#<- sure i'll forgive you :P

[alto-tenure]

okay, i promptly passed out for several hours after writing my followup on that post, and then i had to go do the research to understand why you would make such a comparison. but now i'm back.

first of all: really cool musical! thanks for telling me about this album, i might have to download it and make a cd.

second of all: beside the main point here, but ahrima is so masked gentleman randall coded. i love it.

third of all: JESUS CHRIST HOW DARE--

ahem. once upon a time i was seated firmly in the camp that des is the one (1) eligible bachelor who wouldn't take any interest in claire, and the friendship and familial potential there is far more compelling than shoving another suitor in claire's face. alas, once upon a time i was also blissfully unaware of razia's shadow and the story of adakias and anhura.

the falling instantly and madly at first sight. the mutual ambition to break free from the chains of the past and achieve something greater than themselves. the scorn and concern of everyone else who doubts they're perfectly right for each other the way they think they are. the fact that staying together will probably kill them both, and they're too blinded by desire to care.

you're completely right about this comparison and it's so horrible. i still value their friendship a lot but i'm never going to be able to unthink how awful it can truly be now. (<- practically dancing with glee over the angst potential)

also i'm sorry if this means you need a desclaire tag now can we still be friends

you could have just ASKED me I would have been happy to tell you about the niche rock opera mostly well known among people who are either in pretty deep with alternative bands popular in the late 2000s or warrior cats fans of which I am both so

Ahrima and Randall are suuuuuuch Icarus figures and then you have the manipulation of that ambition...Descole as the spider on Randall's shoulder, tearing down what's been built in Randall's name...yeah!!

see, uh. it's been a while since I was taking in the narrative (I have the album saved in my likes and shuffle really likes Genesis and Holy the Sea in particular for whatever reason). I was thinking of Pallas (I mixed up their names) and how for me Claire and Des can only really interact if Hershel is out of the picture in some way. and like Hershel as the one who believes in the inherent goodness of humanity while Des is the one who wants to turn away from it and isolate...and him and Claire both having Hershel in common even though Hershel is gone...

[trueebeauty]

It's a crisp autumn evening when you and Todoroki arrive at your house. Your parents are off on another business trip, leaving you with an empty house and a whole week of freedom. Or, in this case, a whole week with your boyfriend, Shoto.

As you're showing him around, you notice he seems distracted. "Everything okay, Shoto?" you ask.

He blinks, dual-colored eyes focusing on you. "Yes. Just... thinking."

You smile. Todoroki and his deep thoughts. It's one of the many things you love about him. "Well, make yourself at home. I'm going to grab a shower."

As the bathroom door closes behind you, Todoroki sits on your bed, mind whirling. Last week, during one of his rare moments of procrastination, he stumbled upon an article about the benefits of cuddling. Increased oxytocin, lower stress levels, better sleep. He wants that for you. For both of you.

But how to initiate? Todoroki, for all his battle prowess, feels out of his depth with this kind of intimacy. His eyes wander around your room, landing on the heater. An idea forms.

He approaches it, hand out. A touch of his right side, and frost creeps over the heater. It sputters, then dies. Todoroki nods, satisfied. Now he just needs to wait.

Twenty minutes later, you emerge from the shower in your softest pajamas. You're toweling your hair when you notice. "Is it cold in here, or is it just me?"

Todoroki looks up, and his breath catches. You're shivering slightly, skin pebbled with goosebumps. He didn't realize how cold it would get so quickly. Guilt gnaws at him, but he pushes it down. This is for a good cause, right?

"The heater must be broken," he says, aiming for nonchalance. "We should... conserve body heat."

You blink, then a slow smile spreads. "Shoto Todoroki, are you asking me to cuddle?"

He blushes, the red stark against his white hair. "It's... practical."

"Sure," you tease, but you're already climbing into bed, snuggling up to him. He's warm, always warm, and you sigh contentedly.

Todoroki feels a rush of... something. Happiness? Pride? All he knows is that he likes having you close. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer.

But as minutes tick by, the room gets colder. And colder. Todoroki's left side is like ice, and you start to shiver violently.

"S-Shoto," you chatter, "I t-think something's really w-wrong with the h-heater."

Panic rises in his throat. This isn't what he wanted. You're freezing, possibly getting sick, because of him. Some boyfriend he is.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. "I... I broke it. I wanted to cuddle, but I didn't think—"

"Y-you broke it?" you interrupt, teeth still chattering. "On p-purpose?"

He nods miserably. But then, to his surprise, you laugh. It's a shaky sound, but genuine.

"You're adorable," you say, nuzzling into him despite the cold. "But also an idiot. You could've just asked."

Todoroki feels warmth that has nothing to do with his quirk. "I'll fix it," he promises.

