounded by his pillows and blankets.
“Kitten?” Jack’s voice broke you from your lull.
“Yeah?”
Jack stood beside the tub, holding a towel. “C’mon,” he said. “It’s time to get out.”
You sighed, standing and letting Jack take your hands. He helped you balance as you stepped out of the tub, wrapping you in the soft towel and kissing your nose. “I love you.”
“Love you more,” you yawned, leaning in towards Jack’s touch. “I wanna go home.”
“We can go home,” Jack promised, grabbing a smaller towel to help you towel your hair dry. “Right after this. You wanna nap in my bed?”
You nodded. “Yes please.”
Jack kissed your forehead. “You know I’m not still mad at you for what happened, right?” He asked softly, wrapping you in a loose hug.
“Yeah,” you said. “I know. Still feel guilty.”
“Don’t,” Jack said, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I was never mad. Just worried about you. I thought I’d lost you.”
You shook your head. “Y’ain’t gonna lose me that easy cowboy,” you said with a mischievous smile. “I’m here to stay for a long time.”
Jack’s smile in return comforted you, warming you to your very core. “I know,” he said. “I know.”
Warnings: Kingsman type violence, jack comes with how own warning always, cute fluffy fluffiness (it’s jack and its me so duh), a man being an asshole to reader and touching her ass unwanted, exhibitionism, semi public sex but not really, sex on the hood of the bronco, p in v sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, jack’s filthy mouth, this is so hot and I hope that’s all the warnings
Word Count:1,747
Summary: When Reader sees Jack in action for the first time it makes her just a little flustered and by a little I mean a lot.
Author’s Notes: So two separate ideas that ended up coming together as one and my goodness did it make for a smutty and fun ride. I hope you all enjoy this one because I sure loved writing it. Big thanks as always to @clint-aww-no-barton and all my readers who support in anyway at all. I love y'all and get ready because soon there will be something big coming your way.
The sun had yet to fully set, but it was starting its course. It cast a golden glow across the wooden surface under your elbows and across the matching floor your feet rested on. You threw your head back, a laugh bubbling up from your belly and releasing, almost too loudly, at what Jack had just said. He was telling you a story about how Tequila had gotten his ass handed to him today by new recruits, and you couldn’t help laughing.
Jack had come home from work and declared the two of you were going out. Neither of you had been hungry yet, so you went to the small bar in town. The two of you had met here and it had become a place for the two of you, to sit and enjoy each other like a date, without all the fancy.
You loved these moments. They took you back and made those butterflies, only Jack could give you, running wild in your stomach. You always say in the same booth, from the first night you met. Jack would do everything to keep you smiling or laughing the whole time. You knew he loved this as much as you did.
“It was by far the best thing I had seen all day. It had all of us rolling,” Jack let out a laugh before taking a sip of his drink.
“I wish I could have seen it. But don’t think I won’t give him a hard time, every single time I see him now.”
Jack and you both laughed and you followed him, taking a sip from your own drink.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
“Hurry back Honeybee,” he threw you a wink, took your hand, kissing the top of it before you got up.
“Of course,” you paused and leaned over giving him a quick kiss, before walking towards the small hallway that housed the bathrooms.
You were just about to cross under the entrance to the hallway when you felt a hand on your ass. You spun around with pure shock on your face, to see a man smirking at you.
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here at this time?” He slurred his words.
His few friends sitting at the bar, six of them, all laughed. You glared at him and just when you opened your mouth to shoot a witty remark back at him, you were interrupted.
“First off she’s not a thing and second, she’s with me.”
Jack stood there anger thundering across his face. He still wore his full work gear, including his weapons. You felt a slight bit of panic, as each man stood up rage on their faces and turned toward your boyfriend.
“Honeybee step back in the hallway for me, will you?”
You simply nodded and stepped back but you still had a full view of the small bar, and the fight that was most likely about to go down. You had been told stories several times about how good of an agent Jack was, how he could handle himself in a fight, but never once had you seen him in action.
“Seven against one?” The man who had grabbed you laughed.
“I like those odds,” Jack smirked and then they charged.
You stood there in pure amazement as Jack pulled out his lasso and used it to his advantage.
He dropped a few men, before slinging one on the booth the two of you had previously been sitting at. Then he reached for his whip in a smooth movement and within a few more quick minutes all of the men were laying on the ground groaning. The bartender came up, mouth almost wider than yours and looked at the damage.
“I do apologize for the mess, ma’am. I have some friends who will come to clear it all out and pay for the damages shortly.” Jack gave her a nod, his hand fixing his hat slightly.
She did nothing but shake her head and then look at you as you slowly came out from the hallway. You looked at the man you loved with wide eyes and gaping mouth in pure shock.
“You ready to go Honeybee?” Jack asked the question, like nothing had just happened.
