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whiskeynwriting · 2 years

Note

Hey ❤️ I hope you’re doing ok with your concussion and are getting better! Your post about loving Daddy Whiskey so much made me go “yep me too…EEK!”. He just makes me feel so safe and lovely.

I understand you’ve probably got lots of fics lined up and are really busy/still getting better, but I saw you said yes to DW reqs, and would love to ask for an absolutely sickly sweet fluff fic (with maybe some really loving/romantic SMUT 😏).

DW spoils you rotten: shopping trip for anything you want, being driven from shop to shop in his car by his driver (feel like he’s called Frank? 😂), back to his for take out (from a fancy AF restaurant, I’m thinking steak), movie on the sofa with blankets, pillows, you tucked up into his side, all your favourite snacks. DW is constantly telling you everything you try on in the shop makes you look “pretty as a perfect peach, darlin’”, and that “daddy loves you so so much, angel”, holding your hand, kissing the top of your head and giving you the FULL princess treatment… “Daddy will get you anything you want sweet pea, just say the word. You never need to want for anything with me, daddy’ll keep you safe.”

I need full on DW tooth rotting adorable, caring, daddying content 😂

Ok I’ve talked this up so much…imma head out

thank you ❤️

I'm L O V I N G this. I know you didn't mention reader being pregnant in your ask but with the recent Daddycember announcement I figured I'd squeeze it in.

Little Pea

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Pregnant reader, discussions of pregnancy, discussions of loss, established relationship, dirty talk, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, spit kink, unprotected vaginal sex

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A/N: I love this so much. And I love my daddy

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“Are you sure we need all of this?”

Glancing down at the cart, you wince just thinking about how much everything will be. But that doesn’t stop your husband from adding more items to the pile.

Looking back at you with an expression of annoyed disbelief, Jack huffs. “‘Course I’m sure!” Tossing his hands up, he continues on, reaching for something new on the shelf. “We’re gonna give this baby everything they need!”

You’d like to say it warms your heart, seeing him like this, but that’d be an understatement. There are ten pairs of newborn-sized onesies in the cart, along with fifteen different outfits. And he’s still grabbing more. He can’t help himself, he’s never been this excited about anything.

Suddenly, he’s snapping his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Where’s the beauty care aisle?” He mutters to himself, searching quietly.

“What do we need from there?”

“I gotta make sure you have everything you need, too.” Is his simple explanation. “Oh!” And then he’s tugging the cart away from you and scurrying across the store.

With an amused huff, you follow behind him. Jack doesn’t let you do anything, not even push the cart. You’re only about six weeks along, but no matter how much you insist, Jack tells you that you’re more fragile than ever before.

“Here we go.” His voice allows you to find him easily, turning the corner to find him picking out a foot bath. When he puts it in the cart, he places it beside the heating pads and fuzzy robe he got for you, too.

“What’s that for?”

“Honey, everything in that cart is either for you,” He looks up, then down at your tummy. “Or them.”

You’re truly in awe of him, the man you married, the person that chose you. By far, it’s the luckiest you’ve ever gotten in life. To be with a partner so caring and so genuinely loving, is more than a blessing. There hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by in your relationship that Jack hasn’t made you feel provided for, protected, and so completely adored.

Dreamily, your husband sighs, shaking his head. Taking a step forward, he moves beside the cart before his arms find your hips. Gently, he pulls you in, resting his forehead on yours.

“You’re amazing, baby.”

“I mean,” You chuckle, linking your fingers behind his neck. “All I did was have sex with you.”

Your words make him laugh, that handsome smile blooming proudly. “Give yourself some credit. You’ve put up with me for a while, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that.” With a kind smile, you lean up, connecting your lips. But he ends it all too quick.

“Let’s get you some new clothes, babycakes.”

“Really? Are you sure?” Eyes dipping down, you then frown. “I didn’t think I was even showing yet.”

“No,” Jack laughs, “Not maternity clothes, just some new ones. Anything you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I saw some dresses a few aisle back.” One big hand smoothes its way over your hip, fingers brushing over the curve of your backside. “I know you’d look gorgeous in ‘em.”

Just like that, your feet are pattering along after him once again, watching him lay one, two, three dresses over his forearm before grabbing even more. They’re each a different shade and style, and he doesn’t even have to ask you which size. He already knows.

“I’ll sit right here, honey.” Jack tells you, placing himself on the stool outside of the fitting room you chose. “You let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“Baby, I won’t need help just yet. I can still dress myself.”

Jack only grins. “Okay, honey.”

Albeit slightly difficult, Jack does his best to be understanding. He knows he can be a bit much, especially when it comes to your pregnancy. But he expected this, and so did you. In all honesty, he’s never fully healed from the trauma of losing his late wife and unborn son. He tried therapy, he really did, but nothing could fill the tremendous hole they left. Not even you. But what made you so amazing in his eyes, is you didn’t try to fill that hole, you didn’t try to become what Anna was to him, or try to replace her. You were you, you made his life special in your own way. You didn’t fill the hole Anna and Rhett left, you just made sure he never felt broken again.

“How’s this one look?” The first one you walk out in is a linen- blend midi dress, colored in a light blush.

Grabbing the edges, you grin, swinging your hips a little bit. And Jack’s warm eyes light up at the sight of you.

“Babycakes,” He’s still sitting, staring up at you in awe. “That color looks so good on you. How does it feel?”

Smiling, your eyes dip down, admiring him more than yourself in the mirror directly across from you. “I like it.”

The next dress isn’t colored to your liking, a yellow shade resembling that of a deep mustard. The third is a light purple, almost lilac, and you would have bought it if the bustline wasn’t too small.

“You like this one, babe?” Turning, you eye yourself in the mirror, considering the fourth one. The backless cami dress is a deep forest green, something you’d definitely wear this coming spring.

“You look stunning, sweet pea.” Releasing an airy sigh, Jack fiddles gently with the ring on his finger. Inside, his heart is swelling with joy. He’s no longer looking at just you (although that sight will sweep him off his feet for the rest of his life). He’s looking at his baby, too. “That’d be perfect for the spring.”

Grinning widely, you look over your shoulder at him. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

Spring. By next time this spring, we’ll be holding our baby.

The last dress takes your breath away. Standing in the stall, you grin, thinking about the reaction Jack will give you. It’s a mocha colored knit dress, with long sleeves and a square neckline. It compliments your waist perfectly, the sleeves comfortable and the neckline just low enough for you to be comfortable. It reaches your mid-thigh, and although it’s knit, it isn’t too heavy on you.

“What about this?”

“Oh, sugar.” Looking up from his phone, Jack’s lips part in awe. It makes you grin, a small giggle slipping from your lips. This time, he actually stands, holding out both hands. Running them along your sides, he glances down, speaking softly to you. “This is definitely the one babycakes. You look so stunning, pretty as a perfect peach.”

Pouting playfully, you ask in the sweetest voice you can muster, “Just one?”

“Babycakes, you know I’ll get you anything you want. Just say the word.” Quickly leaning down, he presses a firm kiss to your cheek. Now, you laugh fully, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Daddy loves you so much, angel.” He’s muttering, his lips trailing over your soft skin. “You know that? You know that, don’t you, honey?”

Lifting your head, you meet his eyes, smiling. One of your hands shifts, moving to cup his cheek. Stroking his plump bottom lip, you nod. “I know, daddy.”

Jack’s hand is on yours whenever he’s not pushing the cart, even making room to do so when he’s carrying the bags. Once you’re done in the store, you meet Jack’s driver out in the lot. With your current state, Jack wanted to be by your side constantly, and that meant him driving as little as possible, and you not driving at all.

“Go on in, sugar.” Kissing the top of your hand, he nods. “I’ll just put these away.”

Even though the driver is more than capable of helping, Jack does it himself. He’s not helpless, after all.

“Hey Frank,” Sliding in, you smile, greeting the man you’ve now known for years.

“Hey there,” Turning, he returns your kind expression. “How’d the shopping go?”

“Really good. Jack’s putting away the bags now.” And then you giggle, glancing down at your ring. “He can’t help himself.”

“Yeah,” Nodding, Frank shares a familiar look, one of genuine joy. “You know, I don’t think I ever saw him this happy before you.”

“You don’t have to say that.” You return with a bashful grin and a roll of your eyes.

“Oh, c’mon. You already know it’s true.”

It’s only a short drive back to your home, and an even shorter ride on the elevator up. Jack carries every bag, the biggest smile making itself comfortable on those beautiful lips. It makes you grin, seeing him like this. Linking your arm around his bicep, you let your head fall to his shoulder, sighing. He’s going to be the best dad.

After finding out about your pregnancy, you and Jack talked about, well… everything. One of the main topics being the baby’s room. For a moment, you considered moving, but were quick to find it unnecessary. The penthouse was big enough to house a master bedroom, two spares, and an office. So, the baby will just take one of the spares.

“I can’t help with anything?”

Currently, Jack is putting away all the baby clothes the two of you bought today. You had a say in almost every piece, of course, but some were entirely Jack’s idea. One being a little outfit of Woody from Toy Story.

“Sure you can, sweetheart.” He just wants you to rest, but finally, he gives in. “Can you take these tags off for me?”

And so, you create a system of you untagging the clothes, and Jack folding them. You haven’t put the nursery together yet. Hell, you haven’t even hit the two month mark yet! But Jack wanted to go shopping, nonetheless, having ordered a couple cabinets to put the clothes and toys in for the time being.

