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undercoverpena · 9 months

Text

vii. oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

javier peña x f!reader | chapter seven of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. alludes to smut. sinful thoughts. continuous romcom vibes. an: javi and reader, sitting on a bed... ;) also new theme, slightly amended banner. thanks to @wildemaven for giving me the confidence to use this one ✨ wordcount: 3.4k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Javi wakes to cold sheets beside him.

He stretches his arm out—and for a moment—he forgets where he is. Expecting to hear his alarm, feel the bobbles from his overly worn bedsheet.

That is until he catches the scent of sweet shampoo, perfume and—

Flipping his eyes open, he then hears the rustling.

His senses come back to him as he slowly sits up, spotting you immediately at the foot of the bed.

Compared to yesterday, you’re dressed so formally: fitted trousers, a shirt and a jacket. Your leg doing a twist, head bent—as he assumes—you’re trying to slide your foot into your shoe quietly.

There’s minimal light fluttering into the room, all courtesy of your suitcase pushing against the heavy hotel curtains to allow enough to dress yourself. With it now allowing a slither of sunlight to creep over your face, lighting up the shades in your eyes—the ones he swears he’ll see forever when he dreams.

The sunlight illuminates your lips—the ones he’d spent hours tasting last night—now having the chance to admire as they slide into a smile, eyes widening at the sight of him.

“Morning—“

“Shh,” you whisper, brows dipping. “Go back to sleep, baby. It’s so early.”

Stretching out his legs, he runs a hand over his face. “I’ll go back to my room.”

“No, it’s okay, stay. Please. Just get up when you’re ready,” you offer. “Plus, if you move and I see any more of you, I’m not going to want to leave.”

Softly, he feels a smirk slide up his cheek. “That so?”

Moving around the bed, he curls into your touch as it brushes through his hair—sparking memories of nails, your mouth pressed to his cheek as you begged him for more—before your lips kissed the side of his mouth.

“Fuck. Forgot how much I like your voice.”

“Didn’t get your fill of it last night?”

Mirroring him, you smirk a bit more.

His hand snakes up your wrist, keeping you here—just a bit longer. Feeling your eyes dart from one of his to the other, your grin broadening as his thumb traces a square on your skin.

“Go to sleep. I’ll call you at lunch and let you know how I’m getting on.”

Your face is so close it’s easy to kiss you. Deepening it, letting your mouth part as he tastes mint on your tongue, his hand sliding up—

You pull back, humming as you tap your fingers against your lips. “I’ll be late.”

“I can be quick.”

Shaking your head, smirking. You move back from the bed. “I’ll see you later.”

Grinning, he lies back down, an arm flopping over his eyes. “You don’t mind me in your room?”

Pausing as you pick up your bag, you shoot him a look—one where your smile is across your entire face, not just your mouth. “I trust you. Plus, I have the important stuff, ID, money. And, if you were to steal anything, as handsome as you are, I doubt you can pull off my jean jacket, or some of the other things I've packed.”

Laughing, he shakes his head. "Have a good day, cariño."

“Try not to miss me, baby.”

There wasn’t duplicate sales, someone just can’t do their job correctly.

if you were back home I’d call them an idiot but since it brought you here

Valid point. I’m still annoyed that it took me longer to get in the building than it did me figuring it out.

Could have had longer in bed.

for sleeping

Probably not. This handsome man has me waking up early to talk to him as he starts his day.

It’s reprogrammed my internal clock.

he must be really nice for you to let him do that

He’s okay.

fuck hermosa

He’s got nice hands though. And lips.

has he now

Yeah, don’t think I could tell him to his face that I don’t think my legs have ever shaken that much.

can’t wait to make them shake again

Yeah that was obvious this morning, charmer.

cant blame a man when you look the way you do baby

Stop I can’t smile like that right now.

Few more hours and I’ll be getting a cab back, will let you know when I’m back, then just need to change and then I’m yours.

I can pick you up

It’s fine, work will pay so let’s make them.

You remind him again that you’ll knock for him before getting changed.

Call for him. Like the two of you were teens ready to hang out until the sun goes down—something he found endearing and quite funny, all at once.

you wanna ask my pop if i can stay out past curfew too You’re hilarious. But I can do. I’d love to talk to your Pop. worryingly i think hed love to talk to you Did you ever make curfew? do I strike you as someone who didn't You strike me as someone who would work around the curfew, be technically on the land at the right time continuing the hang in the barn or something.

Through texts, you’d seemed in high spirits.

But when you reached his door, blasted with manufactured orange light from his room, Javi took one look at you and realised how much of a front that had been.

He barely knew you, yet he spotted how stress sat behind your smile and how your face was twisted into a fake version of the expression he saw yesterday.

“You fancy staying in tonight?”

It was why Javi was staring over the room service menu. Hearing you shower, cancelling the reservation he’d made earlier, listening as the water fell into the base (one thin wall away) as he placed the phone back on the hook.

Trying not to think of your body—of soap suds sliding down your perfect skin and how it was likely bending and twisting as you showered.

He tries not to think about the kiss, too.

The one you’d given him, arm looped around his neck when he suggested staying in, ordering room service and finishing a crossword. It had taken a moment, his eyes jumping from one eye to the next as he assessed whether he’d said something dumb or smart.

Your kiss confirmed the latter. Gratitude thrummed through it as you cupped his cheek—thank you, thank you, thank you, etching into him as he pulled your hips flush to him. Almost ready to pull you into his room when you’d mumbled about needing a shower.

That had been half an hour ago.

Now, he watched as you stepped out through steam, face fresh—black tee he could see the outline of your nipples through and a pair of yoga pants that made him almost choke when you bent over to pop something in your case.

"You alright?"

Swallowing, he shifts on the bed, tilting his head. "Yeah, hermosa. You just look..."

He prefers letting his voice trail off. Watching it flicker across your face, the embarrassment. It starts with your hands coming across your front, your weight shifting, before your eyes find it difficult to meet his.

“I never asked," he says, changing the conversation, feeling the warmth of your eyes snap back to him. "Your friend, Aish? Is it? She not have anything to say about you flying miles to meet a man you don’t know?”

You smile something wicked. “A few words, but..."

"But?"

Licking your lips, you look down at your feet. "I think she could see how happy I was. When I was talking to you. Think, like me, she just hoped you were who you said you were.”

Javi brushes his hand over his jaw, trying to fight the grin. The same one you constantly pull from him, his cheeks hurting from it happening so frequently all in one go.

“You put her mind at rest, baby?”

“Oh yeah. First chance I got.”

Moving to sit next to him, he hears the faint rumblings of your stomach. Something you quickly apologise for. And something you apologise for unnecessarily again a second or two later. His hand on your knee, drawing circles on the fabric covering it, hoping it assures you, relaxes you as he tells you as much.

“I don’t… I guess I don’t do things like this,” you say. “I’m not impulsive. I’m sensible—have to be. I don’t really have anyone, or thing, else if it all goes wrong, you know? And then you came along. And while my brain was telling me to be careful, the rest of me was just so sure this was…”

“Right?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

“So you’re glad?”

“If my stomach weren't about to begin eating itself, I’d show you how glad. But, Javi, truthfully, I wouldn't let you be in my room again if I wasn't.”

Allowing you to lean into him as you flick down at the menu, he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Good to know.”

Even if his original plans had been dashed, Javi still had plans to rid your body of the stress from your workday.

The alternative, he found, was just as pleasant.

After the two of you ate on the floor, you both moved to the bed to attempt the next crossword. Four answers were written before he found you in his arms, talking—sharing.