"Later," you say. Then, with a mischievous grin, you flip your legs over him, straddling his waist to reach his other side. The side that's all warmth.

"Better?" he asks, watching you snuggle into his right.

"Much," you sigh, the shivers already subsiding. "But next time you want cuddles, just ask. Okay?"

"Okay," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

In the soft glow of your bedside lamp, with you tucked safely against his warm side, Todoroki thinks he finally understands what that article meant. Cuddling isn't just about body heat. It's about this: the trust in your sleepy mumbles, the forgiveness in your laughter, the love in the way you fit against him.

He may have broken the heater, but Todoroki thinks this warmth, this closeness, was worth it.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[5:21 pm]

(cw: a child, reader is called "mama")

"Okay, where is your nose? Nose?" you asked the 20 month old sitting across from you.

His tiny finger came to his nose and lightly placed his finger on the tip. "Good job, my love! Where are your toes?" You asked with a smile.

Dad!Mark was laid out on the couch watching you and your son play on the carpet in front of him. He smiles watching his son smile brightly when you praised him with a happy voice and matching smile. You'd both been doing this for a while since your son woke up from his nap.

As cute as it was, Mark was bored. You both had some errands you needed to run but the baby was fussy and moody all morning. Mark had been able to slip out of the house to run the errands while you stayed behind, but came back and immediately fell back into the feeling of cabin fever. If he laid on the couch longer, he'd fall asleep, he'd wake up, it would be late, and it would feel like the day was wasted.

"And where's Papa?" You asked.

His son's eyes were set on him, a bright smile sent his way with an excited cheer of "Papa!"

"Yes! Good job, baby. Where's Mama?" You asked.

Mark smiled at his son, his voice overlapping yours in a tired groan, "Dude, let's go to the p-a-r-k. I need to get out of the house."

His son's face became the cutest little face of confusion he'd ever seen before his eyes lit up and his pointer finger pointed at you, "Dude!"

You went silent, Mark gulped. Then you turned to Mark with a look of anger he was unfortunately becoming more familiar with as his son got older. If your eyes could shoot lasers, he was sure his head would have already been melted off his body. If you could produce steam, it would be coming out of your ears like in the cartoons.

He sat up in a panic, "it was a mistake! I didn't think he was actually listening to me!"

You stood up, hoisting your son onto your hip, "No, you do know he listens because you got in trouble last week for saying s-h-i-t and your son copied you."

Mark followed you back to the nursery and kept a watchful eye on your son who was now on the floor while you pulled some clothes out for him. "But this one isn't even as bad!" Mark whined, sending you puppy eyes- which were useless since your back was to him.

"I don't want our son to call me dude, Mark!" You whined back.

He pouted, processing your words. He guessed you were right. He wouldn't want the baby to call him dude either, he loved being his Papa.

You sat on the floor, wrangling your son into his clothes to go out and out of his onesie. Mark sat behind you, wrapping his arms around his waist. He pressed a kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, "I'm sorry. I'll be more mindful of the words I use around the baby. Do you forgive me, babe?"

His son laughed, babbling to himself before he pointed at you with an excited, "Babe!"

You exhaled tiredly with a light shrug of your shoulders, "I can work with that. Watch him while I go change for the p-a-r-k."

Mark followed your son back to the living room, watching as his son crouched down to pick up some blocks. "Hey buddy, are you so excited for the park?"

His sons eyes widened excitedly, "go now? Park now? Now?"

You stepped out of the room, dressed to go out with the diaper bag on your shoulder and your son's water bottle in hand, "Today is such a learning day for you, Papa. Are you remembering why we spell certain words now?"

"Go now? Park now? Go?"

Mark hoisted the toddler over his shoulder, tickling his round belly to get him to laugh as a distraction, "Yes, buddy. Let's go."

[localkiss]

MY DADDY'S LOLLIPOP ♡

pairings: james sunderland x fem!reader

synopsis: You've been acting up ever since he got home, snuggling against him in the wrong way, watching a scary movie. And he decides that enough is enough, beginning to put you in your place. Teach you how to be a good girl again.

cw: MDNI, INCEST, DEAD DOVE, SLIGHT OOC JAMES, nipple play, unprotected p in v, creampies, oral (m receiving), guilt, mentions of mary, dirty talk, spanking, daddy kink, desperation, virginity loss, slight body worship, slight somno, pet names, manhandling, pregnancy kink, praise/degradation kink. lmk if i missed anything.

wc: 4.8k

masterlist & my ao3

thank you @bunnyclaire for proof reading <3! tags: @gettingsilly @withonly-sweetheart not sure who else 2 tag... also forgive me if there are some errors, fixing it in ao3 and then pasting it here is ass. </3

You hum your way around the house, clad in a nightgown and your underwear. It's too bad your dad couldn't make it back in time to start a binge fest of scary movies. It's not fun when you watch them alone, but you decide to do so anyway. 