“What?” When you look up, he’s staring at you.

“How about some dinner?”

“From where?”

“That one hibachi restaurant? You said you liked it, right?” He’s already pulling out his phone and dialing the number.

“Yeah! It’s my new favorite since the old one closed down!” A bright smile colors your face, immediately perking up at the mention of it. “It’s kind of expensive though, isn’t it?”

Jack looks up from his phone, giving you an unamused face. “Do you actually think I give a shit about that right now?” And he’s right, you don’t even know why you asked. When Jack has his mind set on spoiling you, that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“Why don’t you go get some blankets, babycakes?” Jack suggests, the phone now on his ear. “We can make it a cozy date night.”

While your husband arranges for the food to be delivered, you gather the coziest pillows and blankets you have. Laying the biggest blanket on the floor before the living room couch, you stack a few pillows against the large piece of furniture, allowing you to lean back against it. The rest of your fluffy items are them piled on top of the main blanket, some lining the perimeter too. All in all, you’ve created quite the cozy little nest.

“Ready to eat, babycakes?”

“Yes, please.” You’re already sitting, your back against the pillows as you reach up eagerly toward your plate of food.

Jack chuckles at your impatience, bringing himself down to your level so he can sit beside you. You’re already stuffing yourself with your favorite food before he can even ask what movie you want to choose.

“Jurassic Park?” He asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement. With your mouth still full, you offer a close-lipped smile and a happy nod. And after switching the screen to one of your favorite movies, he grins, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you in.

“C’mere,” Jack scooches a little closer, too, lifting his arm to your shoulders when you finally nuzzle into his side. “You hungry little hippo.”

“Hey!”

“Not because you look like a hippo.” Jack immediately defends, reading your thoughts while rolling his eyes. And then he turns his head, eyeing you with a grin. Reaching over, he gives your nose a little pinch. “C’mon now, just enjoy yourself.”

You almost hate to say it, but when Jack acted like this… it really made you melt for him. It’s like he can corral you in without even having to lift a finger. Like he knows how to calm you down just as quickly as it is easy. Some might find it patronizing, but you know he doesn’t mean it that way. Personally, you find it endearing.

It’s only when you catch him staring at your stomach that you huff out in annoyance. “What?!”

Easily, he dismisses your sassy tone. “How big you reckon they are?”

“Huh?”

“The baby,” He nods, still staring. “What, maybe a peach?” Gently, Jack’s free hand slides down, that warm and broad palm settling over your lower belly. And then he grins. “Lil’ peach.”

“Baby,” Glancing up at him, you giggle quietly. “There’s no way they’re that big.”

“Huh?” Furrowing his eyebrows, Jack cocks his head curiously. “Really?”

“Yeah, let me see.” Pulling out your phone, you type in a quick Google search. “At six weeks, they’re about the size of a pea.”

“A pea?!” Your husband asks incredulously.

“Yeah,” Laughing, you nod. Now, you’re looking down, too. “Tiny lil’ thing.”

“Little pea.” Jack says affectionately, fingers rubbing your covered belly. “I like that.”

“Yeah?”

Tilting his head upwards and to the side, he shifts his gaze to you. “Yeah…” He responds quietly, leaning in to give your cheek a tender kiss. “I got my sweet pea,” And then, he’s moving, bending over your lap to give the baby a kiss, too. “And my little pea.”

“Baby,” His loving words move you inside. “You’re so freaking sweet.”

“You think so?” Lifting himself back up, you’re met with that stunning grin. And you can’t help but bring your hands to his face, pressing your lips to his.

“Mhm,” It’s tender and firm, your kiss, and he leans happily into it.

“It’s only because I love you so much.” His voice has dropped an octave, and it a bit breathier than before. And you’d find his words cheesy if he wasn’t speaking to you so intensely.

Sliding his hand up he cups your cheek, urging you to lean into it. “Because I do,” He sighs, soft lips finding your neck. “I love you so much, sweet pea.”

Slowly, Jack’s fingers dip beneath the edge of your shirt, his warm palm finding the skin of your lower belly.

“You’re gonna be such a good papa, baby.” Your husband’s heart beat profoundly at the name. He can’t wait for the day.

“You wanna know how I know?” Jack’s gentle kisses take your breath away, your words coming out as a whisper to him.

“Tell me, baby.” He’s pressing his body to you, leaning into your frame. And from where he’s at, you can speak directly into his ear when you say, “Because you’re already such an amazing daddy.”

And just like that, you’ve got him’ the string of Jack’s soul wrapped tightly around your finger. His lids flutter closed, releasing a firm breath through his nose.

“I’ll always be your daddy, baby.” His voice is low, predatory, protective.

“I know, daddy.” You’re nodding, turning to look up at his handsome face.

“You’ll never need to want for anything, babycakes.” Stroking your cheek, he promises, “Daddy’ll take care of you - he’ll keep you safe.”

And right now, you do feel safe, you feel so safe and small in his arms. Nuzzling into him, your chin lifts. Now, it’s your turn to pepper his neck in sweet kisses. He’s already sighing, soft moans filtering through his pen mouth as his arms wrap tighter around you. But just as easily as he’s holding you, you break free from him, moving onto his lap.

It surprises him, but he welcomes it, nonetheless. How the hell could he not? Watching his pregnant wife crawling onto his lap made him the happiest man in the entire damn world.

“You want me?” He asks in that deep, gravelly tone, cocking his head while your arms wrap around his neck.

Nodding, you lean in, pressing your forehead to his. “Yes, daddy.”

Before Jack can do or say anything else, your hands are on the front of his pants. He grins cockily, letting you undo his belt and zipper, pulling him out and stroking him in your tiny hand.

“You really want me, huh?” Your husband asks again, stroking your outer arms and then moving in to touch your sides.

That familiar feeling inside you seems to be building much quicker than it used to your emotions running high and arousal burning hot. Your body tingles with it, with the need to be touched by him, filled with him. It’s so overwhelming that you don’t even bring yourself to answer him, you just stand, shoving down your pants.

Tilting his chin up, he watches you undress, shucking your bottoms to the ground before returning to his lap.

“Oh, yeah…” Calloused hands find your naked hips, fingers grabbing hold of your flesh. He loves when you’re like this, when you’re so needy you can’t help but take initiative. “Take this -”

But you’re already taking your top off, he doesn’t even have to tell you. Within seconds, you’re completely naked in front of him, and he feels like he can’t catch his breath.

“Holy fuck,” Firmly, you grind yourself over him, ducking your pretty face into the crook of his neck. “Baby, what’s going on with you?” He chuckles, linking one arm around your lower back, his free hand finding your ass.

“I love you.” Shivering, you release a shaky breath, feeling him guide your motions.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He coos, almost mockingly, to you. “I know you do. And daddy loves you too, babycakes, he loves you…”

Sliding his hand down, he finds your crease, his fingers moving down its center. And you moan when he finds your upper hole, applying just a bit of pressure.

“Daddy, please,” Biting gently into his neck, you whine desperately. “Please fuck me, I want it. I want you so bad, baby.”

“Yeah?” He asks, a bit more aggressively. And then his hand lands on the fat of your ass, stinging your skin. “Then do it.” Gritting his teeth, he turns his head, pressing that beautifully curved nose into your cheek. “You wanna fuck daddy, baby? Yeah? Well you go on, you go right ahead.”

“Take this off.” Your fingers are scrambling over his chest, begging to feel his skin. And he complies, lifting it from his torso while demanding, “Fuck your pretty pussy open on me.”

“Oh my god,” With his chest exposed, your palms lay flat atop him. “I fucking love the way you talk.”

And still, your hips are moving over him, wetting him with the arousal seeping from your center.

“Yeah, I know.” He grins, lips curling into a cocky smirk while he watches you lift yourself. “Daddy knows you love it, I know how much that pussy wants me…”

“Baby,” Angling him upward, you sink down easily, gasping at the feel of his bulbous tip sliding past your lips.

Jack’s hands squeeze your hips as he watches you take him, eyes trained on your beautiful face. With your eyes closed, you sigh, releasing a delicate moan when he’s sheathed entirely inside. And when you’re in his lap, the soft skin of your thighs rubs against his jeans, feeling the coolness of his open zipper.

“Yeah…” Jack sighs, head lolling lazily to the side. “Yeah, how’s that feel, sugar peach? Huh?

“Daddy,” Already, your thighs are shaking around him, chest inhaling a steadying breath while you grab hold of his bare shoulders.

“Tell me,” Jack encourages gently, fingers stroking your back. And then one hand rises to the back of your neck, bringing you forward to his lips. He kisses you kindly, lips moving against your own in such a sweet way, that you’re shocked by the tone of his next two few words. “I said tell me.”

The hand on the back of your neck tightens, Jack’s stern eyes rising to bore into your widened ones. Gulping, you take in a breath. “You feel good, daddy. You feel so good inside me… Sliding your palms up his chest seems to relax him, along with your next sentence. “You always do.”

Groaning, Jack nips at your bottom lip, his hips beginning to move. Tilting his head downward, he drags his mouth over your exposed chest, using his hands to roll your hips over his lap.

“That’s good, honey.” He praises, the words muffled by your chest. “That’s a good girl, for me.”

“Daddy,” It feels pathetic, only being able to whine out a few words when he’s inside. But sex with Jack was just so incredibly overwhelming, it has been since the very first time.