He learned more about your job, your place, and how you’d had a pet when you were younger.

Then, somewhere between sharing about music, movies and how good you were at Monopoly, you were curled against him, softly sleeping.

He could have moved, but he deep down he hadn't wanted to. Enjoying feeling your body rising and falling, your room rotating the smell of room service and your perfume in equal amounts.

He thought about your laugh from earlier when he told you about a horse trying to throw him off. The way his chest had flooded with warmth when you told him about how often you’d thought of him at work today.

It’s perfect. All of this. You.

It makes the corners of his lips slide up as he hears you take a sleep-filled sigh against him, your arm remaining tightly looped around his waist.

His eyes fall to the crossword—the one you’d attempted to complete—and was now close to falling off the foot of the bed. The previous days all filled in, block letters staring at him. Not even bothered in himself that he hadn’t managed to finish today.

Instead, he just focused on how nice it was having you against him. How he'd wanted this, before he even knew what you looked like. Had imagined your body is shaped and curled against his, but it hadn't even been close to this.

This, like you, was more perfect than his mind could conjure. Your knee currently between his, fitting perfectly—just like you do in every other aspect.

It's why he hasn't stopped running his fingers up and down your arm, surrendering to his position—not that he’s complaining. If anything, he never wants to move.

He had tried, initially. His brain worrying about what you'd do when you woke. Javi had attempted to rise up and tuck you in, but your hand simply clutched him closer, all unwilling to let him move.

He thinks about leaving every ten minutes, as though revolving. Only settling when his nose is re-flooded with the scent of your shampoo and perfume, making it harder to stop thinking the second thought on rotation.

The one which had slammed into him at the airport—the one which had been born some weeks back, bubbling inside him ever since—began rising up in his chest again, in his throat…

He likes you. Really likes you.

To the point, he’s not sure if he’ll be okay when he has to let you go. When he has to say goodbye and leave you at the airport departures.

Simply wanting languid kisses under bed sheets, your body under him, his fingers brushing your cheeks as he feels your laugh against his palm.

He wants more than a handful of days. Allowing himself to think it, acknowledge it, now he knows you're real.

Swallowing, he glances down at you—taking in the bow of your lips, the way your lashes sit on your upper cheek, and he relents. Just for a moment.

Instead, he rests his chin on the top of your head, letting his eyes close as he continues to slide his fingers up and down your arm.

He wasn’t meant to fall asleep. Javi had just meant to rest his eyes.

But he wakes to darkness, a slither of light peering through the closed curtains, with you very much beside him still. Your eyes closed, head on his chest, your own rising and falling as gently as earlier.

But the light had been on then.

A thought that hooks the edge of his lips, tugging it up. Because you would have needed to get up and turn it off, before climbing back into bed again. Moving under the duvet—likely whispering to him to do the same, because he too is now under it.

He lifts it tentatively, seeing that he’s still fully clothed, spotting that when you switched off the light, you’d also changed from your work clothes into a satin top and pair of shorts.

You’d wanted him here.

Javi beams. Broader than he's allowed himself to let grace his face. One that quickly, almost immediately, blossoms into a grin. One he continued to wear as he closed his eyes, pulling you closer—finding you do so with ease as he settled back down.

The next time he opens his eyes, he finds you struggling to cram in the few things you’d removed from your suitcase. The one you’d packed—like you were staying for a month.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he allows himself a moment—hearing the quiet, disgruntled grumbling coming from you as you push down on it as hard as you can.

“Want a hand?”

“No, no,” you protested, wiping your arm over your forehead. “All good.”

Nodding, he gets up to use your bathroom, back cracking as he does. After he's washed his hands, he splashes cold water on his face, staring at himself in the mirror—seeing the usual dark bags under his eyes, now appear fainter.

In truth, he wasn’t sure when the last time was that he’d slept as well as he had done the past two nights.

It niggling at him as turns the tap off, drying his hand, before he runs his fingers through his hair. Shelving the thought, the realisation, as he opens the door to be greeted with the same grumbles and sweet perfume.

One thing he does hope, is that your scent buries itself into his clothes, skin, and bones. Mainly, he hopes this isn't the only time he can see you, or be around you.

Something he thinks as he leans against the wall, folding his arms, trying not to laugh watching you give your case another few shoves. After several more quick and successive presses down, you look up at him, giving him the most wounded, puppy-like look.

“Okay, please help me.”

His knees groan as he gets down on them, pressing down on the suitcase lid—nodding to you to try the zip as it budges. The process continues, your fingers occasionally poking in the odd item that attempts to stick out—the heel of a shoe, the edge of the jean jacket you were in on the day he met you, and lace.

“So, I was thinking….”

Javi lifts his eyes, finding that yours are already on him.

“Did you…. want to share a room, maybe? Like, for the next few nights—I totally understand if you don’t want—”

“Baby,” he says, softly, full of please breath and assurance, as he leans back on his knees. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, biting your lip, your fingers slide over him on the suitcase. “I mean… we already have been, right? And, honestly, I hated even leaving you yesterday. Honestly, I… I don’t want to lose any more time with you than I already have.”

“Me too.”

It’s like an eclipse, the way you grin. Smothering over your worrying. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Lifting your case for you from being flat, you take the handle, continuing to grin before you follow behind him as you leave. His hand reaches behind, taking your fingers as the two of you head to his.

Half of him, not wanting to let go, see if he can grab his things with one hand while the other stays connected with yours. But he lets go, for speed, quickness, as he collects the things he managed to unpack in the room he's barely been in—never mind slept in.

Something you must realise, an apology hitting the air. Shifting on the spot at the door as he darts around.

Then, it's apology after apology. Different versions of the same thing, explanations that weren't necessary, because he didn't mind.

Something he also says.

It continues in the elevator, down to the small reception desk. The one more cramped, if that was even possible, than the first day they arrived. Your whispered reasons as to why you owe him made him slowly smile.

You didn’t even get to sleep in your bed, happened to be his favourite. Because if you took a breath to ask him what he'd choose, he’d always choose to sleep in the bed you were in.

“To make it up to you, let me buy the other nights. Work covered the two necessary for them, so it hasn’t cost—“

His hand slides over your cheek, face forced to look up at him, blemished with curiosity that relaxes into simmering disbelief.

A look he now suspects is on your face plenty of times when the two of you talk. That disbelief, the one unsure how someone could make you smile, makes you easily relax.

He knows because it’s something he thinks himself. He’s just not sure if his expression looks similar to yours.

“Hermosa, stop apologising—“

“—I can’t ask you to. You already picked me up from the airport—”

“Cariño, please—

“—And you paid for dinner the first night, and—“

“Baby.”

That word does it.

It makes you pause and swallow. Eyes focusing on him.

“Baby, listen to me. I’ve already spent upwards of triple digits falling for you, and I don't care. So, lemme pay for the hotel room so I can show you how far I’ve fallen.”

You're torn. He sees it immediately on your face from the way it ripples across your face.

Some part of you all unwilling to let him. A part he hopes to kiss away as he presses another kiss to your temple, softer, hanging there a second longer until he pulls back.

“I’ve got this, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. “But, I’ll buy—“

He kisses you.

Realising as he does, it’s the only way to silence you. Feeling you melt, then you smile, before your fingers come up along his neck, little touches, and then nails, before you pull back.

“You should… pay for the room now,” you say, lips twitching, a smirk wishing to bloom.

“That so?”

Nodding, you bite your lower lip. “I know you saw the things I packed in my suitcase, Javi.”

Tracing his lower lip with his thumb, he smirks, slowly—before nodding.

