#odd eye circle soft hours

[okayeojin]

loona reaction to dating a trans guy

💌 :: fluff :: [trans male reader]

a/n: i was on the fence about writing this... it makes me so teary knowing that someone trusts me so much and would feel comforted by me writing this for them. i was just afraid i wouldn't do a good job at it and failed to accurately represent the trans community. i have no doubt that all the loona girls would support you all regardless of your sexuality and gender identity, so there's that. anywho, enjoy <3

♡ :: heejin 희진

she has the muscles needed to take care of anyone disrespecting and misgendering you

overall very protective to the point that you would have to tell her to... not exaggerate lmao

loves every inch of you with all her might that she just can't stand the thought of people treating you poorly

would kiss every little part of your body all day

she would beat the shit out of your gender dysphoria or body dysmorphia or whatever it is that's hurting you

what she wants the most is for you to be happy and feel loved and appreciated, regardless of anything

♡ :: hyunjin 현진

if someone ever makes you feel uncomfortable in public omg

she's wrapping an arm around your shoulders like "who's bothering you?"

similar to heejin she's your biggest protector, she doesn't want you to face any sort of injustice or unfair treatment

if you came out to her after you started dating she'd be like "cool. so whatchu want for dinner"

like... she's so proud of you for finding the courage to come out and all and she'd be with you every step of the way but her feelings for you would remain untouched

♡ :: haseul 하슬

so respectful of every single need you have

would want to know more and more about your feelings, your experience, your journey...

that if you were willing to open up to her of course, she would never force anything out of you

she wanted to be a part of your life so bad and wished you knew you could trust her, always

tears up if you decide to tell her everything that was on your mind and what you had gone through, etc

would keep supporting you until the very end (':

♡ :: yeojin 여진

she would simply... not know how to behave

she would be unexperienced with dating in general i think, so she would be conscious of every little thing around you

what to say and what not to say, how to help, what to do...

you would have to guide her through everything

and remind her that you love and trust her a whole lot and that she didn't have to worry so much

she does it all because she loves you so much and wants you to be comfortable around her ):

♡ :: vivi 비비

as soon as you came out to her, she would start being careful about everything she says

which would lowkey make you feel guilty and you'd beg her to not treat you differently

she would be so distraught and would keep apologizing help

her love for you wouldn't change nor be affected in the slightest

would want to know your whole story so that she could feel even closer to you and make sure you knew you could rely on her

gets used to it quickly <3

♡ :: kim lip 킴립

she... wouldn't mind i think?

of course it would be a big change for her too, but you could walk through it together

she would adjust to the new situation soon, and would even suggest you to go shopping together or something

tries so hard to not fail at using your new pronouns and hates herself whenever she thinks she has offended you somehow

please reassure her 💀

she's a big baby and would constantly repeat how much she loves you

♡ :: jinsoul 진솔

if you came out to her after you started dating, i think she would need a second or two to process the whole thing

not because her feelings for you would change or anything, because she feels so strongly about you

but she would want to properly educate herself

both on the internet and by having a long heartfelt conversation with you

by the end of it you two would feel that much closer and ready to initiate this new chapter of your life together

♡ :: choerry 최리

couldn't care less

she's just a jar full of love, literally nothing would change about the way she feels about you or the way she treats you

would also never inquire any further about your transition journey or ask you anything more than you'd feel comfortable telling her

but she's always ready and willing to listen whenever you wanted to confess something to her or vent or let out some frustrations

she's such a good listener and she's so safe to be around

♡ :: yves 이브

mmh i hate assuming someone's sexuality but yves is the one i see being slightly more attracted to girls

but you're you! and she would love you no matter the path you decided to choose in life, and if that path meant living your life as your true self, then she'd be your biggest fan

again, she'd have to adjust to it and have a long long emotional convo with you

she really wanted to do things right

she would walk with you along the whole process, through bad and good things , together

♡ :: chuu 츄

would be unbelievably proud of you for finding the courage to be who you wanted to be, and would ramble about throwing a party or celebrating, etc

and you'd be like "but doesn't it bother you?" and she'd be "why would it, are u crazy"

goes to the store for you, buys you what you need, reminds you of your medical appointments...

remind you how awesome and worthy of love you are literally every time she sees you

so supportive and helpful always, she's be such a huge help to your physical and mental health <3

♡ :: gowon 고원

i think she would also need a while to process it

but then would feel guilty because you are the one facing the most issues, like... dysphoria and mental health and... she wants to help you as much as possible

would probably spend days on the internet and consulting the older members for help

then she would settle for asking you directly, reassuring you that she still loves you to the moon and back

but she wants to know from you if things are going to change and what she can do to be of any help to you <3

she's so emotional that you trusted her like that

♡ :: olivia hye 올리비아혜

no big deal at all, she would be super chill about it lol

she would slip up every once in a while, hating herself for misgendering you or something but it'd be done with no harm intended of course, maybe while she was half asleep

it would only occur if your transition had begun recently, otherwise she'd be well adapted after not too long

also i have this image of her going to the store for you to buy hygiene products in case you didn't feel like going, idk

masterlist˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

[saturnsorbits]

Thirst Trap: Caught Desperate

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Smut, Prone Bone, Spanking, Pictures - Consensual. Word Count: 4k.

Summary: Read the Intro -> Here.

A/N: Idek what the fuck this is. I've genuinely forgotten how to write - smut especially apparently.

-> Part of the 'Thirst Trap' Collab.

Make sure to check out the other incredibly talented authors through the link above and don’t forget to leave a nice comment and reblog if you liked their work!

The first thing he feels is panic.

His phone won't stop. It vibrates against his palm, stirring up a numbness that radiates through his callouses as the screen flickers. The near constant updates create a blur he can't follow, the dull flashes summoning a sharp edge to the headache that has already started to press at the sides of his skull.

Fuck. He sighs, digs a knuckle into the corner of his eye and brackets his hand across his forehead. His PR team might actually murder him for this one.

Prodding at his screen, he manages to slow the endless roll of his feed. The replies are positive, mostly. His fanbase isn't exactly small and, according to the last PR meeting he was forced to attend, they were also predominately women. Although, looking at his phone now, he'd say the divide was probably about 50:50.

Curiosity getting the best of him, he scrolls...

The first few replies he sees are simple enough: suggestive emoji's, notes of amusement, the odd heckle about the size of his cock. Then, there are the more fun ones: the ones calling him a slut, asking to give him more than just head or being up front with their solicitations.

Huffing out a breath, he unfurls, spreading out on the bed and stretching an arm up behind his head. His pants are still unbuckled and pulled to the broadest point of his hips, a casualty of his drunken state. Underneath, his cock presses against the denim – twitching with every mention of the things his fans plead to do to him.

He shouldn't.

He knows its wrong.

Knows that he shouldn't indulge himself.

He shouldn't be thinking about fucking his fist to the thought of an anonymous stranger drooling down his balls, his cock bulging from their cheek, holes stretched out around him as he rolls his hips searching for the thing inside of them that'll make them scream.

His hand cups his pec, broad palm circling gently until he can catch his nipple with each slow pass. It's surprising how quickly his cock catches on. He can feel it leaking, soaking through patches of his underwear as it begs to be released. Letting his hand slip down his body, he feels the tension shake in his abdomen. He's wound tight, muscles shivering even under his own touch as he sinks his hand into his jeans and finally, squeezes his cotton-clothed cock.

He should stop.

Fuck, he should just delete the tweet and get a glass of water.

… And maybe a cold shower.

Licking over his teeth, he's reluctant when he slips his hand back out of his jeans and slams it, somewhat sticky, against his sheets. His cock protests, throbbing with the new lack of friction after being granted so little. It makes it hard to focus, the rolling pit in his stomach, the pulsing of his body – even without his alcohol impairing his judgement, his desire pleads a strong case for him to simply submit.

Bakugo swallows and moves to swipe away from the possibly career-changing tweet on his screen, but the feed is faster than he is.

It isn't the message that catches his eye, not at first anyway. No. It's the username. Your username.

He clenches his jaw.

Immediately, you fill his senses. It had barely been a few hours since you'd had your arms wrapped around his neck, your bodies pressed together as you swayed on the dance floor. If he tried, he swears he'd still be able to feel the soft skin of your thigh grazing against his fingertips as his hand had found its way under the edge of your dress. Your perfume had been intoxicating. A subtle mix of vanilla bean, sandalwood and your sweat had drifted from your collarbones and infested his senses, luring him right to the edge of what he'd known would get him into a whole heap of shit.

That was before he'd made that fucking post, of course.

Now, he was starting to wonder if taking you home would have been the right move all along.

His promises be damned.

Chewing at his lip, he lifts his thumb, revealing the message attached to your name. 'Thought you said you weren't that desperate, huh.' His stomach lurches.

The memories come quick then, fighting through the fog of too many whiskey's and regret.

He'd meant it as a joke, he really had, something to give him some pace, to make you think twice, think of the consequences – but he's never been good at managing his tone and at almost midnight even his belligerence had felt semi-formal. You'd been too close, too pretty, with the promise of a night he wouldn't be able to forget laced between your teeth and he'd... Well, he'd done what he does best.

He'd pushed you away.

Your eyes shine in the dull lights outside of the club, the yellowing tinge spilling from the surrounding lamps doing nothing to diminish how stunning you look. The alcohol has blown out your eyes, swallowing your iris' almost whole – although, he'd like to think he had a hand in how truly taken you look right now. His hand is on your waist, equal amounts keeping you close and at bay as you bat your eyelashes prettily at him and pout.

'C'mon...' You press close, hand searching the expanse of his chest. His heart thunders underneath, picking up whenever you near his pecs, so you slip a had over his shoulder and use his height to ease yourself up onto your tip-toes. 'You've practically had your hand up my skirt all night, what's stopping you now?' You chuckle, clicking your tongue against your back teeth.

Bakugo's snarl twists his features before he can stop it. He can feel the barb, feel the world curl on the back of his tongue before he can do anything to stop it. It tumbles from his mouth, but even despite his attempt to spit it out softly – hoping it won't hurt too much, your nose wrinkles.

'You really think I'm that desperate?'

It's like you've been slapped.

Your hands tense on his shoulders, feet falling back flat to the floor. Part of you knows he's just trying to get a rise out of you, but you're beyond sick of the back and forth. It's been months of this, of you getting close enough to taste him only for him to retreat at the last moment, usually with a snarled comment he doesn't mean, or some silly excuse to protect that softly-beating heart everyone swears he doesn't have. Sighing, you step back – the tap of your heels like gunshots on the pavement as you raise your bag from the crook of your arm and back onto your shoulder. 'Obviously not.'

Your distance reads like rejection, burns a hole in his pride and makes him prickle. He shakes his head and slips his phone from his pocket intent on ordering his own taxi, despite the fact he can barely make out the squiggles he hopes are words. 'Fuckin' knew I shouldn't have let Red bring you-.'

After that the memories grow hazy.

He remembers how you'd somehow smoothed over the hiccup in the conversation, laughing it off in all probability, but even then, you'd never quite come as close to him as before. He remembers your laugh. Remembers how the melody of it had ricocheted around his brain in the taxi ride home. He remembers missing your warmth. He remembers the flash of guilt, his half-hard cock and drunken brain at war. He remembers his phone, the screen a pale blue, glowing. He remembers, he remembers his thumb hovering over your name.

He remembers chickening out...

Fuck.

Evidently, he hadn't chickened out hard enough.

Clicking onto your page, he checks your replies to make sure he hasn't hallucinated your response, but before he can even begin to obsess over it – his phone pings in his hand.

It's a message. A real one. Not something filtered in through his socials. With shaking hands, he opens it and pauses.

He has your number saved under your first name.

Just your first name.

Not 'Sidekick''. Not your full title. Or what department you work in. You don't even have a stupid moniker. For fucks sake, he's called Kirishima 'Shitty Hair' in every single phone he's had since high school, and Todoroki has remained solely Todoroki – even despite the fact, both him and his father share the title.

He doesn't dwell on the reasoning.

Instead, he opens the message and is immediately confronted with a screenshot of his tweet. He cringes. Your reply is underneath it, racking up too many likes for his taste, and underneath that is your text.

You: 'You really are fucking desperate, aren't you?'

He waits, palms sweating, watching as three little dot appear and disappear and then, reappear again.

You: 'Can't even reply to me?'

You: 'You could at least turn your read receipts off. I can see you reading the messages.'

You: 'For fucks sake, Bakugo?'

His pulse quickens, thrumming strong and rhythmic under his skin as if to remind him what it is to be near you. The joints in his fingers have frozen, despite the energy rushing through his body demanding movement. Through the haze of his vision he sees you typing again.

You: 'Can we stop doing this now?'

Yes. Bakugo thinks. God, yes. The room spins as he cranes his neck down at his phone, eyes unfocused... His heart and cock war on, but now, the alcohol makes it far too easy for the tide to sway. Flexing his thumbs, he taps back a message before he can think better of it, before the noise of his life and expectation and the world outside can eat away at him again.

Bakugo: 'Please.'

Your reply takes a second this time, forcing the air in his lungs to crystallize; but before he can drum up too many doubts, there's your name again lighting up his screen.

You: Is that the great Dynamight saying please?

Bakugo: Fuck off.

You: Fuck off, or fuck you?

Bakugo's cock twitches in his jeans. He's so hard it's almost painful now, causing an ache to spread up the deep lines of his hips and radiating through his pelvis. Reaching down, he palms at himself again feeling the heft of his desire in his palm. He types back, one handed, the other already occupied.

Bakugo: Don't play with me. You know he'll kill the both of us.

You: I never did get to give you your birthday present.

Furrowing his brow, Bakugo is taps out a series of question marks – unimpressed with the idea of birthday cake when he had come to expect something a whole lot different, but before the thought can fully depress him – another message comes through.

It's a screenshot. The one this entire conversation began with – his own message glowing from his screen. Except this time, underneath is a message that makes his breath catch in a whole new way.

You: 'This offer for everyone, or just everyone who isn't me?'

Bakugo: You.

Bakugo: It was just for you.

Bakugo stills, his breath jammed in the back of his throat as his brain catches up with his fingers.

Fuck.

He shouldn't be doing this.

He should of just had a wank to all of the filth being sent from his fans. Even that would get him in less trouble than this. Part of him wants to back out, wants to claim a hack or come up with some other equally unbelievable and shitty lie so he can turn tail and run, but there's no way back now. He knows that much. His cock is hard and heavy between his thighs, his drunken mind too far from sober for him to see reason.

He types back.

You don't bother changing. You'd dressed to impress after all. Instead, you snatch a condom from your brothers stash tuck it into your bra and order a taxi, checking the address Bakugo had sent you three times before finally confirming the ride.

The journey is short and sweet, filled with anticipation and the soft jazz that trickles through the radio of the car. You've been waiting for this, grown tired of the will they won't they that had lead to this moment, but now it's here, you find yourself: nervous.

The car mounts the curb, almost sending you sprawling, then a tenner and a lift ride later, you're at his door.

He opens it before you knock looking a little more together, but still drunk. You can feel it too, the alcohol still flooding your system and making everything just a little easier. Still, nothing is as easy as coming together. You mouth drops open, an unspoken question lingering on your tongue and then, Bakugo is on you.

'C'mere.' Using one hand, he hooks it around your waist and tugs at you to him. Your bodies collide, palms coming up to rest against his chest as you peer up at him. He doesn't know how he's resisted you for so long, how he's kept true and stopped this. After all, looking at you now cradled in his arms, it is obvious this was nothing, but inevitable.

Your lips come together easily. The kiss is harsh, full of pent up tension and a longing that has broken you both. He nips at your bottom lip before you flick your tongue against his teeth, tasting him properly as he lets you in.

'Holy shit.' Panting, you claw at him – your hands are everywhere: at his buttons, his chest, wrapped in the chain circling his neck. He pays you back in kind grabbing at your hips, taking handfuls of you with an eagerness that radiates through his entire body.

With an unceremonious grunt, he bends at the knees, slipping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up against his waist. He pulls back a slither, blinking at you, his shoulders straining at he takes your entire weight with ease and presses you into the wall of his hallway. A wicked grin takes his lips as you squeak, arms and legs wrapping around him to cling on. 'Hang on.'

He kisses you again then, pressed to the wall, but before you can catch you're breath he's off. You make a stop at a small counter where he presses his clothed cock to your cunt, letting you feel just what you're getting yourself into and again at the wall outside of his bedroom. There he almost leaves your neck raw, biting and sucking, but never enough to leave too much of a mark.

You stumble into his bedroom still cradled in Bakugo's arms. There's sure to be bruises on your elbows, a symptom of attempting to peel him from his shirt while he careened through the doorway, but as your back hitting the bed and Bakugo hovering over you, you find it hard to care. Reaching into your bra, you slip out the condom with two fingers and present it to him by waving it under his nose.

Taking it with his teeth, he grins as you let out a sigh that settles in his bones. Beneath him, you look insatiable. Your eyes have blown out, the black of your iris' banishing whatever colour had once been there. The dress he'd been so anxious to get under all night is rumpled, the slit cast aside exposing the thickness of your thighs and a slither of cunt covered by a pair of soft-looking red lace. The bodice is low, the heaving of your chest apparent – your tits held high, pressed together and begging for his hands. Slipping a hand up your thigh, he brushes his fingers across the flesh and earns himself the most pretty of moans.

'I knew you'd break.' Lifting your leg, you kick out at him softly – the ball of your heel connecting with his shoulder. You perch on your elbows, eyes swollen, the pulse of your cunt matching the beating of your heart. It's been rough until now, a clash of teeth and nails, but its hard not to notice the bare desire you see splayed out in his eyes. It's mixed with carmine, a colour that barely covers what, if nurtured, could become love. 'Knew I'd have you.'

He grabs your ankle and pulls on reflex, yanking you down the bed. 'Did you?' Under his skin he feels feral. Something that's only made worse when you lick your lips and nod.

His restraint snaps. Grabbing at your hips, he kneads the fat there before flipping you over. You bounce, a scream escaping your throat, but he quickly transforms the sound into a moan with a harsh slap against your ass.

'Thought you wanted head?' You laugh, feeling your skin prickle under him. There's a rustle behind you, the tell tale sound of him shucking down his jeans and then, his fingers are pulling your underwear away from your cunt and exposing you to the air.

'You always this much of a brat?'

You wriggle and lift up your hips. 'You always this hard for me? Oh wait...' You chuckle. 'You are.'

A growl rumbles in his throat, but it's not anger he's feeling. Taking his cock in his hand, he gives himself a cursory pass – the stickiness of his own pre cum making it easy. His head rocks back on his shoulders. With a bottle of whiskey still coursing through his vein's he's more than sensitive, the simple passes of his hand having him ready to blow – God only knows what the feel of your cunt will do to him.

'C'mon... Fuck me, forget the condom – just -.' Reaching behind you, you attempt to grab at him – to pull him close, get him to touch, to taste.

Chuckling to himself, he bats your hand away easily. 'Nah-ah-ah. Don't think you deserve me raw, sweetheart. Only good girls get that.' He squeezes the base of his cock, stopping a premature end as he tears through the tinfoil of the condom and slips it on.

You go to whine, to kick your feet and protest him not giving into you, but you're not even given the chance.

The first thing you feel is impossibly full. The next is overwhelming pleasure. Bakugo hadn't wasted time prepping you and to be honest, you hadn't needed it. You're soaking, cunt dribbling greedily onto his mattress – like you haven't been waiting forever for this moment. You arc your back, one hand fisting his bed sheets as the other curls around the wrist he plants beside your head. The pace he's set is brutal, each thrust pushing deeper inside of you, taking you as he pleases as you cling on and submit to it.

'Where's the cheek now, huh?' He pants. Honestly, he's surprised he's not cum already. Your cunt milks him, squeezing him so deliciously that he doesn't think he'll ever find anyone better.

Then again, he know what they say about forbidden fruit.

''m sorry.' You moan, back curling as he fucks you harder. It's pathetic how he's barely given you anything and yet, you're already creaming around him. Your body begs for release, teetering you on the precipice of ecstasy as he uses you relentlessly.

'No your not...' Bakugo chokes out, teeth bared as he clings to the last threads of his control. Your tight now, too tight to not be close and if the way you're moaning and almost drooling onto his bed is anything to go by – he's not wrong. Leaning over you, he licks a thick stripe up between your shoulder blades before resting his lips by your ear. When he speaks is a growl, a command that comes from deep within his chest. 'Touch yourself... C'mon, show me how pretty you cum.'

You don't need telling twice. Forcing your arm beneath you, you draw quick, awkward circles on your clit and have to remind yourself to breathe. Your orgasm hits you like a train. Every muscle in your body tenses, your eyes rolling back into your skull as the high continues to roll through your body. It feels like a millennia until you come back again, until your limbs begin to feel under your own control and you become aware of Bakugo still frantically prolonging your high.

'Shit, shit, shit...' Pulling out, he ignores your protests before quickly rolling off the condom. It takes a singular pass of his fist before he cums, a grunt thrown from his chest as he releases himself over your ass. His mess is sticky, a pearlescent sheen that drips between your cheeks and onto your raw cunt – your clit still twitching.

In a moment of madness, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of the scene. In it, only the edge of your dress can be seen, coupled with the most distant droplets of his spend as it decorates the skin of your thighs.

'Post it.' Craning over your shoulder, you hiss at the new soreness in your limbs as you roll onto your back. You tilt your head, signature mischief returning to your cheeks. 'Got to let those fan girls know you've already being taken care of...' You flash a smile. 'And I'd really hate to see your DM's right now.'

Against his better judgement, he tosses you his phone. 'Knock yourself out.'

It's almost six in the morning when you finally settle for bed. You'd gone another three rounds. Once in shower, over the vanity in the hallway and then, again in his bed and each time had seen both of you aching and sore and more than pleased with yourselves. You'd posted the picture and Bakugo's phone hadn't been quiet since – not that you minded. It wasn't like anyone could really tell what it was. The lighting was awful, the image blurred and you'd cropped it so there was no chance of anyone figuring out who you were.

Still, the idea of it stirs up something hot and heavy in your stomach.

You'd laid your claim now.

'I will never know how you're such a demon when you're brother's a God damn golden boy.' Bakugo's breathing has just about leveled out, you hand rising and falling in a more subtle rhythm where it lays on the center of his chest.

You wrinkle your nose. 'Can we not talk about my brother while I can still feel your cum dripping down my ass, please.'

Bakugo chufs, but relents. His thumb rubs soft circles in the skin of your shoulder, a gentle beckoning to sleep as both of you watch the sun rise and fill his bedroom window with a brilliant orange. 'Stay?' He kisses your forehead. 'I'll make you breakfast.'

Nuzzling into him, you're about to agree – mind already reeling at the possibilities of Bakugo's cooking and another round at a more respectable hour – but, all thoughts cease when Bakugo's phone pings with a message.

'If this is my fucking publicist you can explain yourself.' Bakugo tuts, but there's still a warmth in his smile that betrays his annoyance.

You giggle. 'Happy to.'

Flipping over his phone in his hand, Bakugo's mouth drops open when the screen glows to light his face.

There's only one message on the screen.

And it isn't from his publicist.

Shitty Hair: 'Really dude, my fucking sister?'

[pseudowho]

The Rebounds

When your boyfriend dumps you, Maki and Yuuta know exactly how to cheer you up.

I don't normally write "aged up" fics but...here we go.

Warnings: 18+, soft!Dom Yuuta and less-soft!Dom Maki (bit of a drill sergeant really), lingerie, sex toys, threesome, double-penetration, alcohol use

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"You're...breaking up with me? After everything I've done for you-- don't you dare hang up-- bastard!"

You flung your phone across the sofa, burying your face in your hands, barely suppressing a tearful, infuriated scream. He was shit, but he was yours, and he had the audacity to toss you out like yesterday's newspaper--

A knock on your door. Not caring who it was, you snapped, shouting.

"Fuck off! I'm not home."

"Hey! Lose the attitude." Your door swept open with a bang, rattling against the wall. Maki stepped in without apology, dropping a bagged Cursed weapon on your doorstep, "You're the one who asked me to bring this--...what's up with you? Are you crying?"

Yuuta peered in behind Maki, dark hangdog eyes spotting you, concerned; "Crying? Hey, what's happened?" Yuuta nudged past Maki, stepping over to you, and grasping your shoulders, soft calloused hands surprisingly strong against your skin.

Arms around your knees, you hid your face, ashamed for being such a blotchy mess; "He dumped me. Just...called me up, and dumped me. Like I'm trash."

Yuuta's face crumpled for you, the briefest flash of anger, overlaid with sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak, Maki interrupting.

"Finally. That piece of shit was never worth yo--"

"Maki," chided Yuuta, still stroking your shoulders, gripping and possessive. Maki tsked, arms folded, turning aside, hovering between you and the door.

"...you shouldn't waste your time worrying about that guy," Maki offered, voice tight but softer now. She was silent for a moment, and Yuuta looked to her, silent agreement passing between them.

"She's right," offered Yuuta, bright, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, cupping your tearstained face. Yuuta looked to Maki again, a glint of something odd in his eyes. Maki nodded, barely perceptible.

"...in fact, you should come with us. We're going out! Dinner, drinks...we'll show you a good time instead, yeah?"

You prickled with shame again, eyes squeezing shut as Yuuta shushed you, pulling you to your feet, pushing you to Maki who began to bustle you to your bedroom while you argued weakly; "--...no, guys, I-- I'm not third wheeling, I don't need you to take me with you out of pity-- I'm interrupting--"

They spoke over you, Yuuta still holding you by the shoulders from behind while Maki perused your wardrobe.

"--'third wheeling', psh--"

"How could we ever pity our lovely friend--'

"--not interrupting anything, what do you think this is, huh--"

"Just some drinks, some dinner, maybe a bit of shopping..."

Maki held up a little red dress, looking to Yuuta; Yuuta nodded. Maki flicked her hand at Yuuta, banishing him from the room, before stepping to you, brandishing the dress.

"Get changed," she ordered, "or I'll do it for you."

You pouted, grumbling, beginning to strip while Maki rummaged for shoes. She pulled out some trainers, comparing them to your dress. Her eyes narrowed at you, half dressed, turning aside again and holding the shoes out to you.

"These. You'll look...cute." You scoffed, brushing your hair, making yourself presentable.

When you stepped out, Yuuta looked you up and down approvingly, catching Maki's eye again with that same unreadable glint; "His loss! You're our pretty girl for today then, huh?" You blushed, churlish that their attempts to cheer you up were working.

And treat you well they did, knowing you as only old friends do. Within a few hours, you found yourself smiling again, laughing alongside them as you ate, all of you handsy and affectionate; Maki, feeding you as Yuuta took photos of you both, eyes soft and full of love; Yuuta, reaching over to whirl little circles on your inner wrist; both of them, leaning in close, pressing against you as you broke down, sobbing quietly into your soju.

You hiccuped, the floral alcohol cut with your salty tears; "I just...I just don't understand why...why I'm not good enough..." you gulped, knocking back another shot.

"You're beautiful," Maki snipped, bluntly refilling all of your glasses, "and he couldn't see that." She slipped an arm round you from behind, her fine slim fingers coiling over your hip, stroking you.

"But we can," Yuuta cooed, "and we'll treat you like you deserve to be treated...because you are beautiful." His fingers continued to draw soft circles on your palm, your inner wrist, heading up your soft sensitive forearm. You shivered, the alcohol making your nerves electric, receptive. Yuuta smiled at your shiver, face leaned on one palm, eyes dark as they trailed, intoxicated, down your body. He sighed.

"I don't think she believes us, you know," he said to Maki. Maki huffed, her fingertips kneading at your hip as she tugged you closer. She took another shot, refilling her glass and pressing it to your lips.

"Open up," she commanded, smirking as you swallowed, some of the sweet wine dripping down your neck and breasts in your haste. You felt Maki's breath catch as her eyes followed the droplet.

"You're all sticky," Maki chastised, her finger grazing the drop away, pressing into your mouth so you could suck it off her finger, "...messy girl." Your skin burned, feeling like forbidden fruit beneath their touch. Yuuta watched you suck the soju off Maki's finger, the strange glimmer in his eyes growing deeper as his head dipped downwards, fringe flicking forward over his eyes.

"You're right," he hummed to Maki, whirling his glass, eyes still dipped and flinty as he took in Maki's arm around your waist; the way she pressed a kiss to your temple; how you slumped against her, supple and seeking warmth; how your fingers twitched as his drew hearts over your inner arm.

"She is messy," Yuuta continued, finishing the last of the soju, "we should...get her cleaned up, huh?" Maki smiled into your hair, humming, laughing as you trembled under her warm, botanical breath.

"Guys," you hummed, swoopy and warm with the drink, "you don't have to do this--"

"Have to?" Yuuta laughed, pulling you forwards by the forearm so you were nose to nose with him for a moment, close enough that his lips brushed against yours as he spoke, farqq enough to almost be an accident; "We don't have to...we want to. You deserve the best date. Right, Maki?"

Maki was already up, a smile at the corner of her mouth as she helped you to stand. You blushed, sputtering.

"--a date, I--guys--"

"Friends can go on dates," Maki insisted, her arm round your waist as Yuuta loped beside you, bopping his forehead to your shoulder, "but while we're here...there's something I'd like to get. Come on."

You were steered into a lingerie shop, suddenly surrounded by fragrant musk, silk, lace and erotica. You laughed as Yuuta gripped you by the waist, twirling you in the low lights. He smiled, pulling you into his deceptive softness, penetrating your defences. He dipped you back to some unheard tune, leaning down to bracket you, whispering;

"See anything you like?"

With his gaze fixed firmly on you, your eyes caressed the bras, chemises, the beautiful indulgent treasures. Yuuta saw your eyes linger on a set, and nosed your jaw;

"That one, huh? You're so pretty anyway, and that one would be..." Yuuta left the sentence unfinished, and you became acutely aware of his closeness, body flush to his lean strength, something so dangerously hypnotic about him. You felt undressed, already, in his arms.

Maki had reappeared, a subtle paper bag in her hands. She communicated wordlessly with Yuuta, again, following your gaze. Rifling through the rails, and casting an appraising eye over your body, Maki settled and headed to pay. Opening your mouth to argue again, your breath caught as Yuuta pulled you up from your dip, the drink and attention rushing to your head once more, feeling so loved, so wanted. Maki cast her eyes up and down you both, slow, predatory.

"Home?" So much unspoken promise, from just one word. Maki's eyes lapped at your body, enough to make you tremble. Yuuta and Maki held you between them. You could hardly remember the journey home, their touches edging you somewhere between uncertainty and euphoria. You accepted it without question, as you had always accepted their love.

Stepping into your apartment, Yuuta closed the door behind you. He stayed with his back to you, fingers tapping against the door handle. You had leaned, head tipped back against the wall, sighing, softly drunk, heartbeat between your legs. You tipped your head to look at Yuuta questioningly as he spoke, his voice quiet and measured.

"Hey, Maki...go and get set up, yeah? I don't...I don't think I can wait any longer," he finished weakly, laughter on his breath. Maki smirked, her burns like a bed of rose petals in the low light.

"Alright." Maki leaned in, pressing lingering kisses to your forehead, your nose, hovering just so above your lips. Her fingertips brushed your jaw, and she whispered; "Yuuta's gonna get you warmed up, okay baby?"

Maki walked away, taking your breath with her. Yuuta filled the gap, and you burned alive under their attentions, his hands pressed to the wall either side of you, trapping you in his gravity.

"What do you deserve, pretty girl?" He whispered, shaky with restraint. All the wrong answers tried to claw their way out of you; Yuuta's eyes beseeched you to choose better for yourself, his lips achingly close to yours. You bit, to Yuuta's satisfied smile, choosing better.

"Y-you," you stuttered, meltingly desperate, "I deserve you."

Yuuta responded with a kiss; his self-restraint snapped, and he overlaid your body with his against the wall, melding to you as his hands tangled into your hair and his mouth to yours. You could taste the soju on his tongue, and you moaned softly, opening your mouth to him. Yuuta responded in kind, tilting your head to the side, his palms cupping your face, lips wet and trembling.

You could feel the breaths caught in his chest as his tongue stroked against yours, fingernails scratching at your scalp, hot and needy. Yuuta shunted his knee forward between your thighs, pinning you against the wall, one hand dropping to your hip, brushing under the hem of your dress to yank you down, pussy flush against his wiry thigh.

Pulling back, panting, Yuuta squeezed your cheeks in one hand, forcing your lips into a pout. Gritting his teeth, growling softly through them, he gave your face a gentle affectionate shake; "You taste like peaches, cutie, I always knew you would."

You squirmed, rutting yourself on his thigh, eager for relief in your aching core. Still squeezing your cheeks, giving them one soft slap, Yuuta tipped your face so you looked down at his thigh, his cock straining against the material of his trousers.