  Picking out Scream, you push play. Snuggling up into your warm and thick blankets on the couch. With your snacks on your lap and your drink on the coffee table, you are all set! 

  Since you rewatch the same movies every year, you know the plot like the back of your hand. Even though you know it so well, you still jump at the scary parts and your heart thumps wildly. If your dad was here, he wouldn't stop teasing you for every little jump. 

  As the night goes on, you begin to nod off. With your hand in your bucket of candy and your head tipped back a fluffy pillow. You made it through at least three movies before getting too tired to continue the binge of movies. Groaning, you shift in your sleep. 

  The loud buzzing of your cell phone on the coffee table immediately wakes you up. Your heart leaps out of your chest as you frantically locate the source of the noise. The house is quiet and dark, except for the few noises from the fridge in the kitchen. Picking up your phone, you see it's your dad. 

  “Mm.. dad!” You croak out, rubbing your eyes. 

  “Hey honey. Just wanted to let you know I'll be home soon, okay? Make sure the front door is locked. Are you having fun watching the movies?” 

  Humming, you set the bowl of candy down on the table as you pad your way to the door. Double checking if you locked it or not. “I already locked it dad. I fell asleep watching one of them, it's just not the same without you. Hurry back,” you whine into the phone. 

  James sighs deeply, “Okay. See you soon.” He hangs up and you turn to flip the switch so there's light in the living room. Making you squint your eyes to see for a few moments. 

  Cozying back up in your spot, you put on The Nightmare Before Christmas. Perfect movie to fall asleep to. Pulling your blankets up over your shoulders, you begin to munch on your candy. 

  This time, you set down the candy as you feel yourself getting tired. Yawning, you snuggle your face into your pillow. Allowing your eyelids to droop and get heavy. The TV slowly begins to muffle out into background noise. 

  It doesn't even wake you up when your dad finally gets home thirty minutes later. Opening the door and finding you curled up, with the movie playing at a low volume. James sets down his bag on the table after locking the door and kicking his shoes off.

  Humming as he shuts the TV off, picking your body up carefully, with your blanket still wrapped around you. He pushes your door open and sets you down on your soft mattress. Adorned with the few stuffed animals he bought you or won for you. 

  Grunting, he begins to tuck you in. Quickly going back to grab your pillow and place it under your head. As soon as he deems you comfortable enough, he begins to walk away. 

  “Daddy…” 

  But you sleepily grab onto his arm, tugging him back to lay with you. You know, you're getting too old for your dad to hold you until you fall asleep, but that doesn't mean James won't not do it. Especially when you are trying to keep yourself awake for his sake. 

  “Sweetheart,” he starts, climbing into your bed behind you with a grunt. “I'm sorry for not being here with you on time. Forgive me, okay?” He presses a chaste kiss to your hairline and you nod a few times. 

  “Good.” James wraps his arms around you loosely. 

  Feeling the warmth of his chest press against your back just makes you melt. Nobody will ever top your dad. He's always going to be the best. 

  And you immediately knock out. He doesn't leave just yet, knowing that sometimes when he leaves, you wake back up. So, a lot of the times he ends up falling asleep next to you too. Resting his forehead against your shoulder. The rise and fall of your breaths and the soft mumbles lulls him to bed. 

  His arms instinctively flex and tighten around your middle, drawing you closer to him. It's the days like these where your mom's death gets to him. That damn disease taking her away from you both. Your dad pretends he's alright, that her death didn't take away from his life. Didn't take away the little joy of simply being there, alive, and able-bodied. 

  It doesn't help that you have the same sad eyes as your mother. Oh, no. Not one bit. Does it bother him? A little, but deep inside it festers into something else. Enjoying the fact you are becoming more like his late wife than a different person. Your own person. He just pushes those thoughts away because you are his baby girl. Not his dead wife. 

  Really gets him going sometimes when he sees you dress up all pretty in those skirts. Showing off your legs with your pantyhose and thigh high socks. Sometimes those skirts are a bit too short for him to feel comfortable with you being out and about in them. 

  He can't police you on what to wear and not to wear. What does he know about fashion? Nothing. Has worn the same MG65 Field Jacket for years. As long as it doesn't have holes in ‘em, he'll wear them to death. 

  Especially when you ask nicely for him to take you out to the mall or to simply go on a walk with you. Who goes on walks dressed like that? You do. 