Turning to face the desk, he presses the bell once, twice, thrice—all insistent as you snigger by his side. He’s about to press it again, almost shouting to call someone, when he feels you nudge him—moving closer, arm coming around his waist as he feels his cheeks warm as you stare up at him.

Fuck, you’re beautiful.

“I’m taking you out tonight, too. Just so you know.”

Narrowing your eyes, you give him a lopsided smile as you swallow. “Can I pay half?”

“You can argue with me about it. Yeah,” he says, kissing your forehead before hammering his palm on the bell all over again.

an: thank you for all the love on this, i can't even put into words how much i appreciate it and you. this chapter i was dreading, as it sets up so much for the next, but i hope it was worth it, as always xx

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underoospeterparker · 7 months

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peter distracting his princess while shes trying to study for an exam. needy peter basically

i think this is for peter sutherland but i thought it would fit peter parker too so you can read it for either <3

"baby," peter whined softly, turning your chair to face him. "you've been studying for ages. can we cuddle?"

you giggled, cupping his face in your hands. "are you four?" you asked, half joking and half serious.

he pouted. he literally pouted and you burst out laughing; a loud, wheezing one that made your boyfriend's face brighten.

"just a little longer. please?" you gave him your best puppy dog eyes and he finally relented.

"fine," he said, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "come outside in 20 minutes."

an hour later, your boyfriend slammed open the door again. you pretended like you didn't notice peter glaring at you from across the room, and you stayed silent until he gave up.

he closed your laptop lid with so much force you thought it would break. "have you seen the time?" he asked you angrily.

you lifted your eyes from your closed laptop to his face, eyes slightly watering. at this, his entire demeanour shifted, face softening and eyebrows creasing, a look of worry prominent on his face. "what's wrong?" he asked, panicked. "did i do something? sweetheart, i-"

your face betrayed you, lips curling into a smile at his concern even though nothing had happened. your giggles turned to screams as peter picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

"peter!" you shrieked, still laughing. "what are you doing?"

"kidnapping you," he grinned. "you've been studying for so long, i think you've gone a bit mental."

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infinity-mars · 1 year

Text

Play With Me

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!reader

Word Count: 8.5k+

Rating: Explicit Smut (18+ only)

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

Also posted on my AO3 !

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How refreshing.

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

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

Your vibrator and weighted blanket made sure of that.

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

“That’s not what I see.”

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

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

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

“Someone like me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You caught that, did you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

Jack was his own harbinger of surprises it seems.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can do a lot more than that.”

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

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

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

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

You suppress a grin at the thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Better yet, his favorite kind.

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

He craved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you like a drink?”

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

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

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

Grounded in your body, you took a deep breath.

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

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

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

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

And he just loved the way you moved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hated how it turned him on like this.

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

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

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

Restless and insatiable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ Fuck… ”

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

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

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

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

This was just the warm-up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck you were wet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You would torture him no longer.

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

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

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

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

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

You did that .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do, pretty girl. It’s sweet tea.”

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

“How do you feel about ropes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pressing down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

Wanting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Satisfaction seizes his veins in a chokehold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lifts his head from your chest at that.

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

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

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

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

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

You almost laughed.

You liked it that way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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misscongeniality18 · 11 months

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If im being annoying sorry i just have a lot of ideas…but i have a request for peter sutherland x reader and the fake dating trope with like a ridiculous amount of mutual pining (obv leads to them actually dating)

No problem at all, my darling! I want to write but have no ideas, so it's perfect!

Anything Could Happen - Peter Sutherland

Synopsis ! You and Peter are on an assignment together, but in order to get into a secure venue, you must go undercover as a couple. Pairing ! Peter Sutherland x fem!reader Genre ! Fake dating, fluff, some angst Warnings ! Reader and Peter are both agents/spies, mutual pining, kissing, idk I probably missed something Word Count - 1228

" But now I've seen it through And now I know the truth That anything could happen Anything could happen " -Anything Could Happen, Ellie Goulding

Masterlist Request Guide

It was strange, the way you'd gotten used to seeing Peter wear a suit every day. But when it came to wearing a tux, it was as if Peter rocked your world.

For months the two of you had been preparing for this night. You both had alternate online personalities and credentials in order to gain access to the multi-billion-dollar company that had been discovered to be corrupt. Now all you needed was concrete proof, and that would be acquired by you and Peter at the gala for shareholders tonight.

It was a black-tie event, so naturally, you'd thought Peter would dress as if he were going to work. You felt your heart jump when you saw him in the tuxedo. Since you'd been working closely with Peter lately, your schoolgirl crush had turned into something bigger.

Unbeknownst to you, Peter felt the same. The team had set up headquarters in a different room of the five-star hotel where the gala took place, so when you walked in wearing a sparkling full-length black gown, he couldn't breathe. You were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

You'd both hidden your guns in your outfits, yours attached to a garter that was easily accessible through a thigh-high slit in your gown. You envied Peter for having his hidden in his jacket.

Peter led you into the hotel's ballroom, your arm linked with his.

Tonight, you weren't FBI agents anymore. You were a newlywed couple who'd decided to buy shares in the corrupt company.

And God, did Peter look fantastic. But it wasn’t just his looks. Yes, he was incredibly handsome, but Peter was also sweet and protective and loyal. He would put others before himself without a second thought, and you deeply admired him for that.

You watched him as he scanned the room, inching closer to you whenever someone would get too close. When his arm wasn’t connected to yours, Peter’s hand was a constant presence on your lower back, ready to jump in if something suddenly went wrong.

A server with a tray of champagne passed, and you grabbed two glasses. Peter gave you a disapproving look.

"What? We're supposed to be blending in." You shrugged, taking the glass and bringing it to your lips.

Peter raised a brow. "We're also working."

Peter glanced down at you, a smirk playing on his lips. He still couldn't get over how gorgeous you looked.

When you met his gaze, your rosy lips still on the edge of your glass, you furrowed your brows. "What?"

He wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you everything. How stunning and magnificent you were, how every time he saw you the room would light up with your smile, how he wanted to do nothing but hold you close to him and—

“Over there. Two o’clock.”

Peter moved his gaze over to where your eyes were focused on. The heads of the company were gathered together, papers clutched in their hands. They were walking out of a side door to a smaller meeting room across the hall.

You knew that those papers had lists of investors and plans for the so-called “company” to buy entire city blocks and use them for dealing illegal drugs.

“Let’s go,” you insisted, starting towards the door.

Peter placed a hand on your elbow, stopping your steps. “Hold on. You know we can’t just barge in there, guns blazing. We need a plan.”

Your eyes lit up, and you grinned. “I’ve got one.”

Inside of the clutch you carried was a small recording device. Very discreetly, you and Peter went into the neighboring meeting room of the one your targets went into. At the bottom of the wall was a vent, and Peter managed to unscrew it for you to place the recorder inside.

Once you’d gotten what you’d needed, you had to get out of there quickly. In the hallway, the two of you were halted in your escape by the door opening. Quickly, without thinking, you grabbed Peter by the front of his shirt and yanked him to you, kissing him thoroughly and deeply. He froze, hands gripping your waist.

“Kiss me,” you whispered so the targets couldn’t hear. “And make it look real.”

Peter understood, eyes going dark and glazed over, and he crashed his mouth to yours again. He tasted cool and fresh, almost minty with a hint of champagne. So he did have some earlier.

While your hands were creeping up to play with the hair at the nape of Peter’s neck, Peter trailed his fingers down your waist to the skirt of your dress as he pressed you up against the wall, all the while the targets caught sight of the pair of you. One of them started towards you, hands reaching for something on his belt.