"I'll be honest...we've been waiting for you to break up with him. Even better that he ditched you...should we send him some pictures? Huh?" Reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone, Yuuta turned your squished pouting face to the camera, and, pressing his lips hard to your puffy cheek, took a photo.

Yuuta groaned to feel you still humping him, desperate for friction. His hands dropped to your hips, rutting you against his thigh. He bit his lip, breathless, shaky as he tucked up your dress, watching your wet underwear barely covering your pussy, sliding against him. He laughed, soft, barely holding himself back from lifting you up and taking you against the wall.

"Oh baby," he teased, "not like this-- you deserve better--...and Maki's feeling left out, right?"

You jumped to hear Maki's voice to your right, head tipping as Yuuta lapped lazily at the fabric covering your nipples, spit seeping through, warm and wet; "I dunno...you two are putting on quite a show. Come to the bedroom. Date's not over yet." Yuuta moaned against your breasts, feeling their plush heave against his lips, his cock jumping against his thigh.

"Come on, peaches," he whispered, breath cooling your spit-wet breasts, "You've got a pretty outfit...it's Maki's turn with you...and I wanna watch."

Yuuta drew back from you, panting, gripping his cock through the light fabric of his trousers. If Maki hadn't stepped in, lifting you, wrapping your legs round her waist, your trembling knees would surely have given out. Nuzzling her nose against your mouth, stealing light kisses along the way, Maki chuckled, smirking; "You taste like Yuuta." You bit your lip, suddenly shy, nuzzling your face into Maki's neck as she laid you down softly onto your bed.

The room flickered with dulcet candlelight, smelling something fruity and familiar. Maki stood over you, taking a sip from a bottle as Yuuta crept in behind you, settling in an armchair beside the bed, still pawing at his aching cock.

"Wait-- Maki-- don't swallow...you should let her have a taste," Yuuta pressed, watching with hungry, hooded eyes as Maki hummed, smiling down at you. She leaned over you, one knee pressed between your thighs, one arm over your head, and pressed her pursed lips to yours. Kissing deeply and forming a seal, Maki slowly eked her tongue between your lips, drops of warm peach soju moving from her mouth to yours.

The body-warmed fumes rose up your nose, filling you with sweet botanical delight, bringing you back to the hazy drunk warmth you had felt during dinner, as Yuuta had stroked your arm so sweetly. Maki deepened the kiss, thrumming with excitement as she heard Yuuta unbuckle and unzip himself, letting his cock fall, hard and twitching, onto his belly.

Maki pulled your dress down your shoulders, trapping your arms for a moment, until they released, the red fabric sliding all the way down and pooling over your lap. Maki grasped your underwear with it, shooting Yuuta a wicked look; "Don't look-- she isn't dressed yet."

Yuuta laughed, one hand lazily pumping his cock, and he brought the other up over his eyes, still grinning. You couldn't take your eyes off him, stroking himself to Maki kissing peaches into you, masturbating to her rolling your clothes down off your body. Yuuta listened instead, his hearing piqued to the soft fabric rustle of your dress hitting the floor, and Maki lifting the dusty-rose chemise out of the bag.

"Taste like a peach...look like a peach," she pressed, brushing the chemise over your bare breasts, mouth watering at how your nipples pebbled and peaked under the sheer chiffon. Maki leaned into you again, ghosting her lips over yours; she caught your eyes, dragging your gaze over to Yuuta, biting her lip-- "If you think Yuuta's cock looks pretty now...wait until you're all dressed up."

"Maki!" Yuuta whined, his cock pre-cum-wet and twitching in his fist, his eyes still covered, "Stop. You'll make me blush." He paused, his hand and breath hesitant, "Is she...is she watching me?"

Maki grinned, wicked; "mmmmmhm." Yuuta groaned, long and anguished, squeezing the base of his cock again to stop himself from spilling over his lap, squeezing the hand over his eyes. Maki only laughed, standing back, pacing like an animal as you slipped into the pink chemise, split at the front, lighter than blossoms.

"Oh, Yuuta...you should see her," Maki praised, and you blushed, feeling so much more desirable under the gaze of a beautiful woman over a man, "she really is lovely." Yuuta had slowly dropped his hand from his eyes, hand cupping his cockhead with a shiver as he drank you in, supple and glassy-eyed beneath Maki, who rolled two pink rubber buds between her fingers.

Taking another sip of her soju, leaning in to kiss you again, you felt Maki graze something over the barely-there fabric covering your nipples. Suddenly so thirsty, lifting your hands to tangle in her short hair, Maki moaned into you as you kissed harder, drinking from her, desperate for more. Finally, you spoke.

"Maki, I-- don't leave me like this, give me something," you whimpered, your clit throbbing and needy, knowing you needed the barest of touches to bring you to completion.

"Don't be a brat," Maki chastised, making you blush and bite your lip up at her, "Or can you not wait? Do you want me to stop? Yuuta, shall I stop?"

"No!" You cried, you and Yuuta simultaneous in your desperation, him edging his weeping cock so fervently, you thrumming with the need for release, the day's little touches and promises and drink, all rolling into the slowest orgasm you had ever had built.

Maki smirked, and abruptly clamped two rubbery clips over your nipples, pinched hard beneath rosy fabric. You squealed, and cried out, bucking as she switched them on, sharp vibrations shooting through your nipples, tugging like a fishing line, making your clit throb with need.

Maki watched you writhe, slowly stripping her own clothes, hesitating for a moment as her burns became bare in the candlelight. Yuuta felt her, shaking with closely controlled restraint as he looked at her and you, eyes sticky-sweet.

"--my two beautiful girls, huh?" He grinned, circling his cockhead with a wet thumb, "...how did I...ever get so lucky?" Maki blushed, biting her lip as she finished stripping, looking down at you, mewling and squirming, in awe. She knelt down over you, smiling, a long, vibrating dildo at her fingertips.

"Yeah...you're right. We struck gold." Maki watched you, captivated as you babbled, whimpering, begging, tears streaming down into your hair. Yuuta felt a drip of sweat run down his chest, unbuttoning himself, letting his top sit open, releasing his cock with clenched knuckles, eager not to spend himself until he could be inside you.

Maki squeezed lube onto your glistening pussy, making you jolt and shiver with the sudden cold, until Maki shushed you again, kissing you firmly; "Be patient...I'll warm it up." You and Yuuta moaned, both twisting in divine bliss as Maki slipped her slim fingers between your folds, finding your clit with the expert precision of another woman, circling it with two delicate fingers, alternating pressure, toying with you.

"Inside," Yuuta barked, authoritative in his desperation, huffing, his cock twitching against his belly, "--tell me-- tell me how she feels, Maki." Maki obliged, her fingers dipping lower, grazing over your entrance, covering you with cum-slick lube.

"...silky..." Maki described, to Yuuta's chipped groans, "...and..." Maki hit your knees with her own, spreading your thighs wide, baring you to her, and she plunged two fingers deep inside your fluttering cunt, gasping with delight, "...tight...like wet velvet."

Yuuta cursed under his breath, his head tipped back, hand clasped over his mouth as he began to pump his cock again, jerking himself back to the edge. Maki pumped her fingers into your sloppy pussy, bringing one thumb up to work on your clit.

You came embarrassingly fast, the accumulated touches throughout the course of the day too much, and you felt your arousal trickle out over Maki's fingers. Her eyes furious with focus, Maki continued to thrust her fingers in and out of you, her thumb moving to stimulate your clit from another angle, expert in her gentle overstimulation.

Maki bit her lip, thrilled by her own unmet need, throbbing under Yuuta's obsessive stare. The self-denial while watching you fall apart beneath her was delicious. You cried out, clutching her arms, trying to wiggle your hips away from her as she yanked you back to her, hushing you.

"Come on, baby," she pushed, "just one more...then you can have Yuuta's cock, 'cos he can't last any longer." One sideways glance to Yuuta, arched backwards and serene with the edge of his orgasm, sent you over the edge again, and he gripped the base of his cock once more as you arched, crying out, lights popping in your vision and fizzing down your body.

"Maki--" Yuuta urged, voice brittle with need, "--my turn-- need her now--" Maki huffed at Yuuta's lack of self-restraint, smirking at him, whining, hand wet with pre-cum. Maki lifted you up off the bed, soft and floppy, knees still hanging over the edge, and Yuuta slipped underneath you, mirroring your position, eagerly lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance. As he moved to push into you, his arms gripping you from behind, an arresting clasp across your chest and belly, Maki gripped him by the cock, stopping him as he cried out, voice hoarse.

"Hey, did I say she was ready?" Maki sniped, rolling her eyes as you and Yuuta moaned and argued with her. Her hands still covered in lube, she took the vibrating dildo she'd been fingering for so long, rolling it in lube and your generous, sticky cum. You trembled, reading Maki's intent immediately.

"Maki, I-- they won't-- won't both fit," you squeaked, Maki humming at your meagre protests as she rubbed the dildo at your entrance, switching on the vibration and edging it slowly past your swollen, puffy entrance.

"I dunno," she mused, "I wanna see how fast Yuuta cums like this." Yuuta shuddered, his cock still gripped in Maki's hand, Yuuta squeezing you harder above him as you trembled and shook, the dildo hitting your cervix, sending vibrations deep into your belly.

Maki stroked Yuuta's cock, throbbing in her hand as he bucked, teeth gritted, sweating with restraint; "Maki," he snapped, "let me fuck her-- I swear to god I'll kick your--"

"--careful special grade. Don't threaten me with a good time." Yuuta coughed, tormented, blinkered by his own impending orgasm as you writhed, blinded by your own pleasure in his arms. Maki was almost overcome by the sight of you both in blissful agony beneath her, almost cumming untouched, the tension of the build-up so much better than the payoff.

Maki finally released him, dropping to her knees between yours and Yuuta's. She lifted your legs, draping them over Yuuta's thighs, and pushed Yuuta's knees, forcing your legs to spread. She kept the dildo vibrating inside you, juddering with incoordinate twitches now, floating above yourself.

Finally released, Yuuta bit into your shoulder, groaning in your ear as his cock started to press into you alongside the vibrating dildo, stretching your pussy more than it had ever been stretched, so full, from cunt to belly; "Just hold onto me, peaches, yeah?"

In one swift thrust, Yuuta bottomed out, shouting and cursing, his cock gripped by the slick, impossibly tight heat of your pussy, the dildo vibrating relentlessly against the underside of his length.

"--oh my--shit, Maki, 's too muc, fuck! Ohhh fuck-- fuck-- fuck--"

Maki leaned in, two fingers rolling over her clit as she lapped yours into her mouth, flicking her tongue across you, sucking, nipping, tasting the peach lube she had covered you with. Lost in this semi-drunk haze, she continued to edge herself to the sight of you, spasming in forced orgasm after orgasm, under her mouth.

Yuuta rutted up into you helplessly, arms shaking around you. His seed spattered your cervix and the dildo white, cumming so violently that he curled in on himself beneath you, forcing you to curl with him. Maki watched it all, pupils blown, stroking her clit just enough to keep herself from orgasm.

You continued to pant and whimper, still so full, your pussy clenching urgently, wildly overstimulated. Maki took pity on you both, switching the dildo off, slipping it out of you and letting it drop with a wet cum-splatter. It pulled Yuuta's dripping cock out with it, and you whined, suddenly so empty, Yuuta nuzzling and kissing your cheeks, trying to bring you both down from your high. He chuckled, breathless in your ear

"What a date, huh? You should get dumped again, sometime."

[bambheez]

nonsense (s.jy)

SUMMARY: you overhear your best friend and roommate jake talking about his massive dick, so you decide you want to see it for yourself. PAIRING: bestfriend/roommate!jake x reader (afab) GENRE: smut (minors dni) WARNINGS: sub!jake, dom!reader, oral sex (m. receiving), size kink, reader is very VERY straightforward, jake has a huge dick, profanity WORD COUNT: 1.5k A/N: this is literally just pure filth. inspired by this post and ofc ‘nonsense’ by sabrina carpenter. as always, if you enjoyed/have feedback, please reblog/comment or send an ask. my inbox is always open!

“Small dick? Seriously? You know I’m—” he paused, remembering you were in the room with him. He turned around to see you laying on his bed, legs up in the air, eyes trained on your laptop screen.

Your ears perked up at the odd conversation; your earbuds were no longer playing any music, but you gave him no impression that you were eavesdropping.

“Know what, Jake? Cat got your tongue?” Heeseung snickered through his headphones, Jay following with a similar comment.

“Nah, Y/N’s in my room but she’s got her headphones in,” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You know I’m bigger than both of you motherfuckers.”

Your lips lifted into a smirk at his confession. You could hear laughter booming from Jake’s headphones as you quietly put your earbuds away and moved off the bed toward him.

“How big?” you whispered against his ear.

He jolted in his seat, wincing from banging his toe into the leg of his desk.

“How big?” you repeated, now standing in front of him, blocking his view of the game. You lifted up your shirt to reveal your stomach. “Would it reach here,” you asked, pointing to a spot above your pubic bone. “Or here,” moving your finger up an inch. “Maybe here?” you circled around your belly button.

Jake visibly reddened, even under the faint green lights of his PC. His fingertips—currently resting against his keyboard—jerked back into motion at the realization that Heeseung and Jay were still on the call.

“Sorry, someone’s at the door,” he mumbled into his mic. “You guys play without me, I’ll hop on later.” He closed out of the game and Discord tab before taking his headphones off.

His fingers were fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, eyes—avoiding contact with yours—staring straight ahead at his desktop wallpaper.

“You didn’t answer my question, Jake.”

“Stop talking nonsense, Y/N,” he turned to look up at you, your body now leaning against his desk. “Why do you even want to know?” his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped.

“So you were lying then?”

“No, but—”

“Then show me.”

Jake could feel himself hardening in his sweatpants. As much as he tried to ignore the ache between his thighs and tell you you were insane, the look you gave him—utterly earnest, like you wanted to devour him—made his insides stir.

You dropped to your knees with a thump, rolling his gaming chair out by its arms to face you. A groan ripped from Jake’s throat at the sight. You sat back on your heels to observe his reaction, his lids hooded and lips slightly parted. He nodded at you, watching as you glanced from his growing bulge back up to his eyes.

The imprint of his cock was visible, and your fingers flitted over him, traveling from his thighs up to the strings of his sweats.

He let out short, quick breaths before whimpering “please”.

You held back a giggle. When had he become so needy?

Pulling off his sweats and boxers in one swift motion, his cock slapped against his lower stomach. “Wow,” your mouth watered at the sheer size. And he wasn’t even fully hard yet.

His breath hitched in response, body squirming in your hold. Jumbled thoughts were running through his head at a hundred miles per hour. This was his roommate turned best friend on her knees, ogling at his erection.

You had thought about the size of his cock before, especially when he was lounging around in gray sweats. You’d caught glimpses of his bulge, and the size of it even when he was soft was enough to make your core throb in anticipation. You had thought about how his cock looked, too, and what you saw in front of you now exceeded your expectations in every way. His tip was red and flushed against his abdomen, a lengthy vein ran from his base to tip, and beads of precum were beginning to form at his slit.

You hesitantly wrapped both hands around the base of his cock. “Fuck,” you muttered. Two hands and barely half of his cock was covered.

He felt scorchingly hot under your touch. You squeezed at his base before devouring as much as you could of him in your mouth.

He cried out from above you, hands gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. You could feel your underwear sticking to your folds as you tried to discreetly rock back and forth against your heels, desperate for some friction of your own.

You were bobbing up and down on the top half of his cock, tongue swirling around his tip and occasionally digging into his slit. Jake wanted so badly to keep his eyes open, to see the way you peered up at him through your lashes, but he could feel every inch of movement of your tongue running along his veins that the pleasure was much too intense.

Strings of curses flew from his mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re doing s-so well,” he whined before gently placing a hand on the back of your head.

I can do even better, you thought to yourself as you slowly removed your hands from his base and took him into your throat.

“Ah, oh f-fuck!” he moaned. You hollowed your cheeks, placing your hands on his hips to steady yourself.

Jake resisted the urge to start thrusting into your mouth, largely due to his disbelief that you could take him all the way.

You gagged around his length and he nearly choked on his breath from the sensation. Working your way down even farther, his tip hit the back of your throat while you moved your hands to knead at his thighs.

You pulled off of him to catch your breath, eyes twinkling up at him as a string of saliva stretched between his tip and your lips.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he croaked out, throat remarkably dry.

You gave him a small smile. Just you wait.

You took a deep breath before bringing your hands to the back of his hips, slamming his cock down your throat in one go. You repeatedly swallowed around his girth and Jake’s entire body convulsed under you, noises he didn’t know he was capable of making falling from his lips.

You buried the tip of your nose in his pelvis; your head was foggy, throat sore, and eyes watering, but the sight of Jake losing complete control under you made it worth it.

“I-I’m gonna—mmph,” he whined, bunching your hair in a fist.

You could see his abdomen clenching and feel his thighs twitching, signaling that he would cum any second. Jake opened his eyes to peer down at you and he had to physically grab your bobbing head to stop himself from cumming.

The view in front of him was the most sinful yet beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Your lips were slick and swollen, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth down to your chin. Your hair was in a tangled mess from his grip, and there were tear streaks from your eyes down to your neck.

He brushed your hair out of your face and you smiled, humming around his cock. You sped up your pace before wrapping your arms around his hips again, sucking and swallowing around him as if your life depended on it.

“Oh shit, oh f-fuck, I’m cumming, Y/N I’m—”

You pushed your nose forward and took him to the hilt one last time before he was cumming with a shout of your name on his lips. Spurts of his warm release traveled down your throat, and Jake finally grabbed at your head with both hands, bucking his hips up and fucking your face as he chased his high.

Shockwaves of ecstasy traveled through Jake’s every vein and artery. You swallowed drop after drop of him until his thrashing and jerking under you slowed to a stop. His cock twitched in your mouth one final time, beginning to soften, when he pulled you off of him with a pop.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Jake moaned like you’ve never heard a man moan before.

“Such a big, pretty cock”, you gave his tip a quick peck before tucking him back into his sweats. “But it’s a shame you don’t know how to use it”, you chuckled.

He whined at the comment, his finger reaching up to the corner of your lips, swiping at the residue of his release. He thought about your question from earlier, picturing reaching your cervix and filling you to the brim with his cum.

“Please, teach me?” he begged.

read part 2 here

[moonstruckme]

i’d love to see a doctor!remus with a reader that has chronic pain, if you’re interested in writing that <3

Thanks for requesting! I read online that migraines are considered chronic pain, so I hope that's accurate

cw: migraine, period cramps

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 726 words

The bed dips as Remus replaces the cold compress over your eyes, and you feel like you’re sandwiched between two temperatures, heating pad on your belly and ice pack on your head. 

“Can I have more painkillers, please?” you mumble. 

Remus’ voice is usually quiet, but now he speaks softer than soft. “You can have more in an hour.” 

A self-pitying ache starts up in the back of your throat. Which is great, because what you really need right now is more aches. “Can you pass me my coffee then?”

There’s a second of hesitation, and you can hear the denial forming in it. “It’s too late for caffeine,” he murmurs. “You need to sleep soon or it’ll only be worse tomorrow, lovely girl. I’m sorry.” 

He sounds it, but a petulant whine works its way out of you anyway. A hot tear leaks from the corner of your eye, dribbling into your hair. You know crying will only make things worse, but you’re feeling so wretchedly sorry for yourself that you almost don’t care. Worse isn’t something you can conceptualize.

“It hurts all over,” you whimper.

Remus makes a sound just as miserable, and then his hand is at your hairline, stroking tentatively. “I know,” he whispers. “I know, I’m so sorry. Do you need the heating pad turned up?” 

You murmur that you don’t. Your cramps aren’t great, but they pale in comparison to the throbbing agony of your head. And even if it helped your cramps, you don’t think you could handle the sensation of more temperatures right now. 

“Okay.” Remus pets your hair gently, callouses scraping against the skin of your forehead. “All right, darling, let’s try this.” 

He takes your hand in his, and you can feel the edge of his short nail as he presses into your palm, rubbing tiny, concentrated circles into your skin. For a minute you can’t muster the will to ask what he’s doing, but then the pain ebbs slightly, and you find your voice. 

“What’s this?” 

“Pressure point. Is it helping?” 

“I think so.” Not a ton, but it’s something. You force yourself to relax the muscles around your eyes, and that helps a bit too. “Thank you,” you breathe. 

Remus makes a soft sound, catching another tear as it skids down your face. His thumb still drills into that place on your palm. It hurts a tiny bit, but not near enough for you to ask him to stop. “It kills me to see you like this,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.” 

“Yeah, couldn’t you get me some morphine or something?” 

The little laugh that follows is odd-sounding, like he’s stifled it with a hand. “Actually, it might be worth losing my license for that. If you really want me to, just say the word.” 

“I’ll let you know.” 

There’s a few seconds where you can only hear each other breathing. It’s always a little bit weird, knowing he can see you when you can’t see him. You wonder, distantly, shamefully, if you look pretty. There’s no sense in asking Remus. You know what he’ll say. 

“Can I touch you?’ he asks quietly. 

“You’ve been touching me, Lupin.” 

Another half-smothered chuckle. Remus’ hand rests delicately on the top of your head, his thumb stroking an upward path along your forehead. You hum in approval. 

“If you go to sleep now,” he says softly, thumb lifting from your hand, “your headache might be gone when you wake up.” 

You take a deep breath, gauging your own tiredness. You think you can do it. 

“And so long as you sleep for more than an hour, I promise to get out of bed to get you more painkillers.” 

“You’d better,” you mutter, and you can feel his smile against your skin when he leans down to kiss your cheek. “Hug me?” 

You intend for it to sound light, almost like a joke, but the question comes out laden with all the neediness you’d hoped to hide. Remus doesn’t begrudge you, one arm needling under the small of your back while the other wraps across your ribcage. He scoots closer until your arm is pressed to his front. 

“This okay?” 

“Better than okay. Thanks, Rem.” 

His lips brush delicately across your cheekbone, the soft bit of skin just next to your eye. “Don’t mention it.”

[hotreadingwitch]

Bucky x Reader - Again?

Content Warnings/Kinks: dominance, praise kink, daddy kink, choking, scratching (marks), breath play, breast play, finger sucking, fingering, cum swallowing, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex (multiple rounds) 

Again? 

“You know I wasn’t sure if you were going to ask me out again…”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky smiled slowly in that way Y/n was starting to think might just drive her crazy, “Why’s that?” 

“No reason in particular I guess” she blushed.

“You should give yourself more credit you know? You’re a beautiful and smart woman Y/n” 

His steel eyes lingered on hers for a beat too long before he moved to hold the restaurant door open for her. 

~ 3 hours later ~ 

“Well, this is my place” she smiled nervously as she invited Bucky into her apartment. 

“It’s very nice Y/n” he nodded curtly as he assessed the place. 

Y/n shook her head, chuckling at the polite way he talked. She’d noticed him talking this way on their last date, using odd expressions, almost sounding as if he was from a different time. 

“Come, I’ll give you a tour” she offered with a small chuckle, gesturing to the small space. 

She took his gloved hand, leading him in a small circle through the apartment. He glanced down at the connection but if he had anything to say about it he kept his thoughts to himself. 

“Kitchen” she pointed. 

“Kitchen” he affirmed, bobbing his head slightly. 

“Living room” 

Another curt nod. 

“Bathroom, in case you need it” she smiled, “and…Bedroom” 

They stood in front of her door. It seemed to Y/n as if Bucky was trying his hardest to not peak into the cozy room or maybe there was something else that he was trying to resist. 

“Bucky…” she said quietly, her voice thicker than she’d have liked. 

His gloved hand came up to her cheek, caressing the skin with a softness she somehow hadn’t expected, the leather smooth against her skin. 

“Can I—“ he seemed to gather himself, “Can I kiss you?” 

“You can kiss me” 

The tension between them crackled. As Bucky leaned down, his tall, broad frame curving down to meet hers as she tilted her parted lips upward. When he finally captured her lips with his it was like they both were suddenly put in a trance, unable to keep their hands off of each other. Bucky’s hands slid under the fabric of her shirt, gripping at her waist just as hers secured themselves behind his neck. 

“Fuck” he groaned onto her mouth. 

Guiding them into her bedroom, she moved backward until he knees hit the edge of her plush mattress. His hand grazed her neck lightly as their kisses slowed. She melted into his touch, sighing onto his mouth at the feeling. He parted their lips slowly, dragging away from her only by an inch or two to ask, “May I?” 

When she nodded, both his hands gripped her breasts, kneading their tender tissue. He kissed between them and down her stomach, stopping above her pussy, concealed still by her short skirt and panties. 

“You’re so fucking perfect doll” he groaned as he slid them down her legs. 

“Doll?” She chuckled lightly, arching a questioning brow, “How old are you?”

Bucky looked completely serious when he replied, “106” 

She laughed harder, her chuckle interrupted as Bucky caressed her cheek, pulling her in for another hungry kiss. Their mouths collided, mashing their lips and teeth together. They kissed for minutes but somehow it felt like hours. Y/n knew she could kiss him forever if given the opportunity. 

When he finally spread her legs, not bothering to take off her skirt, his eyes darkened in a way that, at any other time with any other man, might be considered scary. 

“I—” he started, uncharacteristically shy. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just…it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this—I don’t usually…” he gulped, slipping his glove off, revealing a dark metal arm that shimmered in the low light. 

He looked at her expectantly as her eyes widened slightly. 

“I need you to touch me” she begged then, her voice breathy, “Now” 

His gaze trailed down her slowly, skirt scrunched up, face flushed, pussy bare, and all for him. The first contact of his fingers was desperate, like he couldn’t resist touching her and was so glad that she needed him as much as he needed her. He rubbed over her clit gently, using three warm fingers flat against her, making her hips buck upward in response.

“Fuck” she breathed, gasping as his fingers spread her lips, playing with her clit with intense focus.

As he rubbed against her, his mouth dived down, tasting her hole. He moaned onto her, the vibrations making her shiver, as he licked up the slickness that was already there. 

“You taste so fucking good” he groaned again, “Fuck—doll you’re driving me crazy” 

She ground her pussy up to meet his prodding tongue, shaking as his fingers pleased her clit. Y/n felt his other hand, the mysterious metal one, reach up and caress her neck, the cool material sending another shiver down her spine.

“Yeah that feels good doesn’t it?” he chuckled as her back arched upwards, her clit connecting to his other hand’s calloused fingers. 

Warmth shot through her body, making her cheeks flush and her breath hitch. Y/n practically screamed, crying out and shaking as he removed the hand from her neck, pushing two fingers just inside her wet hole instead. She was soaking, yes, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t tight. In fact, she was so clenched that he could barely press his fingers further than an inch or two into her. 

“Doll…” he groaned as if in awe, “Fuck—this pussy’s so tight”

Y/n could feel the familiar sensation building in her lower belly. He plunged his two metal fingers in and out of her, caressing a low, sensitive spot within her. 

“Fuck” she whined, the feeling intense and rising quicker and quicker by the second. 

She kept her grip on his thick hair as her hips bucked rhythmically toward his eager hands. He didn’t even have his mouth on her and yet he’d brought her to the edge somehow anyway. “Ah—shittt” she gasped, her breath hitching. 

He held down her hips with his arms, holding her pussy in place as she squirmed with pleasure. 

“Cum for me doll, cum on these fingers” he commanded, eyes full of lust. 

Bucky ordering her to cum with his fingers pleasing her like she’d never been pleased before was enough to make her burst all over his hands. She throbbed and throbbed, pleasure coursing through her like a rushing river. 

“Mmm,” she moaned quietly, satiated as Bucky rubbed slowly over her whole pussy, the feeling calming beneath his large palm. When he finally removed his fingers from her, her legs shook as if instantly missing the loss of his touch. He chuckled darkly before kissing her, capturing her mouth in a quick tangle of tongues. She felt his flesh hand gripping her neck, the feeling causing her to whimper on his lips. 

“You’re killing me doll” he groaned, eyes dark, “So fucking beautiful when you cum for me” 

His lips kissed at her jaw, right above where his hand was squeezing roughly at her neck, as he raised his other hand to her lips, placing two soaked, metal fingers on her lips. 

“Open” he instructed, his tone leaving her with no other option, not that she’d want to say no. Y/n obeyed, taking his fingers into her mouth, making him groan at the sight. She moaned as she closed her lips around them, appreciating the feeling of fullness and the taste of her own cum on his cold fingers. 

She reached down his front, pulling at his belt buckle with a low, desperate whine.

“Please Bucky” she begged, her doe eyes conveying her need. 

“Fuck, I want to…but I can’t—“ he paused frustrated, his voice a low growl, “I can’t go slow, it’s gonna be rough doll, I need it rough—fast”

She nodded obediently, slinking back further onto the bed until she hit the headboard, Bucky following in her wake as if literally mesmerized by her. His left hand caressed her side, pulling the rest of her clothes off of her, as she did the same to him, leaving them both bare. 

“Daddy?” His head snapped up to look at her, eyes darkening more and more as the silence stretched. 

When he finally spoke, his voice strained, “Yes?” 

“I need you to fuck me now” 

“…I don’t want to hurt you” 

“I don’t care” she shook her head, reaching back to spread her ass cheeks, making him grunt at his view, his palms immediately gripping her ass, “Don’t you get that I want it as much as you do? I want you to hurt me, to fuck me so hard you can barely control yourself. Unless you don’t want me anymore?”

“Fuck—doll, I—” Bucky slipped himself between her legs, grinding his hips slowly forward and back so that his massive cock became coated with her slick, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes Daddy” 

With a grunt, he stretched her hole with his large size, pushing so much of it into her that her legs spread on instinct, one hooking back over him. His hands grabbed at her waist, every inch of his taut, naked body on display for her to turn and see as he pulled her fully down onto his cock. The fit of him was so snug, so tight that his groan was practically feral.

“Yeah—fuck yes” he encouraged as his cock began to slap in and out of her, “Shit, I’m fucking stretching you doll” 

Bucky tilted her head back with a small nudge under her chin, his lips crashing down onto hers so fast that she barely had time to breathe.

“Mmm,” she moaned into his mouth, wincing at the size of him and the immediate speed of his thrusts. 

His cock was ridiculously big but she took it like the good girl she was, practically beaming the more he praised her, telling her how good she was and how much her tight pussy drove him crazy. Each thrust felt like heaven and it was only made better when he slunk a hand down between her legs to start rubbing her clit, pleasing her in every way. 

“Hold your breath doll” he ordered then, his voice husky in her ear, “And choke yourself for me”

She obeyed without a second thought, sucking in a breath, struggling as she squeezed her throat, using both hands to cut off her air supply as much as possible. "Yes,” she moaned, her noises muffled. 

The feeling of her own hands tight around her neck, paired with Bucky pleasing her, was everything she needed to be sent over the metaphorical edge. Her body writhed in front of him as heat pulsed within her. Her heart raced in her chest the more and more she refused to breathe, her body making a mess all over his cock.

“That’s it” she finally gasped, her lungs filling up with short stifled breaths, “Daddy…” 

His pace was fast, dangerous, and practically animalistic. Her breasts bounced up and down as she ground backward, her hips snapping to meet each and every one of his powerful thrusts. “You—you” she stuttered, her voice quivering before turning to a sigh, “Fuck, that feels so good” 

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl” he praised, grunting.

Soon, the feeling began to dissipate, the strong waves of her orgasm lessening, her legs shaking. But he kept thrusting. 

“Again?” she whimpered, looking back to meet his steely gaze. 

“Again” he grunted. 

Her pussy was aching, overstimulated, and sore but the feeling of him hitting even deeper within her was enough to make her nod her head obediently and murmur a small yes. Bucky flipped her over then so that she was on her back, facing up at him. He continued fucking her then, roughly thumbing her stiff clit. Her hole was so sensitive, the combination was enough to make pleasure rise up quickly within her all over again. 

“Fuck” she whispered as he curved forward over her, sucking her jaw as his other, metal hand, squeezed her throat. Her eyes scrunched closed, allowing her mind to focus exclusively on the feelings.

"Don’t take your eyes off of me doll” he growled, “don’t you fucking dare” 

Eyelashes fluttering, she resisted the urge to close her eyes, his tight, relentless grip on her jaw making sure her eyes never dared to look away from his dark gaze. Her body shook beneath him, her legs and arms all quivering, “Yes Daddy…” 

She arched her back, pushing her breasts up to touch his chest as she threw her head back into the pillow and her hands up to grip the headboard. The angle of her body only allowed him to fuck her deeper, her hands holding on so tightly that her knuckles were turning pale. Y/n’s room filled with the sounds of sweaty skin slapping as Bucky’s hips snapped against her soaking wet pussy. 