  It doesn't click in his mind on why you choose those shoes when you know you've gotta walk a lot. Thinks they're cute anyways, blisters aside when you start bawling about your feet hurting. So, yes , daddy does carry his little girl around when she needs him to. And yes, you are spoiled. Probably a bit too much if you ask anyone else. 

  Hours later, you groan, stretching your body. Feeling your dad's body right up against you. Blinking, you squint, looking around the room. It's still dark out, drawing a large exhale out of you. Maybe you can start up the movie marathon with him again. 

  Turning around, you begin to shake your dad awake. “Dad, wake up. Wake up…” you grumble, hearing him breathe heavily like he's about to wake up.

  “Daddy, wake up!” Raising your voice and pushing him to lie down on his back. Climbing over his lap and sitting down, beginning to shake him with more force. All of that motion causes you to sort of bounce against his lap. 

  James's eyes open slightly, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “Hmm.. baby? What's wrong?” Blinking and furrowing his eyebrows to see you. Breathing heavily as his body fully wakes up. 

  “Let's go watch our movies, please?” Holding yourself up by placing your hands on his chest. 

  His hands squeeze your hips as he opens and closes his mouth, thinking of what to say. All he can think about is how this sight of you sitting on his lap like this, makes his cock start to harden. The weight of your body, the feeling of your shapely ass and your flesh, it's all so stimulating. 

  Groaning, he closes his eyes. The fat of your hips and the way his fingers sink into you, makes him imagine you bouncing on his cock. Him holding and helping you keep steady as you work yourself on him. Crying out for daddy as you cream around his girth. 

  “Okay.. okay.” He nods quickly. 

  Leaning down, you kiss his cheek with a giggle. “Let's go!” Getting off of him and running out of your room, into the living room. The sound of your bare feet hitting the hardwood echoes throughout the house. 

  James gets up, “I'll be right there honey. Let me change into something more comfortable.” Walking over to his room, closing the door and stripping down. Throwing his clothes into the laundry basket, he opens the door to his walk-in closet. Stepping into his plaid pajama pants and tugging on a random shirt. 

  Sighing, he looks down at his little friend. “Oh for god's sake,” shifting it around so it isn't visible anymore. Praying it goes away soon. It would be so embarrassing for you to notice it and put two and two together. 

  He isn't ready to tackle that kind of stuff yet. James walks out of his room and makes his way to where you are at. Finding you all curled up and putting another classic movie on. 

  “Are you cold honey? I can go and get your blanket and we can share it, if you want.” 

  “I'm okay. I can just cuddle up to you,” giggling, patting the cushion behind you. “Come sit here.” 

  James slips behind you, trying to keep some distance between your ass and his naughty not-so-little friend down there. While watching the movie, his arms swoop around you as you slouch against his chest. Feeling you jump at the sudden noises, he has to stifle his laugh. So cute, he thinks. 

  Towards the end of the movie, you wiggle to be snug against his chest. The warmth transferring to your back. Sitting up and repositioning your head to be comfy. Holding onto his left arm, feeling the bit of muscle he has. 

  He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. And the movie ends, you scramble to switch to a different movie. Feeling your ass touching his groin, so.. so.. sooo snugly. Looking down, he watches the way his cock kicks against the confines of his pajama pants, begging to be freed. Sweat begins to form on his scalp, beading soft droplets around his hairline. It's okay, it's okay James.. just—just relax. He sighs, placing his hand on your knee, the other one still wrapped around your waist. 

  Your skin runs hot and tingly as soon as your dad’s hand is on your knee. Wanting to squeeze your legs shut, feeling your cunt throb and ache. Remembering the times you have accidentally seen him touching himself. How he spat on it, just to tug it faster. The soft moans and groans he let out, being careful not to draw your attention with the volume. At that point, you started to tiptoe back to your room to finger yourself. Covering your mouth with your free hand, as humiliation flooded your veins. 

  But, you keep still, knowing and feeling his hard-on against your back. Wanting to appear as innocent as possible, as you make him horny. You push back, wiggling like you are resituating yourself. Grinding, catching the way his hands and arms flex, inciting a smirk out of you. Halting your movements, you turn your head, pressing your lips against his cheek, near the corner of  his lips. 

  And he dips down and kisses your temple. You titter and lower your chin to your collarbones, feeling his fingers start creeping their way towards your side. Knowing he’s about to start tickling you. 

  The movie is simple background noise, drowning out the creaks of the house. He laughs behind you, warm breath tickling your ear. Then, his hands start attacking your ribs and armpit, erupting a guffaw. 

  “Dad, stopp!” Squirming, you push down, trying to get away from his hands and eventually your head lays right next to his bulge. Kicking your feet, you fail to get his hands off of you. Laughing so hard, your cheeks are stained a cherry tomato red, and you're beginning to sweat. 