Peter’s lips trailed down your neck, and with your eyes half-closed, you watched the targets coming towards you. This time, you could clearly see the pistol in his hands. “Get my gun,” you whispered hurriedly, opening your legs for him since your hands were occupied with pressing the panic button on the inside pocket of Peter’s jacket, letting the team know that you were in danger.

Peter reached through the slit of your dress, trailing his fingers up your thigh until he took your gun from its holster. He whipped around just as the rest of the team came running to your aid.

Once the party had been shut down and the arrests had been made, you and Peter walked through the hotel lobby together. Your feet had begun to ache from wearing heels all night, so you held them in one hand, your bare feet against the plush carpet.

“You did good tonight,” you said, not meeting Peter’s eyes. “You know, with my sudden plan of distraction.”

You saw Peter grin out of the corner of your eye. “It made sense, once I knew what you were doing. I’m sure there were a lot of other couples who went to find places to hook up.”

“I’m sure,” you laughed. “I said to make it look real, and you did. Maybe you were an actor in another life.”

Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh, wasn’t acting.”

“What?” You started at the words, freezing in place in front of the front doors of the hotel.

“It was real for me,” Peter said, turning to face you. “I’d been dreaming about kissing you for a while. It’s totally okay if you didn’t feel the same way, I just thought you should know.”

You smiled softly at him, rising on your tiptoes to get closer to his ear. “It was real for me, too.”

You lowered back to stand on flat feet, suddenly shy. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you chuckled. “I’m not excited about putting these shoes back on in order to get to the car, but—”

A squeal left your lips as Peter scooped you into his arms. On the way to the car, Peter asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Well, the party ended early, and dinner was never served, so yes.”

Peter opened the door for you and set you in the passenger seat. “How do burgers sound? I know this great diner a few minutes away.”

You grinned at him. “That sound amazing.”

“Great. It’s a date then.”

#fanfic #peter sutherland #the night agent #peter sutherland fanfic #peter sutherland x reader #peter sutherland x you #fanfiction #gabriel basso

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allthetreksfanfics · 1 year

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Night Action

Fandom: The Night Agent

Pairing: Peter Sutherland x Female Reader, Explic*t, 18 plus, read tag warnings

Synopsis: While on the run, Peter and reader spend the night together in Jim’s basement…

Words: 1525

Link (Archive of Our Own) - Night Action

#peter sutherland #peter sutherland x reader #the night agent #peter sutherland x y/n #fanfiction

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swabsandcream · 9 months

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Peter Sutherland x Fem Reader One Shot

Summary: After having a day that seemed like it would never end, Y/N found herself in the middle of a crowded bar. Little did she know, the night would take a lovely turn thanks to the disgruntled stranger next to her.

Warnings: Some curse words, nothing serious :)

It was one of those nights where Y/N felt like she really needed a fucking drink. After having a horribly long day at work, she decided to visit a bar she had only seen from the outside while driving to and from work every day. It was pretty busy that night with almost every table taken up, and all kinds of conversations being had all at once. Y/N observed all of this from where she sat at the countertop, quietly sipping her margarita as she observed the people around her. In the midst of her people-watching, she found herself listening in on the phone conversation the man beside her was having. He kept going on about his father being innocent and that he was going to be the one to clear his name, which then led to him cursing out whoever was on the other end and abruptly hanging up. Y/N didn’t actually get a good look at this man, just a quick glance when he had sat next to her. She figured the last thing he would want is to be looked at after a conversation like that, so she kept her head turned away from him.

“Sorry you had to hear all that.” The man’s gravelly voice made Y/N turn her head, only slightly to where she could see him out the corner of her eye. She saw that his head was turned in her direction, but still unsure if he was speaking to her.

“You talking to me?” Y/N turned her head towards him and put her finger to her chest pointing at herself.

“Nah I was talking to her.” He looks up, directing Y/N attention to the small tv mounted on the side of the wall. It was an old lady in some commercial for laundry detergent. Y/N slowly closed her eyes, recognizing the sarcasm a little too late.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you.” The man chuckled as Y/N turned her head back to him, joining in on the laughter. “I know you could hear all that crap I was saying about my father and-”

“What did your father do...or get accused of? If you don’t mind me asking.” Y/N spoke quietly in effort to keep the people around them from hearing.

She also took a brief moment to recognize the man for his appearance. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, tall, and looked very fit in the plain black and white suit he wore. He had brown eyes, short, reddish-brown hair and a face full of freckles. He was handsome for sure, but Y/N kept herself together as he responded.

“No, it’s fine. I just hope you’re not one of those conspiracy freaks.” Y/N was confused by this comment but gave him a little chuckle and continued listening.

“Peter Sutherland is my father and I’m his son, Peter Sutherland Jr. You might’ve seen him on the news a few years ago...or not” Peter lowered his voice and leaned closer to Y/N so only she could hear him.

She took a moment to think about where exactly she heard that name before, then she remembered. Her uncle, now retired and no longer living in the DC area, used to work alongside a man named Peter Sutherland in the FBI. Once the story about Peter committing treason came out, her uncle wouldn’t shut up about it. He genuinely believed Peter did it, and that he was a disgrace to the country. Y/N never cared about the situation enough to form her own opinion on the matter, but at the moment she was sitting next to his son who was certain that his father was innocent. She figured that the story about her uncle would be the last thing Peter wanted to hear right now, so she kept it to herself.

“I don’t think I have, I’m sorry.” Y/N lied through her teeth, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“It’s fine. Probably better that way.” Peter dropped his head, feeling ashamed by the whole ordeal he’s having with a complete stranger. On the other hand, he took comfort in the idea that she had no clue about his father. “I’d hate to scare off a pretty girl like you.” He mumbled, looking back up at Y/N to see if she heard that. He watched her lips slowly curl up, revealing her beautiful smile.

“You’re not so bad yourself Peter. I’m Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you.” She smiled as she extended her hand out for him to shake.

“Pleasure’s all mine Y/N.” Peter grabbed hold of Y/N’s hand and brought it up to his lips to place a warm kiss on her smooth skin.

Peter’s flirtatious behavior was becoming more prevalent by the minute. Little did Y/N know, the seductive man had been watching her ever since she stepped into the bar. He waited to see if she had come alone before making his way over to sit next to her, and just so happened to get a phone call from one of his dad’s old work buddies. He eventually admitted this to Y/N in the midst of chatting her up and buying drinks for both of them to enjoy. As the night went on, the drinks seemed to take effect as neither one of them could seem to take their hands off of one another in the middle of this crowded bar. Y/N shamelessly stroking the tattooed arm of a man she had just met, while Peter’s touches travelled from her shoulders down to her thighs. It was like there was no one in the bar but them as they conversed and laughed throughout the night. Eventually, Y/N ended up looking at her phone while Peter went on about how the Washington Wizards and how he should’ve given basketball a real shot.

“It’s one in the fucking morning already?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, looking up at Peter who was also surprised.

“Guess we lost track of time. Am I really that interesting to talk to?” His dry sense of humor amused them both.

“I like you, Peter. Most guys come into a bar, get shitfaced and pull out every corny pick-up line in the book just to try and get laid. Not you though-”

“I’m not like other guys? Speaking of corny pick-up lines-” Peter laughed hysterically and Y/N joined in after playfully smacking him on the arm. He immediately grabbed his arm, pretending to be hurt.

“You know what I mean!” Y/N

“I like you too.” He reaches over to grab Y/N’s hand, looking at her intently. “I’d also like to get to know you better, if that’s ok with you.”