“Do you feel that doll” he growled as one hand played with her clit, still thrusting in and out, “That’s how it feels to have my fucking cock throbbing in your pretty little pussy”

Her head lulled to the side but his strong hand kept her face forward, looking straight at him as she came. She whined as her pussy pulsed, tightening around his pounding cock. Bucky moved his hand down under her back as it arched up off of the mattress, her body overwhelmed by the pleasure. As he grunted hoarsely in her ear, she could tell he was cumming too. The feeling was like a bucket of ice water washing over her body, sweet intensity running through her veins, making her shiver. She cried out, the pleasure was too intense. 

Bucky groaned, fucking into her faster and faster, playing with her clit all the while, as he pushed them both through their second orgasm. 

“Fuck, that’s it doll” he cursed, “So wet—fuck—so fucking good for me”

She gripped his broad shoulders, scratching down his tanned back, her nails no doubt leaving marks that claimed her as his as much as the cum dripping out from her pussy made sure she belonged solely to him. 

[tyunphoria]

🌪️ wearing something that turns skz on — lee know, hyunjin

[NSFW CONTENT AHEAD ‼️]

- - - - -

INCLUDES: AFAB! reader x dom! lino and hyunjin, booty hunter lino, hyunjin stuffing y/n full with his fingers🤭, spanking, mentions of choking(lino), mentions of voyeurism(hyun), slightly jealous and protective hyun.

other part(s): bang chan + changbin

- - - - -

Lee Know

you always forget that wearing gym tights around lee know is a goddamn risk. doing yoga always results to getting a harsh smack on your ass, the soft flesh jiggling under the force of his hand which leaves a stinging print on your skin that can last up to hours. the first time you wore them, his members started snickering as they pulled you outside to warn you of your boyfriend’s odd antics of smacking peoples ass. they would complain about it everytime. except, your case is much more special. when you first started dating, he was always so respectful (and he still is!) but ever since you started doing yoga, it gets harder and harder for him to hold back his urges.

“I can never finish my lessons because of you.” you grunt as he bends you over on the mat, your head pressed up against the yoga block with your back arched perfectly. not to mention your behind already being abused and squeezed by his impatient hands through the thin fabric. he pulls the tights down to your thighs, eyes lighting up as your ass spills over the waistband.

“then stop wearing these tights.” he scoffs. you can hear the sound of a belt unbuckling behind you. “then what am i supposed to fucking wear? jeans to yoga?—“ he cuts you off as he fully sheaths himself inside you. the motion makes you gasp, and your voice is suddenly lost due to the feeling of him. he thinks you look pretty with the look of ecstasy on your face right now as his cock hits all of the parts of you that make your toes curl.

his hand slides up to the column of your throat, tears brim in your eyes to the feeling of another harsh stinging sensation brought on your left cheek. he brings his hand down again, then again, then again. until there’s a huge blush covering your ass which made him almost come from such pretty sight. your knees buckle due to the pain and euphoria, the stimulation you were receiving was too much as his hips continue to move faster with his cock slamming into your cunt. you walls squeeze around him as he savors the delicious moans spilling out your mouth. “lino, ‘s too much…” you reach a hand behind you to swat the hand that was gripping onto your ass and tell him to slow down.

“then don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Hyunjin

“Wait! Hyun, your group’s about to come on stage!” You say, barely above a squeak as he trails his slender fingers up your skirt. hyunjin plays a smile on his lips, swiping his tongue around the hickey he painted beautifully on your neck. “Such a pretty little thing…” hyunjin was chosen to be one of the MC’s of Inkigayo. when he found out that your group was performing on the show for your comeback stage, he couldn’t get any happier and was eager to see you perform. hyunjin took note of the way your short skirt would ride up every time you moved and swayed your hips to the song. he bit his cheek throughout the whole performance. the performance was broadcasted live for thousands and thousands of fans watching; and the thought of thousands of perverts probably drooling over his partner made him furious and accidentally dig through the leather cushioned seat. “You good?” changbin asked but hyunjin only excused himself to use the restroom but instead he quietly trails behind you backstage. they tell him to hurry since they’re performing next but sparing a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

he moves your underwear aside, thumb circling around your clit as he hungrily attacks your lips. “this skirt looks so beautiful on you, baby. but it’s a bit short, don’t you think? do you enjoy having people watch your ass jiggle on stage because of how slutty this skirt is? it makes really angry, y/n.” You part your lips to apologize but it was replaced by a moan as hyunjin plunges his ring and middle fingers in your already sopping wet cunt. “m’ sorry, hyun…”

He twists his wrist, pressing his long fingers into you–reveling against the shaky moan you let out in response. “fuck, baby. you’re getting so tight. how am i gonna stuff you full with my cock if i won’t be able to get the tip in?” Your mouth hangs slack as he meanly flicks his wrist, pressing his two fingers even deeper inside you and spreading them in a scissoring motion. he tucks his nose against the crook of your neck, sucking a mark against your skin, you can’t help the way you clench around him. 

hyunjin finally takes his fingers out, a whine leaving your swollen lips from biting down onto your bottom lip too hard. his thumb presses down on your swollen clit, as he begins to softly rub over the aching nub. the new feeling of pleasure is mind-melting, and the urge to grind against his hand is overwhelming. you watch as his eyes fixate on the mess between your thighs, how he finally took note to how his cock is stiff in his boxers. he sits on the vanity chair , pulling you on his lap.

“let me watch you bounce on my cock, pretty baby. keep your skirt on and try to be quiet.”

[galebrainrot2024]

Professor!GalexYouAFAB Reader

Summary: You wake in the middle of the night, unable to sleep so Gale finds an appropriate activity to relieve both of you. NSFW 18+ Content: Explicit, Oral Sex, PIV Sex, Edging, Minors DNI

You toss and turn, sleep evading you. Despite your best efforts your brain refuses to quiet and you hear Gale stir and grumble beside you. “It’s the middle of the night..” he murmurs before wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer into his embrace. His head rests in the crook of your neck and you brush the hair from his face, admiring the strong jaw, full lashes, plump lips. You feel heat spread through you, your touch crackling with electricity as you admire him. 

“Why are you awake..” Gale turns to you, blinking sleep from his eyes and plants a soft kiss on your neck. It earns him a shiver and the sleep shakes further from him, his pupils blackening as he becomes more alert. His lips part and you feel him shift against you, a familiar firmness growing in his trousers. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you…” you say softly, cooing him back to slumber.

“I’m quite awake now..” he says, his hot breath against your neck as he flicks his tongue against it. “You look so beautiful… I rarely get to admire you at this time of night.” His voice was quiet and husky and his words were true. It wasn’t often you found yourself wide awake at these odd hours, where the moon hands almost eerily on the black dusted horizon. Gale brushes his fingers against your hair and he pulls himself up and you back to him, your bodies nestled together in a familiar “s” shape. 

You feel him shift slightly and let out a husky laugh. “Awake in more ways than one, apparently,” you tease and shift your hips back against him, the hard evidence of his erection pressed into your backside and you bite down on your lip as you feel your body stir with the familiar creeping of lust. 

You bring your hand behind you, your fingers grazing the hardened outline over his underwear eliciting a low groan from Gale. “Temptress..” he teases in your ear, biting down on your earlobe before brushing his lips against your neck. You feel his warm tongue against the delicate skin so you shudder and let out a soft moan and feel his lips curl into a smile. You and Gale had been together for some time now and even still, he pampered you, showered you with love and affection and an almost animalistic, desperate need to have every inch of you. Neither of you could be sated. 

“I’ll have to remedy that… unless you’d rather go back to sleep…” he said as his fingers outlined your sex, the cloth now dripping with your arousal. You hear him moan as he feels the wetness and drags his fingers slowly, firmly over your center and you whimper. It makes you squirm and buck your hips into his touch. He chuckles darkly. “Patience… no need to rush… there’s no where for us to be at this hour….” 

You lean your head back into him, his face burried in your neck as his fingers trace slow circles around your clothed groin and his fingers hook into the fabric teasingly. “Please..” You hear yourself beg, returned with another black chuckle. Gale’s hot breath on your neck forces goosebumps to rise across you, undulating and revealing your need. Gale uses one hand to turn your face back to him so he can capture your lips hungrily, like a man starved. 

You moan as his lips meet yours, the taste of mint and sleep and desire fresh on his tongue as it massages yours, his fingers brushing against the hollow of your neck while the other hand so painfully and delicately massaged your clothed wetness. You squirm and he kisses you harder, pulling you against him and you feel his firm, throbbing erection through his thin cloth. 

Gale rolls his tongue over yours once more, biting down on your lower lip and pulling slightly before delicately turning you onto your stomach, your face turned against the sheets. Your eyes roll back as your body braces for what’s to come. You hear Gale grunt and feel his body looming over yours, you feel his fingers against the cloth of your underwear and tease you relentlessly. Although you try to squirm, he is pinning you down and you feel him take a fistful of your hair and comb his fingers through it. His fingers race down your back, to your butt and he gives your firm roundness a pleased and hungry squeeze that makes you yelp. This elicits another moan from him and it makes your mouth water. “I’m being so patient…” you whimper, your hands above your head and grip the sheets as your body braces with anticipation, “Please,” you mewl, begging for him.

“All in good time…” Gale says huskily and once more his fingers trace between the folds of your underwear, not quite touching where you want - where you need him to. You feel feral, unhinged as the lust and arousal pulses through your body, your soaking wetness unbearable. The lightest touch will likely send his name falling from your lips like a prayer of ecstasy. You feel Gale’s lips against your shoulders and he moves down your back as if you’re a sumptuous meal. His lips graze over your raised butt and he gives a hungry bite, marking the skin but just. You whine, pressing your legs together and feel his strong hands pry your legs apart. “I’m not sure I can relieve you if you continue to bar me from entry…” he says this playfully, but the desire is dripping in his tone. You oblige, allowing him to peel your legs apart and push them further. You hear his breath hitch and you feel your hips raise and rock, desperate for him. Desperate for Gale’s touch. 

He groans and with his teeth and hands, drags your underwear off of your sex and lowers it, removing it entirely. You shiver as his hands brush up your thighs firmly, squeezing your skin as you feel his hot breath lingering at the source of your arousal. You bite down hard on your lip yet the whimper escapes unintentionally. You feel your clit pulse with desire and feel the flood between your legs when his lips barely brush your inner thigh. You moan, a high pitched mew escaping you when you feel Gale’s warm mouth against your skin, dangerously close to the source of your discomfort and need. You feel him grin and flick his tongue across your inner thigh. “I love it when you beg…” his voice is thick with need and at last you feel his fingers grip into your hips to pull you back towards him so he can feast. 

All at once you feel his hot tongue massaging each fold, expertly rolling around your clit and flicking into your throbbing cunt. You cry out and press your face into the bed, your hips bucking backward as he thrusts his face between your thighs as if famished. You feel his groans, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure as you feel him insert his capable fingers into you while his tongue flicked across your outer folds. You cry out and he thrusts his fingers harder into you, suckling at your taste, loving the nosies he draws out of you. You push your hips back into his hungry and greedy mouth and feel his warm, the wetness of his mouth clashing against your throbbing cunt and you squirm relentlessly, your mind swimming and dizzying. “Come for me.” You hear him command and it’s a tone that makes you feral, your carnal and guttural arousal completely unleashing as you grip the sheets and cry out his name, your entire body quaking as your climax roils through you and you press yourself back into his mouth. You feel him lick and suck your climax, his tongue thrusting into your cunt in place of his fingers so he can taste his work. You hear him moan as he tastes your finish, and his breath is jagged, matching yours. 

Although sated, you want more. You feel your hips roll back, wanting and you whisper in a raspy voice, “Come here…” Gale doesn’t need further encouragement. You hear him violently rip his underwear from his body and at once he is over you again and he moves you to your side, holding one of your legs up a bit and his eyes bear into yours lustfully. Your lips part and your mouth waters, your gaze flicking to his solid, throbbing erection that sits right at the folds of your throbbing sex. You bite down on your lip and look at Gale beneath your thick lashes and he leans forward to kiss you, desperate to taste you. You taste yourself on his lips and it makes you wild. You feel him press his erection against your folds and you purr, turning your body and he holds you in place. It makes you moan, preparing for him. 

Gale deliberately enters you. First with the tip of his ravenous erection and then you see his eyes roll back and resolve falter. He thrusts entirely into you, filling you and touching every sensitive nerve and you cry out. His girth makes you tremble, clench, every fiber of your being insatiable and greedy for more. He groans with delight, gripping you firmly as your bodies find their familiar, sensual rhythm. You roll your hips slowly against him and he groans, flipping you then so that you are beneath him, his knee slightly bent for further purchase. He takes your wrists to hold them over your head as Gale kisses you, the kiss sloppy and wet with need as he thrusts his hips to meet yours, the tip of him pounding against your internal pleasure centers.

“Gale…” you moan, pressing your hips up to his, wanting more, needing more. Gale meets yours eagerly and you feel yourself clench around his shaft and he moans loudly into your mouth. You whisper against his lips, “Now it’s my turn to hear you…” it was too much for him.

"Oh Gods...." His grip on your wrists tighten and you yelp as he roughly and still with such tenderness forces himself as far into you as he can manage until you are both crying out and shuddering with unadulterated bliss. You feel his cock twitch and erupt, the sticky warm fluid filling you as you climax in unison. A thin sheen of sweat covers both of you, your bodies ravaged and exhausted. The soft light of the stars and moon filter through the window, making Gale's skin appear almost effervescent.

Gale collapses onto you, his lips against your neck, your ear, your cheek as he showers you with his love. “Gods, you’re incredible… I will never understand it…" You giggle a bit as he pulls you to him once more, his face nestled into your neck. "Now come here... " you relax into him, your eyes filling with heaviness, the exhaustion and pleasure lulling you back to sleep.

[readychilledwine]

The Ruining of Seraphina

Summary - Seraphina should have known better than to make a bet against her mate. Especially when losing that bet means being free use for the Inner Circle for a week.

Warnings - all of them, this is a free use open relationship fic. Loose editing 💕 if you squint, there are no errors.

Prompt - Day 7 - Free Day

A/N - I know. You've all been waiting for this one. Happy last @polyacotarweek post! Please keep in mind while reading this, this is both kink and CNM, but the two do not always go together. The smut happens fast, but I tried to keep it enjoyable since this goes through a week, day by day, of Sera being used by the IC. I am willing to expand on any of these days, so I wanted them to be vague yet enticing enough for all of you that the filth was accomplished. For obvious reasons, Elain is not included. It would be super odd to have Sera hooking up with her brother's mate as Azriel watched.

I wrote this with the idea of Sera finding sexual freedom through an open relationship based on other polyamorous people and couples. Being in a CNM relationship can be liberating for someone who grew up with a very strict background, and she felt perfect for this.

💕Poly+Acotar Week Masterlist💕

“Azriel, I hardly know what this means.” Azriel kissed Seraphina’s palm, leaning It against his face as he smiled up at her.

“For a week, the inner circle will be able to use you however they want when they want. You said you wanted to fuck all of them, here's your chance, my flame.”

You bit, nodding, “And you will be there for all of it?”

“Only if you need. Open relationship, baby, we talked about this.”

“I want you there. Sometimes.”

“Then tug the bond in those instances.”

Monday was the first day it began, and to Sera's surprise, Morrigan was the first to enter her and Azriel's room. She wasted no time, pouncing on Sera and dominating her in a passionate kiss.

Sera smiled as her kissed trailed lower nipping at her lip slightly. “Top or bottom?”

“I've ever laid with another female before. I'm at your disposal, Mor.” She watched the blonde's eyes roll before she forced Sera onto her back. Mor situated herself on Seraphina's face, and instinct took over.

The position was so familiar to her, she replicated the movements she begged Azriel for, pushing her tongue into a tight opening, nose nudging her sensitive clit.

Morrigan was beautiful, but she knew now why her and Eris would never work, and the proof was leaking onto her face, tasting like honey with every drop.

Her hands squeezed Mor's ass and the message was received. Mor took control, hand tangling into red hair as she rode Sera's face.

She made the prettiest noises. Soft breathy moans that shot straight to Sera's core, soaking the bed below her.

In what felt like too short of a time, Mor fell apart on her face, plush lips parting into a silent scream as she did and leaned into the headboard.

She took a few breaths before laying next to Sera. “I really needed that.”

The Autumn female blinked. “You can have it any time.”

Tuesday she woke to fingers in her cunt and a tongue on her clit.

Nesta was, in Seraphina’s mind, the picture perfect female, and as she leaned forward on her elbows, moaning her name as her body began to shake, Nesta just smiled.

The female did not let up for hours, her face was constantly buried between long silky legs, finger in her cunt, mouth whispering to her about the filthy novel she was reading with two female characters.

It led to them covered in sweat, Sera on her hands and knees as Nesta and Azriel were kissing above her. She had her lips around Azriel, sucking him in time with thrusts from Nesta's strap on.

The strap was thick, faked veins running along her soft core and hitting every possible spot. Sera was whining around Azriel, body exhausted and overstimulated from countless orgasms from Nesta.

She came screaming, Azriel following her over the edge as she did. Nesta seemed to find completion as well, nails digging into the other female's ass as she did.

The three of them laid together in the bed, Seraphina reading the novel as Nesta and Azriel spoke. They began to laugh as her face flushed, “Don't act all innocent when I just fucked you with a strap on.”

Wednesday she was cornered by Rhys and Feyre after dinner. The High Lady smiled, pulling her into the room before pushing her on the bed.

For the second time that week, Sera enjoyed a female on her face, moaning as the taste of Feyre hit her tongue. The High Lady was not shy, chasing her own desires as Azriel and Rhysand watched whiskey in hand. The males were all smiles, watching the two of them as Feyre then leaned forward, returning the favor.

It was almost hard to focus, nerves being stimulated while she desperately wanted Feyre to cum for her, but she powered through, loving every second of Feyre's fingers and tongue.

They came at the same time, making both males lose a bet and allowing Feyre to then schedule a time with Azriel for a foursome later, a foursome you eagerly agreed to.

Thursday was a night alone with 3 males carved by Gods. Rhysand had taken her first, finding her in the shower and fucking her until she screamed. He buried himself inside of her as he came, biting her hard before carrying her out to her bedroom. Azriel and Cassian were already on the bed. The shadowsinger was sucking Cassian's cock, watching from hooded eyes as the general moaned for him. Rhysand laid you next to Cass, “Do you want more, or do you want to be forced to watch?” Lost whiskey eyes, blinked back at him, compliant to anything he would want. “You are just a little fuck doll, aren't you?”

Sera used to laugh when Nesta would make jokes about wanting to fuck Eris, Cassian, and Azriel at the same time. “I have three holes,” Lady Death would always smile as she said. Now she understood, and she would confirm to Nesta to take the opportunity if it ever arrived.

Friday morning, Rhys had been long gone, but she woke up to the sound of Azriel's moans. Cassian, the most eager male she had ever met, was between Azriel's legs, sucking his cock. Her mate's eyes were screwed shut, breathing heavy as his hand found Cassian's hair. The general motioned to her mate's wings, and Sera obliged immediately.

She licked the soft membrane, fingers delicately tracing the ridge. “You've been so generous for me this week. Isn’t it your turn, Azzy? Don't you want to cum for Cassian?” Her mated nodded eagerly, pulling her into a heated kiss.

Her and Cassian played with Azriel for hours, not stopping until they were all drenched in sweat and exhausted.

The three of them had dinner alone, Sera telling them about Nesta's fantasy and giving her mate permission to pursue, but not touch her older brother further than kissing.

Saturday was spent with Amren. The ancient being has no interest in her sexually, but they still spend the Day together. Amren wanted to study her powers, believing there had to be more to the female for her to have been with such a powerful male by the Cauldron.

She was correct, but Amren kept it to herself, not wanting to speak of what she discovered, nor how Seraphina scent changed when Amren cut her. No, she'd save that secret for another time.

Sunday was spent with just Azriel, his body desperate for hers, he had warded the door, wrapping her legs around his waist as he fucked her slow and deep, relishing in each breathy whisper of his name.

Sharing her had been fun, but the male had been jealous all week, almost territorial as he her heard moaning another's name. They had both wanted to try an open relationship, and they had both loved it, but they found their limitations.

Azriel groaned as Sera tightened around him, her back arching her breasts into him. “So good, Sera,” she whimpered at his praise, legs wrapping tighter as she lifted her hips more. “I've heard all week how delicious you are, you know that?” She whined as he hit the spot no one had found all week. “But who fucks you best?”

“You.”

His pace picked up, now slamming into that same spot until her vision began to blur with tears. “Who's Mate are you?”

“Yours.”

She could feel that familiar edge. Azriel always brought her to approaching, head buried in his neck as it did, and nails clawing into his back. “Cum. Cum for me, Sera.”

And she did, body so worn and sensitive from endless fucking that she came, moaning and crying his name over and over like a prayer. He spilled into her, biting her neck as he did to leave a bruise, marking his territory and who she belonged to.

He collapsed above her, forearms falling next to her face. He placed soft kisses on her cheekbones, nose, and then lips, smiling as he did. “Good week?”

“The best.”

“Feelings on keeping our relationship open?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Gods, yes.”

“I think so too.”

"You've ruined me, you know that?

Azriel kissed her shoulder. "Ruined you or freed you?"

"Freed," she said slowly. "I think you've freed me. Having no limitations on sex is-"

"Liberating?"

She nodded, kissing him again. "Liberating."

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[bupia]

Silent bonds: Papa Emeritus II x AFAB!Reader (4 Chapters in 1 Post)

Summary: You and Secondo have shared a lasting friendship since he became the Papa Emeritus II. As he immerses himself in preparations for an impending date, latent feelings begin to surface, raising the question of whether your relationship can evolve beyond friendship.

Words: 26.401

Warnings: Light Angst (insecurity) | Fluff | Smut (teasing; cunnilingus; fingering; oral sex; dirty talk; unprotected sex; p in v; breeding) | Italian swearing | Swearing | Reader is described as AFAB, but "Deacon" is used as Gender Neutral term.

Available on AO3 divided by 4 Chapters

A rhythmic knock resonated through the door connecting your office to the Papa's, drawing your attention away from the papers on your desk. Given the hour, it wasn't unexpected for him to seek you out for more tasks or discussions. With a deep breath, you acknowledged the familiar sound with a smile, allowing yourself a brief stretch to ease the tension in your back and eyes.

"Enter," you uttered, rising from your chair.

Upon the door's creaking open, he peered into your cabinet, scanning the space until his eyes rested on you. Secondo, the Papa Emeritus II from the Ministry where you worked as a Deacon, had been a close friend for many years. While others might find the idea of being friends with Secondo peculiar, you saw nothing odd about it. Being his friend wasn't strange; it was a privilege. Secondo was sweet, funny, caring, a bit of a teaser, and remarkably intelligent. People often mistook him for someone serious, devoid of humor, or as someone who seldom smiled, but you knew better. The Secondo you were friends with was far from those misconceptions.

Yet, today, something felt different. Typically, a smile would grace his lips when his eyes met yours upon entering your cabinet. As he stepped inside, you circled your table, coming to a stop with one hand on the desk and the other on your waist, observing him approaching. Without a word, he slumped into one of the chairs facing your desk. A silent chuckle escaped you as you turned towards him. No words were necessary; a tilt of your head conveyed the inquiry, prompting him to throw his head back in annoyance, the frustration evident in the sound he made.

"So...?" A soft chuckle escaped you as you playfully nudged his calf with your foot, prompting him to lift his head and meet your gaze.

Secondo settled more comfortably into the chair, offering you a small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "I won't forgive you for not showing up," he muttered, a trace of annoyance in his tone.

You gasped, mockingly placing a hand over your chest. "How dare you?"

"No, how dare you not come," he retorted, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Someone has to do the important work," you teased, smirking.

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a smirk. "And I suppose that someone is you, sì?"

You grinned, meeting his gaze. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps," he repeated with a nod.

You leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing your arms. "How was the lunch?"

"Same as usual, Deacon. Endless discussions about the future of the Ministry. Nothing out of the ordinary," he sighed.

"And what about the Clergy today?"

"The Clergy... quegli sciocchi vecchi uomini," he grumbled, frustration etching lines on his face. "You really can't keep skipping the lunch meetings."

A defiant smirk played on your lips as you replied, "Oh, I can, and I will. None of them can utter a single objection, and I'll make sure of it."

Secondo's lips curled into a wry smile, a certain amusement glinting in his eyes as he listened to your words. It reminded you of the times he had praised your steadfast demeanor, expressing his admiration for how you refused to be intimidated, especially by the imposing figures of the Clergy. He had commended your ability to wield your authority confidently, acknowledging the power you held and the way you wielded it.

"Your defiance is a rare trait," Secondo remarked, his tone a mix of approval and amusement.

You chuckled, appreciating Secondo's words. "Well, I learned from the best," you quipped, giving him a sly look.

Secondo's laughter resonated, and he nodded in agreement. He shifted his gaze to a distant corner, his eyes taking on a contemplative expression as if lost in thought. "Ah!" Secondo exclaimed, a sudden realization lighting up his features.

"What!?"

Rising from the chair, Secondo turned toward the door. "Follow me to my office."

Following Secondo, you walked toward the door linking your cabinet to his office. As the Deacon of the Ministry, your closer collaboration with him was an unspoken privilege. However, he'd never admit to such favoritism, even to you. Your role as a Deacon involved working closely with higher-ranking members, including the Papa Emeritus, to implement organizational goals and initiatives.

Your role within the Ministry was multifaceted, blending administrative prowess with a deep understanding of the sacred rituals and traditions. Your responsibilities extended beyond mere paperwork, delving into the intricacies of maintaining the Ministry's sanctity and efficiency. With each document meticulously scrutinized, you ensured that the delicate balance between tradition and progress was upheld. Your work bore the weight of the Ministry's legacy, and you navigated through the bureaucracy with the precision of a seasoned diplomat.

At least, that was the explanation Secondo would offer to anyone questioning potential privileges, underlining the professional nature of your connection.

Reaching for the door, Secondo stood beside it, gesturing for you to enter his office. With a nod of gratitude, you stepped inside, and he followed, leaving the door ajar. Moving from behind you, Secondo approached his desk, while you stood closer to the door, observing him as he sifted through folders atop his desk.

"More work for me?" you inquired with curiosity.

"I'm afraid so," he replied. "I need you to wrap up those files for the upcoming ritual."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, stepping closer to his desk, hands tucked behind your back. "Of course, Papa."

"We've talked about this; stop calling me Papa," he said, lifting his eyes to meet yours. "Papa is reserved for public moments. You know I'm fine with you using my name when it's just us, as we always have."

"Alright," you said, bringing your hands to rest on his desk, leaning slightly. "Se-con-do," you playfully spelled out his name, causing him to huff, and you suppressed a silent giggle.

"That's better," he said, extending a folder towards you.

"Is it?" you asked, with a mocking tone.

"The folder," he reminded, gesturing with the document in his hand.

"For when do you need those?" you inquired, your fingers lightly tapping on the edge of his desk.

"Tonight would be ideal," he said, glancing up at you. "We need everything in order before the Clergy starts poking their noses where they don't belong."

"I'll ensure everything is organized," you started. "But, can't it be for tomorrow morning, Papa?"

"Pasticcina..." he uttered your nickname with a serious tone. He didn't use it often, but when he did, there were hidden meanings, and you had grown accustomed to interpreting them based on the tone he employed.

"Fine," you replied, turning your back and making your way back to your cabinet. The sound of him clearing his throat halted your steps, prompting you to turn back. "Yes?"

He met your gaze. "I know you'll finish those tonight. If there's someone who can do it, that one is you, sì?"

You chuckled and nodded. "Of course, Pa-pa," you lingered on his title, relishing the pronunciation, before stepping back into your cabinet and closing the door behind you.

You returned to your desk, knowing that the remainder of the afternoon would be consumed by the documents from the folder he had given you. Yet, it was within the scope of your duties at the Ministry, so there was no room for complaints. Besides, you were assisting a friend, and that fact alone made the task more bearable.

Placing the folder on your desk, you sighed as you glanced at the other ones you had already started reading and organizing. It promised to be a long afternoon. With a deliberate exhale, you settled into your chair, redirecting your attention to the documents you were checking before Secondo entered your cabinet. Determination fueled your focus as you aimed to complete them before tackling the new files he had entrusted to you.

As the hours passed, the ambient light in your office shifted from the warm glow of the afternoon to the subdued hues of evening. The rhythmic tick of the clock on your wall was a steady companion as you delved into the complexities of your tasks. Lost in the labyrinth of paperwork, you were only stirred by the soft knock on your door linked to Secondo's office.

You raised your head to look at the door, and the realization that night had settled outside your window dawned upon you. You sighed, feeling the strain in your shoulders, and stretched your back, the subtle crackle providing momentary relief, before rubbing your eyes.

"Come in," you said with a tired voice, followed by a yawn.

As the door opened, Secondo stepped inside, his discerning eyes catching the subtle signs of your diligence. You smiled at him, leaning back in your chair. You noticed he had already discarded his Papa robes, now wearing only his customary full black outfit underneath. Like you, his expression, though obscured by the skull face paint, hinted at weariness.

Closing the door behind him, Secondo made his way to your desk, and your eyes followed his steps through the cabinet until he reached for the chair he had occupied earlier that afternoon. With a deep breath, he settled into the seat.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he remarked, his gaze lingering on the scattered papers.

"Just a momentary break," you replied, offering a weary but genuine smile.

Secondo reached for the folders on your desk, his fingers tracing the edges as he inquired, "Did you manage to finish it?"

"I did," you replied, a note of accomplishment in your voice. "Not only that, but I also finished the files you handed me this morning," you held out the organized folders, presenting them to Secondo.

His eyes narrowed slightly, with surprise and approval. "Impressionante," he remarked, taking the folders from you and deftly opening one to inspect the documents.

"It's my duty, Secondo," you responded.

He hummed in appreciation. "Can I ask you one more thing before you go?" Secondo's gaze met yours, a request lingering in his eyes.

You nodded.

"Would you..." His words trailed off as he diverted his gaze for a moment, a subtle hint of hesitation tainting his expression.

"Assist you with a new speech for the ritual?" you asked.

"No, I..." he started and sighed. "I have a date," he casually revealed.

"What?" your voice betrayed with surprise and disbelief. "When?"

"In some few days," Secondo sighed, his gaze momentarily distant as if contemplating his own decision. "I decided to... try something different," he admitted, his voice carrying a tinge of mystery and a hint of reluctance.

You arched an eyebrow, sensing the unusual weight behind his words. "Different? A date?" you teased.

"It's not a usual occurrence for me, as you well know," he grunted, a faint annoyance lingering in his expression. "Call it a whim, if you will. Just don't make it more than it is," Secondo glanced at you, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "It's just a dinner."

"Just dinner?" you repeated, eyebrows raised. "You're being unusually vague, Secondo."

He shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "I don't want to overthink it. It's just dinner, nothing more."

You tilted your head, studying him. "What did you need my help with?" you inquired.

He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up with a nonchalant air. "I just need some advice on conversation topics, maybe some dating tips; for now," he explained, a touch of vulnerability beneath his usual composed demeanor.

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "The great Secondo, seeking dating advice? Now, that's new."

He shot you a deadpan look, unamused. "Don't make a big deal out of it. It's just an experiment."

You chuckled. "Experiment or not, I'm honored to be the dating consultant for Papa Emeritus II. So, tell me about the details. Who's the lucky person?"

He hesitated for a moment before revealing, "It's someone from the Ministry."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? Do I know them?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It doesn't matter," Secondo looked at you, a subtle intensity in his eyes.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes. "Sure, we can practice, but your level of commitment for what you call 'just dinner' is certainly something else."

He leaned against your desk, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. "Are you testing me?"

"Not at all. I wouldn't dare to test the almighty, the unholiest Papa Emeritus II," you said, your eyes gleaming with playful mischief.

He chuckled, a low hum following suit. "So, any suggestions for romantic conversation topics?"

You thought for a moment, tapping your fingers on the desk. "Well, what do you enjoy doing? Talk about your interests, and see if you have any common hobbies. You know, things you're passionate about."

He leaned back, considering your words. "Like what?"

"Secondo," you giggled. "You really never had been on a proper date?"

"I had some dates in the past," he admitted.

"I meant a proper one, with more talk than moans," you teased.

"Maybe not that many, then," he conceded with a smirk. "I just need some practice."

You chuckled at his response. "Alright, let's practice. Pretend I'm your date. Talk to me about something you're genuinely interested in."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing around the cabinet as if searching for inspiration. "I... well, I appreciate... Satanism."

"That's a start," you encouraged. "But, considering I already know your role as Papa in a Satanic Ministry, let's try something else, shall we?"