  Without even thinking about it, you turn and press your face just a few centimeters away from his no-no zone. Just wanting to hide yourself away from his tickling fingers. His hips jumped up a centimeter or two. A puff of warm air exhales from your mouth has James hissing faintly. 

  Hearing him react to where your face is located, you smile mischievously. Deciding to take it up a notch, see how he acts. Relocating yourself on his stiff member, nuzzling into it.

  “What is this, dad?” Your voice is muffled, vibrating against him. “Is it candy?” Soft and innocent as you can be. 

  “Oh,” he twitches against you, “uh… it-it’s nothing special, honey.”

  “You're lying, I know you're hiding candy away from me dad! I want to see what kind it is,” you shift onto your haunches, furrowing your eyebrows and pursing your lips. Grabbing the waistband of his pants and boxers, tugging it down impatiently. Cunt throbbing and leaking slick into the gussets of your panties. 

  And his dick springs out, standing straight to your attention. Before you could do anything, James grabs your hands and yanks you over his leg as he situates himself to sit up properly. Feet laying flat against the floor. 

  Without a warning, he hikes up your nightgown and gropes your backside. Pulling a cheek and spreading you open, just to let it go and smack your ass. Squealing, you writhe on his lap, feeling tears start to flood your eyesight. 

  “Bad girl,” he scolds you, “I don't remember teaching you how to be a slut. But since you want to see it so bad, I'll teach you how to be a good girl again. Spank you over and over again until you've learned your lesson.” His rough hands hit against each cheek until you are full on sobbing. 

  “Got that, baby?” James rubs his hands across, soothing your sensitive and raw skin. Welts of his hand prints are all across them, making him bite his lip at the sight. “Say, ‘yes daddy' .”

  “Mm.. y-yes daddy,” you whimper out. 

  “Good girl, now get on your knees and take that nightgown off, sweetheart.” Patting the back of your thighs as a signal. 

  You pry yourself off of him, legs wobbly as you stand between his legs, sliding off your nightgown, leaving you in your red cotton panties. Holding onto him as you get on your knees. Looking up at your dad, with a pink tear stained face. 

  Leaning down, he presses a kiss to your forehead, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “Such a good girl,” he hums, stroking your hair. “Now open that filthy mouth for me.” 

  Opening your mouth, staring into his clouded eyes, waiting for your next command. Hands on his thighs, trying not to look down at his lap. 

  “Now, baby, daddy's going to feed you what you thought was candy. Okay?” His right hand pulling away from your head and giving his cock a few strokes. Watching you nod and blink slowly at him. Slowly, he guides his tip into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your hot, wet mouth on him. 

  “Suck on it like a lollipop,” James’s left hand gently holds your hair back. “Yeah.. just like that, princess. Just like that.” Loving the way you suckle on the tip, going down with a slow pace. 

  You close your eyes, the weight of his fat dick is heavy on your tongue. Heavy, but perfect. The taste is salty and bitter, with a hint of sourness. Moaning around his girth at the praise, you decide to try and take him deeper. Wanting—no—needing to hear your dad praise you in that sweet tone. Nails digging into his plaid pajama pants, you gag loudly, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Jerking your head back to cough and catch your breath.

  “Good job baby, daddy's so proud of you. Who knew you could take it like a champ?” Tugging your hair back to make you look at him, he ravages your lips, sliding his tongue into your wet cavern. Kissing you until your lips are swollen. With each and every whine, his manhood twitches. 

  He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about Mary at a time like this, but god, your lips felt the exact same as his wife’s. Shouldn’t even be comparing you to your mom. If anything, it makes the dark, fucked up part of his mind have the need to ruin you in a way a daddy mustn't do to his offspring. You are his daughter, he knows he would treat you better than any other guy would. You are his princess, the apple of his eye, his whole world that he is clutching onto with every fiber of his being. 

  Your hands grab onto his shoulders, arching your back and pressing yourself towards him and the cushions. “Dad,” you swallow down his spit, heaving after an intense make out session. “Please touch me daddy, please.” Saliva dripping down to your chin, mixed in with his precum, and blown out “fuck me” eyes are currently being ingrained into James’s psyche. 

  Groaning, his hands being to traverse over your chest, taking his time to truly admire you. Eyeing you up and down, he mumbles praises, as his eyebrows pinch upwards slightly. “Stand up for me,” giving your tit a squeeze, his eyes following the movements of your body. Resting at your waist, he plants kisses across your sternum. Teasing you into thinking that he’s going to immediately latch onto your nipples. 

  “Where do you want my hands honey? Show daddy where you need him the most.” Making his way to your breast, deliberately avoiding your areolas. Worrying your skin as he flickers his gaze from your face, down to your chest. 