The strength of his hands moves you back and forth over his crotch, not lifting you up and down but grinding you against himself. He’s holding you down, rolling his hips up just barely, while listening to your high whines. But when you finally begin to move with him, that’s when he tosses his head back with a groan.

“Oh, that’s it.” Now, you’re ushering your hips along, your pleasure center stimulated every time it nudges against his naked skin. “That’s it mama, ride me.”

“Oh my god, baby.” Digging your fingers into your husband’s shoulders, you glance down, taking in his beautiful, blissful expression. He’s never called you that before. And you’re not sure why, but it makes you fucking melt.

“God yeah,” Looking down, Jack’s eyes find the space where you’re connected, feeling himself throb against your inner walls. “Fuck yeah.”

Usually, when you rode Jack, he guided you onto him, up and down, over and over again. He loved feeling your ass slap down against him, loved forcing you onto his lap so he could reach as deep as he possibly could. But right now, he’s reveling in this - you seated on him, his cock entirely inside while you just grind back and forth over his lap. He can’t even begin to describe how sexy it is to see you like this, to see you getting yourself off on him.

“Baby,” Sliding your fingers up through his hair, you grab hold of the mocha colored strands, pulling on them. “That f-feels so good.”

“Nah, I know you can do better’n that.” Jack chastises playfully, shaking his head. Punching his hips up against your pelvis, he watches you gasp, dominant hand immediately reaching for your throat. “I know you can fuck yourself better than this.”

“Daddy, I -”

“Jesus,” He cuts you off, giving his head another quick shake. “Look at you, rubbin’ your pretty little clit against me. That feel good, honey? Does it feel good to fuck your daddy?”

“Yes!”

Lids fluttering open, you meet your husband’s gorgeous face, his lips parted as he releases the occasional groan or gasp. Quietly, he admits, “There’s nothin’ better than watching you fall apart on top of me.”

Leaning in, Jack’s mouth finds your neck, biting into your soft skin. His movement allows you to fully wrap your arms around him, repeatedly rocking your hips down onto his lap. And then, he’s smiling against your throat, tongue laying out to lick a stripe up your neck.

“You like when I call you that?” He doesn’t even have to specify for you to answer with a rapid nod and an eager yes. “Yeah, I figured you would.” Jack’s never called you a name you didn’t like.

“I made you that, after all. Didn’t I?” His deep voice is rumbling across your throat, plush lips dragging up to your ear. It’s tantalizing, the voice he has and the way he uses it against you. “You gonna let me do it again? Fuck you full? Put another baby in you?”

“Daddy, y-yes, yes please. Always.” You haven’t even had this one yet and already, you want to give him more.

Jack’s hands quickly drop, both palms fisting the curves of your ass. With a firm shove, he quickens your pace, rocking his hips up in time with yours.

“Then c’mon baby, fuck me. Fuck your daddy until you can’t take it anymore.”

You let Jack shove you over his crotch, feeling the thickness of him drag against your walls. Turning your head, you grab his face, bringing him back up to you. And he lets you move him happily, those talented lips mouthing at your own. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth, rubbing across your own and moaning at the taste of your spit. He just loves it.

“Do it, baby.” Jack tilts his head up toward you, eyes full of lust and admiration. Glancing down, you sigh, holding his face in your hands. Your thumbs rub his cheeks, palms feeling the smoothness of his jawline and chin.

“Please.” He begs simply, delicately.

Pursing your lips, you let a small trail of spit drip down, Jack’s soft lips parting to capture it. His head drops back against the couch when you do it, the taste washing over his tongue.

“That’s such a good girl, baby. That’s so good, oh my god…” And then he’s shooting upright, head tilted up as he demands more. “That’s so good…”

“Hm,” Grinning, you tap his nose. “What do you want?”

“Please, baby. Give it to me.” He’s still pawing at your ass, urging you over his lap while he throbs between your legs. “Please.”

“Tell me.” You demand simply, still holding that gorgeous face in between your hands.

It’s easy to let him move your body, your hips grinding over his crotch and now beginning to lift. You need more of him; you need to feel him deep.

“Spit.” His raspy voice responds. “Spit for me, sugar. Right in my mouth.”

It was always one of Jack’s dirtiest fantasies. And you allowed him to live out every naughty thought in his mind.

Open-mouthed, he groans, feeling your saliva land on his tongue much more forcefully than before. With his eyes rolling back, he closes his mouth, feeling your movements quicken over his body.

“Oh, that’s it, mama.” Lazily, his eyes open to stare up at you, giving your outer thigh a smack. “Keep it goin’, baby…”

It’s like he’s genuinely drunk on you, inebriated from indulging in your body. His hands hold onto you, but his hips are no longer matching your thrusts. He lets you do the work, smiling lazily as he gawks at your naked form.

“B-Baby, I’m, fuck…” Dropping your head, you gasp. “I’m so close.”

“Oh god, honey. Please do it, do it for me.” Jack begs, fingers massaging your hips and outer thighs. “Please cum on me. I love when I’m all wet from you.”

“Fuck.” Jack’s dirty talk will be the fucking end of you.

Dropping your head, you move to his shoulder, leaning on him. And he lets you use him in this way, giving you the leverage you need to rub yourself against his body. With your arms looping around his neck, you whine against him, fingers curling into the ends of his hair.

“C’mon, baby.” Jack coos, his throat going dry. “I know you can do it.” Turning, he kisses your cheek, keeping his lips pressed against you as he nears his own peak. “I love when you fuck me.”

And that’s exactly what sends you surging over the edge, the pleasure of it enveloping your entire being. It shivers through you, your arms tightening around his neck. And Jack feels this, feels the tight clench around his already throbbing cock seated so deeply inside you. Both of those strong arms cling to your midsection, holding you tight while he finally moves his pelvis upward against you.

“Daddy,” It’s barely a gasp, the word breathy as it leaves your lips.

Your entire body is tensing, muscles contracting as you experience this. And you can tell your husband has reached his own bliss from the way he groans into your ear, from the way his hips stutter between your legs. His head drops back against the couch, releasing into you just like every time before this.

“Oh, baby.” Rolling his hips against you, he rides out the feeling of his high for as long as he can. And in turn, prolonging your own. “You’re so tight around me.”

Breathing heavily, you return your lips to his, mouthing passionately at them. And Jack moans into it, head rocking rhythmically as you slide your tongue in.

“I love you,” Now, both of your arms have retracted, your hands finding his gorgeous face once again. “I love you so much, baby. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone but you.”

For the first time in a long time, Jack can’t find the words to respond. It takes his breath away, makes his insides squeeze with affection.

“I love you, baby doll.” Is all he can manage to say, warm hands rubbing the bare skin of your back. He likes that you’re still pressed against him, still as close as you can possibly be.

After sharing a quiet, intimate moment, Jack’s smile widens. “And I love our Little Pea.”

#Daddyyyy #our Little Pea #I love it #and him #SO MUCH #daddy whiskey #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey smut

398 notes · View notes

melon-fodder · 3 months

Text

Another picrew chain perhaps? I know we’ve all done this one before (because it’s great) but I feel like it’s perfect for the Girl Gang™️

linky-link

Delinquent!Melon vs. safe at home with boyfie Melon

@kweenkatsuki-fics @kingkatsuki @katsukikitten (hope you don’t mind me tagging y’all. no pressure!)

#picrew #tag games #winbre girl gang

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rosemirmir · 6 months

Note

💛 for zelink?

reunion kiss / relief - Going for SS Zelink for this one! Ended up mixing both of these together.

(Ask Game)

Zelda was alright, she was safe. And now they were reunited after so much.

It was as if the biggest weight in the world was finally off his shoulders. The catalyst for his journey, and what ended up leading to Link finding out his destiny, was to find Zelda and assure her safety.

They held each other close, so very close. Their grip being so tight as to make sure nothing could separate them ever again. Even though everything was said and done. Their long and arduous journey was over, and they could finally enjoy lasting peace throughout their lives.

But after everything they've endured, they still couldn't help it. Just to be safe.

They laughed and smiled as Zelda laid her head on Link's shoulder. Enjoying the breathtaking view of the world of the surface below laid across them, as they sat atop the hands of the Goddess Statue.

Taking in the beautiful birdsong. Enjoying how the clouds painted themselves across the stunning blue sky. Feeling a soft breeze make its way through.

He gently kissed her forehead. And then saw a softness in Zelda's eyes that made his heart melt as she looked up at him. She kissed him in return, but on the lips this time. It was short, yet sweet. And he could feel his heart skipping a beat throughout the kiss.

Zelda spoke up after some peaceful and warm silence, with words that were just as warm, if not warmer than the sun itself. "I'm so glad to be with you again, Link."

#answers #matadorofheart #skyward sword #linky's fics #legend of zelda #loz #the legend of zelda #zelink #thank you so much for the prompt! this was fun to write <3 I love them

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years

Text

Pine-ing For You

Father Paul has a little accident while trying to set up Christmas lights and you decide to get festive.

I got this idea while chatting with @aherdofbees, and together we developed it to get our dear priest into quite the delicious situation. She made a 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 illustration that goes with this fic. Go on, click the linkie and like and reblog, because it truly is amazing.

Thank you so much for the inspiration Allison, I loved writing this!

NSFT/18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

Pine-ing For You - 5.3K

tw: explicit sexual themes, consensual unprotected sex, body worship, smut with a lot of feelings™, attmepts at humour

Crockett Island may have seemed dull most of the time to the untrained eye, but after more than a year of living there you knew better. The people, while many of them a bit subdued, all had their little joys in life, their passions, and though they were wary of strangers that came into their little town at first, they were among the most kind and hospitable folks you had the good fortune to have met.