He huffed, crossing his arms. “I also have a passion for cooking.”

"Do you!?" you exclaimed, genuinely surprised. "Why didn't you tell me about that?"

"Perhaps because we've never been on a date?" he teased, a subtle smile gracing the corner of his lips.

"Very funny, Secondo," you retorted. "What do you enjoy cooking?"

He pondered for a moment. "My mom taught me how to cook when I was younger, back before I moved here to the Ministry. So, in the days before I came to live here with my father, Primo and Terzo, she would prepare and teach me the recipes from her homeland. But, as you already know, since we used to live in Italy, she always found a way to blend both cuisines into one. So the short answer would be that I enjoy cook everything my mom taught me."

You listened attentively, nodding. "That's cu–better!" you quickly corrected yourself. "What more about you would you like to share?"

"I enjoy literature as well," he relaxed his posture, his arms uncrossed. "Particularly when it delves into the darker facets of human nature."

"That's interesting," you smiled at him.

"Is it?" he asked, tilting his head inquisitively.

You nodded in affirmation, mirroring his head tilt. "Which authors do you like?"

His eyes rolled upward in contemplation before returning to meet yours, locking gazes. "Lately, I've delved into 'The Masque of the Red Death' by Edgar Allan Poe."

You leaned in a bit, your eyes searching his. "And what is it about?" The question hung in the air, almost a murmur.

Secondo, responding to your intrigue, moved closer to your desk, resting his arms on it. "Mortality, decadence, and the inevitability of death."

Your eyes held his, and a subtle smile played on your lips. "It suits your taste, doesn't it?" The words slipped from your lips almost playfully.

For a moment, a silent exchange lingered between you, both locked in a gaze that held a subtle dance of unspoken sentiments. The back-and-forth felt almost automatic, a flow of words and glances that hung in the air. However, as the silence stretched, you broke the connection, blinking slowly and shifting your gaze to another corner of the room. The unspoken tension lingered, suspended in the quiet space between you.

"Now, should I ask you about your interests?" he asked, his gaze focused on you.

You leaned back, considering his question with a playful glint in your eyes. "Yes, feel free to ask."

He chuckled, a genuine warmth in his tone. "Molto bene, pasticcina... what are your passions?"

You smirked, playing along. "Well, I also have an appreciation for Satanism, though I suppose you know."

He chuckled. "Indeed, pasticcina. What more?"

You continued the playful practice, seamlessly transitioning from the hypothetical to the personal. As you delved into the conversation, Secondo surprised you with his genuine curiosity. He asked about your favorite dishes, the kind of music you liked, and even your preferred getaway destinations.

You found yourself opening up about your passions and quirks. Surprisingly, Secondo's interest wasn't feigned; he listened attentively, occasionally sharing his own preferences. A long time ago, you noticed that he genuinely enjoyed moments when you would talk at length, silently absorbing your words. And according to him, listening to you was a way for him to relax after a stressful or long day. It felt as if Secondo was peeling away the layers of formality, revealing a more personal side that you rarely glimpsed. His responses were not mere nods or brief acknowledgments; instead, he engaged with a genuine interest that touched your heart.

As you spoke, you couldn't help but appreciate the sincerity in Secondo's gaze. His eyes, usually carrying a weight of responsibilities and authority, softened into a more tender expression. It was as if, in this moment, the roles that defined your relationship were momentarily set aside, allowing a deeper connection to emerge.

"Ok, my time now! What’s your favorite memory from when you moved here?" you asked, resting your face on your hand as you stared at him.

"Favorite memory?" Secondo mused, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "I used to sneak into the Chapel for late-night fake rituals with Terzo. We used to explore the rooms behind the Chapel."

Intrigued, you leaned forward. "Rooms? Behind the Chapel?"

He grinned, revealing a glimpse of mischief. "We would sneak around after official hours, inventing stories about rituals we'd perform once we became Papa Emeritus."

You chuckled, "Did you three ever get caught?"

"More times than we’d like to admit," he admitted with a laugh.

"Who would've thought you were a rebel in your youth," you teased, pointing playfully at Secondo.

He responded with a sly smile, reaching for your hand and lightly touching his index finger to the one you were pointing at him. "There are probably some things you don't know about me, pasticcina."

A warmth spread through you, and you pulled away your finger, shaking your head with a slight blush. "I bet I don't. After all, I just discovered today that you can cook!'"

Secondo chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his eyes locked with yours. "A well-hidden talent, wouldn't you say? Maybe I have more surprises up my sleeves."

You couldn't help but smirk, leaning forward slightly. "I'm intrigued."

He leaned in as well, the desk between you feeling like an invisible boundary. "Are you, pasticcina?"

"Very much. Why? Shouldn't I?" you asked with a playful glint in your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, I can't tell you what to do, sì? Or maybe I can, as the Papa."

You laughed at his words and shook your head. "Yes, you're the Papa. And you're not my boss, so technically, you can't dictate my actions. Though, I must admit, sometimes you seem to believe otherwise," you added, flashing him a sweet smile.

"Pasticcina, you're forgetting that I'm Papa Emerius II of this Ministry. So, yes, technically, I'm the boss," he said, crossing his legs.

"Well, Papa Emeritus II, even if you're the boss you've always respected my autonomy. So I guess that's the reason we get along so well," you teased, giving him a knowing look.

He smirked, the twinkle of mischief present in his eyes. "You're right, I could never bring myself to dictate your actions. That's not something I desire. Especially in our circumstances."

"Our circumstances?" you laughed lightheartedly, shaking your head. "Any more hidden talents or skills you're keeping from me?"

Secondo's gaze intensified, and he leaned even closer. "Maybe you need to find out for yourself. I could surprise you one of these days."

You leaned back, feigning casualness, yet your eyes didn't leave his. "Surprises, huh? Maybe I also have a few tricks up my sleeve as well."

Secondo raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. "Do you?"

"Maybe," you admitted with a playful smile.

"Will you share them with me?"

"Absolutely not," you responded, shaking your head with a teasing grin. "Just like you, I'll keep my mysteries hidden," you pointed a playful finger at him. "But, I just hope that one day, I'll understand your enigmas."

He chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I doubt you'll unravel all my mysteries. Some are meant to be kept, sì?" Secondo chuckled, rising from the chair with the folders in hand. "Grazie for practicing with me."

"Are we finished already?" you questioned, giving him a certain look. You didn't want this brief exchange between the two of you to come to an end.

"Sì, we are," he nodded in confirmation, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"Well, in that case, no need to thank me; I'm here for it," you reassured him, a genuine warmth evident in your tone. "We're friends, after all."

"You should go now, rest. It's late," he said, stretching his back.

You stood up from your chair, your gaze locked with his. "What about you?"

"I'll place these in the archives and then head to my chambers," he explained.

"Do you want me to come with you?" you offered, circling your table to stand by his side.

Secondo turned to face you, a gentle smile on his lips as he shook his head. Placing his hand on your cheek, he said, "I won't ask for more favors today. Go, rest, and I'll see you tomorrow." His touch lingered for a moment before he withdrew his hand.

"Fine," you huffed playfully. "But don't overwork."

"I won't, I promise," he replied, his eyes holding a sincerity.

You nodded, looking at him. Your eyes remained locked, holding onto each other's gaze. There was a peculiar intensity in the air, as if an unspoken connection lingered between you two.

"Before you leave," he said, stepping closer to you. "I do have a question."

"Well, it seems there's more for me tonight," you teased, chuckling. "Ask away."

"Just one question," he replied. "Let's imagine this is our first day together, you know, as my date," he said nervously. "How should I go about things at the end?"

"Well, it all depends on how the date goes," you responded with a thoughtful smile. "What happens next, really depends on the person you're with. Some might appreciate a goodnight kiss, while others might prefer a more reserved end to the evening. Best to gauge their preferences and perhaps just ask." You couldn't resist teasing him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Now, if by 'ending the night' you're referring to something more... intimate," you paused, a sly grin forming, "well, that also depends, Secondo. It's mostly up to your partner's comfort and desires. If they're up for it, great. If not, you might want to exercise a bit more patience and wait for the right moment."

Secondo chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no, that's not what I was getting at," he clarified. "I'm not... thinking about anything too intimate for the first date. I just want to make sure I don't mess up the next steps. I'd like the date to be successful and maybe open the door for a second one."

You couldn't help but laugh at the misunderstanding. "Got it. It's always good to clarify these things. In that case, just be genuine, attentive, and considerate. If the connection is there, everything else will naturally fall into place."

Secondo nodded appreciatively. "Genuino, attento e premuroso. Posso farlo."

You grinned, offering a playful wink. "Exactly. And remember, if the date is going well, you'll sense it. If there's a good connection, you might even feel a spark. Just be yourself, and it'll all work out."

He smiled in response. "Grazie. I'll keep that in mind. Now, I should let you go. Don't want to keep you from your evening plans."

"Evening plans?" you chuckled. "More like bedtime plans. I just need to sle..."

Your words trailed off as Secondo delicately took hold of your hand, drawing it closer to his face. He pressed a soft kiss onto the back of it, his lips brushing smoothly, and his nose causing a delightful shiver to run down your spine. Secondo released your hand and raised his face to look at you again.

"Hope you have a good night," he whispered in a low, rough tone.

You nodded and you turned to leave, for some reason, you weren't feeling inclined to leave him tonight, prompting you to force yourself to look away. Giving him a warm smile, you made your way to the front door of your cabinet, opening it. You turned to face him for a last time and waved, a strange pull tugged at something inside you. Yet, without hesitating anymore, you left your cabinet, closing the door behind you. The corridor outside seemed quieter, the echoes of your footsteps resonating as you walked away. The night held a hint of something you couldn't figure out, but you pushed the thoughts aside, choosing to focus on the need for rest. Tomorrow would bring a new day.

The morning found you in the meeting room, surrounded by the table filled with members of the Clergy. Secondo occupied the central chair, presiding over the gathering. Annoyance lingered in the air, exacerbated by the early hour that seemed unfit for such deliberations. Yet, there you were, seated in your chair, contemplating the tedious proceedings. It was too early for such matters, and the weight of the Clergy's expectations pressed heavily on your shoulders. Despite the internal discontent, you maintained a composed exterior.

"How about we add a dance routine to the ritual, spice things up a bit?" one of the counselors inquired.

Secondo raised an eyebrow. "We're not putting on a show; it's a sacred ritual, not a ballroom."

"How about we all don hooded robes?" the Magister suggested, his tone edged with a touch too much enthusiasm.

"Are you aspiring to be one of my ghouls?" Secondo questioned with a stern undertone, tapping his fingers on the table's surface.

"No, Papa. I apologize," the Magister replied, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice.

Secondo sighed, his demeanor maintaining seriousness. "This is not a celebration; we strive for solemnity and reverence." He then turned to you. "Deacon, any suggestions?"

"Uh...How about we emphasize the significance of sin and purpose? You can give a solemn speech about it," you spoke with conviction, "Also, what about a ritualistic chant? A collective recitation to honor our Dark Lord."

Secondo stared at you for a moment in silence, then nodded approvingly. "A return to our traditions. I appreciate it, Deacon. Let's proceed with that direction, we need a ritual that aligns with our satanic traditions."

The members of the Clergy grumbled, but Secondo's decision remained unyielding. After all, he held the esteemed position of Papa Emeritus. While there were murmurs of discontent, there was an understanding that his word carried undeniable weight. Somehow, it felt like as if being part of the Clergy and his friend, provided a unique privilege, granting you proximity to Secondo's decisions and shaping the path of the Ministry.

Beyond the friendship you shared with Secondo, which allowed you to know him on a personal level, your role as his Deacon gave you insight into his vision for the Ministry. This deeper understanding empowered you to offer suggestions that aligned with his aspirations, making your contributions more impactful.

In other words, you knew him.

As the members of the Clergy dispersed at his dismissal, Secondo remained seated in his chair, and you in yours, waiting until the last member exited the door. A noticeable sigh escaped Secondo's lips, echoing in the now empty room. Amused, you turned your face towards him and couldn't help but giggle.

You gracefully rose from your chair and made your way towards Secondo. His eyes followed your movements until you stopped by his side, sitting on the table next to him.

"Rough morning?" you asked, studying Secondo.

"Hooded robes? That's the pinnacle of ideas for the meeting?" Another sigh, accompanied by a roll of his eyes.

You couldn't stifle a chuckle at his exasperated expression. "Well, he did make an attempt, didn't he?"

"That was an attempt?" he retorted with a huffed chuckle.

"Secondo..."

"Mi dispiace," Secondo conceded, rubbing his brows with his fingers and leaning back in his chair. "It's just frustrating sometimes."

You shifted closer. “I get it. The hooded robes suggestion was a bit out there.”

He sighed, turning his gaze to the door. “It’s like they’re trying to outdo each other.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “at least it keeps things interesting.”

"What do you mean?" Secondo inquired.

"I meant that," you sighed, shaking your head. "Come on, Secondo, early morning meetings? It's practically an invitation for absurd suggestions."

He chuckled, a genuine laugh escaping him. "You have a point, Deacon."

You joined in the laughter. "Maybe we should schedule meetings in the afternoon. Avoid the pre-dawn eccentricities."

Secondo raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Are you trying to spare me from hooded robe discussions?"

"Consider it a small act of mercy," you replied with a smirk.

Secondo chuckled silently, turning his eyes back to you, locking gazes. For a moment, you two just stared at each other. A warm smile crossed your face, and he quickly averted his gaze, rising from his chair. As he did, you gracefully slid from the table to the floor, observing him as he put his mitra back on his head.

“Back to the usual, I suppose,” Secondo remarked, adjusting his mitra.

You rose to your feet, a playful glint in your eyes. “The Ministry awaits for their unholiest Eminence, Papa Emeritus II.”

"Did you mean the Paper work?" He smirked, gesturing towards the door. “Shall we return to the office, Deacon? There’s more work to be done.”

You nodded, following him out of the meeting room. Secondo opened the door, allowing you to exit first, and then followed behind. The way back to his office and your cabinet was accompanied by a comfortable silence. The quiet corridors, still untouched by the bustling activities of the day, provided a serene atmosphere.

As you both walked together, your steps in perfect rhythm, a tranquil ambiance enveloped you. The morning’s hushed stillness allowed for reflection, interrupted only by occasional sounds echoing through the hallways. You sensed Secondo’s gaze on you at times, hinting at unspoken thoughts, yet you chose to ignore it, maintaining the quiet companionship between you two.

Reaching his office door, you placed a hand on his back, tapping your fingers in a silent farewell. As you slid your hand away, moving towards the door of your cabinet without looking back, Secondo surprised you by reaching for your wrist. You stopped, turning to meet his gaze.

With a subtle gesture of his head towards the door of his office, Secondo's unspoken invitation was clear. You nodded, and his hand moved from your wrist to your hand, holding it gently. Together, you walked into his office, and he closed the door behind you.

"What's going on, Secondo?" you inquired, a genuine tone of concern in your voice.

He turned towards you, still holding your hand. "Nothing, just wanted to discuss something before we dive into our daily tasks."

"Ah!" you exclaimed, relief evident in your voice. "All the silence and mysterious gestures... You scared me!" You chuckled, but the humor faded as you felt the grip of his hand tighten.

"I apologize, pasticcina," he said, releasing your hand. "It's nothing important; no need to worry. But I was thinking, after work, would you like to join me for dinner?"

"A dinner?" you raised a questioning brow. "Why?"

He moved to his desk, glancing away from you. "Yesterday, after you left, I started to ask myself about my plans for the date. I might admit I felt a bit pressured to decide without seeking an opinion, so I thought that meeting in my chambers for dinner would be more intimate," he explained. "So, what I'm suggesting is: could you come to my chambers later and share a meal with me? I'll take care of the cooking, so no need to worry."

"Yes, certainly," you affirmed with a nod. "But, why the sudden dinner plan?"

"Because I need your opinion," he explained, running his hand over his face and settling into his chair. "And I trust your taste, especially since you've never experienced my cooking skills before."

A playful giggle escaped you, and you bit your lower lip. "Putting in quite the effort for this date. They must be someone special, or... I'm not sure what else could explain it."

He nodded in agreement, rolling his chair away from the desk. Removing his mitra and placing it carefully on the edge, he continued, "They are. A lot. Grazie for helping me again," standing up, he lifted his robe and removed it. "I'll be expecting you after work, so you can change comfortably if you wish," he added while hanging his robe. "But for now, let's focus on work, sí?"

You nodded in agreement, offering him a sweet smile as you made your way to the door of your cabinet. Pushing it open, you impulsively gave him a final glance and found him looking back at you. However, as your eyes met, he quickly averted his gaze, and you did the same, entering your office and closing the door behind you.

Furrowing your brows, you walked to your desk and turned your face towards the door, a sense of confusion settling in as an unspoken tension lingered in the air.

Determined to delve into work, you tried to push aside the intrusive thoughts about Secondo's date. The realization that he needed your opinion for a personal matter lingered, adding an unexpected layer to your responsibilities. It felt like putting in extra hours for a friend, yet a subtle discomfort simmered beneath the surface, a feeling you couldn't quite decipher.

The day progressed, and the weight of your concentration on work led you to skip lunch, an unusual occurrence even without a meeting with the Clergy. The intensity with which you focused became a shield against the lingering thoughts, keeping your emotions in check. As the hours passed, the unease grew, a nagging sensation that you couldn't shake.

Amid your concentrated efforts, a knock on your door shattered the silence, pulling you away from your work. The interruption disrupted your train of thought, leaving you slightly disoriented as you looked towards the door.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up from your chair walking to the front of your desk and turned towards the door. Leaning against the edge of the desk, you called out, "Come in," crossing your arms in front of your chest.

As the door swung open, a sibling of sin from the ministry stood there. "I apologize for disturbing you, Deacon, but your presence is requested by the Magister in the Chapel."

"Thank you," you responded with a gentle smile.

The Sibling of Sin nodded, taking a step back from the door before leaving your cabinet. Just before the door closed, you signaled to keep it open. Seizing the opportunity, you made your way towards the door, leaving your cabinet and heading directly to the Chapel.

Uncertain of what the Magister could possibly need at this hour in the afternoon, you had no choice but to go. Entering the chapel, Archeon, the Magister, was already waiting for you, seated on one of the benches. As your eyes met his, you couldn't help but sigh.

"Magister," you greeted, closing the chapel's door behind you.

He turned his face towards you, rising from the bench. "Deacon, please, join me," he gestured to a door, his office and you walked towards it with him.

You approached, entering his office with him following suit. Archeon's expression bore formality and concern as he glanced at you.

"Deacon, I apologize for the sudden call, but there's a matter of urgency that requires your attention," he began, his tone carrying a weight.

"What is it?" you inquired, a note of concern in your voice.

"It's about the upcoming ritual," he replied with a smirk.

Suppressing any visible reaction, you maintained a composed exterior, merely nodding in response. You found yourself unwittingly drawn into another discussion about the ritual, a situation that seemed to be becoming a recurring theme in your day.

You couldn't shake the suspicion that Archeon had summoned you instead of Secondo, well aware that convincing the Papa might be an impossible task. It was a misjudgment on his part, as you held firm in your loyalty to Secondo and his decisions.

As the discussions delved deeper into the intricacies of the ritual, the afternoon gradually stretched into the night. Engrossed in the meeting, you realized you hadn't found a chance to escape from the Magister's grasp. After the prolonged discussions, you couldn't help but wish you were anywhere else at this point, yearning for a break from the relentless discourse.

"I was thinking we could enhance the upcoming ritual with some thematic decorations, perhaps—"

Raising your hand, you interjected wearily, offering a polite smile as your eyes flicked to the clock. "Magister, I appreciate your ideas, truly, but I've been immersed in logistical details all day." With a subtle gesture, you motioned towards the stack of papers on your desk. "I believe we've covered most bases. Can we possibly continue this discussion tomorrow?"

The Magister sighed, recognizing your exhaustion. "I completely understand, Deacon, but hear me out on these finer details about the ceremonial space. Picture this — ethereal lighting, symbolic artifacts, and maybe even a thematic focal point for the Papa Emeritus."

Nodding politely, you glanced towards the door, silently signaling the urgency of your situation. "Magister, your vision is inspiring, no doubt." As you spoke, you gathered the papers on your desk. "But I have an important matter to attend to now. Let's reconvene tomorrow, what do you think?"

"But, Deacon—" he began, reluctant to let go of his ideas.

You stood, a sense of determination in your eyes. "Tomorrow, Magister. I promise we'll give your ideas the attention they deserve. Right now, urgent matters call."

He nodded, understanding the present circumstances, and you gave him a reassuring smile. With that, you headed towards the door, leaving the Magister to contemplate his ideas inside one of the rooms of the Chapel.

As you navigated the corridors to reach Secondo's chambers, your thoughts drifted to reasons why he needed you tonight. You had been friends with Secondo for a considerable time, and you couldn't recall a time when he straight-up asked for your help on something so private. Granted, he had casually alluded to it on a few occasions, but it was more like random thoughts than actual requests. You pondered what was happening for him to break from his routine and embark on this unexpected endeavor.

Reaching for the door of his chambers, you shook away your thoughts. Raising your hand, you knocked on his door, mirroring the courtesy he had extended to you earlier. Soon, his voice echoed from inside, signaling you to push the door open and enter.

As you walked in, you made your way to his bedroom, finding him standing in front of the mirror, holding two shirts in his hands. He placed them in front of his bare chest, tilting his head repeatedly as he assessed the options. Leaning against the doorframe, you chuckled at the sight. Secondo shifted his gaze from his reflection to acknowledge your presence in the room.

"Which one?" he inquired, a serious tone in his voice.

"The white one," you replied, gesturing towards the shirt in his left hand.

He sighed and walked to his bed, discarding the other shirt as he began to don the white one. You made your way towards him, observing him buttoning his shirt. Stopping in front of him, you extended your hands to his neck, assisting with the collar of the shirt, your gaze fixed on his neck.

"Why are you picking out a shirt?"

"I had a little accident in the kitchen," he mumbled.

A playful chuckle escaped your lips as you tilted your face up to meet his gaze. "You, Secondo, had a little accident?"

He sighed, arching a brow. "Sì"

"Feeling nervous?" you inquired, tilting your head as you looked up at him. Your thumbs traced gentle circles on the skin of his neck.

"I don't get nervous," he declared with a serious tone, his hands moving to rest on your arms, holding them securely.

Raising an eyebrow, you scrutinized his expression. "You don't get nervous?"

"No," he replied, withdrawing his hands from your arms and lightly placing one on the side of your body.

Shaking your head with a smile, you moved your hands from his neck to the buttons of his shirt, skillfully undoing the first two. "You're not about to lead a mass or attend a meeting; you don't have to be that formal." You finished unbuttoning his shirt, giving him a light pat on the chest. "There, much better."

Secondo maintained a stoic silence, his gaze fixed on you as your hands lingered on his chest. The discreet sound of him clearing his throat felt like a subtle cue for you to withdraw your hands, concealing the flicker of embarrassment. Stepping back, you aimed to regain your composure.

Inhaling deeply, Secondo clasped his hands together and turned towards the kitchen, prompting you to follow suit. As he entered first and headed towards the stove, you found yourself trailing behind, entering the kitchen with a slight sense of uncertainty. Not quite sure of what to do or where to go, you hesitated on the threshold.

"Are you hungry?" he inquired.

"A little bit," you admitted.

"Come here," he beckoned, and you moved in a beeline towards him, stopping right beside him.

Turning to face you, Secondo gently held your chin between his index finger and thumb. "Open," he instructed, and a flicker of confusion passed through your eyes. Nonetheless, he moved his thumb closer to your lower lip, caressing it gently. "Your mouth."

Your gaze remained fixed on him as you slowly parted your lips, feeling his thumb almost sliding inside your mouth. A satisfied hum escaped him as he let go of your chin, guiding the spoon closer to your mouth.

As the spoon neared and your lips were still parted, your eyes fixed on him, Secondo abruptly halted his movement. He shifted the hand with the spoon, and you instinctively reached for it, taking hold. As he withdrew his hand to turn back to the stove, your eyes focused on the spoon.

"Blew it before tasting," he advised. "It's a recipe from my mom; she used to cook this risotto."

Obediently, you blew on the spoonful and tasted it, savoring the blend of flavors from the ingredients. A content smile spread across your face as you closed your eyes.

"It's good, sì?" Secondo inquired, and you opened your eyes, nodding appreciatively. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he remarked, attempting to veil a subtle joy in his voice, though it lingered beneath the surface. "Now, take a seat, and I'll serve our food."

As Secondo finished serving, you took a seat, waiting for him to join. With graceful movements, he approached the table, placing a plate in front of you and another for himself. Seating himself, he reached for a bottle of wine, but just before pouring, a realization struck him. Standing up, he made his way to the countertop drawer, retrieving a lighter. Returning to the table, he ignited some candles, casting a warm glow in the room. He then went to the switch, turning off the lights before settling back at the table.

You looked around, slightly perplexed by the sudden change in ambiance. "What's all this?" you asked.

Secondo leaned back, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "Just thought we'd get into the mood of a real date," he explained.

You chuckled, "A real date, huh?"

"Sì, why not?" he replied, pouring some wine into both glasses.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I think I'll pass on the wine," you said with a small smile. "Still have work tomorrow."

Secondo nodded and got up. "Nessun problema. I'll get you something else." He returned with a bottle of water and a glass cup, placing them in front of you. "I apologize. I should have asked before."

"No need to apologize," you reassured him, pouring yourself some water. "I appreciate it," you sipped your water. "This really feels like a real date," you remarked with a playful smile.

Secondo leaned back, his gaze meeting yours. "Well, I did ask you to meet me at night for a dinner,” Secondo admitted, a touch of genuine reflection in his voice. “But I called you here to make sure I’ve still got the charm.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Charm? Is that what you call it?”

He grinned, “Well, you haven’t run away yet, so it must be working, sì?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his playful banter. “I have to admit that your mother's risotto is being more powerful than your 'charm' right now. But, I suppose you have a point. So, what’s the plan for our fictional date talk practice tonight?”

Secondo lifted his wine glass, taking a sip. "I thought we could dive into some typical date talk again. Just, before we do it, why are you still in your work clothes?"

You glanced down at your attire and sighed. "The Magister called for me this afternoon for a discussion."

"What was it about?" Secondo inquired, picking up his fork to begin eating.

"Guess," you replied dryly. "Of course, it was about the ritual."

"Cretino," Secondo muttered under his breath. "I'll make sure he knows not to disturb you any further."

You chuckled, appreciating Secondo’s protective tone. “No need to worry, Secondo. I can handle the Magister, and besides, it’s part of the job.”

He sighed, delicately placing his utensils on the table. “I still don’t like it. You shouldn’t be bothered with such things. If I've made my decision, then he should stop pressuring you. I have the final say.”

You responded with a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, really. Now, back to our ‘typical date talk.’ If being a Papa Emeritus wasn't your destiny, you could have being a chef.”

A subtle smile forming at the corner of his lips as he focused on his food. "I'm truly glad you liked it."

"Are you planning to cook this for your date?" you inquired.

"No," he replied, taking a bite. "I mean... Yes, but, this dish is..." he continued. "This is a dish meant to be shared with someone special."

"Isn't your date someone special?" you quirked an eyebrow.

Secondo chuckled, a soft warmth in his eyes. “Of course. But this dish is... it has a meaning for me, and to share it with someone, for me, is truly intimate.”

You nodded, understanding. “So, what you are telling me right now is that I'm special?"

Secondo took another bite, savoring the flavors before meeting your gaze. "Maybe yes, maybe no," he said with a playful glint in his eyes.

You leaned in, a teasing smile on your lips. "Well, Secondo, you're not giving me a clear answer. Should I be offended or flattered?"

He chuckled, setting his fork down. "You see, 'special' is quite a broad term. it can mean a lot of tings."

You rolled your eyes in mock exasperation. "You're impossible, you know that? But I suppose it's better than a definite 'no'."

He laughed softly, a twinkle in his eyes. "However," he sighed before continuing. "I can't deny that sharing this with you is special. So maybe you're not just special; you're making it special."

You blushed deeply and he reached for your hand. You instinctively let him, both of you seemingly unaware of the unspoken shift in dynamics. The touch felt surprisingly natural, and as your fingers intertwined, the air in the room seemed to thicken with some strange newfound feeling.

“Perhaps,” Secondo began, his voice softer, “we could do this again sometime.”

You nodded. “Of course, I'd love to.”

The evening unfolded in shared conversations and laughter, the atmosphere feeling strangely intimate. Your hands remained intertwined, as if in sync with the unspoken understanding that this wasn't just a performance, or at least didn't feel like it as time seemed to slow down as you both reveled in the comfort of each other's presence.

As the meal drew to a close, Secondo rose, indicating his intention to take care of the dishes. Despite your offer to help, he insisted that you stay put, asserting his desire to handle the task. Weariness settling in, you acquiesced without further protest, allowing him to take charge.

Reclining in your chair, you observed him as he methodically rolled up his sleeves, ready to tackle the pile of dishes. Resting your elbow on the table, you cradled your cheek in your hand, captivated by the simple domesticity of the scene. Watching him in this moment, he seemed more than the formidable Papa Emeritus; he appeared as a person engaged in mundane yet oddly enchanting chores. It was a rare glimpse of Secondo unguarded, a side obscured by his role of authority.

Your eyes roamed over his silhouette, from the way his white shirt clung to him with meticulous precision, the impeccable fit of his black pants, down to his polished shoes. Every detail seemed to accentuate the allure of his form. As he worked on the dishes, your gaze lingered on the back of his head, his neck, his arms, and the motion of his strong hands. The entire sight prompted an involuntary sigh, a reflexive response to the unexpected allure of observing him.

Clearing your head, you shook off the enchantment and took in a deep breath. It felt odd to gaze upon him with such admiration, especially in the context of a casual evening. Reminding yourself that this was merely a performance, a shared act between two individuals, you sought to maintain a sense of detachment. The lines between the scripted performance and genuine connection blurred momentarily.

"Have you considered bringing flowers for your date?" you inquired, turning your gaze back to him.

Secondo paused in his actions, glancing over his shoulder. "Flowers?"

"It could be a nice touch," you suggested, your tone gentle, accompanied by a warm smile. "A thoughtful gesture, don't you think?"

"Flowers," he chuckled softly, a twinkle in his eye. "What kind of flowers?"

"I don't know, maybe... lilies, daisies or..." you paused, contemplating. "Oh! tulips!" you exclaimed, your face lighting up with a smile.

"Tulips?" he inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.

"Yes," you affirmed, nodding with a continued smile. "Tulips expresses admiration."

"Tulips then," he decided, nodding in agreement.

"Yes, Papa. Tulips," you confirmed with a grin

"Stop," he said in a more serious tone.

"Stop with what, Papa?" you inquired, letting his title linger a bit longer on your tongue.

With a chuckle, Secondo turned towards you, arms crossed over his chest. "Pasticcina..."

"Papa?" you repeated, trying to suppress a laugh, your lower lip caught between your teeth.

He approached the table, placing his hands on it in front of you, lowering himself slightly. "Do you find it entertaining to mock me?"

With a playful tone, you replied, gesturing with your hand as if pinching an imaginary space between your thumb and index finger. "A little. But to be honest, I don't get why you don't like me calling you Papa. You call me Deacon!"

He sighed, closing his eyes. "When you call me Papa, it feels like you're just another one of them who sees me only in that role. I know you don't, or at least, I want to believe you don't. So when you do it, it feels like you're only acknowledging me as Papa. Also seeing me as someone above you, and I don't want you to see me as it. You're the only one I allow to call me by my name because... that feels more personal, more real."

"Secondo," you softly uttered his name, and a gentle smile graced his lips. "I..." you continued, observing as Secondo opened his eyes, locking his gaze with yours.

He nodded slightly, a gentle expression in his eyes. "Now you know."

You couldn't help but feel a warmth in your chest, realizing the significance of calling him by his name. It was a privilege, a connection beyond titles and roles. You sensed a deeper bond, one that surpassed the boundaries of your official positions.

"But," you chuckled, looking away from his eyes. "That doesn't explain why you call me Deacon." As you spoke, you felt Secondo's gentle touch cupping your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze once more.

"That's easy to explain, actually," he replied, straightening his posture and adjusting his sleeves. "I call you Deacon because, in my eyes, you are more than just your title," Secondo said with a sincere tone, his eyes locked onto yours. "It's a term that resonates with the person you are to me—dedicated, capable. When I say it, it's not just a formality; it's a way of acknowledging the person I trust, respect, and consider my equal."

His words caught you off guard, surprise and warmth settling within. You sat there, momentarily frozen, unsure of how to respond, your gaze fixed on him. Secondo, with a subtle tilt of his head, seemed to enjoy your reaction. Breaking the moment, you burst into laughter, getting up from your seat and playfully hitting his arm with a soft punch. He reached for your hand, and pulled you closer.