You simply nodded your head and he held his hand out to you. You took it, looking up at him slightly awed, earning a chuckle from him. He helped you over the broken things and broken men all over the floor, then the two of you were out the door. He helped you into the bronco before sliding in.
“You did all of that like it was nothing.”
“Well it was nothing,” Jack chuckled as he started the truck.
“I…”
“Honeybee you okay?”
You looked at him and something new washed through you. You felt chills run up your back and you realized then, just how what you had seen affected you.
“I have never been more turned on by you than I am right now.”
Jack’s face lit up with a look you knew too well. He smirked, a twinkle in his eyes as he looked you over like he hadn’t already been looking at you for the past few hours.
“Then why don’t I take you home and fix that?”
You simply nodded and as he backed out, his free hand finding it’s home on your thigh.
The drive was already a long one, but it felt like it was taking years to get back to your house in the middle of nowhere. His hand had been traveling up and rubbing idly at your clothed thigh and it was setting you on fire.
“Jack pull over.”
He looked at you with shock but did just ask you asked. Luckily there was a small road that led into the woods nearby, and he pulled into it enough that no one would pay any mind if they did happen to drive by.
“Can’t wait till we get home huh?”
“No,” you panted looking at him.
His hand moved up further and his eyes locked on yours before he brushed over your center. You might as well had been naked. It pulled a moan from you and you bucked your hips slightly.
“Get out.”
That demanding voice made you clench and you scrambled to do as you were told. You met Jack at the front of the truck and he wasted no time grabbing you and smashing your lips against his. It was a hungry and needy kiss that sent you reeling.
“Why did we get out?” You asked confused and panting.
“Because I’m going to throw you over the hood and fuck you until you can’t speak.”
Your eyes widened and Jack turned you around quickly. He pushed you with enough force to make a point and your hands went to the hood. He was so close you could feel his heart pounding behind you. He took one hand and jerked your head back so his lips could crash back to yours before his hands started down your body. He didn’t waste much time before he was ripping your pants and panties down your legs, exposing your lower half. He reached forward and brushed a finger through your slit.
“Fuck you’re soaking wet angel. All of this cause of what you got to see back there? Hmm?”
“Yes Jack,” you panted and then let out a moan, looking into his eyes, pleading with him with a desperate look.
“You want to do this?”
“Yes Jack. Please,” you begged.
He simply smirked before he worked himself out of his pants. His hands gripped at your hips and he situated you, before he slammed into you. You let out a load moan your eyes closing and your head going down on the hood in front of you. One hand stayed on your hip while the other laced through your hair to jerk your head up. He started to pound into you with hard thrusts that made you so dizzy with pleasure, you had to plead with your body not to let go yet.
“Look at you bent over my hood, my cock hilt deep in you and anyone could see if they drove by. But you don’t care do you angel?”
“No!” You moaned loudly and pitifully.
He let go of your hair and you turned into jelly. He wrapped his arms around you and his lips were back on yours as he pounded into you relentlessly. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.
“Jack I’m close,” you panted tears gathered in your eyes.
“Then let go for me.”
With one hand back on your hip, the other reached down your front and started to make quick circles on your clit. You snapped and you let out a moan, your hand slamming on the hood as the pleasure ripped through you. Jack took his hand from your hip and grabbed your hand, before he tensed inside of you and followed you, groaning. He buried his face in your hair and whimpered and moaned in your ear. Your body faltered and he had you in his arms in moments, both of you panting and trying to regain yourselves.
“Holy shit,” you breathed before you let out a chuckle, eyes closed and your head resting on Jack’s shoulder.
“Holy shit indeed,” Jack smirked down at you and your eyes fluttered opened slowly seeing his brown eyes watching you.
“Hey there Honeybee,” he bent down and kissed you gently, as he left you.
“Hey cowboy,” you breathed, before the both of you let out a whimper at the loss of each other.
You both chuckled and helped each other fix yourselves back. With shaky legs and Jack’s help he got you back in the car, before getting in himself.
“That was a first,” you laid your head back on the seat behind, you looking over at him.
“It was and it won’t be the last time.”
“Oh it won’t?” You spoke with amusement.
“Oh no honeybee. We have a lot of firsts ahead of us, but right now I’m taking you home and we are going to have round two in bed.”
“Why not round two here?” You moved to the middle sitting next to him as he backed out on the road and took off.
if you don’t reblog this it’s all good, but r e m e m b e r to REBLOG andmaybe reply too, ya know? that’s also nice the original posts bc these people are blessing us with their writing for f r e e!!! likes are nice and all but they don’t get writings anywhere really! having a lot of notes is cool and whatnot but actuallyreblogging something is ✨ so yeah be the real mvp and reblog the author’s works bye!