However, when Christmas rolled around, even the untrained eye could perceive the shift in atmosphere. It was a jolly holiday after all and the people indeed were slightly jollier. Little by little, decorations began appearing around the island. Many of them were small and decent, maybe just a wreath on a door, or an electric candlestick set in a window. Some were larger, Christmas lights on the roof, perhaps a little reindeer in the front yard. Few decorated more.

Some of these more festive looking places were the schoolhouse, which had student-made snowflakes in the windows, garlands on the windowsills, lights hung from the roof and even a charming wooden nativity scene in front. The Flynn house and The Greene house also breathed a gentle Christmas atmosphere to everyone who walked by. And then, there was Saint Patrick’s. Apparently, Monsignor Pruitt adored Christmas more than anyone else on the island and it showed. Dozens and dozens of various decorations were found in one of the storage areas of the church by Father Paul, who literally begged you to help him put them up. Which you were more than happy to do.

So now there were artificial swags at every corner of the small church, boughs of holly, wreaths, candles and another nativity set, placed right in front of the altar. This one was more detailed and painted, obviously made to be inside rather than face the weather conditions. And it was quite obvious Monsignor Pruitt took great pride in his decor collection. All that was missing were some Christmas trees.

—

Many residents of Crockett Island used artificial trees for their Christmas festivities, but there were still those who couldn’t imagine celebrating their lord’s birthday without a fine fir or a pine. One day, about a week before Christmas, a group of volunteers would gather on one of the larger fishing ships and set off to the mainland to pick out live trees for everyone on the island who wanted one. Ordering worked through simple paper forms, delivered to mailboxes by Dolly Scarborough. One would write down their name, preferred kind of tree, and its size. Filled out forms were then dropped off in the little town hall, along with the money for it. Unlike everyone else (including you) who ordered only one tree, Father Paul ordered three - two larger to be placed inside the church, one smaller for his rectory. He was, of course, among the volunteers going to actually pick the trees up.

They returned around eleven o’clock in the morning. You stood on the dock, looking at the fishing boat full of tied trees with a smile. Paul would be hauling the trees for Saint Patrick’s and the rectory first, with the help from Ed and Riley Flynn, and you convinced Sturge to help you carry the large pine tree you asked for to your home.

“Thank you again,” you said, walking next to him. You genuinely tried to help him carry it, but after a few minutes of very awkward walking and a few broken off twigs, the handyman simply threw the big tree over his shoulder and hauled it the rest of the way by himself. “Do you accept payment in gingerbreads?” you asked with a grin and raised eyebrows. Sturge thought for a while: “Yeah. But it will cost you.” “Oh? How much?” you chuckled. “I want the entire sheet.” You gave a whistle and made an amused ‘tsk’ sound: “Inflation these days…”

—

Two hours later, you stood at your kitchen counter, decorating gingerbreads with white chocolate. The pine stood tall and proud in your living room. It truly was a beautiful tree, healthy and dense, its herby scent, having already filled the room it stood in, was seeping through the rest of your house. You heard the front door open and shut, followed by some shuffling from the hallway.

“Hmm, it smells nice in here,” came a dreamy voice, making you smile. When footsteps began approaching the kitchen, you turned around to greet the priest. But then: “What are you wearing?” you asked, laughing softly. Father Paul was dressed in his skinny jeans, like usual. What wasn’t usual however, was the 'ugly Christmas jumper' instead of the black clerical shirt, its colour reminding you of his gold chasuble. There was a white nordic pattern on front, consisting of snowflakes and reindeers. It didn’t look terrible, but since you never before saw Paul wearing something like this, it kind of took your breath away for a moment.

“Do you like it?” asked Paul with a smile, pulling at his sleeves which you noticed were rather tight at the wrists. “It’s hideous,” you replied snarkily, making the priest chuckle and walk closer to you. He noticed the half decorated gingerbreads right away and was just about to reach for one when you lightly slapped his hand away. “Ouch. What was that for?” asked Paul, fake hurt in his voice. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his torso: “These are for Sturge, for lending me a hand with that tree.” “Oh I see,” replied your lover, understanding on his face, “will you make some for us, too?” You rolled your eyes and couldn’t help but smile: “Of course I will, have I ever neglected you?”

Paul pulled you close to press a soft kiss against your lips, claiming your entire attention. Therefore, you didn’t notice his hand slowly creeping up and onto the counter until it was too late, and one of the gingerbreads was snatched and promptly bit into by the father. “You scoundrel!” you smacked his chest, while Paul only laughed with his mouth full, “you’re lucky I love you.”

He swallowed his bite and batted his eyelashes at you: “it must be the sweater.” You smirked and squinted your eyes. “The jumper is hideous,” you repeated and Paul shook his head: “You really think that?” You didn’t. Taking him in once more, you had to admit that it did look rather flattering on Paul’s tall lean frame. “I knew it,” he said smugly, “you can’t lie to me, you like it.” “I don’t like it,” you tried once more, the corners of your lips turning up inadvertently. Paul took another bite of the gingerbread: “Hm, you love it.”

A few moments later, during which you picked at the soft wool of your lover’s jumper while he hummed appreciatively at the taste of your baking, you gave him a kittenish smile: “Since you’ve got nothing better to do right now than be a menace,” he opened his mouth in mock-offence before smiling cheekily, “you could go and start with the Christmas tree, what do you say?” “Hm,” he thought, “I thought we’d do it together?” Your arms encircled his waist again, pulling him closer and lifting your head to meet his eyes: “We will, but you could at least start putting the lights on. It’s a beast of a tree and I wouldn’t be able to reach the top, unlike a certain tall priest.”

He gave you a soft smile and pecked the tip of your nose, before brushing his lips against yours: “Very well.” You watched in curiosity, as his hands came up to rest on your hips and his eyes bore into your own. And then, in less than a second, he was scrambling away, another gingerbread in his hand. You gasped and stared after him, mischievous dark eyes twinkling at you until he rounded a corner. “Unbelievable!” you called after him.

—

You were pretty happy with your work, before you on the counter lay a sheet of nicely decorated gingerbreads of various shapes. Save for the two Father Paul stole right under your nose, but you supposed Sturge wouldn’t really notice that. You were in the middle of moving them into a container, when a dull thud sounded from the living room. “Paul? Is everything alright?” you called. A deafening silence was your only answer for several seconds and you started getting worried, when Paul’s sheepish voice reached your ears: “Um… A little help here, (F/N)?” You finished storing the cookies away, wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and made your way to the living room.

You couldn’t see the priest at first, but when you did, you began giggling uncontrollably. Paul was lying on his stomach very nearly under the tree, the christmas lights cord in his outstretched hand. His torso was bare and you could see the yellow jumper and white undershirt tangled around Paul’s arms, caught on one of the tree’s strong branches. He was looking at you abashed, his cheeks a little rosy with embarrassment.

You learned fairly early on in your relationship that for all of Paul’s amazing qualities, his skill as a priest, his knack for cooking, and his knowledge of your body as a lover, he was sometimes quite clumsy and very accident prone. A week wouldn’t pass without him bashing his little toe on some piece of furniture and you’d often find small bruises on his arms and legs, prompting him to sheepishly explain the cause for them. It was usually doors.

“I’m so sorry,” you said after you caught your breath and walked closer to him, kneeling by his side, “but what happened?” Father Paul released a huff and an adorable pout formed on his lips. “I wanted to turn on the lights. I got under the tree, on my knees, and tried to plug the cord into the socket. I couldn’t reach it though, and wanted to get out, try a different angle. But, um,” he paused, wetting his lips with his tongue, “I caught my shirt on a branch. I tried to untangle it, but couldn’t. So I thought I’d just try to take the shirt off, free it from the branch and put it on again. This is as far as I got…” The priest looked angrily at his hands, “the sleeves are too tight at the wrists, I can’t get my hands out! I mean, I tried yanking away, but the tree swayed rather nastily and I was worried it would collapse on top of me.”

“Wait,” you said with an amused grin, “are you really actually trapped? You can’t get out of there?” Father Paul 'tsked: “Yes. I am trapped under a Christmas tree. Can you help me?” You smiled softly at him and pet his hair. You proceeded to move forward, crawling under the tree yourself (mindful of any mischievous branches) and snatching the cord from Paul’s hand. You plugged it in and the living room was suddenly illuminated by multicoloured Christmas lights. You crawled back and sat leisurely on the ground, close to the priest’s head. Paul looked at you expectantly for a while, but after seeing you showed no intention to free him, a look of shock came over his face: "Wha- You're really going to leave me here?”

You once more moved your hand to his head, fingers carding through his dark hair: “'Leaving you' is the last thing on my mind,” you moved until you were lying down next to him, hand now coming to stroke his cheek and jaw, “but right now, I think I like you exactly. Where. You. Are,” you exaggerated each word, thumb moving to stroke the edges of Paul’s lips. “You look like an early Christmas present,” you purred, leaning your head on your free hand. Paul closed his eyes at the feeling of your clever fingers once again combing through the soft curls on the back of his neck. “Are you-... are you really trying to seduce me while I’m trapped under a Christmas tree?”