"Should I let you go for tonight?" he whispered in a hushed tone.

Confused by his ambiguous words, you pondered the meaning behind "letting you go." What was he implying? You hesitated, uncertain of your response. Should you express a desire to stay longer, to extend this quiet and intimate moment with him? Yet, the reason behind that desire eluded you.

"Is our 'date' coming to an end?" you inquired, matching his subdued tone.

"It depends," he whispered back.

The air seemed to thicken, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere. His proximity and the gentle embrace of your hands intensified the unspoken tension, leaving you breathless and uncertain how to navigate the intimate space between you.

"In that case," you began, gently retracting your hand from his grasp, "I suppose our night comes to an end."

As you spoke, Secondo remained silent, nodding in agreement while avoiding eye contact. He gestured toward the kitchen's door, prompting you to lead the way. Moving in silence, you felt the weight of your words, wondering if you had conveyed the wrong message. As you approached the front door, you hesitated, a desire to turn and look at him conflicting with the sense that you had just given an inadequate response.

Reaching the door, you stopped, making room for Secondo to open it for you. Gathering your courage, you glanced back at him, only to find his gaze fixed elsewhere. Sighing, you stepped outside, facing the corridor. Just as you were about to move on, he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss on the back. As he released your hand, he remained silent, offering a small nod and a faint smile.

Taking a step back into his chambers, Secondo slowly closed the door, allowing for a prolonged gaze between you two. When the door finally shut completely, you felt a rush of air leave your lungs, exhaling heavily. Holding the hand he had kissed against your face with the other, you could feel your heart racing and your cheeks burning.

You hurriedly retreated to your chambers, not daring to glance back. No furtive glimpses, not even with the corner of your eye. Distance was your ally, and you needed to put as much of it between you and him as possible. The empty corridors allowed for swift, almost running steps, the only sounds being the echo of your hurried pace and the rapid beating of your heart.

Upon reaching the door to your chambers, you wasted no time and swung it open, entering in haste. As the door closed behind you, you leaned against the wooden surface, taking a moment to catch your breath before attempting to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Turning your gaze to your hand, the one he had just kissed, you were certain you could still feel the warmth of his lips on it. Driven by a mix of desire and bewilderment, you brought the hand closer to your face, hovering it near your lips. With closed eyes, you allowed yourself to savor the sensation, as if the residual heat from his kiss on your hand was transferring directly to your lips. It almost felt like...

You opened your eyes, fixating on your hand outstretched in front of you, prompting a sigh to escape your lips. As your gaze trailed the back of your hand, there it was—the imprint of his lips, the distinctive black lines from his face paint against the white. Your eyes softened, and you closed them once more. Bringing your hand close to your mouth, you allowed yourself to place a gentle kiss on the marked skin. As you withdrew your lips from your hands, the faint imprint of his kiss lingered. The sensation was as if you had just shared a kiss with Secondo, kindling a flame within you.

The line for the confessional today was incredibly long. It wasn't your usual practice to engage in this, as you preferred to grapple with your sins in silence. Moreover, your role as a Deacon didn't mandate such confessions. However, during your free moments, you occasionally indulged in sharing your transgressions with the Cardinal of the week, the Minister, or even the Papa Emeritus himself.

The problem lay in the aftermath of the previous night, as an unusual sense of guilt and embarrassment gripped you. It was a sentiment you couldn't entirely comprehend, but the source of your embarrassment was clear – the intimate act with your hand that felt inherently wrong.

The queue for the confessional was filled with siblings eager to speak with Secondo. However, as his Deacon, you were well aware that he wouldn't be available today due to a busy morning. You found solace in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be the one hearing your thoughts, actions, and feelings today. Instead, the confessional would be attended by one of the Ministers from the Ministry, as per the schedule.

As the queue inched closer to your turn at the confessional, a sense of nervousness tinged your anticipation. You knew you needed to confess the guilt and embarrassment you felt from the previous night, but you were determined to keep the details superficial and avoid any mention of Secondo. The goal was to confide without revealing the true source of your inner turmoil, ensuring that whoever listened on the other side remained unaware of the specific circumstances.

After a brief wait, it was finally your turn at the confessional. As you stepped into it, the familiar scent of aged wood surrounded you, creating a somewhat comforting atmosphere. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

"Forgive me, Minister, for I've sinned," you began, your voice calm within the confines of the confessional.

Inside, a brief silence ensued, and you turned your head, catching a glimpse of the Minister's silhouette through the window. He nodded, prompting you to take a deep breath.

“I… I found myself in a situation that felt inappropriate,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel ashamed and embarrassed about it. I know I shouldn't feel ashamed, but I do.”

Turning your gaze to the silhouette once more, another nod from the Minister signaled for you to continue.

"I know that embracing desire is considered virtuous, and I shouldn't feel shame, but I do," you confessed, leaning against the confessional wall. "I find myself entangled in thoughts and feelings of lust with someone I shouldn't. He wasn't someone I desired before or maybe did; I regarded him as an equal, a friend. However, something has changed, he looks different now."

The Minister's silhouette stayed stoic, leaving you uncertain about whether to continue. However, you knew he wouldn't abandon the confessional.

"We've had some conversations in the last few days, and it's embarrassing because I shouldn't be feeling this way about him after such a short time, but the way he talks, the care he shows when I'm talking..." you smiled. "The way he expressed how he sees me... and other things. I start to feel like I've been blind whenever I was close to him or just ignored things I shouldn't have, and for that, I feel embarrassed. My sin today is this guilt inside of me."

You furrowed your brows as the silhouette remained stoic, leaving you unsure of how to proceed.

"Minister? Should I proceed?" you asked with uncertainty.

He nodded in response.

"I should be proud of what happened yesterday; after all, lust is embraced here. But, all I feel is guilt. Guilt for the desire I felt, for what I imagined with him," you sighed, closing your eyes and pressing your legs together. "For the longing for a kiss, just an innocent kiss," you murmured, opening your eyes. "I feel guilty for wanting my friend, for desiring him, for needing him."

You sighed, shifting your gaze to the silhouette on the other side of the confessional booth. The Magister remained a silent listener, patiently absorbing your words.

"I feel like I’m caught in this whirlwind of emotions," you confessed, your gaze dropping to your feet. "I'm starting to think maybe this attraction was always lurking around, unnoticed or dismissed. It's confusing – being drawn to him when it feels like I shouldn't. But," you grinned, "I can't shake the thoughts of him, and this curiosity to unravel more about who he really is."

You awaited a response, but the Minister stayed silent. The thought that they might have figured out who you were referring to started to gnaw at you, a tightening sensation in your stomach.

"Thank you, Minister, for listening," you expressed as you gently opened the confessional door and stepped out, leaving the weight of your confessions within its sacred space.

Exiting the confessional, you headed back to your cabinet, exiting the chapel. In the corridors, you spotted the Magister, you anticipated the conversation you had promised him yesterday. Inhaling deeply to prepare yourself, as you walked past him, however, he deliberately avoided your presence, not even bothering to meet your gaze.

Observing him stride away, a chuckle escaped your lips. It seemed Secondo had indeed managed to convey the message to leave you alone. As you continued to your cabinet, you passed by Secondo's office door, giving it a brief glance. He probably hadn't returned yet from the meeting he had scheduled for this morning. Reaching your own door, you opened it and stepped inside.

The rest of the day unfolded with an unusual quietness. Secondo didn't show up after the meeting hour, and there were no requests or messages from him. The typically atmosphere of his office, where you could hear the muffled sounds of him discussing matters with other siblings or working on various tasks, was eerily silent. You couldn't even catch a glimpse of him through the slightly open door of his office.

Despite the unusual circumstances, you decided to focus on your work. The Ministry's duties and responsibilities demanded your attention, and you knew that dwelling on Secondo's absence wouldn't serve any purpose. Your tasks as a Deacon required precision and dedication, and you delved into your responsibilities, pushing aside any thoughts about the peculiar events of the day.

Yet, you missed him.

As the hours passed, the normal rhythm of your work continued, and you worked on managing requests, coordinating schedules, and overseeing the operations within the Ministry. The day rolled on, and soon it was approaching the end of your work shift. Still, there was no sign of Secondo, and the unusual emptiness in his office lingered in the air. You wondered if something significant had occurred or if he simply had other matters to attend to. Regardless, you maintained your focus on your duties, determined to fulfill your responsibilities until the last moments of your workday.

The sudden knock on your door nearly startled you, prompting a swift rise from your chair. Fueled by the hope that it might be Secondo, you hurried to the door, anticipation coursing through you. However, to your disappointment, it was one of the ritualists who awaited you on the other side.

"It's quite late, and I understand if you've wrapped up your work, but I have some details for the upcoming ritual at the end of the week," he mentioned, gesturing with a folder in his hand.

"Please," you said, stepping back to allow him entry. "Come in."

He nodded, stepping into your cabinet. "It's not urgent. Honestly, you can address it tomorrow, but I needed someone reliable to take a look at the final document."

As you closed the door, you faced him. "You do realize you should have handed it to Papa, right?"

"Don't you know?" he inquired, noticing your confusion. "Papa didn't attend the morning meeting, and no one has seen him since then."

"What!?" you exclaimed, attempting to mask your emotions. "What do you mean?"

"I assumed you might knew," he said, placing the folder on your desk.

"I..." you glanced at Secondo's door. "I didn't..." you sighed, shifting your focus back to the ritualist. "Maybe he was just occupied for the day."

"Perhaps," he replied with a shrug. "Well, thanks for receiving me," he said, heading toward the door and opening it. "As I mentioned, don't stress about the files today; you can handle them tomorrow."

As the ritualist departed, closing the door behind him, you swiftly approached Secondo's office door connected to your cabinet. Pushing it open, you scanned the room. There was no indication that he had been in his office today. Unusual – it wasn't typical for Secondo to be absent from the office or working elsewhere without a clear reason.

A troubling thought surfaced: could his absence be tied to his date? Perhaps he was preparing for it, but was it today? Regardless, he wouldn’t neglect his responsibilities like this, especially not without keeping you informed.

Exiting his office, you returned to your cabinet. Without a second glance, you headed to your front door and left. Determined to locate Secondo, you were certain he would be in his chambers—the only place where he could remain hidden for an extended period without being spotted.

As you walked purposefully through the corridors, the urgency of finding Secondo fueled your steps. Upon reaching the entrance to Secondo’s chambers, a moment of hesitation overcame you before retrieving the spare keys hidden at the top of the door and pushing it open.

“Secondo?” No response. The silence pressed against your ears, amplifying the tension.

To your surprise, the room was empty. The subtle scent of incense hung in the air, but there was no sign of Secondo. The mysterious absence deepened your concern. Maybe he had left a clue, a note, or something that could shed light on his sudden disappearance. You began to search the room, checking every corner, every piece of parchment on his desk.

Nothing.

As you stood in the center of Secondo's chamber, uncertainty gripped you. Where could he be? The unanswered questions piled up, and a sense of foreboding weighed on your shoulders. An eerie silence enveloped the room. The air seemed to hold its breath.

Exiting his chambers, you headed back to your cabinet, determined to focus on the documents the ritualist had delivered. You pondered where else Secondo might be if not in his chambers. A sense of worry gnawed at you; his prolonged absence was unusual, especially for the entire day.

Arriving at your cabinet's door, you paused, taking a deep breath. Your gaze involuntarily flicked to Secondo's closed office door, searching for any hint of light beneath it. To your disappointment, there was none. Deciding not to dwell on it further, you pushed open your door. But, just as you were about to step inside, you found him already there, standing in front of your desk, holding the folder delivered by the ritualist.

"Secondo!" you exclaimed, stepping inside.

"Deacon," he said, meeting your gaze with a seemingly innocent expression. "I was wondering where you went."

"I should be the one asking that," you retorted. "What's going on? Where have you been?"

"In the... Ministry...?" he asked, arching a brow in mock innocence, placing the folder on your desk. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean!" you said, your tone sharpening. "You've been absent the entire day!" you said, stepping closer to him.

"Deacon..."

"No," you interrupted, pointing at him as you closed the distance. "Don't use my title or—"

“Pasticcina,” Secondo interjected. His tone remained steady but carried an unspoken weight.

As the familiar nickname reached you, you came to a sudden stop a few inches away from him. Casting a brief glance in his direction, you took in his unadorned appearance – no face paint, only wearing the clothes he typically donned under his Papa's robe.

“I had some personal matters to attend to,” Secondo explained, breaking the momentary silence. His eyes met yours, revealing something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Personal matters?” you repeated, your tone a blend of skepticism and curiosity. “You were absent the whole day.”

He sighed, a hint of frustration evident. “There are aspects of my duties that require discretion. It’s nothing to concern yourself with, pasticcina.”

"What? Since when?" you said, frustration evident, releasing his hand. "Are you kidding me?" The heat of anger simmered within you. "Secondo, you've been absent the entire day. I assumed maybe a lengthy meeting, but it felt odd. No communication, no nothing throughout the day," you continued. "This isn't your usual behavior. You don't skip work, you don't disappear, and most importantly, not without..." Your words trailed off.

"Not without?" he inquired.

"Not without telling me," you sighed, turning away and rubbing your hands over your eyes. "I'm your Deacon; you can't pull disappearing acts without informing me about what's happening." As you faced him again, he stood unexpectedly close, the intensity of his presence catching you off guard.

"I didn't skip work today," he asserted, looking down at you. "I was working."

"Oh, were you?" you shot back with a defiant look, crossing your arms. "Really?"

"Sì?" he replied, mirroring your crossed arms. "Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know, maybe for the same reason you hid from me the entire day?" you said, the anger still simmering. "I even thought that maybe your date was today, and you were..." you inhaled deeply. "there... with them." As you said it, your words came out laden with frustration and an unspoken hurt. "But, I've had enough of these vague answers, Secondo," you said, your frustration boiling over. "What happened today? You can't just disappear without a word."

He sighed, his gaze shifting away. "It was unexpected."

"Unexpected? That's all you're giving me?" you retorted, unconvinced. "Everyone in the Ministry was worried, and I was left in the dark."

"I'm sure no one was worried, pasticcina, and I apologize for the concern," he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"You can't just—I'm the Deacon! I should know what's happening," you insisted, your eyes narrowing.

He paused, as if grappling with a decision. "Bene, I'll tell you," he conceded, meeting your gaze. "I was in a private duty today."

"A private duty?" you echoed, puzzled. "What could possibly be a private duty?"

He hesitated, then admitted, “I am the Papa Emeritus of the Ministry, after all. Sometimes, I need to be the listener,” he explained, a shadow of weariness crossing his features.

“A listener?” you questioned, still trying to grasp the extent of his absence.

“I skipped the meeting because I couldn’t shake off some of my thoughts. Then, I found myself in the confessional today,” he repeated, his tone revealing a deeper truth. “Listening to confessions. I wanted to offer guidance, to be there for those who needed it."

“So, it means that it was—” a sudden realization hit you. If Secondo was the one inside the confessional today...

Secondo gently reached for your face, cupping your cheek. “Do you want to talk about why you felt guilty?”

Your eyes widened as you looked at him. “I don’t.”

"Are you sure about that, pasticcina?" he inquired, his thumb lightly tracing the line of your jaw.

You tried to maintain composure. "I don't feel guilty."

He chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. "Confessionals are meant for honesty, you know."

You took a deep breath. "I don't have anything to confess," you insisted, though your gaze flickered with uncertainty.

"But you had," Secondo’s gaze held an unspoken challenge. “Don't hide your sins from me, pasticcina,” his thumb continued its gentle caress.

“I… I just...” you stammered, attempting to evade the specifics. Feeling the pressure, you took a step back, creating a slight distance between you and Secondo. His eyes followed your movement, and took a deep breath.

"You can talk to me," he persisted, closing the gap again, his gaze unwavering. "What happened?"

You continued to evade, attempting to maintain composure. "It's nothing, really."

He pursued you, narrowing the distance between you once more. "Tell me," he urged, his voice a soft but insistent whisper. "I want to help you to get rid of this feeling. Let me, your Papa, guide you."

As the space between you diminished, you met his gaze, and in a barely audible whisper, you admitted, "I feel guilty because of you."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Secondo’s eyes as he maintained the proximity, absorbing your whispered admission. Before he could respond, you spoke up.

“I feel guilty,” you confessed, “for wanting you,” the words tumbled out, revealing the turmoil within. "But I shouldn't because we are friends... But yesterday, all I wanted for some reason was you, your touch, a kiss..."

Without a word, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The air seemed to pause, and then, with a gentle and unmistakable determination, he pressed his lips to yours. For a moment, he held still, leaving his lips lightly grazing yours, waiting for your response.

As you closed your eyes slowly, you took a deep breath, reciprocating the kiss. That was all the encouragement he needed. Secondo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, fingers tracing patterns as your lips moved in harmony. Slowly, your hands caressed down to his belly before settling on the sides of his body. As you explored the contours, Secondo responded by unwrapping his arms from around you. His hands then journeyed to your face, cupping your cheeks with gentle warmth, intensifying the closeness of the moment.

As the kiss continued, the touch of your lips remained gentle and unhurried. Your hands, exploring the intricate contours of his body, moved with deliberate tenderness. Secondo's response was a mirrored reflection of the unhurried passion. He let his hands linger on your face, thumbs tracing gentle patterns along your cheeks.

And then, subtle shift occurred, and the tenderness transformed into a growing intensity. The unhurried kiss between you and Secondo began to deepen, the softness giving way to a more fervent exchange.

Your hands, once gentle in their exploration, tightened their hold with a newfound urgency. They traced the lines of his body, conveying a growing desire that mirrored the intensifying kiss. Secondo responded in kind, his touch on your face evolving from a gentle caress to a more passionate hold, fingers tracing their path to the back of your neck.

His fingers brushed against the back of your neck as his other hand firmly grasped your waist. Your bodies were pressed against each other, intensifying the kiss. A subtle sound escaped your lips, blending with a sigh as Secondo's grip on your waist tightened.

Tilting his head, Secondo’s tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entrance. However, you, sensing the path the kiss could lead you both, pulled away abruptly. The fire that had been building extinguished as you put a deliberate distance between you and Secondo.

Secondo's eyes, filled with concern, locked onto yours. This time, you turned your face to the side, glancing away. Undeterred, he gently held your chin, turning it back to face him.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a hushed tone, his lips just inches away.

"N-Nothing," you stammered, trying to hide the unease in your voice.

"Did I do something wrong?" His eyes conveyed a mix of worry and confusion.

"No..." you said, reaching for the hand on your chin, holding it in an attempt to convey reassurance. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I just..." you started, your voice softening. "I knew where that kiss could lead, and it didn't feel right, especially considering..."

"Considering what?" Secondo inquired, his brow furrowing with confusion.

"...Considering you have a date," you replied.

Secondo’s gaze held deep emotions as he absorbed your words. “Ah, the date,” he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of ambiguity. “It’s just a date, pasticcina.”

“How come?” you inquired. “You’ve been preparing yourself for the last two days.”

He chuckled lightly, a softness in his eyes. “I need to tell you something about it."

"Look," you began, hugging your own arms around your body. "You don't have to."

"Pa—" Secondo started to protest.

You gently interjected, placing two of your fingers on his lips. "It's fine. You have your date. I was just confusing things, and we're just friends, right?" A small, reassuring smile graced your lips.

"Pasticcina..." he said against your fingers on his lips. He gently took your hand, the one that covered his lips, and brought it to his own cheek, holding it there. "Don't do it like that. Don't say things like that," his eyes pleaded with yours. "Listen to me."

You retracted your hand from his face and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "It's all fine," you whispered close to his cheek, hovering your nose near it. "I should be going now. I'm sorry for what I said at the confessional and for what I said now. I guess I just lost myself for a moment. That was a mistake."

As you uttered those words, you took a decisive step away from Secondo, moving towards the door. The weight of unspoken emotions lingered in the air, and amidst the charged atmosphere, you heard Secondo calling your name. The temptation to look back tugged at you, but you resisted. Turning back would only complicate things, and deep down, you knew you shouldn't. In the end, it all became a silent struggle between the desire to stay and the doubt if leaving was the right choice.

Lying in bed, you remained still, the passing minutes or perhaps hours slipping by unnoticed. The events of the previous night lingered in your thoughts, casting a peculiar spell over your mind. As you replayed the scene, questions swirled, and a prominent one stood out – why did he kiss you? The weight of that unanswered question settled in your mind, weaving a web of contemplation as the kiss seemed like a gesture of compassion, as if your revelation might prompt Secondo to grant you your deepest longing at that instant. However, he wouldn't behave in such a manner, not just with you, but with anyone else. This wasn't the Secondo you were familiar with.

Immersed in your contemplations, the persistent curiosity continued to tug at your thoughts. It resembled a puzzle with crucial pieces missing, each reflection spawning more unanswered questions. In an attempt to regain focus, you decided to rise, take a shower, and prepare for the day. As a member of his Clergy, your responsibilities called for attention, and dwelling on thoughts of him could no longer detain you in bed. Nevertheless, the images from the previous night lingered in your mind. A subtle but undeniable sense of change permeated your thoughts, leaving you with a perplexing feeling that the nature of this shift eluded your understanding.

Setting those lingering thoughts aside, you proceeded with your bath. Once you were done, you exited the bathroom and returned to your room to attire yourself for the day. Despite being plagued by the memory of Secondo's lingering kiss, you remained committed to fulfilling your duties, even if starting the day later than planned.

As you left your room and made your way to the cabinet, you hoped that immersing yourself in work would serve as a welcomed distraction. Your silent pleas for tranquility were directed to the Dark One as you navigated the corridors. In a way, you found yourself praying to avoid encountering Secondo, at least for the time being. Yet, it seemed the Dark One remained indifferent to your pleads.

"Deacon," Secondo's voice reached your ears as you halted in front of your door.

You took a deep breath before turning to face him. "Papa," you acknowledged.

Secondo lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on you, then cleared his throat. "I— Will you be attending the lunch meeting today?"

"Maybe," you replied, uncertainty lacing your words.

Secondo's eyes held a subtle intensity, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension between you two from the previous night. As you exchanged glances, the atmosphere seemed to sway between hot and cold, the lingering memory of the kiss casting a shadow over you both.

"Maybe," you repeated, your response holding a hint of reservation.

"Decisions regarding the upcoming ritual need to be discussed," Secondo remarked, shifting the conversation. "Your presence is crucial in this, Deacon. The ritual details demand meticulous attention."

You nodded. "Certainly, Papa. However, I thought all the details had already been finalized."

Secondo parted his lips, seemingly about to say something, but the door to his office creaked open. A Sister of sin emerged, casting a curious glance in your direction.

"Papa," she called him, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

"Ah, sorella," Secondo acknowledged, his focus briefly shifting. "Deacon, we shall resume this discussion later," he said it, entering his office.

You retreated from the corridor, entering your cabinet as the door to Secondo's office closed behind him and the Sister of sin. The encounter left a questions in your mind, a quiet curiosity about the identity of the sister and the nature of their interaction. Could she be the date Secondo had been preparing for? The thought lingered, but you pushed it aside, realizing that this wasn't the moment to dwell on such matters.

You had a portion of work to complete before the lunch meeting, and that became your immediate focus. Whoever the Sister in Secondo's office was creeping your thoughts. To the point you had to remind yourself: you're friends, he has a date, the kiss was a mistake, merely a result of your inadvertent encouragement. This internal mantra aimed to clear the air of any unresolved tensions as you delved into your tasks.

And then, doubts lingered in the recesses of your mind. What if you were wrong? What if Secondo desired the kiss as much as you did, and your inadvertent admission gave him the courage to express his own feelings? But you pushed aside those thoughts.

But, unfortunately, nothing could entirely distract you from the thoughts about Secondo and suddenly, you found yourself standing in front of his door, clutching some papers as a feeble excuse to engage in conversation. Hesitation seized you, torn between knocking and retreating. The uncertainty loomed, as if uttering words might unravel the mystery, yet also deepen the intricate layers of your connection with Secondo.

You knocked on the door, but there was no immediate response. A subtle anxiety crept in, contemplating the possibility that Secondo might be deliberately ignoring you. Knocking again, the silence persisted, leaving a sense of unease. Pressing your ear against the door, you strained to catch any sound from within. Unable to resist, you pushed the door open, only to find Secondo's office empty.

Surveying the room, you found no trace of Secondo, except for his mitra on the desk and his robe hanging in its usual spot. You stepped inside, making your way towards the desk. Your fingers traced the contours of his mitra, and a silent reflection crept you. With a sigh, you carefully placed the mitra back where it belonged.

Your fingers traced over some papers on top of his desk, absentmindedly observing them. Before you could delve into their contents, his office door swung open, prompting you to swiftly redirect your attention towards him as he entered.

"Deacon?" Secondo said as he entered the room, his gaze meeting yours.

"Papa," you responded, maintaining a composed demeanor.

He approached his desk, eyeing the papers you had touched with a subtle curiosity. "Is there something you need? How is work?"

"No, not really. I was just finalizing some documents for the upcoming ritual," you explained, your tone professional as you placed the folders on his desk. "Do you have any specific preferences or changes you'd like to make?"

Secondo paused, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "No, proceed as planned. But, that's something we should discuss at the lunch," he added.

"Understood," you replied.

"So shall we?" Secondo inquired, his eyes holding a subtle invitation.

"Shall we... what?" you responded, a touch of confusion in your tone.

"The lunch meeting," he clarified, his gaze lingering on you. "It's almost time for it."

“Already?” you questioned, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. The realization hit you – you had been away from your cabinet since the early hours of the morning, losing track of your usual morning routine.

Turning your gaze back to him, you nodded in agreement. Secondo graciously pushed the door open for you, and you began to walk in its direction, with him following suit. As you both exited his office, Secondo closed the door behind him and gave a friendly pat on your back, signaling for you to start walking together. Following his lead, you stepped in stride with him.

"Papa," you called, turning to face him, your gaze seeking his attention.

"Hm?" he responded with a casual sound, maintaining his forward gaze.

"Are you okay?" you inquired, tilting your head.

"Sì, Deacon," he replied. "You?"

"Good," you nodded, turning your attention back to the corridor.

As you both continued walking towards the meeting place, you noticed that Secondo's hand remained on your back, providing an oddly comforting yet tense sensation. The prolonged contact sent a subtle shiver through your entire body.

"Papa," you called out once more.

"Sì?" he replied, his voice slightly raspy.

"About the ritual," you began, your tone shifting to a more serious note. "Is everything in place?"

"As far as I know, everything is in order," he reassured.

"That's good to hear," you nodded, appreciatively.

"Of course," Secondo affirmed.

"Pap—"

Secondo’s hand left your back and gripped the back of your neck. In a swift motion, he turned, pressing you against the wall. However, his other hand intercepted the impact, ensuring your head wouldn’t hit the hard surface. The unexpected closeness made your heart race as you locked eyes with him.

"Stop," Secondo's voice held a seriousness that caught you off guard. "Stop treating me like the others," he furrowed his brows. "You're not like that."

"But, we are in public, and normally I call you—"

Secondo interjected, leaning closer, his hand finding the wall right next to your head. "There is no one around us."

"Does it matter?" you retorted, trying to maintain a semblance of composure despite the closeness. "We have roles to play, Secondo. We are just keeping up with our roles."

His gaze lingered on yours, holding frustration and something deeper. "Our roles?" he scoffed. "We're not puppets, and this... pretending is driving me insane."

"You? Insane?" you challenged, your voice almost a whisper. "What are you trying to say, Secondo?"

He pulled back slightly, but his eyes remained locked onto yours. "I'm saying that..."

Before Secondo could say it, the distant sound of footsteps reached both of you, echoing through the corridor. Secondo swiftly pulled back, his expression unreadable. A shadowy figure approached the scene. It was a Sibling of Sin, their presence injecting an element of formality into the atmosphere. Secondo straightened himself, adopting a more composed demeanor.

The Sibling passed through, offering a polite nod to both of you. As she disappeared down the corridor, Secondo took a moment to compose himself. He resumed his walk to the lunch meeting, and you followed suit. An uneasy silence settled between the two of you, and perhaps for the first time, his silence weighed heavily on you.

Upon reaching the lunch meeting place, Secondo paused at the entrance. Sensing something amiss, you moved closer and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Secondo, are you okay?” you asked, concern etched on your face.

He cast a quick, vulnerable glance at you. "I—," he sighed and shifted his gaze to meet yours. "Did I mess everything up?"

"What are you talking about?" you inquired, your hand moving from his shoulder to gently cup his cheek.

Secondo took a deep breath, his eyes holding hesitation and longing. "About last night..." he began.

"What about it?" you asked, searching his eyes for clues.

"The kiss," he said, almost in a whisper. "Was it a mistake?"

Your heart fluttered, but you held back your true feelings. "Everything is okay, Secondo," you replied, offering a reassuring smile. "No need to worry about it."

Secondo's eyes lingered on yours, a silent plea hidden within them. "Deacon," he started.

Your heart raced at the intensity of his gaze. "Y-yes?" you inquired, your voice slightly shaky.

“I need to know,” Secondo began cautiously, “Was the kiss a mistake?”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” you admitted, “but it was just a moment, right?”

He looked away for a moment, grappling with his own thoughts. “I don’t want to complicate things,” he said.

You reached out and embraced Secondo. “It doesn’t have to complicate anything,” you whispered. “We’re still friends. Don’t worry.”

He hesitated for a moment, then his arms circled around you in return, holding you closer. Secondo pulled back slightly, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “I just don’t want to lose what we have, pasticcina.”

You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his. “You won’t,” you assured him. “Now, let’s go in for the lunch meeting, and we can talk about that later."

"No," he softly uttered, releasing your shoulders. "Deacon, we need to talk now."

"I'm listening," you replied, grabbing one of his hands.

But before he could say anything, the door of the meeting room where the lunch was happening opened, prompting you to release his hand. Turning your head, you looked at the ritualist who stood there in front of you, while Secondo's attention was solely fixed on the fact that you had left his hand. His gaze was locked on his hand without yours, seemingly indifferent to the presence of the ritualist.

"Papa!" he exclaimed, relief in his voice. "I was about to go find you," he said turning his eyes to you. "And I can see the Deacon will grace us with their presence today."

You nodded in acknowledgment with a polite smile. Secondo, however, maintained a stoic expression. The ritualist gestured toward the open door, signaling for you both to enter the meeting room. Secondo finally moved and entered, and you followed suit, stepping inside after him. As the ritualist closed the door and returned to his seat, Secondo turned to you, lowering his head closer to yours.

"We will talk later," he whispered, his words brushing close to your ear.

As he pulled away, you couldn't help but feel the lingering anticipation of a conversation yet to unfold. You looked at him, nodding slowly. Secondo shot you a small grin and moved towards the main chair. Taking a deep breath, you walked to your chair as well, settling in among the other members of the clergy.

As the lunch meeting unfolded, you found yourself engrossed in discussions about the upcoming ritual. The atmosphere was tense, with various opinions being exchanged. Despite the serious nature of the conversation, your eyes kept drifting to Secondo, who was seated across the room. You couldn't help but notice his gaze lingering on you as well. Every time your eyes met, a subtle tension hung in the air, creating a silent dialogue that seemed to transcend the confines of the meeting room.

As the meeting concluded, Clergy members began rising from their seats, making their way towards the exit. You and Secondo followed suit, standing up to leave the room. Together, you walked back together towards your offices. Even in the short distance, you could feel the electrifying tension between you two. His hand brushed against yours a few times, sending a rush of warmth through your body, yet he didn't hold it. Instead, his pinky finger subtly grazed yours, a playful and intimate touch that made you blush.

Secondo's gaze swept over the surroundings, his hand gripping yours gently with interwoven fingers. "Are you too busy this afternoon?" he inquired, his voice lowered.

You turned to meet his gaze and shook your head in the negative.

"Molto bene," he nodded once. "So, would you come with me to my office, sì?"

"Y-yes..." you stammered, a lingering blush on your cheeks, and a newfound layer of shyness stemming from the gentle hold of his hand. "But why?"

"Because we need to talk," he replied.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, anxiety momentarily overshadowing the lingering shyness. You took a deep breath. "O-Of course."

He hummed in contentment, his lips curving into a grin as you continued walking to his office, hands still entwined. The sensation was almost overwhelming for you; feeling him this way was different. Though you had held hands before, this time it carried a distinct and unfamiliar weight. It felt different—you felt different.