Y/N felt like she had no reason to turn down his offer, despite the little white lie she told him about not knowing his father, in her eyes he was nothing like the man that her uncle described Sutherland Sr. to be. So as the night came to an end, she agreed to exchange numbers with Peter in hopes of being able to go on a date with the attractive FBI agent.

#peter sutherland #petersutherland #the night agent #peter sutherland x reader #peter sutherland fanfiction #gabriel basso

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mariablakesworld · 1 year

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Can someone please write a Peter Sutherland smut and tag me in it PLEASE

#the night agent #smut #peter sutherland #fanfiction writer

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pedros-admirer · 6 months

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Pedro Arriving at The SNL After Party!! It’s The Fluffy Hair and The Peace Sign For me JRUSMWK 😩

#jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal #pedro pascal edit #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #frankie morales #agent whiskey #pedro pascal photoshoot #pedro pascal photos #pedro pascal interview #pedro pascal instagram #pedrito #saturday night live #pedro pascal snl #snl

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captainsophiestark · 7 months

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Girls' Night

Platonic!Peggy Carter x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 6 Prompt: "I can't wait for you."

Requested: Yes by @flowers-and-fichte! Hope you like it!

Summary: Summary: Peggy and her bestie are having a much-needed night out on the town.

Word Count: 1,520

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Peggy, come on!" I shouted, hammering on the door of her apartment at the Griffith. "I can't wait for you, let's go!"

"Don't you have to wait for me?" I heard her voice call from inside. A second later, the door opened, Peggy grinning at me with her hair, makeup, and outfit done to perfection. "Unless you intend to go dancing and drinking alone."

I crossed my arms and huffed. "I'll go get Angie. She'd be willing to come. And I get the feeling she wouldn't be intentionally slow in getting ready to avoid going out on the town."

Peggy sighed, stepping back from the door long enough to grab her purse before finally joining me completely in the hallway.

"We both know Angie's busy, otherwise she'd be coming with us right now."

"I probably could've gone to the Automat, gotten her out of her shift, and gotten to the club in the time it took you to get ready."

Peggy just shook her head with a small smile as she locked her door and the two of us finally headed out. After months of stress and work at the SSR, especially as the only two female agents, I'd decided Peggy and I needed a night out. Little miss workaholic hadn't been particularly on board, and she'd been dragging her feet the whole time, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. Now, finally, I'd officially managed to get her out of the house.

"So, where to?" asked Peggy, tightening her coat a little as we stepped into the cool night air.

"Sousa told me about a place he likes last week," I said. "We're going to go see whether or not he's got good taste."

Peggy gave a noncommittal grunt as I stepped out into the street and hailed a taxi. We climbed in and I gave our driver the address, then settled into the back seat with Peggy.

A few minutes into the ride, I caught her eyes scanning our surroundings as we drove. I sighed loudly and rolled my eyes before fixing Peggy with a look.

"What?" she demanded.

"Seriously? You're canvassing and scanning for threats. You need to cut that out right now. We're supposed to be having a fun, relaxing night on the town, we can't do that if you're constantly looking for threats to take down and improvised weapons to take them down with."

She huffed a sigh, breaking her vigilant scan to meet my eyes.

"I'm sorry. I know. It's just... we've been on red alert for months. It's a little hard to turn it off, isn't it?"

"I know what you mean. But you've got to try, Peggy. We're both going to go completely crazy if we don't take a little break now and then."

She hummed her agreement as she turned back to looking out the window, this time with less of an agent's edge. I smiled to myself. At least it was progress.

A few minutes later, the cab pulled up outside of a swanky-looking club, people smiling and chatting in incredible outfits outside. Peggy and I stepped out, and I was happy to say, we fit right in.

We got a few appreciative looks as we headed into the club shoulder to shoulder, to find the place absolutely swinging. People swirled around the dancefloor, the music boomed from the live band across the room, and people were laughing and chatting at tables all across the bar. I smiled.

"Well, what should we do first?" I asked, leaning in towards Peggy and raising my voice a little to be heard over the noise. "Drinks, dancing, or finding a place to sit?"

"Drinks," Peggy called back. "And then dancing."

"Yes ma'am!"

I started off through the crowd in the direction of the bar, holding one hand behind my back for Peggy to take if she needed it to keep from getting separated. I couldn't help moving to the beat a little as we snaked through the crowd, bobbing my head and smiling at everyone else. When we made it to the bar and Peggy stepped up next to me, I was happy to find her with a smile on her face, too.

"First round's on me!" I said. "What're you drinking?"

"Jim Beam," she said. "On the rocks."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, even as I flagged down the bartender. "You're very predictable, Peggy. Next time, I'm gonna get you to try one of the signature drinks with me."

Peggy snorted, but I ignored her as I placed our orders. A moment later, our drinks arrived, and I raised mine in toast as I turned more fully to face my friend.

"To us!" I said, yelling a bit to be heard over the noise. "The two best agents the SSR could've asked for, no matter what any of those idiots in the office might say, and to getting a well-deserved night to have fun!"

Peggy smiled, and we clinked our glasses together, locking eyes before taking a small sip. Peggy sighed and leaned back against the bar, surveying the crowd before us.

"Thank you for dragging me out tonight," she said. I grinned, leaning against the bar next to her. "I don't know how I managed to keep from going insane in that office before you came along, but I'm so happy we can face things together now."

"Me too, Peg. Me too."

We stood together in comfortable silence for a few moments, sipping our drinks and enjoying watching the crowds and taking in the music. Finally, I sighed and set my mostly-empty glass on the bar behind me, then turned to Peggy.

"Alright, Peg. I don't know about you, but I think it's time to dance."

The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she set her glass down next to mine.

"I'd say I agree."

I grinned, then took her hand and dragged her out onto the dancefloor with me. She followed along, laughing, and we wove our way through the crowd until we found a good dance space. As soon as we found it, we faced each other and held hands, taking turns spinning each other around and dancing like maniacs to the beat.

I laughed as Peggy spun me, poorly, and I almost went knocking into a couple dancing next to us. They looked to be here on a date, and gave Peggy and I a dirty look, but we ignored them.

"Are you trying to go bowling for the people around us?" I called, laughing over the music as I came back towards Peggy and spun her out and away from me next. She laughed too, a carefree smile on her face that I hadn't seen in far too long.

"Maybe! Or maybe I'm trying to keep your reflexes sharp."

"Oh gee, thanks," I scoffed, rolling my eyes as we launched into the lindy hop. "Really Peg, I appreciate it."

"Good! You can repay me by doing my filing tomorrow."

I threw my head back and laughed, and after a minute, Peggy joined in. We lost track of time whirling across the floor together, both of us putting unique spins on the dances, since neither of us were very used to dancing the guy's part. We had more fun as a result, and while a few people shot us judgey looks as we flew across the floor, most people just smiled good-naturedly at the fun we were clearly having.

Once we both started sweating enough, we stumbled off the floor together, massive grins dominating both our faces. Peggy took a detour to the bar while I found us a table in the back to rest and catch our breath for a few moments, scanning the crowd again as I did. Sousa had absolutely hit it out of the park with this recommendation.

"Two waters, and two signature cocktails," Peggy announced, setting the drinks down before sliding into the booth with me. I smiled.

"Thanks, Peg. Cheers."

We toasted, then settled in together, laughing and talking the night away as we observed everyone around us. We made a few more trips to the dancefloor, spinning around with the same reckless abandon as when we'd started, and when we finally piled into a cab a little after one in the morning, we both knew the judgey looks from Ms. Fry would be worth it.

"We really need to do this more often," I mused, stumbling down the hallway with my shoes in one hand, my bed calling to me. Still, I paused with Peggy outside her door as she took out her keys.