You giggled airily, tugging at the soft hair gently and delighting in Paul’s tiny little gasps: “Hmm, maybe… Is it working?” Paul’s head fell down to lean on his arms, his cheeks got even darker and in a quiet voice he replied: “A little.” You slowly scratched at his scalp, smiling lovingly each time he leaned into your touch. "Hey," you said then, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you. Your thumb found his lips again and you gave him a look he could read perfectly by now. 'Tell me you're not ok with this and I'll stop.' it said. Warmth spread through Paul's chest, followed by a gentle tingle of anticipation.

He pressed his lips against your thumb further in a small kiss, before smiling slightly and blinking at you coquettishly, and he too attempted to speak to you with his eyes: ‘I want this’.

You gave him one more gentle smile, before leaning back and looking at him appreciatively: “My, my, I must have been so nice this year, what a lovely present.” The priest chuckled into his arms: “Are you going to tear the wrapping paper off?” Your head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on your face. One fingertip stroked along Paul’s earlobe, descending down upon his pulsepoint and feeling his increasing heartbeat. “Nope, I don’t do that, it’s no fun” you shook your head, “I always unwrap presents slowly, peeling the tape off and trying not to damage the paper. Sometimes I even stop midway, because the anticipation makes it so much better.

“I think I’ll start with the parts that are unwrapped already,” you purred into his ear and moved closer, both of your hands coming to rest on his shoulders while you pressed small kisses into his hair, lips moving down to brush against the nape of his neck. “Hm,” you sighed contently, “such a pretty neck, long and elegant, like a swan, almost regal,” you bit lightly at the beginning of his spine, making your lover release a short gasp, “so sensitive.” You moved lower, hands sliding across shoulder blades: “Beautiful golden skin, like honey, soft, and warm, and very sweet.” Father Paul could feel more hotness entering his already red cheeks. Your whispered praises always had a profound effect on him. He hid his face in his arms.

“Strong shoulders and back, muscles defined perfectly but gently,” you continued and now dragged your fingernails across the entire length of the priest's back, making him quietly groan in pleasure. You’ve never met anyone who didn’t like their back scratched, but Paul seemed particularly enraptured by it. You made sure to lightly graze every inch of the golden skin, finding all the right spots, all the while pushing hot kisses onto every single freckle you could see and connecting them with your tongue.

Paul couldn’t help but chuckle when he felt your hands give his clothed bum a squeeze. “Girls love a guy with a lovely arse, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” you whispered cheekily and gave the lovely arse another squeeze, “alright, let me see the other side of this present before I start unwrapping it further.”

You helped Paul carefully roll over and onto his back, his wrists, still bound by his own clothes, now crossed over one another. Dark hair peeked at you from under the priest’s arms, and his pink nipples looked like little pearls screaming for attention. And they weren’t the only thing craving attention. Paul’s erection was tenting the dark grey skinny jeans and his eyes fluttered when you ran a finger over it. You gave him a grin: “Sorry, I’ve always been a little impatient, but I promise I’ll try to be good.” Paul shuddered out a laugh, his breathing a little shallow: “I wouldn’t be mad either way.”

Slowly you put a leg over his waist and straddled your lover: “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah,” you leaned forward and took his face into your hands, thumbs caressing his brow. “Thick, expressive eyebrows… Dark eyes, so, so large. Like a dolly,” you leaned forward to press your lips against Paul’s eyelids, then pulled away again, “cute, well defined nose, perfect for kissing,” once more you made your point by pecking the entire length of your lover’s nose, making him produce a fluttery chuckle.

“Though, of course, your entire face is perfect for kissing,” you smiled at him lovingly and then your fingers traced the edges of his lips, “but most of all it’s your mouth. That perfect cupid’s bow. I see it, and I want to trap it between my own lips. When you smile, when you pout, when you do that adorable little mouth shrug… When you talk, to me, to your congregation. When your mouth is slightly open and I can see your upper teeth just peeking through. I always want to kiss you.”

You crushed your lips against Paul’s, teeth clashing and tongues moulding against each other. He groaned into your hungry mouth and wanted to curl his arms around you, but soon remembered he was bound and released a desperate sound instead. You only parted from him when the lack of oxygen threatened to take your consciousness away. A tiny string of saliva followed you for a bit, before it snapped and landed on Paul's kiss bruised lips. You kissed the slight cleft in his chin and playfully dipped your tongue into it.

The emotion in your eyes as you pulled back could have made Paul cry, you were looking at him as if he was the rarest jewel, the most fantastical treasure in the world, as if he was your sun and moon and stars. “You have no idea just how beautiful you really are, do you? Inside and out,” you whispered, hands returning to stroke the side of the priest’s face, which was once more getting hot. This time however, he couldn’t hide it and as he lay there, absorbing each and every one of your words, Paul realised he didn’t even want to hide. You leaned closer again, whispering against his open mouth: “So beautiful, so very pretty.” An involuntary moan escaped him.

You smiled against his mouth, then ducked your head lower, nibbling softly around Paul's jawline before descending upon his throat, teeth scraping over his Adam's apple right as he swallowed heavily. You shifted until you sat directly on his hips and rolled your own, rubbing against his constricted erection and making his head fall back, those fine lips opening wordlessly. He took large gulps of air, hands involuntarily trying against his restraints once more. “Soon,” you promised, rolling your hips again, “but do try not to move your hands too much. I really don’t want the tree to actually fall down on our heads. Can you imagine explaining that to Sarah, when we show up all bruised and battered?”

The priest made an unhappy little sound, but tried to keep his hands as still as he could anyway. You made your way down his chest, nuzzling your face into his soft skin and delivering soft kisses and playful bites every time you felt like it. Paul sighed when your lips reached one of his nipples. You circled the nub with your tongue before sucking it into your mouth and pinching it with your teeth lightly. You used your fingers to stimulate the other nipple in perfect synchronisation with your mouth, trying various techniques and listening to Paul’s shallow gasps and quiet groans for feedback.

After alternating between the two, now red and swollen, buds for several minutes, you decided to carry on with your adventurous journey across Paul’s exquisite body, and ran the tips of your fingers against his ribs teasingly. You grinned widely when your lover made a little jump, trying to get away from your touch now: “N-no, don’t,” he gasped, but it was pointless. You again stroked over his ribs and under his arms, and was soon rewarded with choked laughter. “A-angel, please… please don’t tickle me right now,” he begged in between chuckles. You giggled, but took mercy on him, climbing up to steal a kiss: “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t resist.”

You sat back onto his thighs and gave the priest a reassuring smile after you laid your hands on his sensitive ribs again, this time your entire palms, intent on caressing him and bringing him pleasure. You stroked down, soon finding an obstacle in your way. Father Paul’s jeans looked so, so tight around his hard shaft it must’ve been painful, and you licked your lips as you made eye contact with him and rubbed the heel of your hand over his length. He shuddered and his eyes fluttered closed on their own. You repeated the motion, making your lover groan with pleasure.

“I think it’s time for me to unwrap my present,” you whispered huskily and waited for him to look at you. When he did, you sat even further away, all the way above his knees, and began making a show of popping open the button and torturingly slowly pulling his zipper down. Your fingers curled below the waistline on each side of the trousers and you tugged them down, little by little, revealing one, then two edges of his hip bone, protruding under his skin enticingly. You left the jeans bunched in the middle of his thighs and observed the priest amorously.

His hands, still crossed at the wrists above his head were balled into fists, fingers white at the knuckles. Paul’s face was flushed dark pink, with sweat gathering in his hairline, one drop of it having already rolled down his cheek. His lips were swollen from kissing. Well, his upper lip anyway, the bottom one was currently trapped between Paul’s teeth, but you presumed it’d be in a similar condition. He was breathing hard, his eyes dark with lust, and there was a damp spot on the front of his grey boxer briefs. You bowed to press a wet kiss just below his sternum, then lower, then lower again, relishing the soft tender skin of the priest's tummy.

You drew a circle around Father Paul’s belly button with your tongue and started pinching the area underneath with your teeth, teasing at the happy trail going down into his underwear. You looked up after reaching the waistband, catching your lover’s intense gaze. He whimpered softly when instead of going where he needed you the most, you bit into that tempting hip bone. “Please…” he whispered, feeling like he was going to go insane if you were to tease him much longer. Paul didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until your soft hand touched his cheek and he opened them again. You were smiling at him warmly, a look filled with tenderness. He willingly opened his mouth for you when you moved your hand to the back of his neck and kissed him soundly.

At the same time you finally pushed your hand under the waistband of his briefs and took a hold of his aching member. Paul moaned into your mouth in relief, his eyes shutting closed and eyebrows turning upwards. You fondled his manhood steadily, massaging it slowly with your thumb drawing little circles into the heated skin. He breathed hard against your mouth once he had to part for breath, and you stuck your tongue out to trace his lips before pushing it back between them. You were slow in your movements, yet Paul soon found himself nearing his peak.

“Wait,” he managed to get out and you let go of him right away. He tried to convey what he wanted with his eyes and, thankfully, you seemed to understand. You climbed off of him, lying down by his side instead so you could make out some more. From his position, Paul now had some access to your neck and he immediately used this fact to his advantage, pressing sloppy kisses and bites against your pulse point while you massaged his scalp with your fingers. He attempted to duck his head lower, but was held back by his restraints. He gave you another pleading look and you started removing articles of your own clothing, as well as ridding him of the jeans and boxers entirely.