Yet, this did little to soothe your nerves. Whatever he wanted to discuss was causing a ripple of worry within you. Today, Secondo seemed different—somewhat distant and cold, while also exuding a combination of incisiveness and sentimentality. However, beneath these conflicting emotions, there lingered a sense that he was grappling with something, something elusive that you couldn't quite decipher. The ambiguity might be attributed to his usual reserved demeanor or the enigmatic face paint that adeptly concealed his emotions when left unspoken.

Upon reaching his office, Secondo maintained his grip on your hand, and you could sense a subtle tightening as he reached for the doorknob. Deliberately turning it, he took a deep breath that caused his shoulders to rise. As the door swung open, he swiftly released your hand and stood motionless in front of the entrance. Intrigued, you took a step closer, realizing Terzo was inside the office.

Terzo turned his head towards the door, glancing at Secondo before directing a warm smile your way. "Secondo," he started, turning his gaze back to him. "I apologize for not waiting, but a sibling informed me you were in a lunch meeting, so I assumed it wouldn't be a problem to come in."

Secondo chuckled lightly. "Nessun problema, Terzo," he replied, making his way into the office. "Cosa ti porta qui?"

"Solo alcune questioni da discutere e..." he paused, shifting his gaze in your direction. "Are you busy, fratello? I can come back later if you and Deacon were in the middle of something important."

Secondo glanced over his shoulder, and you responded with a gentle smile. "We..." He turned his body towards you, bringing the office door with him and briefly closing it behind him.

"We can talk later, don't worry," you reassured him in a soft tone as your eyes connected with his.

Secondo nodded, bringing his body closer to yours. His gaze alternated between your eyes and your lips, creating a subtle tension in the air. He took a deep breath, and you instinctively held yours, creating a moment of profound silence as you faced each other. His hand, having left the doorknob, gently cupped your cheek. In a tender gesture, he caressed your cheek with his thumb, the warmth of the gesture lingering for what felt like an eternity.

Secondo withdrew his hand gently off your cheek, leaving you with a subtle shiver and a lingering yearning for the warmth of his touch. His gaze held yours, as if concealing untold sentiments, prompting you to tilt your head in curiosity. Secondo chuckled softly, shaking his head, and you responded with a gentle nod while gesturing towards the door. A sigh and a playful eye roll from him made you giggle silently, relishing the special way you both communicated without words.

His hand returned to the doorknob, and he slowly pushed the door open, walking backward into the room without breaking eye contact. Once inside, you bid him a little wave, and with a final glance, he closed the door.

You finally released the breath you were holding, closing your eyes for a moment as a smile painted your face. It was undeniably something new, a novel feeling, but this wasn't the moment for deep contemplation. Composing yourself, you opened your eyes and headed towards the door of your cabinet, conveniently located next to his office. With a swift motion, you opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind you.

As you entered your cabinet, you realized that waiting for Secondo to finish whatever he was doing with Terzo would stretch the afternoon into seemingly endless hours of pure boredom. With everything settled for the ritual, your workload was minimal, and the waiting game became an exercise in patience.

The minutes dragged on, and you found yourself organizing your cabinet, rearranging things as a distraction from the persistent anticipation. However, the waiting made concentration difficult. Your thoughts kept circling back to what Secondo wanted to discuss, creating a feeling of uncertainty that hung heavily in the quiet space.

In an attempt to quell the restlessness, you picked up a few documents, but your mind struggled to focus. The ticking of the clock seemed louder than usual, each passing second amplifying the sense of anticipation and making the afternoon feel interminable. The hours ahead stretched before you, laden with the weight of waiting.

After pacing back and forth in your cabinet for a while, you returned to your desk, sinking into your chair with a sigh. However, before you could settle in, a distinct knock echoed through your door. You turned your head towards it, recognizing it as his unmistakable pattern.

Swiftly getting up from your chair, you made your way to the door connecting your cabinet to his office. With a smooth motion, you opened it, revealing him on the other side.

"Hi," you greeted as your eyes locked.

Secondo casually lifted an arm, supporting it on the doorframe, leaning slightly in your direction. "Hi," he replied, his gaze focused on you.

The closeness of his presence prompted a subtle blush, but you composed yourself, taking a deep breath. "Was everything okay with Terzo?" you asked.

"Sì," he nodded. "Niente di importante." His gaze held yours, a moment of silent understanding passing between you. Secondo straightened, pushing off the doorframe, and took a step closer. "Can we continue our talk?" he asked, his tone carrying a mix of seriousness and something you couldn't quite decipher.

You nodded. "Of course, Secondo. Let's talk."

As you gestured for him to enter your cabinet, he caught your wrist, leading you into his office. With his free hand, he closed the door behind you.

"Deacon," he said, however, before he could begin, a distinct knock echoed through the room. Secondo tried to ignore it, intending to continue the conversation, but another knock interrupted once again. "Not again," an exasperated sigh escaped Secondo. "Come with me, let them knock," he took you by the hand, steering you towards the archive room of his office.

“What are we doing here? We could have stayed at the office, whoever it was wouldn't come in,” your grip on his hand got firm. “I can smell the dust from this place,” you chuckled as he closed the door.

"I've been lying to you," he confessed, his words tumbling out rapidly.

Your eyes widened in surprise and nervousness. "Huh? What? What do you mean?" you inquired, the anxiety evident in your voice. "What are you saying? Lying to me? Since when? About what?"

"Let me explain," he sighed. "I've been lying to you because there was no date, no one else. It was just an excuse."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "What are you talking about? An excuse for what?"

He sighed, his grip on your hand tightening. "I wanted to ask you out. I wanted to take you on a date, but I didn't know how to do it without making things awkward. So, I said I had a date because I got nervous. I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship or make you uncomfortable, I also couldn't bear the thought of you saying 'no'."

"That's quite a revelation," your voice dropped to a hushed tone, your eyes widening in understanding. "So, all those 'practice' sessions were just a pretext?"

Secondo nodded solemnly. "I apologize. I know it's selfish, but I couldn't bear the thought of hearing you reject me. The pain would be greater than finding myself in heaven instead of hell."

"Secondo, your honesty means a lot to me," you said in a low tone. "But, I'm confused. Why didn't you just ask?"

He paused before responding. "I was afraid it would change everything between us, and I didn't want to risk losing you. I thought this approach would give me a chance to muster the courage to speak up, but it didn't until now, or yesterday. The fact that I have kissed you the way I did, and hearing you calling it as a 'mistake' made feel like if I had ruined everything. When deep down... All I wanted was you to see a different side of me, to understand me better, and maybe... I don't know... see me? Admitting it now makes me feel foolish."

"Don't say that," you took a deep breath. "Secondo, you should have just asked me. You're not going to lose me, and you don't need excuses. I'm sorry for calling the kiss a mistake, but I thought it was based on the fact that you had a 'date' and I was trying to ignore the fact that I wanted that, that I wanted to kiss you, but I was telling myself how wrong it was to want you. But if you asked me on a date before, I would have said 'yes'."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You mean all of that?"

"Yes," you said, your smile tender. "Well, initially, I'd might be a bit shocked, perhaps a little surprised if you called me on a date. I'd probably even think you were just being funny," you giggled, placing a gentle hand on his chest and caressing it. "But, without a doubt, I would have said 'yes' because spending time with you is always good."

Secondo's gaze softened, and he gently placed his hand on top of yours. "Forgive me for being selfish," he said with sincerity.

A warm smile graced your lips. "Consider it forgiven."

Secondo's eyes searched yours, uncertainty reflecting in his gaze. "So, you'd go on a date with me?" he inquired, his gaze earnest.

With a playful smile, you reached up, gently cupping his face, and leaned in, pressing a tender kiss onto his lips. As you pulled away from the kiss, a soft chuckle escaped you. "Well, I guess that answers your question, Secondo," you teased. "But only if you promise to not practice with me anymore."

He laughed. "Bene. No more practice, just real ones with you."

You nodded, and as the distance between you and Secondo closed, your lips found each other in a tender and sweet kiss. His hand, which had been holding yours, traced a path from your waist to the small of your back, drawing you closer. Simultaneously, you wrapped your arms around his neck, savoring the warmth motion of his lips against yours.

The kiss unfolded in a slow and sweet rhythm, both of you cherishing the tenderness of the moment. As your arms enveloped each other, you could sense Secondo's faint smile against your lips. His hand left the small of your back and moved to your face, cupping it gently as he intensified the kiss. Feeling the warmth of his touch, you tilted your head, inviting him to deepen the connection. However, just as the intensity peaked, he pulled back abruptly and sneezed.

Your expression shifted from a dazed look to a bemused one as you realized the abrupt interruption. A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and you raised an amused eyebrow.

"Apologies," he managed to say between sneezes, the unexpected reaction making him chuckle heartily. "I guess I've made a wrong choice of place."

You chuckled in response. "Better for us to get out of here then," you said.

"Before we leave," he looked into your eyes, with seriousness and anticipation in his gaze. "I..." he began, causing you to tilt your head, curious about what was on his mind.

"You...?"

Secondo took a deep breath, and the words spilled out, "Would you allow me to take you on a proper date tonight?" A smile played on Secondo's lips, his eyes searching yours for a response.

You felt a flutter in your chest and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth. "I would be delighted," you replied, your voice carrying a light teasing tone. "A proper date sounds like a wonderful idea."

Secondo's features softened, and he nodded appreciatively. The depths of his mismatched eyes held your attention. As Secondo leaned in, drawing closer to your face, you closed your eyes, feeling the anticipation build. However, just as you expected the connection to intensify, Secondo paused, pulling back abruptly to sneeze once again.

A laugh bubbled up from within you at the unexpected sneeze, and Secondo raised a questioning brow. He quickly shook his head, placing a finger to his lips in a playful hush. Without missing a beat, he reached for your hand, guiding you out of the archive room.

As you exited the archive room, returning to his office, Secondo gently pulled you closer and pressed a kiss onto the back of your hand, his thumb caressing the spot tenderly. "Can I pick you up at your room later?"

You nodded, a hint of timidity in your response.

Secondo grinned, pressing another kiss onto the back of your hand. He then placed your hand against his cheek, holding it there, cupping your hand with his. "I look forward to it," he replied with a soft smile, his gaze fixed on yours. Secondo's hand lingered, his fingers gently entwining with yours.

"You enjoy making me wait, don't you?" You teased retracting your hand from his face, slowly. "I'll see you later then."

As you turned to leave, Secondo gently caught your hand, pulling you back with a playful smile. "Only a little. Builds anticipation, sì?"

"I guess I'll have to endure the suspense then," you sighed with a touch of dramatic flair.

Secondo chuckled, gracefully letting go of your hand. "But wait, there's one more thing,"

Your curiosity piqued, you inquired, "What is it?"

Secondo cradled your face delicately with both hands, his touch tender, before placing a lingering kiss on your lips. As he pulled away, a gentle kiss landed on your forehead, and he looked down at you. "This is good."

"What is good?" you murmured.

"Le tue labbra," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning in for another tender kiss, capturing your lips in a moment of warmth.

The initial kiss was slow, gentle, and sweet, as if savoring the taste of a forbidden fruit. It left a lingering sensation of ecstasy. Every touch of the lips sent shivers through both of you, creating an undeniable need for more. Both of you surrendered to that desire, and the kiss intensified, the connection growing deeper.

Secondo's hands, which initially cradled your face, now traced a path down your back, pulling you closer. The tender exploration of lips became more fervent, a dance of passion and longing. His lips moved with deliberate precision, molding against yours as if searching for a perfect fit.

His hands, warm and reassuring, traced gentle paths along your body, creating a sensory map of desire. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, Secondo led you to his desk, leaning you against it with a controlled urgency. The kiss became a deeper exploration, his lips demanded more, conveying a hunger that echoed in the shared breaths and mingling sighs.

As the kiss intensified, your bodies pressed together, Secondo's hands explored the curves of your body, his touch gentle yet possessive. You pressed your body even closer to his, a silent invitation for more. Subtly, you spread your legs, granting him more space, and Secondo wasted no time. Almost instantly, he adjusted his position, aligning himself with the new angle.

His hands, now exploring the contours of your thighs, pulled your hips against his, placing your legs around his hips. The sudden shift made you arch your back, a gasp escaping your lips, as you felt his hardness pressing against the warmth between your legs.

The passion heightened and you found yourself instinctively grinding against him, a subtle and spontaneous movement that drew a low groan from Secondo. The sound reverberated through the room causing you to press your legs around his hips firmly.

Feeling the vibration of your response, Secondo gently pulled away from the kiss, both breathless and dazed. His hands, which had been on your thighs, now migrated to your face. He tilted it, giving him enough space to press a series of wet kisses onto your neck.

The wet warmth of his kisses left a trail of sensations, causing a shiver to run down your spine. However, you gently pressed your hands against his chest, guiding him away from your neck. Secondo gazed at you with a perplexed expression, prompting a chuckle from you. Closing the distance, you bestowed a tender peck on his lips, causing him to briefly close his eyes.

"If you keep going, our planned date might not happen," you whispered against his lips.

Secondo groaned in frustration. "And why is that?" he asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"Because you're jumping straight to how I want the end of our date to be," you replied, biting your lower lip and trailing your hands down to his belly.

Secondo, with a tender smile, continued. "Now I can't wait for the later part of our date then."

You couldn't help but return his smile, "Well, if you manage to behave yourself now, I might just consider it."

He raised an eyebrow playfully, "Behave?" He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. "I'll be the epitome of good behavior, just for you."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed your amusement. Secondo chuckled, withdrawing his hands from your face and guiding them back to your thighs, where he began to gently caress. His touch lingered for a while before he took a step back, allowing both of you ample space to recompose.

"At what hour should I pick you up?" Secondo asked, scratching the back of his head.

You paused, considering his question. "I don't have any more work today. Nothing urgent. If there's anything left for the ritual, I believe I've already provided it, and everything should be ready, right?"

Secondo let out a sigh, his eyes holding yours. "Unfortunately, I need you to review some documents Terzo left for me."

"Oh," you responded with a nod, making your way to his direction. "Certainly, what are you looking for?"

"I'd like you to carefully go through these papers, verify the information, and if any changes or corrections are needed, you know the routine, sì?" he explained, handing you the documents from his table.

"Absolutely, Secondo," you assured him, taking the papers. "I'll get on it right away. Since I have some work to do, I'll head back to my cabinet to focus on this task."

He reached for your waist, his thumb gently caressing it in small circles. "I have full confidence in your abilities, but you just have to give it a look and see if everything is in order," he stood up, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Now, any preferences for our evening plans?"

You pretended to ponder for a moment. "Hmm, surprise me. Just keep it interesting, and I'm all in."

Secondo nodded, and as you leaned in for a sweet moment, he did the same, resulting in a clumsy meeting of lips at the midpoint, sharing a gentle kiss at the corners of each other's mouths. Pulling back, you chuckled at the minor mishap, noticing Secondo furrowing his brows in annoyance. To prevent a repeat, Secondo cradled your head with both hands, planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

With that, you tilted your head towards him, subtly hinting at the desire for a more substantial kiss, and perhaps you were. Yet, Secondo didn't succumb to your charm. Instead, he gently held your chin and planted a delicate kiss on your lips, almost as if it were a feather-light caress.

You gazed at him, a mix of frustration and pleading in your eyes, your lips forming an almost pout. Secondo chuckled and shook his head. "As you mentioned earlier, we can't skip to the end of the date. Trust me, I'm just as eager to kiss you more. I've waited a long time for this," he admitted with a hint of longing.

"Have you?" you teased, biting your lower lip and looking at him with a mischievous glint. "How long?" you inquired in a hushed tone, leaning in. However, before you could bridge the gap, Secondo interrupted you by gently placing a finger on your lips. "Sec—!"

Before you could finish, he silenced you with a lingering kiss, interrupting your words. You smiled with his lips pressed against yours, taking a deep breath as he slowly pulled back. You maintained your smile as his eyes met yours. Secondo hummed in contentment, though a hint in his eyes betrayed the restraint he exercised in not kissing you again as passionately as before. You, too, desired it, especially considering the consequences of that kiss, consequences you weren't sure you were ready to face.

Recognizing the temptation he exuded, you wondered if it was influenced by the power he held as the highest satanic figure in the ministry. It wouldn't be surprising, given his proximity to the Dark Lord. However, there were still tasks to attend to before the date.

Exiting his office, you gave him a wave, and his eyes lingered on you until you reached your cabinet, closing the door behind you. Moving directly to your desk, you neatly placed the papers on it, straightening your posture before settling into your chair.

As you delved into the papers, the initial set seemed routine—standard proceedings of the ministry that required Secondo's signature. Everything appeared to be in order, so you moved on to the next document. However, the tone shifted when you encountered one discussing retirement. Your focus intensified as the words unfolded a revelation: Secondo was to be replaced by his younger brother, Terzo.

A sense of disbelief settled in as you retraced your steps to the first set of papers, realizing they were meant for the new leader, not Secondo. Continuing to read, the details painted a picture of a succession plan. After the upcoming ritual, Secondo was expected to prepare himself for the transition, handing over the reins to Terzo. The emotions intensified—shock, disbelief, and a growing sense of unease. You grappled with the unspoken truth that your moments with Secondo were poised on the edge of a significant change, a change he had kept concealed.

The documents unfolded like chapters in an unexpected narrative, each revelation carrying a weight that settled heavily on your shoulders. The impending succession, the shift in leadership, and the unspoken truths left you in a whirlwind of emotions. As you continued to read, the words became more than ink on paper—they became the unraveling of a reality you hadn't anticipated. The emotions surged, astonishment, apprehension, and an underlying sense of loss.

As you absorbed the weight of the revelations, indignation surged through you. How could Secondo have given you those papers without a single word of explanation? The sense of betrayal fueled your urgency, and you sprang from your chair, marching toward his office with a storm of emotions brewing within you.

The door swung open forcefully, a loud bang echoing in the room, but to your dismay, all that greeted you was an empty chair. Secondo was nowhere to be found. Running your hands through your hair, you took a deep breath, attempting to rein in the frustration and confusion that threatened to overwhelm you. You felt the urge to confront him, to demand an explanation for this clandestine revelation, but reason prevailed. He was cunning, slipping away before you could confront him. However, you knew where to find him – soon enough, he would be in your room.

Resolute, you made your way to the main door of his office, pushing it open and stepping out, leaving behind the empty space. The corridors of the ministry felt like an intricate maze as you navigated through them, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts about Secondo's impending retirement. The prospect of not seeing him with the same frequency, the shift in your role as his brother's Deacon, and the nagging question of why he hadn't shared this crucial information occupied your mind. Each step seemed to echo your internal turmoil, and as you approached your room, the heaviness in your heart became more pronounced.

Entering the room, you stripped away your clothes, preparing for a bath to ease the tension that had coiled within you. Submerged in the water, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, letting silent sobs meld with the sound of rushing water.

Emerging from the bath, you draped a towel around your body and returned to the room, contemplating the choice of your outfit. The question lingered—did it really matter how you dressed now? Nevertheless, you selected your clothes, arranging them on the bed. Suddenly, a knock on the door echoed inside your room, and you took a deep breath, focusing on maintaining appearances as you made your way towards it.

As you opened the door, there he stood, having changed his clothes already. The familiar scent of his cologne, intensified now, filled the air. The notes of the perfume, a strong blend of cedarwood and musk, lingered, creating an almost palpable atmosphere. He held a small bouquet of tulips in his hand. Though the bouquet consisted of just four tulips, the gesture felt both delicate and meaningful. The scent of the tulips added a layer of floral sweetness, momentarily distracting you from the turmoil within.

"Would it be better if I return later? I assumed you'd be ready by now," he questioned.

You took a steadying breath, trying to conceal the emotional turbulence as you faced Secondo at the doorway. "No, it's fine," you replied, managing a composed tone. "I was just deciding what to wear."

His grip on the bouquet tightened, betraying an underlying tension that mirrored the unspoken complexities of the situation. "Should I wait outside?" he offered, his eyes reflecting the uncertainty.

Shaking your head, your gaze pierced onto his. "No," your voice emerged slightly raspy. "Come in," you said, stepping away to grant him passage.

He entered your room, and a palpable air of unease enveloped the space. He cautiously closed the door behind him, and you turned away, pretending to focus on selecting an outfit from your wardrobe, although you had already placed the chosen outfit on your bed. The clothes blurred in front of you as you grappled with the turmoil within.

Placing the tulips delicately on the bedside table, Secondo's eyes lingered on the carefully chosen clothes you had laid out. With a subtle smile, he made his way towards you. "I know you've read the papers."

You turned to face him, your eyes revealing a tumult of emotions. "Why didn't you tell me, Secondo?"

He sighed, shoulders sagging as if relieved. "I wanted to, but I couldn't find the right time or the right words. I didn't want to burden you."

Anger, hurt, and confusion battled within you. "So, you thought giving me the papers without a word was the solution?"

He reached for your hand. "No, it wasn't the right way. I should have told you, but I couldn't find a way to."

Inhaling deeply, you briefly covered your face with your hands. "Secondo, please, just be honest with me. What's going on? First, the lies about your date, and now you're keeping things from me. What's really happening?" You implored, uncovering your face as your hands fell away. "We've been friends for a long time, and this isn't like you. Just," you sighed, "tell me what's going on with you."

Secondo met your gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to keep anything from you,” he confessed. “It’s just… there are changes, and I wanted to handle them before burdening you with it. But you deserve honesty, and I owe you an explanation.”

You nodded.

"On the day of the lunch meeting, days ago, certain members of the Clergy made a private decision regarding my retirement from the position of Papa Emeritus. I assumed you were unaware, and I thought it best to keep it that way," he began with a heavy sigh. "Later, Terzo confronted me, questioning when I would muster the courage to confess my feelings for you. He believed that simply having you by my side every day would be enough, rather than openly expressing my emotions. This situation compelled me to make a decision, leading to the idea of asking you on a date. However, as you're well aware, it didn't exactly go as planned."

"Okay, I can understand that, but why didn't you tell me about your retirement?" you pressed.

"I was afraid it would make no difference at all, that you wouldn't care about who comes and goes. After all, it's just work, sì?" Secondo responded. "And if you did care, I was afraid of what that could possibly mean."

"No, it's not just work, Secondo. It's you!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling. "Of course, it makes a difference. You're not just a colleague; you're my friend, the person I cherish the most in this Ministry. And now, you are... someone I... I'm seeing as more than just a friend."

Secondo stepped closer, his eyes searching yours with a soft intensity. "Pasticcina," he began gently, "I should have been more transparent with you. I didn't want to burden you with the weight of it, but I see now that I made a mistake."

You met his gaze, emotions flickering in your eyes. "It's not just about work for me, Secondo. You're not just a passing presence."

He reached out, cupping your cheek tenderly. "You mean a lot to me too," he confessed, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "And it terrifies me to think that my decisions could jeopardize what we share."

"We share so much, and this is a significant part of your life," you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand offering solace. "I just wish you had trusted me enough to share this with me sooner."

"I know, pasticcina. I should have," he admitted, his gaze filled with regret. "I see now that it was a mistake. I was foolish to think it wouldn't matter to you."

"It matters, Secondo. You matter," with a fragile smile, you whispered, "I don't want to lose you, Secondo. Not as a friend, not as... something more."

He sighed, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. "You won't lose me. I may be retiring from this position, but I'm not going anywhere, especially not from your life."

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him, gripping his shirt firmly. "I care about you, Secondo. More than I've allowed myself to admit. You mean more to me than I let myself acknowledge."

Secondo pulled back slightly, holding you at arm's length. "You are important to me, more than you realize."

"When did you find out about Terzo assuming the role of Papa Emeritus?" you inquired, curiosity lacing your voice.

"I always knew," Secondo confessed, his hands sliding to yours, gently holding them. "It's like we all have an expiration date," he added, a wistful smile gracing his lips. Your chuckle echoed in the air, and he responded with a tender smile. "There you go... That's how I like to see you, con quel bel sorriso sul tuo viso."

You sighed heavily, pulling him back to you and guiding his hands to your back. Obediently, Secondo wrapped his arms around you, and you nuzzled your face onto his chest. Closing your eyes, you surrendered yourself to the scent of his cologne, letting it envelop your senses.

"Mi dispiace," he uttered. "I promise I won't hide anything from you again."

"I knew that you'd retire from your role as Papa Emeritus at some point, Secondo. After all, I'm part of the Clergy," you whispered, your face pressed against his chest. "I just didn't expect it to be this soon, or that it would hurt me so much to see you go."

"Mi dispiace..." he whispered in a very low tone, almost inaudible.

"It's fine," you turned your face to him. "I understand you didn't do it to hurt me or anything like that. I know you well enough to understand why you made those decisions. But I also want you to know that you don't have to hide anything from me. You never had to," you said with a sweet smile on your face as you gently pulled away from the embrace. "But we have a date, right? Well, we've already had a couple of them, but today is an official one. So let's focus on us tonight, and tomorrow morning we can go back to being Papa Emeritus and Deacon."

"You're right, pasticcina," he acknowledged with a nod. "Tonight, let's concentrate solely on us and nothing else." Taking one of your hands, he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss onto the back of it. "Are you going to get dressed now?"

"Hm?" you looked down, noticing you were still wrapped in a towel. "Oh! Yes!" you chuckled, heading towards the bed.

Secondo tracked your movements, approaching you. "Are you planning to wear those?"

"Yes," you affirmed, nodding as you gathered the clothes from the bed. "But, why? Why do you ask?" A touch of nervousness tinged your inquiry. "Is there an issue?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "You'll look stunning in those, and I can't wait to see it."

"Secondo..." you said, turning to him with a shy smile.

The room fell into a hushed silence, and neither of you uttered a word. As you both stood there, locked in a silent exchange, Secondo moved decisively. Swiftly, he grabbed your wrist, drawing you closer to him. Your body collided against his, and in an unexpected turn, his lips fervently met yours. With widened eyes, you observed the shift from initial intensity to a more tender expression, his hands finding their way to your waist.

Secondo's hands held you firmly, conveying a sense of security as you reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and you surrendered to the dance of tongues as his traced the contours of your lips. Your response was instinctive, parting your lips to welcome him. His scent enveloped you, the warmth of his body against yours intensified the moment. His lips moved with practiced finesse, and the soft dance of his skilled tongue on yours cast a spell, leaving you under its bewitching allure.

The warmth of his body enveloped you, and the moment intensified as he continued to explore you with his hands. His touch, both firm and gentle, sent shivers down your spine as he traced intricate patterns on your back. Breaths mingled, sighs of surrender punctuated the air. His lips brushed yours, a delicate dance that evolved into passionate bites.

Your arms gracefully left his neck, and your hands descended to his chest, gently caressing it. As your fingers traced patterns, you felt the exposed part of his chest beneath your touch, as if he remembered what you had told him. A silent chuckle escaped you amidst the entwined kiss, one hand now delicately resting on the exposed skin.

Secondo gently withdrew from the kiss, creating a subtle distance while keeping his face intimately close to yours, his lips lingering in a tantalizing proximity. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," you chuckled, "I just can't help but find it amusing how you manage to be both charming and a tease all at once," your fingers trailed lightly along the contours of his chest as you replied. “At least I find your teasing quite delightful, Secondo.”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “Delightful, sì?” His lips grazed yours with a tantalizing touch.

You playfully bit your lower lip. “Very.”

His breath hitched, and he murmured, “Is it fine to keep going?”

With a seductive smirk, you asked, “Is it fine to lose the date plans?”

Secondo’s eyes gleamed with desire. “Plans can be changed,” he confessed, his voice low and provocative. “We’ve had our dates, even if they weren’t official. I believe it’s time to skip to the part where we honor our Dark Lord.”

"I guess it is," a mischievous glint mirrored in your eyes as you agreed.

Secondo executed a swift turn, guiding you toward the bed, causing you to walk backward until the plush mattress greeted your calves. Secondo’s hand skillfully lifted your leg, and his other hand moved to the back of your head. In one fluid motion, he laid you down on the bed. As you looked at him standing before you, a hint of desire lingering in the air, you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip in anticipation. His gaze smoldering with intensity. He looked down at you, a commanding presence that sent shivers down your spine.

"What do we have here?" he purred, his voice low and demanding.

You met his gaze, your eyes filled with desire. "Just a willing Deacon, Secondo," you replied, a playful edge to your tone. Lifting one leg, you placed it on his thigh, delicately caressing it with your foot.

He crawled on the bed, positioning himself on top of you. His lips hovered dangerously close to yours. "Willing, you say?" His hand traced a path along your thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

You bit your lip, a soft moan escaping. "Very willing."

A wicked grin played on Secondo's lips as he asserted, "Bene. Because tonight, you're mine," his eyes locked onto yours with a predatory glint. "Confess your sins to your Papa, what do you desire most in this moment?"

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, a surge of arousal coursing through you. "I desire you, Secondo," you confessed, your voice laced with longing.

He grinned, his fingers tracing a teasing pattern on your skin. "That's what I like to hear, "his hands explored your body with confident precision, leaving no inch untouched. "I want you to say it," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you teased, “Say what, Secondo?”

His eyes darkened with desire. “Say you’re mine.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you nodded in agreement. "Yours, Secondo."

As you spoke, a devilish grin spread across Secondo's face. With a swift movement, his hand reached your face, closing the remaining gap between you two. In an unspoken agreement, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

Inhaling deeply, your hands found their way to the back of his head, pressing his lips more firmly against yours as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Secondo lowered his body, creating an intimate connection as the warmth of his form pressed against yours, enveloping you in a heat embrace.

A blaze seemed to ignite within you as the heat of his body melded with yours, prompting you to arch your back and press yourself closer to him. Your hands traced over his back, fingers dancing along the contours of his muscles, exploring every inch of him in a fervent exploration.

Secondo's tongue delicately probed your lips, seeking entrance. You parted your lips slightly, granting him access to explore the depths of your mouth. The kiss intensified as he navigated every corner with his tongue. His arms ventured down, enveloping you and keeping you pressed against his firm chest. You could feel a growing bulge pressed against your stomach, sending a thrilling sensation coursing through your body.

A wave of pleasure surged through you as his tongue entwined with yours, eliciting a soft moan. The kiss deepened, reflecting the growing intensity of his desire. In response, you moved your hips against him, prompting a low groan to escape from him. He reached for your hips, pulling you firmly against him, now guiding the rhythm as he moved in tandem with your body. Your hands descended, gripping his firm backside, pulling him even closer to you. Slowly and deliberately, you parted your legs, inviting him to settle himself between them.

Complying with your desire, Secondo pressed himself more firmly between your legs, grinding his hardness against you.The increased pressure caused you to arch your back and neck, breaking the kiss as a soft moan escaped your lips. Sensations of arousal and heightened sensitivity coursed through your body.

Secondo trailed his nose and lips along your neck until he reached your lips. He pressed a lingering kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth, pulling it in a soft bite before releasing it. When you turned your eyes to him, you found him grinning devilishly.

"I want you," you murmured, your voice low and husky.

He nodded, a gaze filled with desire in his eyes as his hand reached for the towel that somehow still clung to you. Casting a silent question in his look, you gave a nod in approval. Without hesitation, Secondo swiftly removed the towel, leaving you completely exposed beneath him.

The towel fell to the floor as Secondo positioned himself on his knees between your legs. His eyes traced every curve of your body while his hands followed the same path. Completely focused on your form, Secondo's firm touch left you melting beneath him. His hands journeyed from your chest to your belly before reaching down to caress both legs simultaneously, prompting you to part them even further. His gaze was enchanted by the unfolding view, causing him to bite his lower lip in an effort to stifle a groan.

You settled your legs on his thighs, sitting in front of him on the bed. Your face moved to his neck, planting kisses while your hands worked to unbutton his shirt. His hands guided you to his lap, bringing your bodies intimately together. Sensing his hardness pressed against you, you couldn’t resist the temptation to grind against it. The friction heightened, and you felt the heat intensify between your legs.

"Pasticcina..." he moaned, closing his eyes, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

The intensity of your kisses on his neck increased, each tender caress leaving a trail of lust. His breath hitched with the rising passion, and you could feel the vibrations in his throat as he hummed in response to the sensations you were creating. You brushed your lips along his neck, tracing a delicate path until you reached his ear, where you nibbled on the lobe with a gentle tease. The tension in his body palpable as he groaned in pleasure. Pulling you closer, he pressed his hardness against you, his breath growing labored as he fought to maintain control. Swiftly, as you moved your head back to continue the kisses on the other side of his neck, he took charge, laying you down on the bed and positioning himself on top of you, restraining your hands above your head.

Your eyes lingered on his body, tracing the contours of his muscular form. The sight of his physique, with a hint of a belly, didn't fail to stir desire within you. His chest, firm and adorned with chest hair that connected to the belly, drew your attention until it disappeared beneath his pants. The raw masculinity of his physique fueled the intensity of the moment, and you couldn't help but moan softly. The sight made you try to move your hands to touch him, only to remember he was holding them together. You turned your eyes to stare at him, and Secondo had a playful smile on his lips.