  Grasping him, leading them towards your underwear. “Right here daddy,” your voice is soft and airy, giving the illusion that you are innocent. When in fact, you are the complete opposite of it. It's sort of like a roleplaying thing for you.

  James finally starts to lick and suckle on your stiff peak, switching between the two until they are puffy and red. Dancing around the waistband, groaning when you tug on his hair. “So impatient, baby,” he grips the fat of your hips, moving you closer to him. “Sit on daddy's lap.” 

  You do as he says. The wet, lukewarm saliva and cum mixture paints an inch or two of your skin. Shivering as his breath fans over your sensitive and wet nipples. Perching like a pretty princess on his lap, holding onto daddy to seek comfort. To retain all of his love, care, and attention. 

  Swiveling your hips down, wanting so badly to reach in-between the space of your bodies, and lay his cock down. “Dad,” you gulped, “touch me please. Please, please, please—” Trailing off into a mewl. Eyes fluttering into his tired green eyes. 

  Your dad's thumb presses against your mound, before cupping it. Letting out a low moan at how wet you are. Just for him. Because of him. And that inflates his ego and makes his heart swell up with pride. Mary never let him do anything like this to her. Only wanting to make love, slow and soft. 

  His middle finger presses against your slit, spreading your lips with the fabric. Taking in how chubby your pussy is. Pulling the waistband up, forming an exaggerated camel toe. “You like how I'm touching you, hm?” 

  Whining, you rock your hips down once his hand returns to it's spot. Looking down at what he's doing to your cunt, makes you clench down on nothing. James's tired, glossed over eyes flicker back and forth from your face and to his hand. His other one is holding you up, splayed across your lower back. 

  “So pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, leaving kisses where your ribcage is splitting into two. Sighing, he slips the damp fabric to the side and leans back. Biting his lip once he sees the clear strings of slick connecting you to the garment. The sight of your naked body over his lap, wet for him, is what really snaps this into reality for him. 

  Bashfulness is painted all over you as your thighs quiver against your dad's. Making yourself smaller and begin to cover up from instinct. James doesn't stop you as he presses his thumb to your wet folds, groaning and bucking up, drawing a gasp from you. Rubbing circles into your clit with ease, adding pressure with each swipe. 

  “Mmph, dad, daddy, daddy, dad! Oh please…” 

  Hearing your whines and moans bouncing off the walls and into his ears, makes it feel like it's a song. A song only he can hear and play. With the instrument being your body. 

  “You ready?” James pats your glistening lips softly. The squelching fills the silence as you reel your mind back into place. 

  “Yes, yes, yes, ‘m ready,” you dip down and press your lips frantically upon his own. Slipping your tongue in and basking in the fuzzy, warm feeling. Letting go of your embarrassment, you tangle your fingers into his hair. Hips twitching forward as he notches the blushing head against your opening. Easing you into the feeling of something bigger than your fingers entering you. 

  Suckling on your tongue, he gently pushes you down on him. Not wanting to hurt you and make you cry out like that. If you're going to be crying, it better be because daddy's making you feel real good. “You okay? Does it hurt, baby?” He's massaging your hips, trembling with desperation. Absolutely needing to pound that tight hole into the ground. 

  Your mouth is open in a silent moan, tugging on the strands that  are in his scalp. “Mhm.. hurts a little bit,” grinding down, taking more in at your pace. Until he's nestled deep into your wet pussy, grazing the womb. Jumping at the sensitivity. 

  Shallowly, James thrusts up into you. Placing his forehead on your collarbones. Groaning out sweet little praises, telling you how brave you are for taking his dick. Anything and everything coming out of his mouth, with the thought of what sounds the dirtiest and loving things to say. The need of fulfilling your expectations of how good and how sexy it all is. 

  He hasn't had sex in awhile, the only thing he remembers is his fist. But that doesn't even compare to you, at all. And you begin to chase the fullness he provides you. Humping down into his thighs, pussy so wet it's running down to his balls. 

  “Such a good girl,” he moans, all breathy. Leaving your hips to play with your chest. Tweaking your puffy nipples and squeezing the fat of them, before he puts his mouth into play. “Taking daddy so deep, making a whole mess out of yourself. Right?”

  Keening, you push your chest further into his face. His other hand that isn't preoccupied goes down to the swell of your ass and slaps it. Pulling away and pressing his thumb down on your clit. Feeling you flutter around his girth and watching your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

  “Dad, please—more!” Bumping your nose into his forehead, breath all hot and fanning across his skin. Adding more sweat and tension to the palpitating air. Your panties sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Creating an absolute puddle on his lap. Drenching his pajama pants with your arousal. 