"I actually think I agree with you," she said, shooting me a smile. "I haven't had fun like that since before the war. And maybe not even then."

"Likewise. We'll have to tell Sousa his recommendation was fantastic."

"That we will. But not until Monday. For once in my life, I'm going to do absolutely nothing tomorrow."

I grinned. "I support you in that, Peggy. In fact, I support you so much, I think I'll join you in solidarity."

We shared beaming smiles, then both disappeared into our own apartments. I immediately fell into bed, not bothering to change, a smile on my face. Sometimes, you just really needed a girls' night.

****************

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie @songbirdcannabe

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sutherkins · 11 months

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what dating peter sutherland is like part two 💌

• be prepared to have everything done for you whether you ask him to do it or not

• did you offhandedly mention the list of chores you need to do? dont worry about it, peters got it covered

• he likes to cook for you

• before he started dating you, he actually had no clue how to cook anything that wasnt super simple like boxed pasta

• in the early stages of the relationship he took cooking classes to get better and while hes not a professional, he can make you some pretty good homemade meals

• in return, you like to exercise your hobby for baking and make him a lot of sweet treats

• he loves watching competitive baking/cooking shows and no one can tell me otherwise

• you both love to watch them together and will wait until both of you are free to catch up on any episodes you missed

• he’s extremely supportive

• going to a pride parade? he’s there to support you (and everyone there) and have fun!

• a protest perhaps? he’ll stand right next to you with his own sign

• he loves dogs

• he loves being in nature

• any time he gets hurt he recites the names of his favorite basketball players to distract himself from the pain

• his favorite place to be is with you at his cabin

• he loves to give you gifts every once in a while especially if he notices that you’ve been eyeing something specific but havent gotten it for yourself yet

• staying in with you is his preferred way to have a date, hes not fond of being around people too much

• he’ll 100% take you to a restaurant, fancy or otherwise, if you want him to

• most of the time theyre diners or small businesses

• peter knows what having a panic attack is like so he for sure will help you out and have techniques and methods for you to try when you’re having one yourself

• this is inspired by @underoospeterparker wonderful period comfort fic that i requested and its that he will literally take care of Everything

• he’ll put a pad in your underwear for you so it’s all ready to go when you need it

• he’ll warm up a heating pad as soon as you ask

• buys you your favorite snacks and some extra pads or tampons (or whatever you use) when you start your period

• peter is like a human furnace so you like to lay on top of him like he’s a living heating pad for your tummy — he enjoys it very much

• he drives you to your therapy appointments and waits in the car until youre done

• he never asks what you talk about in therapy but you usually tell him anyway

• there arent really any secrets between the two of you

• there might have been some things neither of you wanted to talk about at first but eventually you both share them with one another

• peter is actually really funny and always tries to make you laugh

• playing against you is the only time he feels like he’s good at basketball 😭

• “you’re the one who didnt get into the nba!”

• “at least im tall enough to qualify!”

• he pokes fun at your short stature whenever he can

• peter is 6ft tall so he towers over you

• as hot as he thinks you look when you’re wearing his clothes he also finds it hilarious because theyre so long on you

• shirts? they reach your knees

• pants? always have to be rolled up at your hip otherwise you’ll step on the fabric at the bottom and trip yourself (you did this once and peter was very concerned but also couldnt stop laughing)

• he doesnt look after himself the way you think he should, so you’re always paying attention and making sure he’s eating/hydrating when he needs to and getting enough sleep

• i feel like one year for halloween you make him dress like spiderman because they have the same name and you dress as mary jane and do the iconic upside down spiderman kiss

• you’ve basically christened every single room in his apartment

• he might not like every single hobby you have or everything you have an interest in but he’ll always participate if you ask and you do the same for him

• you own skin safe markers and sometimes when you get bored you like to color in his tattoos. he actually really enjoys it and finds it relaxing

• speaking of tattoos

• when he realizes that you’re the one for him and that he wants to be with you for the rest of his life, he gets a tattoo of your initials on his arm

• when you find out about the tattoo you immediately book an appointment for yourself so you can get his initials tattooed on your hip or maybe your wrist

• when he sees it for the first time he thinks its so sexy that you have his initials permanently on your skin that he makes you orgasm like 5 times

• he knows you love homemade personal care products (soap, bath bombs, things like that) and will buy them for you all the time

• you always call him on your way home from work or whatever it is your doing that day and if you’re stressed he’ll set up a relaxing bath for you for when you get home

• and he goes all out

• he goes through your stash of products and even has new ones ready to add to your collection, a nice lavender bath bomb, some rose petals, ect

• he sets up a speaker to play relaxing music and even puts a small table next to the tub thats got some of your favorite snacks on it along with a bottle of water

• he loves to cuddle

• he is literally so needy when it comes to you and just wants any kind of affection he can get from you

#peter sutherland #peter sutherland x reader #peter sutherland x you #peter sutherland fanfic #peter sutherland fanfiction #the night agent #the night agent fanfic #the night agent fanfiction #sunshine boy #gabriel basso #peter sutherland headcanons

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hurt-comfort-cache · 1 year

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*finds a new blorbo* i love him and i want him to suffer

#whump memes #whump community #*patiently waits for fanfiction for the night agent to start cropping up*

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undercoverpena · 10 months

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vi. the place where I want to be

javier peña x f!reader | chapter six of late night texts

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. making out. alludes to smut. sinful thoughts. continuous romcom vibes. an: javi and reader, sitting on a bed... ;) wordcount: 3.5k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Javi traces his bottom lip with the tip of his thumb, allowing himself the chance to let his eyes roll up and down you.

Taking it in that you’re real.

“Or should I say hola?”

He smirks, laughing and dropping his hand from his mouth. “You can say hola, hermosa. If you want.”

Dipping your head, he watches you take a breath before you lift your eyes to meet his again. All beautiful, shining—practically fucking sparkling.

“I knew you’d be fucking handsome.”

“I knew you’d be beautiful.”

Letting his eyes carve around you, he creates an outline before he spends the time shading it in. Unable to tear his eyes from you, the way everything around you seems a fraction brighter, even if he knew that could be so.

All he knows is every inch of you is more perfect than the version he had in his head.

Then, you blink, dipping your chin before you shift your weight onto another leg. Your fingers playing with your sleeve, something on your mind, puzzle pieces from the little sighs he knows down the phone, marrying with the mannerisms he now gets to see.

“I know the customary thing is to hug, but….”

Smiling, he eyes you up. “But, what?”

“I really wanna kiss you.”

Fuck. Me too. That’s all he thinks, hand resting on his hip as he watches you try to appear confident—embrace how your words fell from your lips as though it didn't take all of your strength to confess them.

“You should buy a person a coffee before kissing them.”

Snorting, he watches your brows rise, an expression falling across your face that makes him want to laugh. “Don’t think you’re a stranger, Javi. I came to the sound of your voice four nights ago.”

He licks his lips, your snark dripping with honey.

It makes it easy to slide a hand around your waist, bringing you flush with him. “I guess I did promise you the feel of my lips.”

"You did."

It's dizzying, the way you gaze at him. More so when you slowly place your wrists on his shoulders, fingers tantalisingly close to the hair at the base of his neck.

It's why he allows you a moment, a chance to push him away—to reconsider. But, you don’t seem to want to take it, one hand sliding down his chest, fingers toying with the fabric of his open shirt—staring at him. All he can do is watch your pupils being swallowed by something he wants to see in more detail later. More privately.

“Kiss me, baby," you whisper.