Once you were as naked as he (save for the jumper and shirt tangled on his arms), You climbed back over him, bracing yourself on one hand above his head and pushing your bosom level with his face. Wasting no time, Paul began kissing the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to circle your nipples and flick over them. Meanwhile, your other hand was between your legs, two fingers slowly moving inside your heat in a scissoring motion, stretching yourself. You rested your head against Paul’s, your content sighs fanning over the priest’s black hair.

Suddenly, Paul produced an alarmed sound and turned his head away. You immediately lifted yourself off him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” you asked, your arousal now mixed with worry. He screwed his eyes shut before releasing a sheepish chuckle: “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just-... um, there is a pine needle getting somewhere it definitely should not be getting.” You started laughing quietly, Paul joining you shortly after. After you fished out the pine needle from under the back of his thigh and made sure there were no more pointy things threatening anything vital, you wanted to lean forward again, but Paul stopped you. “I want to watch,” he said. You smiled down at him and made a show of fucking yourself with your own fingers.

Once you felt sufficiently ready, you pulled your digits out and moved down Paul’s body, pushing your hips together. You rolled your hips a few times, the underside of the priest’s cock sliding through your wet folds. Using your now free hand, you reached behind yourself and guided your lover inside. Paul bent one leg at the knee and pushed his hips up to meet you halfway. Both of you choked out a small gasp. Despite your preparation, you needed a few moments to get used to Paul’s width.

You experimentally raised your hips before sinking back, trying to find an angle that worked the best for you. A few thrusts later, you felt a bolt of pleasure shoot through your spine and into your core, and grinned. You lowered yourself until your body was flush with Paul’s and carefully slipped your arms under his, hands coming to tangle into his hair. You connected your foreheads and looked into his eyes deeply as you started thrusting against him in that brilliant angle.

Paul’s laboured breathing and delicate moans blew across your cheeks, warming them more than the blood gathered there. You tilted your head to the side and let your lips connect in an uncoordinated kiss, keeping your eyes open. Paul’s hands were shaking from how much he wanted to reach out for you, all the while keeping in mind that was the only thing he couldn’t do, so he instead tried to convey all the ways he wanted to touch you in through his mouth, sucking on your lower lip, biting your tongue gently, licking a wet strip along your jaw.

Your movements sped up and the fire within you started burning brighter, every single thrust like a spurt of gasoline into a flame. You hid your face into Paul’s heated neck, feeling his heart hammering away at a rapid speed, sensing his groans and whimpers before actually hearing them. You wrapped yourself around him completely, as if willing your bodies to mould into one. The priest bent his leg a bit more, gaining better leverage to pound up into you, feeling his upcoming release nearing as well.

Once Paul heard your moans becoming more urgent, felt your walls beginning to flutter around him and saw your thighs trembling, he started nudging your head with his own, wordlessly attempting to make you look at him, reveal your face. He loved watching you fall apart, your face showing nothing but pleasure, raw, almost unhinged. It was a sight only he was allowed to see, nearly sacred. You raised your head with some difficulty and rested it back against his, your pupils blown wide and constantly disappearing and reappearing behind fluttering eyelids.

You were on the very brink, moments before plummeting down into the abyss, and your hips lost all sense of rhythm. “Come for me, angel,” Paul groaned and delivered a sharp thrust upwards, effectively shoving you over the edge. Your fingers closed in his hair harshly and a wave of pleasure exploded in your core, shooting into your veins like a drug. You gasped violently, releasing a series of short high pitched whimpers as your heat began pulsing around Paul’s twitching shaft. He continued thrusting into you, hitting that little bundle of nerves and effectively prolonging your orgasm.

You were blushing everywhere, sweating, trembling through heaps of bliss, yet a drunken smile bloomed on your face. Your unfocused eyes connected with Paul’s, their gaze intense and almost desperate. “S-so, ah, you’re so b-beautiful, Paul,” you managed to stutter out, and then only watched the fireworks go off in those nearly black orbs. They widened for a millisecond and then, as if a rope snapped, you could see Paul fighting to keep them even open. You would have almost thought he was in pain, with his hands trembling violently, his mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape to release a long moan, and his head tilting back.

Your walls were painted white, spurt after spurt of hotness spreading through your core. Together you shook through the aftershocks, slowly coming down your highs. You collapsed against your lover, trying to get your breathing under control once more. Several minutes of lazy kisses and whispered words of love later, Paul tried tugging his arms free once more, causing some more pine needles to descend upon your cooling bodies. You groggily climbed up his body until you were able to reach the treacherous twig and untangle it from Father Paul’s shirt.

The priest stretched his arms and proceeded to pull both his jumper and shirt off of him, tossing them somewhere to your left. Finally, finally, he was able to hold you and immediately did just so. “You were right,” he said quietly, voice hoarse, “it is a horrible sweater.” You giggled and let yourself slide down and onto your side, lying next to him. “I don’t know,” you purred, your hand coming to caress his cheek, “I think it’s starting to grow on me.”

You shivered slightly, your body having already cooled down from your previous activities, and reached for a blanket which was draped over your sofa. You threw it over the two of you and got comfortable in the father’s arms. “If there was an advent calendar of making love during Christmas time, this would definitely be there. Under the tree,” you mused, your voice light and airy. “Wonder what would be hidden under ‘24’,” replied Paul in the same manner, “making love after the midnight Mass?” You grinned into his neck, one of your hands slowly massaging his shoulder: “A lovely suggestion.”

“Still want to decorate the tree?” he asked after a while, pressing small kisses into your hair. You murmured something unintelligible and hid your face again. Paul chuckled lowly: “Okay, shower and a movie then?” “Yeah,” you breathed into his skin, “we’ll do the tree first thing tomorrow.” Paul hummed in agreement. You lay cuddled beneath the Christmas tree, the colourful lights dancing on your bare limbs and the smell of pine lingering sweetly in the air. “We could decorate the one in the rectory after. And bake those gingerbreads only for us.”

A giggle started blooming in your chest, soon turning into a full on laughter. “You really are unbelievable!” you bit into your lower lip and pulled back to look into his large eyes. They reflected the big genuine smile on Paul’s face perfectly: “I’ll even wear the sweater.” You shook your head and quickly crushed your lips against his. Absolutely unbelievable.

Thank you for reading, I hope you had a good time c: As always, you can find this story and all of my other stories over on AO3. Please, be sure to check out @aherdofbees tumblr as well, she makes the most spectacular art!

the first tags are sentences I had to restrain myself from using in order not to look like the last bits of sanity finally packed their bags and kissed me goodbye

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead @rothko-mirror @littleredwritingcat @vintageglassheart02 @thexhostess @fatherpaulsimp @blackberries45 @daughterofaries @exorcise-my-demons sending kisses ××

#Are you stuck step-priest #Too bad father I'm the meow meow now #Father Paul and reader share two braincells and reader has them most of the time #midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #fanfiction #reader insert #father paul hill #father paul #father paul x reader #father paul x you #father paul smut #fluff #celebrating christmas by getting onto the naughty list #christmas smut #all aboard the thirst train!

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bunnwich · 4 months

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Ren!!!

Could you pretty pretty prettyyyyy please post “Rituals” on AO3???

I love it so much!!! 😭😭😭💜💜💜

I need more of your writing on AO3 helpppppp!!!

I’m still SO happy you were willing to post “Love Potion” there. 🥹🥹🥹💜💜💜

You’re such an amazing writer! I love how you write Leona!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!

*explodes and dies*

AAAAAAAA YOU'RE SO SWEET!! NO-NO DON'T EXPLODE. DFGHJK CRYIN. It makes me so happy when you guys gush about my work. It makes me feel like all the time I spent doing it was worth it and that maybe my writing is actually okay?? I'll try to post more when I can, since these are all part of a longer fic. I'm so glad others can enjoy my silly little Leona HCs. Tbh, I just love sharing sweet lil scenarios that can make other people happy while exploring his character.💚💚💚 (Always spreading my soft!Leona Agenda >:3) Anyways, I got chu!! Here's dah Ao3 linkie: X

#twst #leona kingscholar #bunnwich writes📝#ask

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 months

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someone said ushijima must’ve taught kageyama so much and kageyama must trust him a lot… kageyama being comfortable enough with ushijima to tug on his sleeve in canon… i ran out of tobio and oikawa things to go through and just read one of the best (explicit) fics of kageyama and ushijima instead and it was not a dynamic i knew i needed to read about until now, god bless author’s everywhere

linky link

oh this is crazy i need to read this immediately... love rarepair hq ships.AND LOVE USHIKAGE. im EXTREMEEELY extremely extremely fond of iwakage too (i.e. iwaizumi and kageyama) for similar reasons bc while kags looks up to oikawa i think iwa feeling personal responsibility for kags makes sooo much sense and makes me incredibly crazy to think about KJDSJFKS

#return to sender #ship stuff

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pavlovianfuckery · 2 months

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i'm not as think as you drunk i am

MASTERLIST

linky for those more ao3-ly inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57986218

I just wanted to write something soft and silly. Is it a booty call, is it a date? Nobody knows, but I sure had fun writing it. Been working on this fic off and on for about a week and a half. Especially huge fan of the way you can tell at exactly what point I started ovulating during this entire process. Enjoy!

4.5k of banter and fairly vanilla smut with *~Feelings~* under the cut

It's late and he's drunk. Not four sheets to the wind, but enough to make him slightly softer at the edges. Curled up on your worn down old couch, the table littered with half-empty takeout containers, you can almost imagine that this is something like a date. You'll take him to bed, of course, eventually. Or he'll take you. But right now, this is...nice. Not that you're entirely sure what this even is anymore because these booty calls, regular as they have turned out to be, traditionally do not include wine or food. Or him sprawled out against the cushions, nonchalantly swinging his feet up to rest in your lap.