  Being greedy in the way he is treating you with such care and love, digging your nails deep into his shirt. Bouncing up and down like you own his cock. Like a slutty little porn star making incest videos. If you were to post it on there, nobody would bat an eye, thinking you are lovers or co-stars. 

  “Shit, baby,” he grunts, pulling you down and making you take it. Keeping the pace he wants to go at. Sloppy and irregular, threatening to spill deep inside of you. “Can I cum inside of you please? Let daddy fill you up, please honey.” Whining at how sensitive he is becoming. He isn’t as energetic as he used to be. Can’t last too long.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Opening your eyes straight away, you gape into his eyes. Moaning into his mouth, squeezing him tighter than ever before. The stuttering of his thrusts and his thumb rubbing your clit so diligently, pulls you over the edge. Soon after, James follows suit, pumping you to the brim as you ride out your orgasm. 

  “Daddy!” You scream out, holding onto him for dear life. Creaming all around him, squeezing his fat dick for all he's worth.

  “So beautiful,” groping your thighs as you tremble atop. Clinging to daddy as always. “Sweetheart, hold on. If you give me a few minutes, we… we can keep going.” Pressing soft kisses on your cheekbones, dragging his tongue down to that soft spot. The one where you squeal and get extremely ticklish. Adoring how your heartbeat rises up dramatically when he sucks on it like a Werther’s Original.

  And you stay nestled on his softening cock, rope after rope of his spend shooting up into your womb. Feeling so stuffed, you're sure your belly is protruding just a bit. The milky liquid bubbling out of you and pooling on his pelvis.

  “Dad,” you whimper, rolling your hips down. “Are you going to marry me when I get pregnant?” Tucking your face underneath his jaw. The jumps of his manhood and his hips as you ask that question, forces soft noises to exhale from your throat. 

  Petting your hips, he groans lowly into your ear. “I- I don’t know, hun.” Digging his nails harder into your skin, too pussy whipped to even be in the correct state of mind. “Would you want me to?” Whispering against your neck, sucking small hickeys to ease the sensitivity of you wiggling around on his length. 

  “Uhuh, want to stay with daddy forever,” mindlessly bouncing, ignoring the whimpers coming out of his puffy kissed bruised lips. “Please? Want you s’bad dad, pump me so full that I can’t walk.” And it’s flooding his mind of you swollen with his babies, being the perfect mommy as he spoils you with love and attention. Taking care of your every need, carrying you around because his baby girl deserves it. He deserves to have a proper wife, proper family. A wife who won’t catch a damn disease. 

  The squeezing of your gummy walls, is wringing another orgasm out of him. In a flash, he pounces on you, pushing you flat on the cushions. Folding you in half as he begins to fuck you harder and faster than before. Plap, plap, plap, his balls hitting your ass as you begin to claw at him. 

  Ignoring your cries, he humps you with the intention of fulfilling his fantasy. One that Mary could never begin to achieve. Breath coming out fast, gusting across you. Keeping his hands underneath your knees, pinning you down with his weight. Eyes trained on the faces you’re making, his pelvis making contact with your clit, so perfectly. “Y’gonna take all of dad’s cum? Yeah?” Edging you on, moaning into the kiss he drives. All teeth and spit. 

  Messy enough to coerce another toe curling orgasm, but this time it’s slow and syrupy. Leaving you cockdrunk and pliable to his every need and want. Your thighs squish against his neck, creaming so much it’s forming a ring at the base of his cock. Cunt too tight, about to cut the blood flow, causing him to feel lightheaded. 

  Being a babbly cutie beneath him, he whispers out some “Yeah?”, “You like that?”, “That right, baby?”. Watching you come to tears, sobbing for daddy. Head dangling around identical to the way a lasso whips around, no thought behind those eyes. Closing his eyes tightly to hold onto the pleasure he is receiving from your wet pussy. Already addicted to it, deciding he’s going to make some father-daughter time happen every single day. Take you out shopping, just to pound you in the dressing room. Buying all the clothes that he humped you in. 

  “Ohh… I’m going to cum,” he growls, his hips faltering. “Mhmm… god, I’m cumming in my daughter’s wet hole. Fuck, Mary forgive me, please.” Trailing off into a high pitched mewl, dropping down on you. Gently fucking his cum deeper into that womb, painting your insides white. 

  As it starts drooling out, he stays put. All that exercise really winded him out. “Honey, dad really loves you.” Planting sweaty kisses across your cheeks. Faintly hearing a response back. “Let’s go to sleep. Can’t have you sleeping out here, daddy will keep you warm all night long in his bed.” 

  Leaning back on his haunches, he pulls out. Fluttering cunt oozing out his spend, sheer white plastered everywhere in your nether region. His chest swells up with satisfaction, knowing that he was the first and last one to dump his load into that needy cunt. Picking you up and making his way to the master bedroom. 