*if your stuff isn’t here: it’s not you, it’s me! i’m a lazy ass! and also i couldn’t keep up with the amount of works being posted if you would like to be added pls just message me orfill this form! i know adding absolutely everyone is impossible at this point, but i’d love to add as many people as possible, i mean it
Warnings:Hostility towards porn work, prejudice, bad attitudes, language, nudity, sexual performances, biting, hate fucking, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex toys, anal fingering, rimming, anal sex, cream pie
Comments: Porn Star AU! You are set to star in a movie that is supposed to be your next Oscar contention, until you find out they have replaced your co-star with ‘Agent Whiskey’, a porn star who brings his own fans to the mix. You find you can’t stand the cocky performer, even if you find him handsome.
A/N: I am not an actor and have no clue how a set really works.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.
“Who?” You shake your head, never having heard of this actor before. The director had assured you that your co-star was going to bring his own fans to the film, making sure that it was a success, but you hadn’t been able to place his name. You had never heard of him, but he had a fanbase? “You didn’t hire some dumb Instagram or TikTok influencer, did you?” You snort, rolling your eyes and the lengths studios would stoop to drum up interest in a production. Mostly at the expense of the final product and embarrassing everyone attached to it. Pissed off they didn’t cast who you were expecting them too when you had signed on. “I thought everyone learned the lesson that the Cliff Beasts production taught us?”
The director shakes his head, “no. No. He’s not an Instagram influencer or that Tik Tak or whatever the fuck it’s called. My kids are constantly on that fucking app. If I have to hear ‘oh no. Oh no no no.’ One more fucking time.” He mocks the song and rubs his forehead. “He’s not- he’s an adult performer.” The director reveals, apprehensive about your reaction but this film needs a steady fan base and Agent Whiskey brings just that.
A/N: this is for @djarinsbeskar’s challenge to write something out of your comfort zone! I was tasked with writing Agent Whiskey and domming the heck out of him the actual prompt was this gif so like. That’s the vibe.
Word count: 2.8k
Warning: Whew boy. Sub!Jack/dom!reader, “good boy,” oral sex (f and m receiving), hair pulling, bondage, orgasm delay, edging, use of toys, PiV sex (cowgirl ), honestly it’s filth.
Whiskey gets this way sometimes, after a particularly hard mission. It had been difficult for you to understand before you knew about his real job, the one where he had to jet around and save the world on a regular basis. Once he confided in you though, it was easy for you to see what he needed, and it didn’t hurt that you enjoyed it just as much as he did.
When he comes home and he’s like this, looking so tightly wound he’s about ready to snap, you know exactly what Jack needs. You had given him time to change out of his flight suit and into his usual dark blue jeans and white tee-shirt before you showed up at the door of his room.
You stood there for a minute, admiring Jack’s fine ass in his absurdly tight jeans, but you were the one with a mission now.
“Agent Whiskey,” you address him, waiting for him to turn and look at you.
He turns to you almost immediately, recognizing your tone of voice and knowing better than to make you wait. He inhales sharply as he takes in the vision you present before him.
You’re wearing positively sinful lingerie in his favorite color, a bright red lace bra and garter set with all kinds of fun straps and matching stiletto heels. He takes another deep breath when you tilt your head and nod toward the ground, already knowing what you want him to do.
Jack drops to his knees at the edge of the bed in front of you, folding his hands behind his back and looking up at you expectantly.
“Your weapons please, Agent Whiskey?” you phrase it like a question, but your face tells him that it’s a command. He unloops his whip and lasso from his belt and dutifully hands them over before returning to his previous posture.
“Such a good boy,” you purr, running on hand through his hair, scraping over his scalp with your nails, and you relish the moan he lets out at even that simple touch.
You take a step back and widen your stance slightly, unwinding Jack’s lasso and thinking about your next move. You can’t help but preen a bit as the powerful and dangerous Agent Whiskey kneels at your feet. It’s not new, but it never fails to surprise you how quickly he drops into that headspace when he’s ready to.
After another minute, you decide on your course of action and set your plan into motion.
You walk around the bed and you can feel Whiskey’s eyes tracking you as you go, even though his head is bowed, but you don’t look down or meet his gaze. Instead, you eye him up and down as if you’re appraising him. He keeps his eyes averted and waits patiently for you to tell him what to do next.
You walk back in front of him and then climb up on the bed, settling against the headboard and spreading your legs before beckoning for Jack to join you. He goes eagerly, moving to rest between your open thighs before you stop him by delicately placing the toe of one heel on his forehead.
“Hold it right there, sir,” you tell him, tilting your head to look down at him. His lips almost drop into a pout, but when one of your eyebrows peaks, he thinks better of it and looks down, waiting for your instructions.
You let him stew for a few more moments before withdrawing your foot, setting it next to him on the bed and dropping your thighs to either side of his shoulders. He slowly places one hand on your leg and raises his eyebrows to you, waiting for permission. You nod and he smiles before sliding his hand up the inside of your leg and lifting it, setting the crook of your knee on one shoulder. He repeats his motions on the other side and then stops to stare up at you expectantly.