"Oh, so I'm a piece of furniture now?" Wrapping a hand around one of his ankles you briefly consider tickling him, but that's probably the alcohol talking and you doubt it'd go over well.

"That depends." He pops an eyebrow at you, drawing the words out a bit. "Do you want to be?" You know he doesn't mean it literally but the images leap into your mind anyway and the thought of being made to serve, restrained and casually used, makes your cheeks flood with heat. Hiding behind your glass, you hope that he doesn't notice it, but either he's more perceptive than you thought or it's you who's not very discreet because you can practically see the gears in his head turning. It's a bit slower than usual but not by much and then he chuckles, eyes widening. "Wait, are you into-"

"I swear, if you're going to poke fun at me I'll fucking sit on you." That sounded way better in your head and it doesn't have the effect you had hoped for.

"You really need to work on your threats, doll." He drawls, thoroughly unimpressed, "I could give you a few pointers if you'd like."

"I'm sure you could." You put down the glass with perhaps a bit more force than planned, then dig your nails into the sole of his socked foot, making him jerk away.

"Watch it, or I might use you like a foot-stool or something." Sitting back from you with a smirk, he hastily adds, "But you'd probably like that."

The fact that you know that he's goading you doesn't keep it from working. Straddling his lap you trap him between the full weight of your body and the back of the couch. As threats go it really leaves something to be desired but it's not a bad position to be in, all things considered.

"Why do you have to be so mean to me, hm?" It's only mostly the alcohol that has you gliding the tips of your fingers over his collarbone, sliding them up to gently wrap around his throat. You've always liked his voice, but being able to physically feel it when he speaks sends a hot little shiver through you.

"That doesn't sound like a 'no' to me." Putting a hand across the small of your back, he pulls you a bit closer.

"It's not," As you bend down to kiss his neck, you can't quite resist the urge to pull his shirt to the side and bite down at the join between neck and shoulder, muffling your words against his skin, "but you don't have to be such an asshole about it."

"You looking for an apology, or...?" He trails off, all but melting underneath you as you suck at the sensitive spot high on his neck.

"You offering one?"

"Fresh out of those, actually." Slipping his hands up under your skirt he squeezes your thighs, fingers dimpling the soft flesh. "Keep doing that..."

It's hard to reconcile the image of the cold and calculating killer with the man who so readily leans into your touch as if it's the most natural thing in the world. It's something you try not to think about too hard and you're not really sure what that says about you, but it probably isn't good.

He's all easy smile and loose limbs as you reach up to lightly scratch your nails across his scalp, not caring that it makes his hair point in at least seventy-five different directions. Moments like these are what makes you dread what will happen once he gets tired of you like you know he eventually will, and thinking about it makes something ugly twist in your chest. He probably won't even notice it when he crushes your heart in his hands like it's a small bug, but you keep offering it up anyway, so hopelessly drawn to him and the mask he wears in equal measure. It reminds you of how you always wanted a pet tiger as a child, something vicious to everyone else that would still let you cuddle it at night. It's ridiculous of course, because this isn't a cartoon or fairytale. He's not a pet and he's not yours, not really.

You admire the bruises slowly blooming in your wake. It's a shame they'll go away so quickly but that does seem to fit the pattern of your life lately, everything you want slipping between your fingers like smoke. Giving his hair a gentle tug you half expect him to fight you, so it's a nice surprise when he simply gives in and tips his head back. Even when he's just humouring you, the vulnerability of the gesture still pleases some base and altogether animal part of your brain.

"You always this bossy when you're pissed off?"

"'m not pissed off," you mumble in between littering his neck with little nips and kisses, "but do you really have to tease me all the damn time?"

"Funny, I thought you liked being teased." His voice turns breathy and a bit higher pitched in what is obviously an imitation of you. "Please touch me," he whines, "oh please, I need you, I'll do anything, just please let me come..." Hearing those words out of his mouth like that sends a rush of heat through you and you're not quite sure whether to be mortified, turned on or a bit of both.

"You're such a fucking dick, you know that?" Sneaking your free hand under the hem of his t-shirt you pinch the soft skin of his side hard enough to make him jump and let out an involuntary huff of laughter.

"Stop that," grabbing your wrist he pulls your hand up, trapping it against his chest. Letting go of his hair you go to do it again with your other hand, just to end up with both hands splayed against his chest as he grips you tight. Even if you were upset for real it'd be hard to stay that way when he's like this, relaxed and smiling and enjoying getting under your skin perhaps a little too much. For a moment you waffle between wanting to throttle him or kiss him, but end up settling on the latter.

The kiss is a bit clumsier than usual but no less sweet for it, and as he finally loosens his grip you waste no time putting your hands right back under his shirt. Gliding your fingertips across the familiar planes of his chest you toy with the thought of having him like this, right here on the couch. You're certainly dressed for it, all you'd need to do is get his fly open and pull your panties to the side. It's incredibly tempting, knowing that he could be inside of you in just a few seconds. As he grabs your hips and rubs up against you, your already fragile sense of self-control starts to crumble. You can feel him through the denim, lovely and hard and all for you. It'd be so easy, and it takes almost every ounce of willpower to pull away.

"Bed?" Between his roaming hands and eager mouth it's getting hard to think, let alone talk. "Don't want to fuck you on this stupid couch."

"Does it feel like I'd mind?" He just tangles a hand in your hair, pressing up against you again. You groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"No, but I do." It's less about the couch itself and more about not wanting to rush. Any other night it'd be fine but right now you just want to pretend, even if it's just for a little while.

Actually making it to the bed is not as easy or as quick as it should have been, but it's hardly your fault. With the way he keeps crowding you against every available surface, tugging at your clothes and mouthing at every inch of exposed skin, it's impressive that you make it at all. It's a graceless stumble every step of the way, and when the back of his legs hit the edge of the mattress all it takes is a small push to have him on his back. He moves to sit back up nearly straight away, but you put a hand on his chest.

"Stay."

"See?" He leans back on his elbows with a lazy grin and watches as you undress. "Bossy." It doesn't take long but you try to make a bit of a show anyway, feeling the weight of his gaze on you the entire time.

"You like?" The time spent agonizing over the choice of underwear doesn't seem to have been wasted, and you let him get a good look before undoing the clasp of the bra, letting it fall to the floor.

"You could say that." He watches as you slowly slide the panties off, inch by inch until the lacy garment hits the floor, leaving you bare. Seeing his knees open a fraction wider and his breath growing heavy at the sight of you is certainly an ego boost, one you've sorely needed. "Fuck, doll..." he breathes, hands clenching on top of the covers. "Do you have any idea how badly I want to taste you right now?"

"Yeah?" You step closer, putting one leg on either side of his knee. "C'mere, then." He gets close enough that his breath wafts over you before you rake your fingers through his hair again and pulls his head back, tutting. "Not like that." Rather than shake your hand off he watches with rapt attention as you slip a finger between your soaked folds. Usually you wouldn't push him around like this but between the lust and the alcohol he's pliable enough to let you, even if it's only in such a small way. He could turn away as you tap his mouth with a slicked-up finger, but he doesn't. "Open."

He's so pretty like this, looking up at you with naked want in his eyes as he lets you slip the tip of your finger between his lips. Chances are he'll get you back in some petty way later, but then again he might not, and right now you can't quite bring yourself to care about which one it's going to be. As you let him go he leans in to put his mouth on you, but rather than let him you put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"You don't want it?" He frowns, skimming his hands over your thighs.

"And give you more to tease me with? I'll pass. Besides," you sigh, hooking your fingers in the neckline of his shirt, "I have plans." Maybe 'plans' is overstating it, but it'd be nice to just once be somewhat in control rather than him fucking you incoherent just to turn around and tease you about it afterwards.

"Do you, now?" As he pulls you down for a kiss, you can taste yourself on his lips. From there it's something that's only half a fall as he scoots backwards on the bed, dragging you down with him. Rather than let him get on top, you scramble to get back on his lap and in the end you manage to be just a bit quicker.

"Just be nice," you giggle, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt. It'd be quicker if he did it himself but he lets you pull it off, helping you along when you fumble. Even though you know very well what this is, the casual intimacy of it still gets to you. The way it makes his hair more mussed than usual has your heart softening in your chest until it feels like it could stick to your ribs like taffy, and the alcohol only carries a small part of the blame for that. Then his hands are on your waist, holding you still as he bends down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. As he swirls his tongue over the sensitive nub you can feel your core reflexively tighten, clenching around nothing. It's a sweet kind of torture and as you slide a hand around the back of his neck, you're not sure if you're trying to push him away or pull him closer. "I said be nice," you gasp, giving his hair a little tug. He hums and drags his teeth on the way as he reluctantly lets go.

"You saying this isn't?" He presses a sloppy open-mouthed kiss to the tip of your other breast, not giving you a chance to respond before closing his lips around it and for a minute you simply rock in his lap, savouring the delicious little shivers running through you. It makes you ache and despite trying to hold it back, a small mewl manages to slip out as you go to push him away. You had hoped to hold out at least a little bit longer but your hands move almost of their own volition, reaching for his fly and popping the button open. As much as you enjoy the tight jeans in theory, being the one trying to get them off is nowhere near as fun. Thankfully he doesn't let you struggle for too long, actually co-operating for once as he kicks them off, pulling the socks off too while he's at it.