"What's funny?" you asked, a hint of irritation in your tone.

"Your face," he chuckled.

"Excuse me?" you demanded, attempting to free your hands from his grip.

Secondo lowered his face, closing the distance between your lips. "Your face," he whispered, brushing his lips against yours. "It's almost entirely painted in black," he continued whispering. "Because of my neck..." he licked your lips, coaxing you to part them slightly, giving him the space to slide his tongue into your mouth, kissing you passionately.

As Secondo released your hands, he shifted his focus, trailing kisses down from your lips to your neck, his warm lips exploring every inch of your skin. His journey continued down your chest, leaving a trail of desire until he reached your belly. Without hesitation, he ventured lower, between your legs, his strong hands spreading them gently. Secondo's touch explored the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The gentle yet firm caresses heightened the anticipation, and you could sense his warm breath against your skin as he inched closer to your wetness.

His eyes locked with yours, filled with a potent mix of desire and determination. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice raspy with need. "I need to taste you," he declared, his lips beginning to explore your inner thighs, teasing you mercilessly as he inched closer to your core. "I need to see the way you respond to my touch."

"P-please..." your plea escaped your lips in a desperate whisper.

He smiled against your skin, a glint of desire in his eyes. "You're so willing," he remarked, his breath warm against your sensitive flesh.

Your moans filled the air as his tongue traced the contours of your core, your hips instinctively arching from the bed in response to the electrifying sensation. Unfazed, he took his time, savoring every inch of you, his tongue exploring and teasing your sensitive skin. With expert precision, he flicked his tongue over your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your moans escalated with the relentless stimulation of his tongue around your clit. The desire to urge him not to stop lingered on the tip of your tongue, but the mutual groans exchanged between you and Secondo were testament enough. Overcome with pleasure, you trembled as one of his hands descended slowly to your entrance. A gasp escaped you as you clenched around nothing.

He descended, his mouth trailing towards your core. Using his fingers to part your entrance, he delved in with his tongue, exploring your inner walls with fervor. Your eyes fluttered backward in pleasure as Secondo intensified the pressure, his nose teasing your clit with each movement of his head. Deeper he went, tasting and savoring your essence. Pulling back momentarily to relish the sensation, he returned, this time focusing his mouth on your clit while his fingers met your entrance again.

A soft whine escaping your lips as Secondo continued to tease you. His fingers rubbed your entrance, a torturous trail up to your clit, trapping it gently between his fingers. "Just put it in, please, Secondo," you begged.

As he continued to suck and lick on your clit, Secondo slipped a finger inside you, curling it upwards to find your sweet spot. A gasp escaped your lips as he hit it, and he hummed contentedly. Relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, he sucked on your clit harder, causing your body to shake. Not satisfied with just one finger, he added another, thrusting them faster and harder. The intense sensations overwhelmed you as his tongue circled your clit and his fingers moved vigorously inside you, making you so wet that he could easily slide them in and out.

"You're..." you breathed, contorting your body. "You're... going to-ah!"

Secondo slid his fingers out from inside you and gave a final slow, torturous long lick on your wetness, his nose rubbing against your clit. "I'm going...?" he inquired as he supported his chin on your pubic mound.

You looked at his painted face, a mixture of grey and black and white due to your wetness. One of your hands went to his face, stroking his lips with your thumb as you attempted to clean it. "You're going..." your voice turned into a whimper as Secondo parted his lips, licking your thumb. "Secondo... You're going to make me cum..."

He grinned and shifted his weight, hovering over you. "I want to make you cum," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. "I'm going to make you cum so hard that coherent thoughts escape you. Do you want that, pasticcina?" he questioned, his voice low and husky, seeking confirmation.

You could only nod in response, the intensity of the moment leaving you speechless. His fingers moved down your body, eliciting shivers, and a gasp escaped your lips as they found your clit, swirling in slow, deliberate circles. Your moans filled the room, hips instinctively responding to his touch. You reached down and grabbed his hand pressing it harder against your core.

With a teasing grin, he pulled his hand away and rose from the bed, making you whimper im frustration. His eyes locked onto yours as he began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, smirking slightly.

"I'm thinking about how much I want you."

A confident grin playing on his lips. "You won't have to wait much longer," he teased, letting his shirt drop to the floor.

Secondo unbuttoned his pants, maintaining the intense gaze between you. With a seductive smile, he let them slide down, revealing more of him. He stepped out of the pants, leaving him standing there completely exposed. You gasped at the sight, His member sprang free, hard and throbbing with desire. He stand there for a moment letting you take in sight of him. Your gaze shifted to his eyes, and sitting on the bed, you licked your lips. Extending your hand, you ran it up his thigh, sensing the muscles respond to your touch. As your fingers traced upward, they encircled his member. Initiating a gentle stroke.

"Mmm... That feels good," he moaned at the contact, his head falling back.

Your hand continuing to stroke him. You felt him twitch in your hand, and you watched as a drop of precum formed at the tip. You leaned down and licked it off, savoring the salty taste. “I agree,” you murmured, biting your lower lip as your gaze locked onto him.

He emitted a deep groan, his hips involuntarily rising towards your touch. With a smile, you leaned down, enveloping him with your mouth. His loud moan filled the room as you sucked on him, your tongue dancing around the tip of his member. His hands reached out, holding your head as he gently guided your movements, urging you on with needy moans. Each swirl of your tongue and every suction made him growl.

"Enough," he gasped, his voice strained with longing and restraint. "I need to be inside you."

With a fluid motion, you straightened your body, your hands gliding from his thighs to his chest, relishing the sensation of his hair brushing against your palms. As your hands reached his shoulders, you enveloped his neck with your arms, feeling the strength of his grip on your hips as he drew you nearer. The heat between you intensified, radiating from his body as his hardness pressed against your stomach.

"I think I can arrange that for you," you whispered.

Secondo’s hands trailed down your sides as he guided you to recline on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a hunger that matched your own. With a graceful movement, he positioned himself above you, his body covering yours.

"I want to see your face as I enter you," he whispered, his voice low with desire. "I want to make you moan and writhe beneath me, to lose yourself in the pleasure I can give you," he added. "I want to hear your cries as I look you in the eyes," Secondo continued, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded, rendered speechless by the intensity of the moment as you awaited for him. Feeling the tip of him parting your folds, you quivered with anticipation. With a controlled movement, Secondo pressed the tip of his member against your entrance, his gaze ablaze with primal desire as he gradually eased himself into you. In one seamless motion, he filled you completely, stretching you.

"Oh, Satan..." you gasped, your voice a breathless whisper. "...So good," your hands instinctively found their way to his back, your fingertips digging into his skin.

As he started to move within you, a shudder of ecstasy rippled through your body, causing you to arch your back in response. His movements were deliberate. With a hypnotic rhythm, his hips moved in synchrony, exploring every inch of your being with a fervent determination. His hands trailed down your sides, leaving a tingling trail of goosebumps in their wake, heightening the sensations pulsating through your body.

Leaning down, he captured your lips in a fervent kiss, his mouth demanding and passionate as he claimed you with the same intensity that he was claiming your body. You surrendered to the fervor of his lips on yours and of your bodies pressed together. Each brush of his mouth against yours ignited a wildfire of lust, consuming you. As the intensity of the kiss peaked, Secondo pulled away, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"You’re so beautiful," Secondo murmured, his voice husky with desire as he gazed into your eyes, his hands tenderly caressing your face. "I want to be the one to make you scream my name," he whispered. "I want to be the one who makes you forget everything else in this world."

"Make me scream for your name," you whispered, your voice a sultry invitation. "Take me. Claim me as yours."

With a deep, primal growl, Secondo's movements became slow and deliberate. His lips captured yours in a searing kiss, igniting a fire that consumed you both. As his tongue entwined with yours, the intensity of the kiss deepened. His hands roamed your body, tracing every curve with a reverence that sent shivers of pleasure cascading through you. Unable to contain the ecstasy building within you, you moaned into his mouth as he continued to explore every inch of your body with his hands and lips.

Breaking the kiss, Secondo’s heated gaze lingered on your lips before trailing down your body. With a low, lustful growl, he whispered, "You're intoxicating, irresistible, just like the flames of Satan himself."

Secondo shifted his weight, supporting himself on his hands planted firmly on the bed. His eyes remained locked with yours. Feeling his gaze upon you, your hands instinctively found their way to his arms, gripping them as you spread your legs wider, offering yourself to him completely. As you tightened around his member, a low, guttural moan escaped his lips. With a fluid motion, he lowered his body onto yours, his weight pressing against you.

With a ragged breath, Secondo whispered hoarsely. "Cazzo, don't do that. Don't make yourself tighter than you already are..." His forehead pressed against yours, his voice filled with desire and restraint. "Merda, you take my cock so well."

You gasped at his words. "Ah-! And you fill me so good," you moaned, your voice thick with longing as you met his gaze with fervor. "Fuck me, Secondo, faster."

Secondo's lips captured yours in a hungry kiss, his movements becoming more urgent as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. "I want to devour you," he murmured between kisses, his voice husky with need. "To lose myself in you."

"You feel so good inside me... I need to feel every inch of you," you said breathlessly, your voice a mere whisper against his ear.

"Then take all of me," he growled, moving his hands to your hips.

As he started to thrust his hips with growing intensity, the sensation of his fullness overwhelmed you. Each movement inside you was palpable, igniting a pleasure that bordered on unbearable. The rhythmic motion of his thrusts filled the room with the sound of your bodies moving together, mingling with the heady scent of arousal that hung in the air. With each breath, your lungs filled heavier, matching the increasing pace of his thrusts, driven by the rhythm of your bodies.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, your voice hoarse with desire. "Yes, yes, just like that, Secondo! Don't stop!"

He intensified his movements, his hips thrusting faster and harder with each passionate stroke. The echo of flesh meeting flesh reverberated throughout the room, a testament to the intensity of his desire as he pounded into you relentlessly. With each thrust, the pleasure within you surged, every inch of him filling you with a sensation that drove you crazy.

Moans escaped your lips with every rhythmic thrust, your body responding eagerly to his fervent thrusts. You felt the heat of his body pressed against yours, his weight bearing down on you as he held you close with an unyielding grip on your hips. The sound of his ragged breath mingled with yours, the rhythm of his heartbeat synchronizing with your own in a primal dance of passion and lust.

You gasped out his name, your voice a breathless plea for more. "Yes, Secondo," you moaned, "Don't stop... I need you."

Secondo's response was a growl of approval, his movements becoming more urgent as he surrendered himself completely. "I won't, I'm here, I'm yours," he whispered huskily. "Completely and utterly yours."

The intensity of the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you, each sensation magnified by the heat and weight of his body atop yours. Despite the almost unbearable ecstasy coursing through you, the feeling of him inside you was intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more.

With a fluid motion, you wrapped your arms around Secondo's neck and your legs around his hips, shifting the positions effortlessly. Rolling your body with grace, you laid him down on the bed before positioning yourself on top of him. As you placed your hands on his chest, lifting your body to gaze down at him, Secondo's eyes widened in awe, his gaze fixed on you.

"What?" you chuckled softly as you ran your hands along his torso, caressing the contours of his chest with gentle strokes.

His breath caught in his throat as your touch sent shivers of pleasure racing through him. "You're... breathtaking," Secondo murmured, his voice husky with awe. "I can't believe you're real."

You leaned down, your lips hovering just above his, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. "Oh, I'm very real," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. "And I'm all yours."

With a playful grin, you withdrew your face just out of Secondo's reach, teasing him as he attempted to close the gap between you. Lowering your hand, you seized his hardness, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. Secondo's hands found their way to your waist, guiding you as you slowly positioned yourself above him.

You lowered yourself onto him, feeling the tip of his member parting your folds as it slid deep into you. A moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. Secondo's hands tightened around your backside, gripping it firmly as he pulled you down onto him, meeting your movements with urgent thrusts of his own.

"Ah!" you moaned. "Fuck, Secondo! Oh fuck! Just like that, yes yes, don't stop," you cried out, your words a passionate plea for more.

You felt the firm grip of his hands on your ass, holding and pulling you down onto him with each powerful thrust. The intensity of his hardness inside you grew with every stroke, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. As he filled you completely, his pelvis brushed against your clit, sending bolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

With a desperate need for more, you rolled your hips on top of him, seeking out additional friction and stimulation. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, each movement igniting a symphony of pleasure that was impossible to resist. In that moment, you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving together, lost in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

"I'm going to cum," you whimpered, your hips moving faster in search of release. "I'm going to cum, Secondo, please make me cum," you pleaded, you could feel his cock throbbing inside you. "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum."

"Cum for me," Secondo pleaded, his voice filled with longing as he urged you to let go and release yourself. "I want to feel you cumming around me."

You cried out, the waves of ecstasy crashing over you as the pleasure reached its peak. In that moment, you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure, allowing it to consume you in a blissful haze of sensation and desire.

"I'm cumming," you moaned, your voice raw with desire as the pleasure crashed over you.

Your body tensed and convulsed around him, a groan of pleasure escaping his lips as he felt your walls clench tightly around him. With a final, deep thrust, he slammed his hips hard against you, anchoring you in place. His member twitched inside you, pulsating with the force of his release, and you moaned in ecstasy as you felt him empty himself deep within you.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending ablaze with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. It took all your strength to hold on to him as the aftershocks rippled through your body, leaving you trembling in their wake. Your body collapsed on top of his, both of you breathing heavily and fast.

With tenderness in his touch, Secondo's hand left your backside and trailed gently along the curve of your back until it reached your head. He gently guided your face towards his, his tired smile reflecting the exhaustion and satisfaction. As his lips met yours in a lingering kiss, a sense of contentment washed over you both. With a deep sigh, Secondo laid his back against the pillows.

With a hesitant start, you broke the silence. "So... What was the original plan for tonight?"

His gaze softened as he replied, "I was going to take you out for dinner." He traced patterns on your back as he continued, "Give you the flowers, we would have a nice talk, eat some delicious food, enjoy a drink," his voice trailed off wistfully, "and if you wanted to, we could end up with a kiss..."

"A kiss?" you echoed, his brows furrowing slightly. "Was that part of the plan too?"

He met your gaze, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Only if you wanted it too."

You chuckled, biting your lower lip. "Do you think we could still salvage the first part of our date?"

"I'd love to," he replied, a glimmer of hope in his voice. "However, I don't think it's possible because I had reservations for us, and I think we may have lost the hour."

"You think?" You playfully arched a brow. "That's fine," you reassured him with a smile. "At least we had dessert."

He chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Am I dessert now?"

You grinned mischievously. "The most delightful one."

With a playful twinkle in his eyes, he leaned closer. "Come here then, let me give you another taste of it."

Secondo shifted his body on top of yours, his touch gentle as he cupped your cheek with his hand, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin. With a softness that belied the intensity of the moment, his lips found yours in a tender kiss.

Grammar

Quegli sciocchi vecchi uomini - Those silly old men

Pasticcina - Little pastry

Impressionante - Impressive

Sì - Yes

Grazie - Thank you

Genuino, attento e premuroso. Posso farlo - Genuine, attentive, and considerate. I can do that

Mi dispiace - I'm sorry

Nessun problema - No problem

Cretino - Idiot

Bene - Good

Molto bene - Very good

Cosa ti porta qui? - What brings you here?

Solo alcune questioni da discutere e... - Just some matters to discuss, and...

Fratello - Brother

Niente di importante - Nothing important

Le tue labbra - Your lips

Con quel bel sorriso sul tuo viso - With that pretty smile on your face

[sh1-n0bu]

Hi!

Is it okay for me to request a sub xiao?

Where the reader continues to edge him and tug at his collar prasing him.

and then at the end completely overstimulates him and praises him.

Can the reader call xiao cute petnames too?

like good boy, cutie, sweetie and etc please?

♡︎ 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮 ♡︎

characters: sub!xiao x nb!dom!reader

warnings: collaring, praise, dacryphillia, overstimulation, edging, small hints of corruption, light petplay, cock can be read as strap on, reader is an immortal but what they are can be completely up to you.

notes: forgive me nonnie, i took so long to write this😔i’m starting to think writer’s block is catching up to me

nevermind. all i needed was to see xiao on the official stream break to get motivated again😍❗️

you and xiao first met centuries ago, shortly after the archon war has ended, the seven seats of the heavenly principles had gotten their victors. when you had first ran into the yaksha the poor thing was caught up in his own karmic debt, suffering the consequences of his own actions, writhing in agony. he tried to push you away but you were a thousands year old immortal who has seen everything teyvat had to offer.

the beginning of you two’s relationship was definitely odd and trippy for sure. however over time, when xiao figured out you were immortal just like him, he slowly began to open up. first it started with simple little talks and grunts, then the full blown chatting about everything phase began. soon that evolved to you and xiao opening up to each other about your pasts, deeds, mistakes and successes. and before you two could even understand the relationship you two have is what humans call “romantic love”, there you two were, holding each other close, stripping each other naked, learning about all sorts of pleasure.

it took a long time just for xiao to start talking with you, so of course sex life was incredibly slow and gentle between you and the yaksha. but slowly the more nights you spend with xiao, the more you realized he really enjoys being referred to as “kitty”.

at first it your thousands year old stubborn self found it odd since from what xiao told you, his true form is that of a bird’s not a cat. however soon you grew to love it for the sight of the cold and unstoppable yaksha, being reduced to a crying, babbling mess underneath you, clinging to you tightly and begging for you to fill him up was greatly addicting. which is what led to now.

“AANH~! nyaah! [n-nameee]…” whining and sobbing your name loudly with his red eyeliner running down his cheeks, xiao pawed at your finger curled around the soft collar around his neck. you’ve been forcing him to continue riding your cock for hours and it fucking hurt. not to mention your other hand was wrapped around the tip of his cock, toying with the tip slightly before putting your thumb over the slit of his cock when it starts to twitch violently. his poor tiny cocklet was already an angry red, twitching whenever your thumb would circle over the sensitive, slick tip.

“it’s alright kitty. keep riding me. you’re doing such an amazing job, kitty” cooing soft praises and tugging on the collar around his neck again to guide his hips to slam down onto your cock, you ignored his sobs and pleas for you to let him cum. it feels better, he knows that! but he just can’t help but be so greedy!

your big, fat, cock rearranging his insides, splitting his ass open, your voice cooing honeyed words into his ear, your hand teasingly, painfully rubbing at the slit of his twitching, red cock was just all too much for him. even though it’s not the first time you two are having sex, it feels like it is.

to the tiny, trembling, wailing yaksha on your lap, your dick just makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull, reaching places he never thought was even there. it just hits on all the right spots so good and his mind can’t comprehend the praises flowing out of your mouth.

noticing how your sweet boyfriend’s head was already fucked stupid with his hazy eyes and gibberish nonsense, you smiled sweetly before finally letting go of his cock. holding onto his waist tightly before thrusting up into his sloppy hole, creating more loud, wet, squelching sounds you can barely make out what he’s saying.

“aaannhg~! nyaAAH~! t-there—sho good! [name]—sho good♡︎” blabbering drunken words, he couldn’t even hear you calling him sweet nicknames at all. finally cumming all over his and your tummy with a loud squeal when you harshly thrusting up into his sensitive spot, your lovely kitty fell on top of your chest, shuddering and twitching, too lost in the pleasure. managing to only weakly whimper when you continued to fuck into his wet hole before mewling when he felt the familiar warmth of your cum shooting into his walls.

patting him on his head and cradling his trembling tiny body, you whispered another praise before cuddling him close.

“good kitty♡︎”.

[shinynewboots]

Just a Taste: Part 2 Adam x afab!reader

AN: Hello friends! Here is my long-awaited sequel to Just a Taste! This took me a second to write due to writer's block and just being unsure of what direction I wanted to take so I hope y'all enjoy! Only like the third time I've ever written smut so let me know your thoughts!

2.2k words

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, dub-con if you squint, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), Adam is bad at talking about his emotions, porn without plot

Tags: @kaces-mind @jiyuukaze @lousypotatoes

Adam did not return for 3 days.

Worried was an understatement. You had scoured your neighborhood for hours trying to find the fallen angel who had left you hot and bothered. Truthfully, he had hurt your feelings. You couldn't tell if it was the sting of rejection or the humiliation of the state you were left in that bothered you more.

Though you would never admit to Adam, you did finish what he started. You rubbed circles around your clit slowly at first but faster and faster with half-lidded eyes, imagining Adam's fingers between your folds. You imagined his self-satisfied smirk as you spent yourself on your fingers. That fucking asshole.

You came with his name on your lips (or rather you came cursing his name, more appropriately).

You tried to distract yourself. He was a grown man and if he wanted to be an idiot so be it. Who were you to stop him? He had a key, if he wanted to come back he could.

You settled for bed, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and pink panties. Sleep didn't come quickly for you, as your mind drifted to Adam, just as it did almost every night since he left.

You couldn't necessarily figure out what you had done wrong. You weren't particularly religious or spiritual when you were alive so this odd guilt he seemed to feel confused you. And for him to have the audacity to blame whatever indiscretions of his on you? Fucking asshole.

A piece of you hoped he was safe. Another piece of you hoped he had gotten the shit beat out of him, at least a little bit.

You finally drifted to sleep, your body snuggled around your pillow. Your apartment was hot, as were most nights in hell, so you slept with the fan on, over the covers, with your shirt bunched up around your stomach.

Just as sleep was about to take you, your mind hazy and slow, you heard the noise of the front door knob twisting and the door opening.

Adam?

You rolled in bed, contemplating meeting him to express your worry and relief. The petty side of you, which won out in the end, decided to stay in bed and greet him in the morning. He did not deserve your concern or relief.

You settled back down and tried to turn your mind off. The sound of footprints pacing the apartment played like white noise in your mind. He could suffer a little longer. You began to drift softly with the footsteps until you noticed them getting closer to your bedroom door.

You heard the door open and the footsteps enter your room. You tried to regulate your breathing. You did not want to have this conversation right now. You couldn't. You closed your eyes tighter and hoped he would get the hint.

The footsteps got closer until they stopped beside your bed and you felt a dip in the mattress where Adam had sat at the edge of your bed. His breathing was deep and you could smell the fruity aromatic scent of one of his favorite wines. Still, you chose to feign sleep.

A large hand touched your thigh, thumb making soft motions against your skin. Despite the heat of the room, you could feel goosebumps form beneath his touch.

"This place fucks with my head," Adam whispered, putting a firmer grip on your thigh. Your pulse quickened. "The longer I'm here, the farther away from heaven I get."

His hand traveled farther up your thigh and you felt your breathing stop. He was so close to your core. So close to discovering how wet you were even from the small morsel of touch he gave you. "And then you sit there like a temptress pulling me further into hell. Fucking despicable."

He laughed without humor.

You shot up from your faked slumber and glared at him. "You fucking left me. Do you know embarrassing that is?"

He gave you a crooked grin. "No, Y/N, you want to know what's fucking embarrassing? How much I just wanted to taste you and figure out if you really were as fucking delectable as that first apple I bit into."

His hand traveled to the edge of your panties and played with the elastic, his touch just barely there. You could do nothing but watch his finger in morbid fascination. Your clit ached to be touched. A heat was rising in your belly at his soft touches.

"Do it then, bastard." You bit out, bitterness striking at him from your tongue. "Or just leave already."

Adam's eyes darkened and suddenly a finger had plunged between your panties and skin and had found your wet folds. You moaned involuntarily, frustrated that you were folding for him once again so easily.

"Already so wet for me, Y/N?" He asked, running lazy circles around your clitoris. You felt your back arch at his touch, the t-shirt you were wearing coming up over your breasts to reveal them completely. That caught his attention, as his hand free reached out and pinched one of your nipples. You bit back a moan, feeling the coppery taste of blood pooling in your mouth.

His finger moved from your clit to the introitus, running even circles along the edge before pushing his finger completely into you. A moan escaped as you felt yourself become completely vulnerable under his touch. He studied you with his golden eyes full of curiosity and hunger.

He pulled his finger from your core, the entire digit coated in your desire. He removed his hand from your breast and used it to pull your chin towards him so that your gaze was focused completely on his face.

He licked his finger slowly, starting at the base near the palm and up towards the tip. His face was contorted into pleasure, like a starving man might savor a last meal.

"So fucking sweet, Y/N. Just like I thought."

You lay there, heart pounding at the sight of this fallen angel tasting you. Adam still sat of the edge of the bed and looked at you with a mischievous grin. In one quick motion, he pulled the panties from your body, leaving you almost completely bare aside from your bunched-up t-shirt. He brought your panties to his nose and inhaled deeply.

"So fucking tempting, Y/N." He whispered his golden eyes wild with desire. He adjusted himself so that he was completely on the bed, still fully clothed and threw your panties to the ground. He lay on his stomach, his head dangerously close to your cunt. Both hands moved so that they each gripped your thighs tightly.

He leaned his head closer to you, his tongue popping out of his mouth to taste you again. He licked up from your entrance, your desire flowing freely, towards your clit where he lapped at your bud.

Goosebumps spread across your body as you arched your back in ecstasy. You couldn't suppress the moan that shook your entire body. Your hands found their way into Adam's hair, gripping at the soft locks hard.

This must have pleased him because he began to suck on your clitoris, slowly at first and then faster and faster, building a constant tempo that your body reacted strongly to.

"Fuck," You groaned. Adam continued on until you felt as though would burst.

"Adam," You moaned, so close to the edge. And then he removed his mouth from your aching clitoris. Your cunt pulsated with desire and heat, begging to be touched. Pleading.

"Adam please, don't leave me again," You pleaded, aware of how desperate you sounded. You were so close. Your body burned with desire and was hyperaware of his touches and heat.

He looked up at you, mouth glistening with a mixture of your juices and his saliva. "How could I leave when I know just how good you taste?"

Adam began to lick up your body, tongue moving slowly from your core to your belly to your chest. He now hovered over you as he licked up your neck, paying special attention to the pulse point at the base of your neck.

"Adam please touch me," You plead once more. Adam chuckled into your ear.

"Desperate little bitch, huh?" His words sent shivers down your spine as he sucked on your earlobe. He was so close and yet you needed him closer. Growing bold, you decided to try something.

Using all your weight, you moved your leg so that it caught him off balance, rolling him on his back into the center of the bed. You followed suit and found yourself straddling him, your hands pressing into his chest. You threw your shirt off, leaving yourself bare before him. A look of shock crossed his features followed by a smirk.

You began to grind against him, vaguely aware that you were leaving wet stains on his pants. Adam recovered from the shock and gripped your waist with his hands. You could feel your orgasm begin to build back up again as your clitoris made contact with the bulge of his penis. You moaned at the contact, the friction pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You arched back, your breast pointed towards the ceiling, and your hands now finding themselves gripping onto Adam's thighs as you used his penis as your own personal sex toy. He moaned at the contact, the bulge in his pants growing even larger. You were so close. Almost over the edge.

"Come for me, Y/N." He asked, his voice low as he watched you use him for your own desire. Fucking shit, he had never seen a more beautiful sight.

That was all it took for your body to begin to shake as you hit your peak. You felt your body try and go limp as the explosions began to wane. Your breathing began to slow and you felt a wave of tiredness come over you. You tried to move off of Adam and tried to formulate a lame excuse for your actions in your head. Yet, he still had not released your hips. You tried to pull yourself free, but he gripped your sides tighter.

"I think you can cum at least one more time." He said, looking up at you with shining golden eyes. You shoot him a wry grin, already feeling more energized.

You pulled at his pants until he lifted his core to remove them from his body. He grabbed at his shirt and pulled it from behind his head to reveal his soft body. A trail of dark hair started at this belly button down to the dark curls of his pubic region. Multiple scars marred his abdomen, where he was stabbed by the one-eyed gremlin.

His cock was hard beneath you, rubbing against your clit most temptingly. You rubbed your already swollen vulva against his shaft, feeling it engorge with every move of your body.

"Fucking tease," He moaned out, gripping your hips to push you down harder against his body. Precum dripped from his tip, mixing with your juices. You rocked harder against him, already feeling another orgasm trying to form in your body.

Adam bucked up his hips, his face contorting into pleasure. He lifted you up from his body with all of his strength and pulled you back down so that you were impaled by his cock.

"Fuck," You cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the sensation of being filled to the brim by the fallen angel. He fits you perfectly, his cock pulsating against your walls. He begins to buck his hips into you as your ride him as though your life depended upon it. He moved a hand so that his thumb made contact with your clit, rubbing hard circles against it.

The sensation was too much and yet not enough. You could feel that ball in core grow tighter and tighter. Winding against itself until—

"Adam, I'm about to —"

"Cum for me, Y/N," He groaned out. Thrusting faster into your body. All at once that ball in your core unraveled and you screamed out in pleasure as waves overcame your every sensation. Adam gave one last thrust and came inside you, his seed shooting into your core.

You sat there for a few minutes, the waves of pleasure slowly tapering off as the scene before you became clear. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized what you had just done. You felt Adam grow softer inside you and so you dismounted his hips and sat beside him, feeling his seed leak from your cunt.

Adam breathed heavily, his eyes half-lidded. A yawn escaped his mouth.

"Um so we have to talk about this, " You started timidly. Adam yawned again and pulled your waist so that you lay beside him. He snuggled against you, your ass matching perfectly with his softening cock.

"Adam," You tried again. His arm snaked around you and grabbed onto one of your breasts.

"Nah, fuck that Y/N. We could talk or we could go to sleep and wake up tomorrow with morning sex and breakfast." He said sleepily. You weren't in the mood to argue and you couldn't deny that being held as you slept, especially by Adam, sounded like the closest thing to heaven you could get in this godforsaken place.

You made an affirmative noise and snuggled in closer to his warm body, all too aware of the cum leaking from between your legs. Yeah, maybe you could just talk in the morning.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 21 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You toss and turn, of course, utterly unable to sleep.

Your body does not get the memo that it’s a bad idea to fuck a man like John Wick, who is a killer who is holding you prisoner, and refuses to simmer down. You are uncomfortably swollen between your legs, your pussy aching with frustration, and in the wee hours of the morning you are certain you are about to lose your goddamn fucking mind.

 How is he really going to fucking know?

This is the stupid little thought that plays through your tired brain as you writhe beneath the covers, running hands up over your torso, pretending they are his.

Imagining his touch tweaking the sensitive tips of your nipples, his fingers buried inside you, seeking that sensitive place that drives you wild.

Yours are too soft, too small, not long enough or thick enough by half.

You try to trick yourself that it’s his unrelenting touch circling your clit, furious in his claiming of your pleasure as his own…

It’s not enough by half, and the release that washes over you is a paltry consolation at best, a weak pleasure that you know is a sad facsimile of the real thing. Still, you can’t stop yourself from sighing his name, and how has he mind-fucked you so royally in such a short amount of time?

It pisses you off, and in a last act of defiance for the night you flip off the camera high in the corner.

He’s probably not watching anyway. He’s probably asleep, snug in his bed with Dog, the bastard.

Feeling sad and not really sated at all, you curl into a ball and try to finally get some rest. It’s lonely in this big bed all by yourself, and by the time sleep finally claims you your pillow is damp with tears.

-When finally you wake in the morning, you are cold. The covers are down around your waist, and your shoulders ache, your arms at an odd angle out in front of you.

You never sleep like this.

There’s something on your wrists.

You open your eyes, blinking away the blur of sleep. Your vision focuses on something red.

A very neat line of shibari style knots encircles your wrists and half your forearms. They would have been beautiful, in a different setting. Like, not on your body, without your consent.

They’re not so tight to cut off your circulation, but they’re not exactly comfortable either. You strain against the silk rope, and find you can’t budge them.

You are so fucked.

“I warned you.”

John is sitting in the chair in the corner, watching you. He’s wearing all black again, a button down and slacks this time. Looking his best for you, or does he have somewhere to be? It’s not something you would have paid attention to before, but this morning, you can’t help but fixate on the fact that he’s wearing a leather belt.

Because you’re an idiot, you snipe anyway, “Wow, looks like someone earned his merit badge in macramé.”

He just smirks at you, the beautiful bastard.

“I’ve got more than a badge, honey.”

“Very funny. Untie me.”

“You’ll have to earn it, bad girl.”

Your heart skitters around in your chest as you wonder what that means.

He goes on, “Did you really think I wouldn’t see you last night?”

“Guess I assumed you’d be sleeping. It was way past your bedtime.”

He scoffs at the old man dig, leaning forward on his knees, fixing you with that hawkish gaze. “I found out I only sleep well with you in my arms, darling. Wouldn’t that have been nice last night?”

Yes, it would have. However, you just frown at him.

“So, was it worth it?” he pushes.