You cross your ankles behind his head and pull him forward so that his face is hovering right over your center. You can feel how wet you are inside your panties, and when Jack looks up at you with a sparkle in his eyes, you know that he can tell how turned on you are too. You reach down to thread your hands into his hair and pull him the rest of the way down, shoving his face into your clothed core.
One thing to be said for Jack “Whiskey” Daniels is that the man understands the assignment. Once you’ve given him permission to touch you, he wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you in place, eating you like a starved man. He runs his tongue over you in flat, wide stripes, just enough to get you worked up and aching for him. He uses his teeth to pull your underwear to the side and circles your clit delicately with his tongue before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard.
Your moans egg him on as you run your hands through his hair and use your hold on him to guide him as he works you over. You know Whiskey loves this, and it’s gratifying to watch his hips grind small circles into the bed as he eats you out. He works you up quickly, alternating between licking over your clit and thrusting his tongue inside you, letting his nose bump over your sensitive bundle of nerves with each pass. You can both tell that you’re on the edge when your hips start grinding up on his face of their own accord, your hands fisted tightly in his hair to hold him in place.
You come with a shout, Jack’s tongue buried deep inside you as he lets you ride it out, his arms wrapped around your legs and moving gently in time with your thrusts. When you gather yourself, Jack is waiting patiently beside you, sitting on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back again.
“What do you say we get you out of that shirt and get this taken care of?” you ask, walking on your knees over to him and cupping the obscene bulge in the front of his jeans.
He nods, and you bring his arms forward to help him strip out of his shirt and toss it aside. Next, you gesture for him to lay down on the bed. He glances down at his still-clothed bottom half, but he doesn’t question you and moves to rest on the bed with his back against the headboard.
You quickly move to straddle his hips and grind down onto him, soaking the front of his jeans with the moisture between your legs. His hands shoot forward to grab your hips, but you stop him before he can with one peaked eyebrow.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
His hands drop to the bed and he looks disappointed but doesn’t say anything. You eye his lasso sitting on the nightstand and grab it, tying a knot in either end before slipping them over his hands and drawing them up to the headboard. You’re pressed up against his chest, nose to nose with him as you render him helpless against your will. Your eyes search his, looking for any hint of hesitation before whispering “You good?” but Whiskey only nods and stares up at you with a mix of trust and awe.
You finish securing Jack to the headboard and then lean back to admire your handiwork. Jack looks gorgeous like this, his thick dark hair mussed from your hands, his beautiful brown eyes so lust-blown they look black, and his mustache still glistening with your arousal. His strong shoulders flex against the lasso and you’re proud to see that the ties hold and he’s completely at your mercy.
You push up on your knees and move back so you’re settled between his legs, smirking up at him as his arms flex and pull against his lasso, desperate to touch you. You lean over and lick a stripe up his torso from his waist to his collarbone, and he hisses when your chest presses over his painfully tight jeans.
“Do you want these off, baby?” you coo, running your hands over his clothed thighs, just brushing against where he wants you most.
“Please?” he grits out, straining against the instinct to buck his hips up toward you.
“Well, since you asked so nicely…” you undo his jeans and tap his hip so he’ll lift up off the bed so you can slide them and his boxers down over his muscular thighs. Jack lets out a sigh of relief as his erection springs free and you can see there’s already precum welling up at the head.
You keep your eyes on his the entire time as you lean over and press a soft kiss to the tip before parting your lips to let your tongue dart out and lick at it. His hips buck up almost immediately at the sudden stimulation, but you pull back and press your hands to his hips.
“Hey, you’re going to be good, aren’t you? Going to lay there and take what I give you? At least if you want to come, that is…” Whiskey nods slowly and his hips drop from underneath your hands.
“Please?” he asks, a little breathlessly. You can tell that he’s desperate to come, wound up from pleasuring you and all your teasing, but you’re determined to make him wait a bit longer.
You lean forward and lick his head, swirling around like you’re sucking on a lollipop, and every time he makes a sound, you pull back. After a few minutes, Jack is huffing and straining against his bonds, torn between desperately trying to be good for you and needing to come.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” you coo, gripping him in your hand and sliding up and down, not tight enough or fast enough to get him off, just enough to keep him on the edge. Whiskey looks down at you and groans as he takes you in, kneeling between his legs, licking your obscenely red and cock-swollen lips as you stroke his dick.
“Well, aren’t you just as pretty as a picture?” he breathes.
You slap the inside of his thigh harshly and grip the base of his cock hard, “Did I say you were allowed to talk?” He shakes his head and then drops it to the headboard with a groan.