In the back of his throat, he buries a groan. Gently slanting his lips over yours, tasting it—mint and lipgloss—as his fingers slide under your cheek and jaw. Holding you, feeling you. Taking every bit of self-control not to pick you up and take you to his truck.

Instead, he just allows the pads of his touch to paint a pattern across your skin. Taking note of the way your mouth moves with his, widening, allowing him to swipe his tongue across your bottom lip, feeling your whimper echo down his throat.

And he doesn’t want to stop, not ever.

Not as you grip his forearm, frame pinned to his as though it’s a crime the two of you have ever been apart.

He supposes it is. An offence he's ever been without you before now. Even if he has you now.

Your lips fall from his in a way that you know you both must, too. Lashes fluttering open, blinding him in pure gold and sunshine, all full of longing, your eyes almost shaped like hearts staring back at him.

“Let’s get you checked in, ay.”

Nodding, you bite your lip. His hand releases you, before reaching around you, taking the handle of your suitcase—somehow surprised at how heavy it is.

“What you got in here?”

It's instant, the way you wrap your arms around yourself, your lips twist into a grin. "I wasn’t sure what to pack.”

“Mierda, querida. How long are you staying for? Una semana o un mes.”

Narrowing your eyes, your fingers jab at him playfully. “Hilarious. Una semana.”

Raising his brow, you stick out the tip of your tongue. But what takes him by surprise is the way your fingers slide around his other wrist. Your eyes shimmering with hope and insecurity, and instantly, he knows.

Smiling, almost instinctively so. It graces the lower half of his face before his mind catches up to the fact, his fingers sliding between yours—fitting so perfectly, flawlessly so.

He blames it for why he kisses your forehead, capturing how your face shifts into a blend of the sun and a smile.

“C’mon, charmer, show me your ride.”

Javi offers to take you to a restaurant, but you insist on something smaller—a diner, a cafe.

“Some place I can get something greasy and not be judged.”

He notices in the truck, that you tap your fingers when it goes silent. Head turned, eyes staring out at the passing city as he drives the two of you to the hotel, fingers playing an imaginary piano on your knee.

A part of him wants to reach over, smooth his hand over—calm you. Rid you of your nerves. Until he realises, he’s doing the same on the steering wheel.

The hotel reception area is small, to the point he finds his front pressed against your back. If you mind, you say nothing, occasionally shooting him a smirk over your shoulder as you check in for both his and your rooms.

“You’ve got broad shoulders,” you say when the elevator doors close.

Biting the inside of his mouth, he clutches the handle of his suitcase. “Y’been admiring, have ya?”

You only offer one word, and a smirk: “Maybe.” The elevator binging, the doors opening, you sliding out with your suitcase in toe as you glance over your shoulder at him as you go to freshen up.

His mind doesn’t stop racing until the moment he shuts his own door behind him. The pulsing electricity of you being so close running through his nerves.

You were here: all real and beautiful.

Hand tugging out his phone, he's barely thinking as he fires it off. His reckoning comes several seconds later as he changes his shirt.

she’s beautiful, murphy Wrong number, baby. But thank you.

"Shit."

He stares at it, your reply. His mind imagining, constructing the expression you'd have been wearing—it makes him smile.

she’s beautiful, murphy

And she’s got you using grammar. She’s a keeper.

fuck you

Glad you’re alive and that’s she what you imagined. Connie told me to tell you she can come with you next time you visit Miami.

I’ll keep it in mind

You told him you’d meet him at his truck.

A sight he found almost short-circuited him when he spotted you leaning against it, sporting a tee and jeans, with shades hiding your eyes.

Unsure how to greet you again, choosing instead to open the car door for you, watching as you slide your sunglasses down your nose, keeping your eyes on him until you got in.

Each time you peer at him like that, he swears he sees something twinkling, shimmering, in your eyes. A thing he wanted to keep hold of forever. See it always—never be apart from it.

The thought rises and falls in his head, a brief thing he considers, but doesn't allow himself to overthink. It's the first day. Still, plenty of time for him to say the wrong thing.

Do the wrong thing.

Peña it.

Don’t want to fuck this up.

It's a phrase the two of you keep saying. Both of you pepper it into conversation and texts here and there since the moment you agreed.

Something which had been sitting in his truck with him until he saw you outside the airport, and now it's slowly fading to nothing as the two of you head to a place he’d heard was good.

It's nothing fancy. All plastic menus and fluorescent light, but you beam at him as the two of you choose a booth in the back. Your eyes begin scanning the menu before he even picks his up. Too busy allowing himself another moment to note your nose scrunch and the way your eyes widen when you read something.

Drinks are ordered, and food is too, before a comfortable silence falls over the two of you until the drinks arrive. He mirrors you when you lean back, shifting his hips as his knee nudges yours.

“Did you get hold of your dad?”

Smiling, he rests his forearms on the table—watching you stir the spoon around your coffee. Something you’ve been doing for a solid minute, having not put anything in it that even needs mixing.

“I did. He’s good.”

Nodding, you smile, eyes dropping back to the menu.

Another silence falls, still a comfortable one. One that he imagines people have together when they’ve been dating for a while.

It doesn't need to be filled, but it permits a moment for the other to stare at the person across from them.

To admire them. To appreciate them. Both things he's doing plenty.

Each second he's granted, it makes it harder not to slide around to your side of the booth and place his thigh close to yours. His body screams, practically calling out to you, both because he wants to soothe any lingering anxiousness and also to be as close to you as he humanly can be.

A feeling that makes him massage the bridge of his nose—

“Is this weird?”

He eyes you, dropping his hand, wrapping it around the cheap porcelain mug before bringing it to his lips. “Being in front of you or the situation?”

You scrunch your nose. “Both?”

Shaking his head, he takes a sip before placing it back down. “Not for me.”

You look at the table, shifting in the booth seat. A smile, one that feels secretive—that you’re trying to hold back. “Not for me either.”

He almost grins, almost.

Like you, he keeps holding portions of it back so it doesn’t fully illuminate over his face. Instead, he stretches his hand across the table, passing the sauces and salt before your hand finds his—fingers, so perfectly, slotting between his.

“It feels… right.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “it does.”

He rolls his lips, free hand stroking at the hair above his lip as he takes you in. How you watch him, how you sound exactly as you do in your text messages—that it all adds up.

From the little quirks, the nose scrunch, the brow, the way you smile. Each piece fills in the puzzle, forming a mural he never wants to tear down.

“You talk quicker than you text,” you smirk.

“Ay, hermosa.”

Laughing, you tighten your fingers around his. “Kinda glad I’m here for a few days. I don’t want to have to wait fifteen minutes for a reply each time.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“I do that.”

He snorts, lips sliding up one side of his face. “Good job, I like it.”

He sees it then, the way that you shift when you’re embarrassed. Eyes dropping, lips pinching into a smile as you wiggle, shifting in the booth.

“You got much you have to do tomorrow?”

Shaking your head, you look up—leaning back into the booth, tips of your fingers just in reach. “Not really. I have to speak to the sales manager—go through their reports, and then I have a meeting with someone from imports.”

You must notice his expression, the way his brows have slid into his hairline.

Smirking, you roll your eyes. “It sounds fancier than it is, former DEA. But, once I've done a handover, then I’m all yours for the rest of the week.”

He points at himself. “All mine?”

Nodding, he watches as your teeth bite your lip. “If you want?”

Leaning onto the table, his fingers find the tips of yours. “‘Course I do.”

Javi echoes your sentiment about not rushing things. Until you’re on his bed.

Lay flat on your stomach, eyes staring down at the black and white squares both of you are yet to fill in.