It appears you're not the only one to put some extra thought into the choice of underwear because the black boxers encasing his hard cock is a step up from the usual. It might be a small thing in the grand scheme of things, but you appreciate the effort all the same. He throbs under your hands as you cup him through the thin fabric and for a few drawn-out seconds, you're the one desperate for a taste. Pulling the boxers down has his cock springing free, hitting his belly with a soft fleshy sound, and as you wrap your hand around the base of it his breath grows heavier in anticipation. When you can't deny yourself completely and dip down to swirl your tongue over the swollen head it makes his hips buck, and the shaky little moan you draw from him goes straight to your core.

Straddling him again and capturing his lips in a kiss has him swearing softly under his breath. With no barriers left it's difficult not to give in right away, especially when he's sliding so deliciously between your folds, groaning into your mouth when he narrowly misses your opening. All it takes is a soft push to have him on his back and spread out underneath you like a work of art, letting you see every expression as you grind down on him, making his tip rub over your clit. Even as he grabs your hips with a frustrated noise and angles his hips to try and slip inside you keep doing it, rubbing against him over and over until you're both soaked in your shared juices.

Finally taking pity on him, or perhaps both of you, just a slight change of angle has him pressing at your entrance. Easing down on him torturously slowly makes his fingers dig into your hips, and apparently yours isn't the only patience starting to wear thin because he keeps trying to impatiently thrust up into you. Holding yourself above him on trembling thighs, you splay your hands over his chest, gently holding him down.

"Don't move, just let me," you bite your lip, slowly sinking down inch by inch until he's buried inside of you up to the hilt. After holding off for so long, having him pressed so deeply into you makes your walls flutter weakly and you have to force yourself to be still for a few seconds. When you leisurely roll your hips he moans, but other than tensing up as you move he stays still, or close to it. For once he's letting you take what you want without having to beg for it, and it feels so good. Hands gliding up to cradle your breasts he lets out a long shaky exhale, brows furrowing as he glances at where you're joined.

"You should fucking see yourself right now..."

Maybe it's the wine and maybe you're reading too much into it, but the way he says it has your heart skipping a beat anyway, the yearning rising into your mouth and throat an almost tangible thing. He's filling you up so perfectly and as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, his name tumbles from your lips in a whimper.

"B-Blaine..." The slow build of pleasure is so delicious and it makes you want to savour it as much as possible but trying to keep the pace gentle proves difficult, even more so as he sneaks a hand down to let you grind against the pad of his thumb. "I... oh, you feel so good." You do your best to drink it all in, every moan and gasp falling from his lovely mouth, every expression on his face as he lets you use him like this. Every detail to be filed away and kept close, because you want to remember this. "You're so...fuck, you're being so good to me..."

It's the sweetest kind of ache and it just keeps building and building until you almost can't stand it, so tense and ready that you're almost pushing him out. How the fuck are you supposed to ever want anything else when the way he's looking at you right now makes it hard to breathe?

"That's it, that's my sweet girl," His voice is so soft as he talks you right up to that razor's edge, still barely moving. "You can come, go on..." It almost feels mean, because he never talks to you quite like that. That tiny grain of doubt chafes at you just enough to keep you from tipping over, but only barely. It hurts, enough to make your chest heave in a quiet sob and a few tears sting the corners of your eyes. Through it all he's still talking, all gentle encouragement, and the worst part is that it works, keeping you right there on the cusp.

"I want, I need..." You're not going to beg, you're not. A few tears spill over as you dig your nails into his chest, panting. In the end, you don't need to beg. He just spreads his legs a bit wider and uses what little leverage he has to thrust up into you again, slow and gentle and deep, exactly how you need it right now. When you finally come it's like a tide pulling you under and you sag as it washes through you, nearly collapsing. The waves of pleasure have you convulsing around his cock until you're almost dizzy with it and for a second you think that you might start really crying, it's so overwhelming. As it starts ebbing away you bury your face in the crook of his neck, boneless and wobbly as you pull his scent deep into your lungs. It feels as if your brain has been stuffed with cotton wool and it takes you a few seconds to even notice how he's throbbing inside of you, still hard.

"Sorry," you kiss his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed. "'m sorry..."

"Don't be." A quick roll has your positions flipped, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he grins at you. "Not done with you." You're too spent to really argue as he gets up on his knees, pulling you with him. Then his hands are at the back of your thighs, pressing down and spreading you open until you're almost folded in half like a piece of flesh-and-blood origami. Everything is almost too sensitive and as he gives a few experimental thrusts the tip of his cock drives right into your sweet spot, drawing a garbled noise from you. He wastes no time in abusing the angle mercilessly and thoroughly until he's got you keening underneath him, drooling helplessly into the sheets.

"I'm, I''ll," gasping, you fumble for words that feels as if they're actively fighting against you. Everything just feels so much. "I'll make a mess," you finally sob, too overstimulated to do anything but go limp and take whatever he gives you.

"Good," he moans, voice low and rough and positively filthy as he hungrily watches his cock slide in and out of you, "Really fucking want you to." Before you can even respond he's rubbing at you again, every stroke of his fingers bringing you closer and closer until your entire body feels like a spring that has been coiled too tight, right on the edge of snapping. It's humiliating how he can tear you apart so utterly.

"I want it," the words slip from your mouth in a desperate, drawn-out little whine, utterly pathetic. Then he's slowing down, and you think you might actually start crying.

"Yeah?" He has the audacity to laugh at you, breathless and lovely and utterly infuriating. "Ask nicely, then." He drives into you, watching your face as you absorb the words. "Just say 'please'." Whatever tiny shred of dignity you have shrivels up and dies, because it's just too much.

"Please," the word slips out so quickly and so easily that you're nearly ashamed, but it doesn't matter, nothing does. The only thing you can think about right now is how he feels inside of you, so close to giving you what you need. "Please, oh please..." It's wavering and drawn out and probably makes you sound like a broken record but apparently it's good enough because he's moving again, rubbing into that one spot until your entire body feels as if it's filled with static, buzzing and needy. You can feel him throb inside of you and it has the fuzzy thought floating through your mind that if he comes now and leaves you hanging, you're definitely going to cry. The way he's got you pinned down and spread out means that he can see every twitch as you fall apart around him and somehow, that's the thing that really pushes you beyond the point of no return. You want him to see what he's doing to you.

This isn't like the first time, this is sharp and urgent, almost painful in its intensity. As the first little spasm hits and you gush around his cock, the noise bubbling up through your throat isn't quite a scream. Through it all you're dimly aware of him hushing you, fingers digging into your legs as he fucks you through it. As you start to come down from your high he's still going, but he can't be that far behind. It makes you ache to touch, to pull him close, but your own legs are in the way and he's keeping you pinned down. Not that being able to watch is a bad thing because he looks a gorgeous mess like this, jaw slack and brows knit together in concentration as he loses himself in you. When his release hits it bends his body like a bow until he's hunched over you, gasping and tense and pushing into you as far as he can go.

He's trembling as you wrap your arms around him, not caring about the thin sheen of sweat making you stick together. Somehow it feels like overstepping to hold him this close but you run your fingers through the wild halo of his hair anyway, letting him be the one to pull away first. It takes longer than you expect it to, long enough for him to go soft inside you and his come to start seeping out, but you don't mind. Pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder, you can't quite hold back a giggle.

"My legs are killing me." He's already nearly slipping out but it still feels like a loss when he rolls away, perhaps because you know he's going to leave. He always does. Stretched out next to you and still a bit out of breath, he looks nearly as spent as you feel as he heaves a deep sigh. For a long time he doesn't say anything and then, there it is.

"I should go."

"Not yet." It's not 'no' and you're not asking him to stay, so it's fine. Rather than respond he sighs again and closes his eyes.

So he lingers, after. Lets you rest pressed close, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest, gently tracing the contours of his face. He looks softer in the early morning light, dozing in the afterglow. As you run a finger over the fine lines around his eyes his lids flutter, eyelashes tickling your fingertips.

"What're you doing?" He hums, scrunching his nose at you.

"Nothing." Touch feather-light, you trace the thin line of his mouth, pausing to press a quick kiss to the scar by his bottom lip. Everything about this moment feels indulgent and almost selfish but until he tells you to stop, you're going to let yourself have this one small thing.

"Doesn't feel like nothing." His breath puffs against your fingers and he's still not looking at you, which somehow makes it easier.

"Just...thinking."

"About?"

Voice thick in your throat, you hesitate, and then-

"That if you're not careful, you're going to make me fall in love with you." It's flippant and a bit rushed, as if that makes it less terrifying to say. The seconds tick by unbearably slowly and then he frowns. It has your heart sinking in your chest, but it's not like you expected anything. Turning over you're glad that he's not looking, because that would definitely make it worse. Any minute, the mattress is going to dip and he's going to get up and leave. As you feel him shift behind your back you try to steel yourself, as if that's going to help. Then his arm slips around your waist, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

"You should go to sleep."

After the initial disbelief dissipates you have to fight the impulse to try and weave your fingers together like you're in some sappy romance novel. Instead, you gently wrap a hand around his forearm, ruffling the fine hairs with your fingers.

"Okay."

And for once, he stays.

#izombie #blaine debeers #blaine debeers x reader #x reader #my fic tag

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