You reach into the nightstand beside the bed and pull out the toy you had stashed there earlier in anticipation. Whiskey’s eyes light up when he sees you bring out the small bullet vibrator and you smile, knowing what you have planned for him. You run it through your slick folds, moaning obscenely as it brushes over your sensitive clit. Jack sucks in a breath and bites his bottom lip, watching you intensely as you turn the toy on and tease yourself with it.
“Oh baby…this isn’t for me. It’s for you,” you smirk as you grip his cock firmly at the base and place the vibe on the tip. He groans and his hips lift off the bed at the sudden overwhelming sensation. “Shh…I thought you wanted to be good and come?” He slams his mouth shut and you can tell he’s straining to keep his hips from bucking up as you tease him with the toy, all of the lines of his body taut and the cords of his neck visible as he works his jaw.
You smile as you sit back on your heels and tease Jack with the vibrator, watching him fight against his own body to behave for you and be quiet and still. His hands tighten into fists and relax as he aches to touch you, but he’s fully at your mercy, and it’s glorious.
You place open mouth kisses along the inside of his thighs, working your way up as you continue intermittently tightening your grip on him and running the vibe over his weeping tip. Looking up to meet his eyes, you turn off the vibrator and release your hold on his cock before sliding your hand and the vibe down to rest where your other hand had been. You turn the vibe on to the lowest setting and stare up at him, holding eye contact the entire time as you drop your head to wrap your lips around his head and suck hard.
Whiskey moans brokenly and his eyes roll back as his head thuds against the headboard, his hands clenching and pulling at his binds. You pull off his cock with a “pop” and smile up at him. “That’s it, baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
He’s close, you can see it in his body, hear it in the soft sounds he makes as he tries to be good for you. You wrap your lips around him again and turn the vibe up as you take him as deep as you can, not stopping until you feel him nudging at the back of your throat. You fight the urge to gag and instead swallow around his dick, reaching down with your free hand to play with his balls. When his eyes close and his mouth drops open, you pull back and he whimpers at the loss of contact.
When he realizes what just happened, Jack’s eyes fly open and you can see him considering saying something, but you quirk an eyebrow up and him and he decides against it. You run your hands over his thighs soothingly, pointedly avoiding his painfully hard cock on your passes.
“Are you ready for me?”
Jack nods silently, watching you closely, and you can feel your heartbeat pounding inside your chest as you move to straddle Whiskey’s hips and his cock slides against you. You plant your hands on his broad chest and rock back and forth slowly, never sinking down, just letting him feel you. His eyes are wide as he stares up at you reverently, and you decide that it’s time to put your good boy out of his misery.
Leaning forward to press your lips to Jack’s, you sink down onto him. As he cries out in relief, you moan at the feeling of finally being filled after spending so long teasing him. You stop moving as soon as he bottoms out, just enjoying the closeness and his lips working against yours. You can tell that he wants to move, that it’s tortuous for him to finally be inside you and not thrust into you, fast and hard, the way you both like it, but he stays still for you.
You start out slowly, lifting up so that just his tip remains inside you before dropping down again, and Whiskey’s eyes stay on you the entire time. It’s almost overwhelming, the power that you feel when he’s vulnerable and pliant like this beneath you, and a fresh rush of arousal washes over you at the thought. You start moving faster, working your hips back and forth as you brace yourself on his chest, and you can tell that it’s not going to take you long to come like this.
Whiskey must feel the same way, because his eyes are frantic and he manages to grit out “close,” as his hands wrap around the headboard and his jaw tightens. It’s beautiful to watch him try to maintain control for you, but you’ve made him wait long enough.
You lean forward and your lips brush his earlobe as you whisper, “Come for me.” And he does. He cries out and his hands tighten into fists as his hips buck up of their own accord and he rides out his high. You clench around him as you feel him flooding you with his cum and you rock down hard, slamming your hips into his, and then you fall apart right behind him.
Your arms give out and you collapse onto Whiskey’s chest as you try to catch your breath. You feel him trying to bring his arms down to wrap around you, as if he had somehow managed to forget that he was tied to the headboard. The thought makes you giggle as you sit up and stare down at the beautiful man underneath you. You quickly untie his hands and rub at his wrists, carefully checking for any rope burn or bruises.
“I’m just fine, sugar,” he tells you, seeing the concern on your face. He does wrap his arms around you then, and pulls you back down to his body, his softening cock still inside you. “Could stay like this all day with you in my arms.”
“It wasn’t too much?” you ask, tilting your head up so you can meet his gaze.
“It was just perfect. Darlin’, you’re perfect. Always know just what I need. I love you.”
“I love you too, Jack.”
So…this is the lingerie I had in mind if you were wondering… and as always, hugs and kisses and thanks so much for reading!