You sigh, half tempted to tell him how utterly unsatisfying your little session of self-indulgence had been. Rather than answer him, you look at the knots again. They really are beautiful. It makes you think of the book binding shop you’d visited in Florence, and the complicated stitches and knots they used to affix the signatures of pages together.

This man likes binding all kinds of things, it seems.

“Are you hungry?”

Only then do you notice that he has a plate of breakfast foods on the little table beside him. Eggs, toast, and bacon. A little plastic cup that might be water or juice. Your tummy answers with a rumble. Dog did eat your dinner last night, and John never offered you a replacement sandwich. At the time you’d been too worked up about…everything, to care.  

“Maybe.”

He huffs a little laugh at you. “Come here.” He pats his knee, and you realize he wants you to sit on his lap—so he can feed you. A little growl in the back of your throat escapes you, and it only makes his smirk widen.

“God, you’re adorable when you’re angry.”

“I’m not hungry,” you grouse.

You are starving, and you both know it.

“Come. Here.”

There’s that chilling tone of voice again. It does not fail to fill your veins with ice, your heart skipping a beat before skittering irregularly in your chest. You’ve come to understand that it means playtime is over.

You are so fucked.

It is awkward, getting out of the bed with your wrists tied like this. You almost fall on your face, your foot getting tangled in the sheet. From John’s forbidding expression, you don’t think he would have caught you from hitting the floor this time.

You are still only dressed in the thin nightie, and the air is cold on your skin. Your nipples tighten, forming sharp peaks beneath the fabric, the silk lending agonizing friction that makes you want to press your thighs to relieve some of the sudden ache between them.

Last night so did not help you with this problem, and John’s eyes fixating on them does not help either, and you wonder if you’ll be in trouble when you stain his neat looking pants leg with your slick after sitting on him.

“Come here,” he says again, his tone much gentler this time.

Defeated, you shuffle forward, letting him guide you to perch on his knee with a hand on your hip. You barely manage to suppress a shudder as possessively his hand slides just under your skirt, resting on the warm pillow of your thigh. His long fingers are so close to your center, but he makes no move, letting you stew in it.

Bastard.

Only then do you turn to look at him, finding his gaze fixed on your face. “Good morning.”

When you say nothing in return he lifts one eyebrow, and you swear, this man will be the death of you out of frustration alone.

“Good morning,” you finally return, hating the meek timbre of your tone.

“Do you like scrambled eggs?” You nod, and he scoops up a forkful. You notice the fork is plastic, and you wonder if its for your safety, or for his.

He’s clearly never seen Hot Tub Time Machine.

“I would have taken you to breakfast in Venice, but someone had to run away.”

“Well, someone was an insufferable prig the night before,” you return primly, wondering what punishment this will earn you, unable to stop yourself from saying it anyway. He actually smirks at this, though his grip tightens a bit in warning on your thigh. Not enough to hurt, but oh.

You are definitely leaving a wet spot on his trousers, and you hate yourself a little more for it.

You finish your breakfast bite by bite like the good girl you’re apparently not. It was good, if not the weirdest seating arrangement you’ve ever endured. You tremble inside, as you wonder what he has in mind for you next, now that your energy is up and you are trussed like a holiday goose for his pleasure.

You couldn’t be more surprised, than when he deposits you on the bed, kisses your cheek, and bids you, “Have a nice day, sweetie.”

“Wait!” you exclaim, whirling as he is already halfway to the door, swinging his suit jacket about his broad shoulders. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You hate it, that hearing this fills you with panic. “Are you coming back?”

“Do you want me to come back?” There is a dangerous glitter in those dark eyes, and you know that is a question loaded with fourteen in the clip and one in the chamber.

You decide on, “I want you to untie me.” Holding up your wrists as exhibit A.

He shrugs a little, and you know that was not the answer he wanted. “Maybe later.” Then he sweeps out of the room, leaving you staring dumbfounded at the door where he’d just been. The man is like a fucking ghost.  

“Bastard!”

You hope he hears you, but you suspect the epithet falls on deaf ears.

-Your first order of business, of course, is trying to undo these beautiful fucking knots. Unfortunately for you, they are tight, and secure, and John was smart enough to make the finishing hitch with the end tails on the opposite side of your wrist where you cannot easily reach them with your teeth.

Sonofabitch.

If he’d left you Dog for company you could have enlisted the pooch’s formidable chompers, perhaps, but no dice on that one.

Fine.

You sit under the covers for a while, because you’re cold. You try to read, but it is infuriatingly difficult to turn the pages of a book and read comfortably with your hands like this.

You are certain lunch time comes and goes, without a peep out of John.

Did he actually leave you?

You hate it, how the thought makes a trill of panic vibrate in your chest.

Fine. It’s fucking fine.

He thinks he can break you with alone time? You? You are the Queen of Introversion. You can go for days without human interaction, happily, so long as you have a sketchbook or a book. Bring it on, Mr. Wick.

He left you the water cup with the straw, and boy is that an adventure to refill in the bathroom when you’re thirsty.

Going pee without making a mess is no small feat either.

You pace the room, just to get some exercise. You look out the window, watching the birds in the trees.

You laugh to yourself, banging your head against the bulletproof glass. How funny, that you’d once fancied yourself Jane Eyre, when it turned out you were destined to be Mad Bertha locked up in the attic by Rochester all along.  

You hate to admit it, but by the time the sun is starting to set behind the trees you are going stir crazy with wondering where the fuck he is.

It’s definitely not because you miss him.

It’s just…these fucking ropes, of course. It’s not those burning dark eyes, or those large sure hands, or that sturdy long body he likes to press to yours. It’s not that the silence of the room feels empty without his deep voice, even if he’s using it to taunt you.

It is late by the time you hear the locks on the door whir, and you have been sitting in your nest in bed feeling listless and way too sorry for yourself. You are half out of your mind with boredom, and your shoulders and elbows ache at the joints from the restraints at your wrist. You try not to show it, but you are ready to climb up the fucking walls.

Like he might have some inkling of this, John pays you a knowing smile, assuming his seat with the confidence of a king in his throne room. He snaps and pats his thigh, no words this time, expecting you to obey.

Someday, you are going to make him pay for this.

But now…there’s nothing for it but to play his twisted game.

He’s prepared some kind of stir-fry tonight, with vegetables, beef, and rice. You are starving by now, and it smells heavenly.

Again, the food is good, simple but filling. He feeds you forkful by forkful with a careful tenderness that could make you weep. Your time with John is like a game of Russian Roulette. Spin the wheel, which John shall you receive this minute?

It’s easy to hate Mean John. Insufferable Ass Hat John, could drive you to murder. But Sweet John? You would do anything, for Sweet John, and you’re afraid he knows it too.

It’s only been a day, really. Is that right? A day? And already, you feel yourself slipping into the mould he’s fashioned for you.

Perhaps in a knee-jerk attempt to counter this, you ask, “Did you used to play this game with Helen?”

He freezes with the fork halfway to your lips, his hand underneath your skirt with his dead wife’s name in your mouth.  

You meant to throw him off, but as far as you can tell, all it earns you is a scoff. “No.”

“Why not?”

He actually seems to consider your question, toying with the food again, re-loading the fork with a different bite. “I was never afraid she would leave me. Funny, how that worked out.”

You feel like he’s handed you an important piece of information. Emboldened by his quietness, you dare push, “And…what do you think she’d think, about what you’re doing to me now?”

“I’d say she lost her vote, when she left me.” The indifference is gone; this is delivered with a stinging bitterness, and you realize he blames her for leaving him. There’s a clue in this too, and you feel like the solution to all this is an illusive thing hovering just barely out of your grasp. If you can find just the right words, push just the right buttons…maybe you can bring him back to sanity?

“She never would have left you on purpose, John. She got sick. You’ve got to forgive her.”

And accept you can’t control everyone around you. Then preferably, untie me! motherfucker.

The only indication he gives that you’ve upset him is the tightening of his fingers digging into your thigh. You’re going to have bruises, but if he’s actually processing what you’re saying, it’s a price you’ll gladly pay.

He just continues to push the medley of food around on the plate, shaking his head in silence. Disappointed in his nonreaction to your question, you sullenly accept the next bite.

Three seconds later, your mouth is on fire.

You squeal with panic, leaning for the plate to spit it out. But John’s big hand clamps over your mouth, a hard glint in his eyes, and you know you’re going to have to swallow it. It takes three tries, but you manage, tears streaming from the corner of your eyes.

You can do moderately spicy food, but that was just fucking diabolical.

“What the fuck?” you hiss between coughs.

“I knew you’d have something smart to say tonight.”

You try to reach for the water cup with its stupid little straw and your stupidly bound-together hands, but John sets it out of reach. “Oh my god, please?”

He speaks calmly, as though the lining of your mouth is not being eaten away like you took a bite of rice laced with battery acid. “You keep speaking about Helen like you knew her. I suggest you cut it out. Unless you would like all your meals seasoned like this.”

You blow a long breath of air over your tongue. It only sort of helps.

Mother. Fucker.

You glare daggers, but for now, you’re wise enough (broken enough?) to keep your epithets to yourself.

He sits back in the chair to regard you, tossing the fork into what’s left on the plate. You’re still hungry, but you’ll be damned if you eat anymore from that dish. You flinch as he reaches for you, though he is not cruel as he grips your hair at the base of your head. Just…exacting, and he guides you to perch on the edge of the chair between his legs, your bare ass fitted against his crotch.

It feels good as he starts to braid your hair, a jarring contrast to the pain still simmering in your mouth. You whimper a little, despite yourself, arching into him behind you. You didn’t even mean to, really, but it wins you a low groan that fills you with forbidden warmth.

This is so fucked.

Nothing you’ve experienced in your life has prepared you for handling this.

When he finishes he wraps the new handle of your plaited hair in his fist, pulling you back against his chest. He is warm, and solid, and you fail royally as you try not to enjoy this contact. It’s ridiculous, but all you really want is for him to hold you.

He speaks against the shell of your ear, his other hand lightly encircling your throat. “I’ll never let you leave me.”

Your heart drums frantically in your chest; he means business. You can just tell, there is an unyielding hardness in his tone that somehow wasn’t quite there before. You thought you could reason with this man, but maybe you were wrong, or maybe you only succeeded in pushing his sanity the other way, further into the red.

Maybe there’s nothing left to reason with, and that is the thing that finally, truly scares you.

“Maybe you need something else to fill up that sassy mouth.”

With his improvised handle he guides you down to sit between his splayed legs. Your eyes are drawn to the newly erected tent in his pants, that formidable bulge that should be the stuff of your nightmares, but still inspires a maddening longing inside you.

Why do you have to feel so empty, when he’s near?

Frustrated by the unfairness of it all, you glare daggers up at him. You know what he’s angling to extort out of you, of course. It makes you sad, but not for the reason he might have expected. It makes you sad, because you would have rubbed your knees raw sucking him off, if he’d just asked you nicely.

“Thanks, but I’m full.”

He snorts at that. “Yeah? Someone doesn’t want her hands untied that badly.”

Now, that is something you want, and maybe you’re willing to play with that on the table. You’ve never thought of yourself as someone who is easily led, but he is good at manipulating you. It makes you wonder if any of it was ever real, or if this is just a game he’s been playing with you from day one.

The thought makes you sigh, and you rest your cheek on his lean thigh, closing your eyes.

He looks down at you like you’re a puzzle he’s not quite sure how to solve.

Welcome to the club, Mr. Wick.

“Were you planning this all along?” you ask. “When you were so sweet to me? Am I that fucking stupid that I didn’t see this coming?” Obviously, from the clothes in the closet, he’d hoped you’d come stay with him at some point, but all the rest? It feels spontaneous, like the way something hard can suddenly crack with too much pressure. But then again, maybe just because it took you by such fucking surprise.

He strokes your hair, and that gentle touch just makes it worse somehow. You feel the sting of tears in the corners of your eyes, because that gentleness is all you wanted from him. The ironic part is that he wouldn’t have had to do any of this shit, just to keep you.

You do not love easily, but once you do…it is a total, and all-consuming thing.

“I don’t know,” he answers begrudgingly. “I just…couldn’t let you leave me.”

You think about how he’d been an orphan. He’d lost his parents. He’d lost his wife. He’d lost his dog. He’d gone on a rampage and slaughtered an entire Russian Bratva…for the loss of a dog.

In perspective you guess he’d actually behaved rather tamely, at the threat of losing you. This man does nothing by halves, and the only thing John Wick fears, it seems, is losing those he loves.

Is that what he’d meant, when he said his love was a curse?

It doesn’t excuse it, but there is a key somewhere in that, you reason. A key to freedom, or the gates of Hell, you’re not really sure.

You do your best to blink away your tears. Maybe it’s stupid, because you’re not half as tough as he is, but you don’t really want him to see you cry.

He lets you sit like that for as long as you want, stroking your hair. It’s almost sweet, and it gives you time to collect yourself.

Someday, he’s going to figure out it’s best not to give you a chance to plot your next move. It occurs to you that maybe you have one last card to play.

You sit up slowly on your knees between his legs, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze weighing upon your skin. You reach for his belt, brushing his erection through his pants, his manhood twitching in anticipation. For just a second, he allows himself to close his eyes.  

Maybe you have power too. You just have to figure out how to use it here, and maybe not lose you mind over how thick and wonderful he just felt beneath your hand. That unhelpful pulsing between your legs casts its vote. You try to unobtrusively squeeze your thighs for some relief, but you fear this man sees everything.  

Good for you, that your voice sounds almost steady. “I have to say, you’re a brave man, Mr. Wick.”

It is not easy to work the buckle of his belt with your hands bound like this, but somehow you manage, even pulling it from its loops. You fight the urge to throw the damn thing across the room, but settle for resting it at his feet.

“How do you figure?”

“Well...” You flip open the top button of his pants, your fingers shaking slightly. “If we are engaging in that time-honored exchange of a favor for a blowjob... and you just essentially carpet bombed my mouth with napalm...wow, you do like to live dangerously.”

He sits still as a statue for a good few moments, weighing what you’re telling him, gauging if the capsaicin would transfer through your saliva to what is arguably the most sensitive area of his body. You’re 98 percent certain they would, and a part of you hopes he’ll opt to try it even after you warn him.

It would make for a neat little slice of revenge.

But then, what you really want is out of these ropes, and you hope your honesty will win you some points with him.

In the end he catches your hands, as you are awkwardly trying to work his zipper.

“Maybe we'll skip that for now.”

“You sure? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

He narrows his eyes down at you, and you wonder if you’re inventing it, or is there a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes?

“In my other pants.” 

In the end he pulls you back up into his lap with a grumble.

You suspect you’ve only delayed the inevitable, but you feel some satisfaction for your little coup.

“I’ll be back,” he tells you, (threatens you?), depositing you on the bed, gathering the dishes and sweeping out of the room. You have a feeling this interaction was not half as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be.

Well, good.

Bastard.

-When he returns, he brings you a cup of milk. Though most of the pain from the chilis has already subsided by now, you accept it for the calorie count if anything.

“Are you alright?” he asks with a hand on your cheek, looking you over appraisingly.

Thinking this might be your best moment, you lift your bound hands with a pitiful pout, blinking your eyelashes innocently.

“Will you untie me now?” you ask in your sweetest tone, words loaded with contrition.  

“You think you’ve earned it?” he asks, and you sense this is a perilous path you’re approaching.

“I’ve been good.”

“Hmm.”

“Come on. I mouthed off. You punished me. You had your fun. And rather than give in to my initial vindictive impulses, I saved you from a very uncomfortable evening. It’s the least you can do.”

He actually chuckles at this, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He seems softened by your bright little tirade, but then this man’s mood can change on a dime.

“And, it’s starting to hurt,” you add.

It’s not a lie, and it seems that is the thing that makes him pause.

“You don’t like my knot work?”

Your heart lodges in your throat, and you know you must proceed with caution, or you’ll be wearing this shit for a week at least.

“Your knots are very fine, Mr. Wick.”

Your captor practically purrs at hearing that, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest, his hand burying in your hair. It sends a tingling thrill all across your scalp.

You’ve come to reluctantly love his fixation with grabbing your mane.

You really are losing your mind.

“I’ll make you a deal, kitten.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll untie you…if you will take a bath with me.” His tone is the low rumble of a jungle cat, and your heart leaps into your throat. You knew this was coming, eventually. Maybe you just didn’t expect it tonight.

Looking back, you’re not sure why.

“NowI get to see you?”

You are still puzzling over the way he’d outright prevented you from undressing him, in Venice. It was almost like he’d been afraid, and you don’t understand at all. He’s fucking gorgeous, and you’re pretty sure he knows it. So…why?

“I told you, you weren’t ready then.”

You suspect the real answer is that he wasn’t ready, but for once, you don’t contradict him.

He runs a finger down the line of his neat knots that are starting to bite into your flesh. It’s starting to affect the feeling in your fingers, and you know that can’t be good.

“So? What do you say?”

You crane your neck to look up at him, drinking in the lines of his handsome face, his straight nose and proud lips, and the delicately drawn sweep of his eyes. Even with the shadow of a black eye, courtesy of you, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. You shouldn’t want him, after everything he’s done to you. You shouldn’t, but you feel yourself inevitably drawn to him, like the moon pulls the tide.

You feel like you’re signing a piece of your soul away to the devil on the dotted line, when at last you nod.

He puts a hand to his ear with a smirk. “What was that?”

Your groan comes out like a growl.

“You have a deal, Mr. Wick, sir.”

His low rumble of approval gives you chills, and when he turns your face up to kiss you sweetly you utterly melt beneath his hands, jarred by the contrast from earlier, but not questioning it. You bask in the press of his soft lips, greedy for his tenderness, hoping stupidly that this is the way things will be from now on. Then you yelp with surprise as suddenly he scoops you up with his hands on your thighs, carrying you into the bathroom.  

[phas3d]

Caught You || Tom Riddle

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: cringe, idc that he's "out of character" i'm delusional and stopped taking my meds

summary :: you catch your "evil" classmate doing very un-evil things, dare I say, kind things

Tom loves the idea of being an ultimate evil, having no redeeming traits in order to solidify himself as the strongest villain within the Wizarding world. But, he tends to fail his goal almost weekly.

Normally, Tom is able to keep secrets very well. For crying out loud, this man drafted, constructed, and furnished a whole fucking "chamber of secrets" without a single teacher knowing. But you, for some odd reason, were able to catch him over and over again.

It first started when one day you were going out for a walk to clear your mind after getting into a heated debate with your friend on some stupid topic. You marched down to the Black Lake for peace, only to get stopped in your tracks as you heard a voice.

"You know, for a homeless cat, you're pretty fat." You heard a deep voice say softly.

With gentle steps, you moved towards the sound and hid behind a tree as you saw Tom Riddle, the evilest and meanest boy in Hogwarts, cooing and feeding a chubby black cat, (he wasn't joking, the cat was on the brink of being a circle). You held your breathe, knowing that the slightest sound will alert Tom's hyper sensitive senses.

"I don't understand how you can survive in the wild when you can barely walk at 2 miles per hour." He continued to roast the poor cat, thank god the cat didn't understand.

You smiled on instinct and from that motion Tom was aware of you. It was scary and concerning how good he was at sensing people around him. It was as if he could hear your flesh tense up in order to create the small smile on your face.

"Shit..." You hear him say under his breathe, covering his face with his hand from embarrassment. For once, he was scared. If anything, he was mortified of the idea of turning around and facing someone he knew or even worse, respected!

To save him from the pain of having to ask you to come out, you stepped out on your own accord. "You're really mean to him" You say with a small chuckle as you glanced down to see Tom still squatting in front of the fat cat.

A sigh left Tom's lips, he got up from his squatted position and it quickly reminded you how he was able to tower over you. He turned to face you, holding two cans of empty cat food. You didn't know cats super well, but you did know they ate very small portions. From the two empty and licked clean tin cans, you could instantly tell that TOM was the reason why that cute cat was so fat.

It was like Tom was able to read your mind as he quickly defended himself, "Usually, there are more cats to feed but his fat ass could smell the container from miles away. So, blame him for overeating."

You couldn't help but notice how Tom's voice was less soft, sounding like his usual self. Although his voice to the cat wasn't extremely different, you could tell there was only pure admiration wrapped into his vocal chords as he spoke to the cat versus pure neutrality when he spoke to you.

Unsure of what to say, you stayed silent. You've tried to talk to Tom multiple times before and it's never ended well. In school you would try to create small talk but he would shut it down with 1 word answers. When you did succeed in a conversation lasting more than 2 sentences back and forth, any attempt to learn more about him was shut down by a dirty side-eye from him, silently tell you to shut up.

You were doing your best to think of a reply but you couldn't before Tom reached into his robe's pockets and pulled out two tins of cat food. He looked down into your eyes as he waited for you to take them.

With a smile, you happily grabbed the two tins and began to follow behind him as he took you to where the cats usually were.

From then on, you began to feed the cats with Tom as often as you could. It went from you joining him once a week to everyday. The cats began to remember your faces and scents as they instantly crowded you and Tom with small meows and rubs of their heads.

This tradition carried on for days and months, making your bond with Tom stronger as each day passed until he finally began to open up to you and start conversation. From that, you felt an instant spark and began to become friends with him which transitioned into a relationship.

Even after you both graduated from Hogwarts, you two would still visit the Black Lake to feed the cats, like an old elderly couple that feeds birds.

[itoshi-s]

anon requested: rin + "why do you keep marking me up? it's hard to mask and people are staring..." // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wk: 1.5k. cw: mildly suggestive, fem coded reader, mention of bruises/hickeys, fluff. rin wears a panda headband i want to eat him whole

standing in front of your full-width bathroom mirror at 6:43 am, eyes still bleary with sleep and hair sticking out in odd directions, you think you just might actually hate your boyfriend.

you know he doesn't exactly mean to do it - but all sense of rationality is long forgotten when the bright violet, reddish bruises are the first thing you notice in your reflection.

with a sigh, you put your fluffy headband on, keeping every hair out of your face, then start applying makeup. you'll have to be quick with it this time, too - you have hit snooze once or twice, and you certainly don't want to be late, yet still have something else than your face to spend time on camouflaging.

the soft playlist you've put on helps calm some of the annoyance that bubbles in your chest as you hum along under your breath, curling your lashes and applying a final coat of mascara. you put on your lip gloss, smacking your lips as you stare at your reflection, and as the initial bleariness of waking up dies down, you actually feel more amused than irritated upon the sight of hickeys littered down your neck.

rin's a possessive lover. he wants - needs - to feel every inch of your skin under his large, roaming hands. he grabs and kneads the flesh, holds it in a tight grip when he manhandles you however he seems fit. when in the moment, rin doesn't pay any mind whether it leaves marks - in fact, there are times when he wants it more than anything, like when you get home from a party looking just a tad too pretty and the green eyed monster creeps up on him. just want to mark up what's mine, the teal-eyed would mumble, laying on his tummy as he glares at you childishly.

you adore his passionate nature - feel on top of the world and like the most beautiful thing to exist when he gives you that look, overcome with love and desire.

but, for the love of god, you appreciate your sleep and sanity just as much, you think as you dab on the third layer of thick concealer, stacked on top of color corrector that really fucking struggles to balance out the purple hues.

you check the time, realizing you've got to leave the house in half an hour now, and that rin's alarm should go off in a minute or two.

as if on cue, there's a pair of footsteps approaching the bathroom door, then they're pushed open to reveal your boyfriend in all his sleepy glory.

shirtless and rubbing at his eyes, rin yawns as he makes his way over to your side of the bathroom counter. he circles an arm around your waist, broad chest feeling warm against your fluffy robe, and he sighs as his head drops to your shoulder.

"hi," rin mumbles, voice hoarse and gravelly with sleep as his lips move against the bare skin on your neck. he kisses a birthmark there and gives your waist a squeeze, turquoise gaze meeting your reflection in the mirror with an appreciative hum. "y'look nice, baby." a pause, "no eyeliner today?"

you just give a gentle shake of your head, eyebrows twitching to furrow and lips almost curling into a smirk. he's so, so clueless - it's endearing, in a way, you think as you watch him slip away and stand by the second sink.

"mm. don't have time for it today." you say softly, stuffing your powder brush back into your makeup bag and zipping it close.

perhaps your voice sounds a bit too quiet, or the exhaustion is still prominent on your features despite the glowy products you so carefully put on, cause rin's eyes drift back to life and gleam with worry.

he turns the faucet on and fiddles with the temperature, giving your face an once-over in the mirror before turning to the sink again.

"oh." he nods, fingers reaching for the fluffy, panda-eared headband you took off barely a few seconds ago. pulling it on with ease, rin wants to say something more, but dismisses it and goes to wash his face instead.

the water, as nice as it feels on his face, doesn't wash off any of this funny, uneasy feeling. is something wrong? are you mad at him? do you feel bad and shouldn't go to work today? (he will make you call it off if that's the case. there's no way you're going in sick.)

there's many possibilities, and he won't be certain until he asks. dabbing his face off with a towel, rin clears his throat to speak before turning to you - but you beat him to it.

"rin," you begin, voice sounding so resigned it makes his brows knit together. "why do you keep marking me up?"

blinking not once, not twice, but perhaps a few times too many, he does look so clueless, so silly, you have to bite back a laugh. you're supposed to be annoyed with him - but how can you really, when he's just doing all that out of bottomless, unconditional love?

continuing, "it's hard to mask and people are staring..." you trail off, giving yourself a glance in the mirror, head tilting to show more of the poorly concealed marks, as if to prove your point.

you look back at rin, who now doesn't look as puzzled anymore. instead, there's a slight frown settled in his pretty features, long lashes still damp and stuck together, lips pulled into a tight line that almost resembles a pout.

the black, fluffy ears sticking out from messy green hair really sell the look, though.

"what do you mean?" rin argues, and you go to sigh, crossing your arms. "you cover these up?"

your eyes widen, snapping over to the striker's face again. for a second, you think you've misheard him - but in fact, he does look as serious as it gets. your heart jolts with shock, flabbergasted at how truly, utterly shameless he is.

"rin!" you gasp, finger pointing to the side of your neck in exasperation. "of course i do! i can't go around work like that," you insist, tugging the hem of your robe to the side.

the man scowls, eyes trained on the faint pinks and purples. "well i don't see anythin' wrong with it," he deadpans and your shoulders slump in defeat. rin turns to face the mirror again, reaching for his toothbrush.

"everyone else does," you whine, pulling at the tie around your waist and sliding the robe off. you go to hang it up, then reach for the clothes you've neatly folded and laid on the counter last night. "i... like the way they look. and feel." you start bashfully, eyes trained on the ground when you step into your dress pants and swiftly pull them up your legs.

rin smirks at that, just slightly before you can see it and smack it right off his face.

you're quiet for a second, and rin takes the time to trail his eyes down your body as he sticks the toothbrush in his mouth. well, to be fair, there are quite a few bruises littered all over, some darker than others. there's a bite mark-shaped one, too, right on the swell of your breast, which you go to cover with the skin tight long sleeve you put on next.

(he fears your reaction when you go to look into the mirror and see it peeking out the neckline.)

it might irk you, and make people uncomfortable or amused, even - but he loves the way they look on your skin, a sharp contract to the smooth, glowy canvas, momentarily stained with his love that runs oh, so feverishly through every single cell in his body.

isn't it only natural he wants to find an output for it and eventually mark what's his?

"but-" you continue, fixing the gold charm between your breasts, the small, zirconia-studded R glimmering under the bathroom lights. "i'd appreciate it if you... kept it down." you mumble, looking up at rin again and your gaze meets his in the mirror.

rin rolls his eyes dramatically, lips quirking up into a ghost of a smile as he brushes his teeth. perhaps, he can try and opt for more... hidden places. it's not ideal - the need to showcase his claim on you still as strong as ever - but not everyone can pay so little mind to what others think of him like he does. certainly, you can't. not with your line of work, either.

he knows, and that's why it almost feels funny when his heart thumps in his chest with refusal. maybe he is a little immature, in a way - but maybe, it's not such a bad thing at all. not when it's your love that makes him feel like a kid, carefree and playful again.

"fine." rin grumbles, words muffled around the brush as he works it on the back of his teeth, sending you an amused look that has your tummy doing flips. "will hav'ta find other ways to mark my territory, though."

[steinfellds]

Sweet, Sweet Blood

Pairing: Vampire!WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda and Natasha always claim that your blood tastes sweeter whenever you're being pleasured by them.

Warnings: Blood, fingering (r receiving), head (r receiving), threesome, dub-con, praise, pain.

a/n: holy i am never writing vampire!character again this was hell to write and i didn't even like the finished product. I AM SO SORRY !!

870 Words

/ masterlist / / w.n masterlist /

"Hush, you're okay, sweetheart," Wanda mumbles, dragging her pointed teeth against your neck. Her arms are wrapped around your waist and you're tightly flushed up against her. You've tried to break out of her grasp before but there was no point, she's stronger than you will ever be.

Natasha lays on her stomach between your bare thighs, both of her arms wrapped around them, keeping you from closing your legs and delaying the inevitable.

"It'll all be over soon." Wanda softly mumbles as Natasha's thumb starts to rub tight circles on your clit. You whine loudly and your hips buckle into Natasha's hand.

Every few days, Wanda or Natasha feeds on you while the other pleasures you. They claim it makes your blood taste sweeter.

Wanda licks and nips at your skin, impatiently waiting for Natasha to push her fingers inside of you.

"Hurry up, Natasha." Wanda snaps.

Natasha chuckles softly before suddenly pushing two fingers inside of you and attaching her lips to your clit. Your back arches and Wanda releases one of your arms, allowing you to thread your fingers through Natasha's hair and pull her closer to you.

Wanda kisses your neck before piercing her teeth into you. You stifle a yelp and try to move away from her but her strong grip on you only tightens.

The feeling of Wanda draining the blood from your neck is odd. You can feel Wanda's sharp teeth piercing your neck but you can't feel any blood being drained out, but you know by her soft moans that she's drinking it.

"It hurts." You whimper softly, causing both of the women to chuckle softly.

The vibrations from Natasha's chuckle force you closer to the edge. You scrunch your eyes shut and bite harshly on your lip, trying to control your orgasm. Wanda doesn't like it when you cum too quickly, she wants to enjoy her time with her meal.

You swear Natasha makes it her mission to make you cum quickly. Her fingers relentlessly hit your walls, curling them to hit the perfect spots, and she doesn't pull her mouth away, constantly licking and sucking at your clit. The pleasure is overwhelming.

"I'm gonna cum," You weakly warn, already starting to feel dizzy and light-headed. When Natasha and Wanda feed on you, they always drink more blood than they should, leaving you in a haze for hours afterwards.

Wanda shakes her head and pulls away from your neck, "Not yet, honey."

You look back at Wanda and feel your stomach do a flip when you see her. Your blood is painted on her lips and teeth, and your blood drips down her chin into her shirt. Her eyes are completely blown out from lust and hunger. The way she's looking at you makes you feel nervous and brings a blush to your cheeks.

"Please," You whine when Natasha pulls away from your dripping cunt.

Natasha leans over your body, wrapping her hand around Wanda's throat and pulling into a kiss. Natasha lets out a moan when she tastes your blood on Wanda's lips.

"God, she tastes so fucking good on your lips." Natasha groans.

You pout, letting out a whine.

"Awh, is someone not liking the lack of attention?" Wanda questions, breaking the kiss between her and Natasha.

You would never admit to Wanda or Natasha that you enjoy the attention they give you. It would be too embarrassing, and it would give them the satisfaction that they broke you like they promised they would.

"Poor baby." Wanda coos, her hand coming up and groping your breast, giving you the attention that you desperately craved.

Natasha made her way back down to your cunt, hiking your legs onto her shoulders and continuing her previous actions. Wanda immediately notices how close you are and quickly re-pierces your skin, sucking on your neck and feeding from you until you reach your orgasm.

Overwhelming pleasure shoots throughout your body causing your back arches and you to grip onto the sheets below you. The moan that escapes your lips is sinful and stars cloud your vision.

It takes a few seconds for you to gather yourself, and within that time, Natasha has grabbed a warm, damp cloth and is wiping at your neck, removing any left-over blood. She then places a band-aid over the puncture wound. Your heart swells at her caring actions.

Wanda kisses over your band-aid and gives you small, sweet praises. You can't really comprehend any words that she's saying but it makes you feel warm inside.

You're always in a haze for a few hours after feeding, it leaves you weak to move and your mind to feel dumb.

Wanda shifts her and your body so she's laying comfortably on the bed with your head resting on her breasts. Her nails scratch at the base of your skull and you moan softly, letting her know that it feels good. Natasha throws a blanket around you and Wanda before slipping in behind you, throwing her arm around your waist and spooning you.

Natasha and Wanda talk softly amongst themselves, waiting for you to fall asleep, and after a few minutes, you're fast asleep in Wanda's arms.