He hadn’t even thought about the crossword, not even as you split off from him in the grocery store—both having separate missions to collect supplies for a night watching something on whatever channel they had in either of their rooms.

So when you had met him at the checkout, placing down chips, sweets and a book, he arched his brow.

“Turn it over."

The assistant is barely awake, never mind paying attention to them waiting, still stacking the same stand they were when they walked in. So as he does turn it over, flicking his gaze down, Javi instantly sees the noticeable black and white squares and thick words written across it: CROSSWORD.

“Thought we could keep up your tradition.”

It’s nothing. Not really.

Entirely a small thing, but it makes him move, hand wrapping around the back of your neck as he crashes his lips to yours. Doing so with a sea of gratitude and appreciation, heart doubling, thumping heavy and hard against his ribs. Hoping his mouth is articulating the sentiment as you smile against him.

It should scare him, terrify him to his bones at how much he feels so soon.

Because you thought of him, of this. This little thing he did that you now do together.

That’s how you both ended up on his plush hotel bed, half the squares filled in—the easier clues picked off and written in a black biro you’d found in your bag.

If he had thought you were impressive over text, watching your brain churn in person was something else. Your eyes flick to the side as you think, falling back to the clue, occasionally meeting him—stealing the breath from his lungs—

“37 is thatsthewayitis.”

Each time you guess a clue, he finds he does the same thing. He raises his brow, watches you smirk, and then studies as you begin to etch each letter into the paper. The only noticeable change is how comfortable you slowly get and how much smugger you are.

The voice he knows from the phone calls coming out more easily, your hands fidgeting less—body relaxing close to his

“You think you’re gonna get involved at any point, Peña?”

Nudging you, he smirks, glancing from your eyes to your lips. “You’re last naming me now? Fine. 38 down, stepup.”

Handing him the pen, he takes it with a smirk, etching the word in as he finds your eyes still warming his skin.

“63 across is Eddie,” you add, tapping the page as you move closer, shoulder brushing his. “And 52 is eerie.”

“You, baby, are impressive.”

Waiting until he’s written them in, he hears you swallow. The hotel duvet rustles as you move onto your side, arm reaching across, closing the book on his hand.

For a moment, he just lets you drown him in your gaze—swallowing him whole, pulling him under. Unsure why he isn’t closing the gap, why he isn’t marrying his lips to yours—

“So are you, charmer.”

Drinking you in, he releases the pen between the pages—leaning towards you. Nerves building, momentary panic that he could have misread this, until you begin to meet him halfway.

Then he’s kissing you for the billionth time today. The two of you moving together more seamlessly, all gentle and tender. Slowly placing his hands around your side, feeling you shift and move until you're under him, hands around his neck—leg hooked over his hip.

Words similar to you’re perfect, almost murmur from him as the book falls to the floor with a thud. Them being replaced by words such as, you’re so pretty, prettier than he could have ever imagined, but you gasp against his mouth.

An array of other things are almost being kissed against your skin when you begin undoing the buttons of his shirt, brushing knuckles and skin against him. He thanks you by running his mouth against your jaw, tongue drawing lines as you whimper his name—his jeans getting impossibly tight as he lets it grow messy.

Until he remembers—

I don’t want to fuck this up.

Pausing, he lets out a breath. Eyes closing.

Your nervous voice down the phone. Your little explanation. The fact you told him you like him.

Your fingers brush against his scalp, scared to open his eyes and see something other than want or adoration in your eyes.

I want you. He wants to say. More than he can find the words.

But he wants to earn you.

“Querida…” Tell me what to do.

“I know.”

It leaves your lips full of sadness, a sorrow tinged and wrapped around the words like a vine.

Tracing your cheek with his nose, he lets himself enjoy the feel of your fingers in his hair. The way you twirl a strand around a finger before you slowly let them fall from his neck. Slowly, he opens his eyes, finding you watching him, studying him—wondering if you’re committing him to memory in the same way he is with you.

His thumb digs into your hip, fingers tightening around you. “You have work early, too.”

“I do.”

Begrudgingly, he slides off you, hand moving to his jeans conspicuously, shifting himself as he does—watching you glance at him as you stand from the bed.

Shifting on the spot, he watches as you grin, smoothing down your clothes. “You’ll see me tomorrow, right?”

“I will.”

Closing the gap to him, you lift up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks... y'know, for picking me up.”

“Anytime.”

Licking your lips, you sigh softly. It graces the air, more than shoving into it. “Goodnight, Javi.”

Two words he’s so used to hearing down a bad phone line, he never realised how heavenly they’d be in person. For a moment, it makes him too stunned to think, never mind say anything.

Just watching as you glance back as you open the door of his room, waving lightly, barely able to spit the same sentiment to you before it clicks back into place.

As soon as he’s alone, his palms find his eyes.

Instantly, the world gets a little dimmer, his heart descending a fraction in his chest.

Turning on the spot—memories of moments ago, the collection of them he’s been mounting up since that first ever text, sitting around him. All of it vibrating, shaking in fury and disappointment that he let you go.

All of them blend, dropping like paint splotches onto a canvas as it paints a photo of you. Of the two of you.

It captures the look in your eyes when you see him at the airport, the warmth he felt sitting across from you, talking about families and childhoods—

What is he fuckin' doing?

Something he can’t even answer, something he’s not even sure about because he shouldn’t have let you walk out. Shouldn't have let you leave tonight ever considering that by lying with him, you could fuck this up.

It rises in him, how he shouldn't have let you get to the hallway, never mind to your room. Because how can either of you fuck up something that feels this right—that feels more right than he’s felt in his gut in a long time.

Fingers running through his hair, Javi’s feet move, forgoing his boots as he grabs the room key from the desk. He practically yanks open his hotel door, key shoved between his teeth as his hands move to his buttons, beginning to do them up—just in case. Wanting to be presentable when he stands at your door, when he tries to find the words to say.

While your room is only down the hall, it feels like forever until he’s outside your door.

Focused on scrambling words together, Javi shoves the key into his jean pocket, hand hovering over the door, all set to knock.

Only to find it vanishes from his knuckles.

And you’re standing there. All golden. The back of you is all illuminated by a lamp in your room as the hallway light splays across your features.

The way you look at him dries his throat, steals his words. Especially when it's a softer expression like this one, no teasing words and just a simple stare.

You look every bit ethereal and unreal—more like something he concocted in his mind, than made of skin and bone.

Even if he just saw you moments ago, had you under him moments before that—Javi is still tempted to pinch himself, the entire day feeling like a fucking dream.

“I…” you begin.

But he knows. “We’re not going to fuck this up, are we, cariño?”

You smile, swallowing. “No. We’re not.”

“Good, girl.”

It’s instant. Like it’s scripted, rather than entirely by chance.

You melt into him as he muffles his name against his lips. Reminding him that this is real, you’re real.

The earlier worries of rushing things fade to black, vanishing, turning all to dust as he manoeuvres you inside your room. Kicking it shut, feeling your fingers wrestling with the same buttons he’s just tried to fasten—a gasp escaping when your spine finds a wall.

“If you want to stop—”

Shaking your head, your hand holds his chin. Staring into him, scorching your thoughts into him. “I was coming to find you. Just now, when you…”

“Came to find you?”

Nodding, you bite your lip. Look every bit sinful, beautiful and fucking everything.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

Your fingers brush his cheek, that mischievous glint in your eye he’s caught occasionally across the diner table. “Show me how pretty you think I am, baby.”

an: the next scene on friday is spicy. if you'd prefer to skip it, I'll see you on Tuesday.

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