Hi bbys heres some quick fluff I thought up also so sorry for how long it is
*Gender Neutral reader
(Gif is not mine credit goes to the artist who created it)
Din Djarin
The first time you glide your hand through Din’s sweaty locks it feels like he gets punched in the gut. It feels good, like really good and he just got back from this difficult ass hunt so all he can do is just let out a long drawn out groan into your neck. Thank god you two are shrouded in darkness in the safety of Din’s bunk because he would cringe in self embarrassment if he could see your amused smile.
Javier Peña
Javi loves it when you play with his hair. It’s thick and curls slightly at the ends, perfect for gripping during all occasions if you get what I mean. Any time he’s stressed he will sit next to you and just lean his head on your shoulder, a surprisingly vulnerable moment for Javi.
Frankie Morales
Stick your hands in this mans hair and he immediately melts into your side. Its his weak spot he just loves it. His hair is in a casually messy style most of the time anyway so you brushing your fingers through his hair really doesn’t bother him. He will also return the favor with a neck massage if you need one
Ezra (prospect)
This man will purr like a damn cat that caught the canary. He loves it and its the fastest way to ease him to sleep. Ezra’s a sucker for scalp massages and literally whimpers out in appreciation when you rub gently at his scalp if he awakens from horrid dreams of past traumas.
Max Phillips
Only at home will you be able to run your fingers through Max’s cropped hair. Even though it really makes no difference when you do, Max thinks it does. He has a lewk to uphold y'know. However when you do he’s all obnoxiously loud moans and groans. He uses the dumbest nicknames too like sweetcheecks and dollface.
Pero Tovar
Fastest way to make that scowl melt. For real Pero cannot help the tension he always holds, he lives a stressful life so when he returns to you after months of selling his sword expect an exhausted Tovar planted face down on your chest as you rub his scalp. He needs these quiet grounding moments to ease him into the quiet winter months.
Agent Whiskey
Not to say Jack can be annoying but…Jack can be annoying with this. He just likes to be like glued on top of you and that’s all fine a cute until all his weight finally settles on top of you. But also if you complain then he complains on how you’re breaking his yee-haw heart.
Marcus Pike
YES YES GOD PLEASE YES PLAY WITH THIS MANS HAIR. He’s so freaking cute with it because he tries to not groan but he can never hold back how relaxed he feels with you gently tugging at his hair. This man lives for small intamacy so sign him the fuck up.
Dave York
Dave loves hair skritches and always finds your lap to rest his head on when he’s stressed. Often times keeping his eyes closed while you play with his hair, his hand holding yours absent mindedly playing with your wedding ring.
Marcus Moreno
Again, yes please let this man rest his head on your shoulder as you stroke through his hair. His back is sore, he bent his glasses, and its finally Friday please, please just let him drift off on you. His soft snores are the cutest.
Maxwell Lord
Another one that will only let you play with his hair in privacy, he has some confidence issues already so you understand his request to keep his hair in perfect condition in public. He always seeks you out to vent that eventually turns into you perched on his lap as you stroke through his growing out locks, brunette beginning to bleed into the bottle blonde.
Omar Assarian
Another privacy snug bug. He absolutely adores intamacy when you two are alone. So many times you two will be chilling on the sofa and he will grab your hand and place it on top of his head so he doesn’t have to verbally tell you what he wants.
Zach Wellison
Wow touch starved boi here, hello. For real when you first glided your hand through his hair while you two had a casual at home date night you could see the goosebumps rise on his exposed arms and chest. He tries his best to keep a cool look but eventually he gets a bit overwhelmed and needs to hide his face in your neck.
Warnings: Grief, divorce, miscarriage, trauma, domestic conflict. Really if you are easily triggered please be very careful about this series.
Rating: 18+
Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader
Note: Hello, as I am getting through writers block I would very much appreciate some reblogs and nice comments or anons to keep the spark of creativity burning. I appreciate you all! Also I am like 22 and never had a kid so I’ve been doing a lot of research but someone point out if it’s wrong and I’ll change it.
Warnings: Grief, divorce, miscarriage, trauma, domestic conflict. Really if you are easily triggered please be very careful about this series.
Rating: 18+
Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader
Note: Hello, as I am getting through writers block I would very much appreciate some reblogs and nice comments or anons to keep the spark of creativity burning. I appreciate you all! Also I am like 22 and never had a kid so I’ve been doing a lot of research but someone point out if it’s wrong and I’ll change it.
The waiting room of the clinic was uncomfortably cold and far too quiet. Jack sat alone tapping his foot nervously and half reading a pamphlet that had been displayed on a table beside him. The idea of seeing you again made him feel…. Well, he didn’t know, but the feeling wasn’t good. The guilt he felt about what he had done had been with him almost every second of every day… and it only intensified when he had received that phone call. He had thought about reaching out to you several times, but he was sure nothing he could say would make things okay.
Jack scratched at the side of his neck and adjusted in the chair. He glanced at the clock on the wall. You were five minutes late. Just when he thought you might not show up at all, the bell rang as the outside door swung open. Jack stood, taking the hat off his head and watching you sign in. With your denim shorts and over sized t-shirt, you didn’t look pregnant at all.
As you turned and looked up, Jack gave you a small, friendly smile and gestured to the seat opposite of him.
You did not return it.
He sat when you did, the both of you facing each other, but you kept your gaze on the floor. Jack didn’t want to say anything that would upset you, and the conversation the two of you really needed to have couldn’t happen here.
“How are you feeling?” He asked.
You just shook your head and gave a shrug.
He nodded. Jack had remembered how hard it was for you the last time. The hours spent in bed or laying on the bathroom floor. His heart ached for you then, just as it did now. Worse though, because he wasn’t there to help this time.
A nurse appeared in the waiting room. She was holding a clipboard. “Mrs. Daniels?”
Jack winced. So you hadn’t changed your last name…
“I’ll have them call you in when we’re ready to do the ultrasound,” you said, turning and following the nurse inside.
Jack drew in a deep breath as soon as you were out of sight, suddenly aware of how hard his heart was beating in his chest. The phone in his pocket buzzed. He used it as an excuse to get some air outside.
The humid July air engulfed him as soon as he stepped through the doors and onto the front sidewalk of the building. He reached into his pocket, noticing the caller ID before sighing and bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hey there sweet pea?”
“Jack?” Emily’s voice came through the line. “Where are you?”
“I’m still at the appointment-”
“When will you be back?” She asked.
He could hear the urgency in her voice. Adjusting to this new world had been a challenge for Emily, to say the very least. Statesman had forged a birth certificate and all the necessary documents that would give her a new identity under the law. He and Emily had only lived in that house a month before she was shot, and most of the townsfolk who had been around twenty years ago had left or passed away. As far as everybody in town was concerned, she was a brand new resident. That still didn’t ease the fact that from her perspective, the world had changed completely overnight.
Jack kicked up dust with his boot. "Not for a while, sweetie. Why don’t you take the card I gave you and head into town, buy yourself something pretty. They got a mighty fine shopping center in the next town over.”
Emily hesitated, “Okay.”
“I’ll call you when I’m done.”
She sighed. “Yeah okay.”
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too,” she responded before hanging up.
He made his way back into the room, waiting another ten minutes before the nurse called his name. She escorted him back through the rooms of the clinic, remembering the last time he had been here with shocking clarity. That had been one of the very worst days of his life. He knew it was for you, too.
Jack hadn’t thought of the baby once since you had called him. His mind wouldn’t let him. He did not have any feelings for this child either way. He only cared about what was tangible at that moment. Your pregnancy was an immediate fact….not a promise of a future. If something happened, he couldn’t grieve like that again, not a third time.
The nurse opened the door. You were on the table with your t-shirt pulled up to your rib cage and a blanket placed around your hips. Jack averted his eyes, getting the distinct feeling that he wasn’t wanted there…. he couldn’t blame you for it.
He took a seat in the chair next to you, hands running over the denim of his jeans. As soon as the nurse touched the ultrasound device to your stomach, the television screen in front of you lit up with a black and white static that took on various abstract shapes.
Jack glanced up at your face. There was absolutely nothing behind your eyes as you looked at the screen. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but a new twinge of guilt ebbed its way through his chest anyway.
The ultrasound technician spoke and pointed to the screen. "That’s the baby’s head, and their eyes, nose. Here’s the heartbeat, nice and strong, as you can see on the screen.”
Jack heard you let out a soft breath.
The ultrasound technician moved the device to the opposite side of your stomach. “Would you like to know the sex?”
“Yes,” you said.
“It’s a girl.”
“Is she… okay?” You asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
The nurse looked at you with a smile and nodded. The ultrasound didn’t last long and soon the two of you were in a room alone together.
“Thank you for letting me be here,” Jack said, trying to find some way to break the silence.
You simply nodded as you wiped the ultrasound jelly off your stomach.
After a few minutes, the doctor came in. He was new to the practice, older gentleman, with tiny eyes that hid behind large glasses and a patch of white hair wrapping around the lower part of his head.
“So,” the doctor said, taking a seat on the roller stool, “my name is doctor Ballard. I know the two of you were patients here before. Is that correct?”
You nodded.
“But you had a miscarriage?” He asked.
You nodded again.
“How far along?” he asked.
You paused for a moment, “nineteen weeks.”
Jack drew in a deep breath, fighting hard to keep those memories at bay. Everything about that day was a total blur, from the clinic to the hospital…. thinking about it made him feel sick. He had thought he processed it, but it was very clear he hadn’t.
The doctor nodded “while rather uncommon, late stage miscarriages happen in about two percent of pregnancies. They found no cause?”
“No,” you said.
“Well, the good news is, most couples go on to have very healthy and successful pregnancies after. By my estimates you are around twenty-two weeks. With all that being said because of your history, this will be treated as a high-risk pregnancy. Now, I understand this is your first appointment. Why is that?” The doctor asked, looking at you.
Jack narrowed his eyes at the man. Something about him was off-putting. Maybe it was the way he spoke with no emotion in his voice or maybe it was his matter of fact questioning, but Jack didn’t like him.
You stuttered for a moment, “I-I don’t know.”
“Do you want to have a healthy baby?” The doctor asked.
“Yes,” you responded.
“Then you need to come to all your visits and do everything I say for the duration of the pregnancy, do you understand?”
Jack loathed the way he spoke down to you.
“Yes,” you respond, clearly off put yourself.
“Now you have been diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum in the past?”
“Yes,” you said again.
“Your weight currently is cause for concern. You are severely underweight for this stage of the pregnancy. Considering that fact, and that you are a high-risk case, one option I propose is to put you on different oral medication to lessen the vomiting and a nasogastric feeding tube, until we get your weight to a stable place. Some women find symptoms improve by twenty weeks, so it is possible we can remove the tube at a later time.”
Jack raised his eyebrows
You hesitated. “I would rather not have that… I mean, I would at least want to try to put the weight on myself.”
The doctor looked annoyed. “Mrs, I don’t-”
Jack spoke up. "We’ll see you in two weeks. If she’s still losing, we can talk about it.”
The doctor pressed his lips into a thin line, and sighed, getting up from the stool. “Very well, I’ll see you in two weeks. I expect to see things looking better than they do now.” with that the doctor left the room.
Jack left the room, allowing you to get dressed and waited for you at the receptionist’s desk to book a followup appointment.
The receptionist looked through the calendar on her computer. "We can do exactly two weeks from now if you’d like.”
“What doctor would that be with?” Jack asked.
“Dr. Ballard,” she responded.
Jack glanced over at you. "Is there anyone else we could see?”
The receptionist shook her head. “The two other doctors here aren’t taking any new patients.”
‘I wonder why’, Jack thought bitterly.
“We’ll take the Wednesday appointment,” you said.
“Are you sure?” Jack asked.
“It’s the only place in network,” you responded.
Without his insurance, Jack wasn’t even sure what type you were on… state funded most likely.
“I’ll pay,” Jack argued.
You shook your head, let the receptionist book the appointment, and headed for the outside. Jack walked behind you. Immediately, you went to sit on a bench that was outside of the building. He stood awkwardly, looking around, not wanting to leave just yet.
“So,” he said, adjusting the hat on his head. “I think maybe we should, uh, talk about things, if that’s alright?” When you didn’t respond, he looked around. The only car in the lot was his. “Are you waiting for a ride?”
You pointed to the bus stop across the street
“I can drive you, if you’d like?” he offered.
Jack watched you think it over a moment, then stand. He walked with you to his truck and opened the passenger side door to allow you to hop in. Then he went around to the driver’s side and took a seat behind the wheel.
“What happened to your car?” He asked.
“Transmission”, you responded. “Take a left out of the lot.”
Jack nodded. “I can get someone to take a look at it for you.”
You shrugged, “I can hardly drive anymore as it is.”
“If you ever need anything, I wouldn’t mind helping out - ya know, picking things up or carting you around.”
You shook your head, leaning against the back of the seat and looking idly out the window.
Jack cleared his throat. "So, um - I guess we should talk about things so we can, ya know, figure this out. First, I want to apologize for -”
“Stop Jackson,” you said, cutting him off. “Just stop.”
Jack was taken aback. "Ever since it happened I’ve been… I know there ain’t nothing I can do that would make up for it. I just I want you to know that I regret -”
“The slap or the affair?” you asked
Jack winced “I regret the way it all happened. I should have never, ever touched you the way I did. I think about it every day and there aren’t any words to convey how sorry-”
You turned to look at him now. “I could have left town and you would have never known. I could have had her and told her I didn’t know who you were. Raised her all by myself and you would have never gotten the privilege of meeting her.”
“I know,” Jack said in an apologetic voice.
“That was what you deserved.”
“I know,” Jack said again.
“Until this baby is born, you have no right over her, none. You get to be here because I allow you to. You get to see the scans because I allow you to, not because you have any amount of say in anything that goes on from here until December. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And if you ever raise a hand to me again, I will take her and leave and you will never be able to see her, I promise you.”
Jack could tell by the tone in your voice that you were deadly serious. “It will not happen again.”
“And you need to go to therapy to figure your shit out before she comes.”
Jack nodded. “I agree.”
“And we should do family counseling before we start talking about custody and finances.”
He nodded again.
Silence filled the car after that, so did an overwhelming feeling of loss. The day was so hot not even the June bugs could be heard singing. It seemed like every living thing was in their burrows waiting until sunset.