[calamari-inari]

"... you become what you believe."

Dimitri and AM!Ferdinand mini doujin, 7 pages. Read right to left!

Transcript and personal captions under the cut

CW: blood

Comic transcript. Thoughts/monologues are in parentheses. Background dialogue is in brackets.

PAGE 1

D: Ferdinand.

D: I've been wanting to ask you a question...

F: (He looks like a demon..!)

F: Yes? What is it? Please speak properly...

PAGE 2

D: Why did you leave the Empire?

D: I remember how you were during our time at the Officers Academy.

D: You placed so much pride in your heritage.

F: What is the use of pride if I have nothing left?

F: The former Duke Aegir was dismissed. My title, my land... They are all gone now.

D: ...It's because of that woman.

D: Tell me, what do you seek?

PAGE 3

F: I am not sure I understand.

D: Last night, I entrusted one task to you.

[P-please! I'll tell you what I know!]

F: Yes. I killed the Imperial soldier as you had instructed me.

D: That is what I mean.

D: You are simply following my orders.

D: You did not want to kill him, correct?

F: Dimitri, he had vital information for us and you did not let him finish!

PAGE 4

D: Anyway, similarly, I also lost the throne. I have little care for that, however.

D: Now, I'm fighting with a single mission: avenging the dead. They will not be satisfied until I have her head.

F: *sigh* You had said that, but you should not accept that as true.

D: What rubbish. Anyone that deserves to die will die.

F: Dimitri! That is-

PAGE 5

D: Silence, Ferdinand!

D: This hatred and regret I feel... Nothing I do will ever be enough until that witch is gone.

D: What are you-

PAGE 6

D: ... Hmph. What a pest you are.

D: Why do you insist on staying by my side? As you used to closely affiliate with that woman, I could easily kill you here and now.

F: You do not wish to, do you? Because your heart says otherwise. Learn to forgive yourself.

D: But do I deserve forgiveness? The guilt that weighs down on me is...

PAGE 7

F: Dimitri, while I may have left the Empire behind, my nobility has not dulled.

F: Create the grandest vision for yourself because you become what you believe. Do you understand? It is a noble's duty to support you until the end, no matter how far you may stray.

F: That is why I am here for you.

💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡

I don't really draw comics often, but this was certainly worth the effort!! I've always thought Ferdinand is the greatest support character ever, and with him joining the Blue Lions, his role won't change. Just like in the stories of Pan and Loog, Ferdinand would choose to help Dimitri on his path to become the restoration king of Faerghus without ever taking any credit. It's quite evident in his character based on some of his paired endings. I just think that's one of the things that makes them so great and sweet 🥺 I imagine Ferdinand wouldn't hate Edelgard in AM, but rather, he wants to show her that he's able to support his lord (Dimitri) in a way that she never would have thought of. After all in AM, Edelgard only ever knew his snobby academy version who would always childishly rival her.

Please let me know if you liked it!! I'm definitely creating more fanart of these two (maybe a little more intimate next time because I want to lol 🫶)

[calisources]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences and quotes have been taken from different media about starcrossed lovers or forbidden love, full of angst, some bold words, some nasty ones, possessive nature and letting someone use you as a replacement. So, some toxic energy in this one. Change pronouns, locations and names as you see fit.

I love you,and I will love you until I die,and if there's a life after that,I'll love you then.

Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?

And there is a difference between having your heart break and having your soul shatter.

I'm falling in love with you.

I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. I have waited for this for such a long time. Consequences be damned.

These violent delights have violent ends.

 I’m only human. And you are …all-consuming.

Don’t go into this lightly. If you’re mine, you need to understand I will burn the fucking world to the ground for you.

I will never let you go, do you hear me? 

 will keep you safe. And I will find a way for us to be together.

If you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.

If you were any less the man you are, I would beg you to take me with you.

If you were any less the woman you were, I would beg you to come with me.

I've known lust. This is something worse. This is a barbaric need to possess, to eliminate, to own. This is madness.

This is lust.

She’s your very own forbidden fruit.

You said you didn't want this.

We all desire what we cannot have.

Have you noticed how the boy looks at you?

Do you think I didn’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?

You are dangerous desire, and I am your prisoner.

We can’t do this on so many levels.

I can't even whisper her name, my heart would burst out of my chest.

But I would fight against the stars for you.

I have ruined your life.

Some lines you just don't cross. 

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Having something forbidden is exciting, don't you agree?

The closer we get—the more I let you in…the more dangerous this gets.

Don’t you get it? You’re what everyone wants! But I’m not going to let them win.

Make it so I never have to dream about this again—make it so we can have this…forever.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

We were doomed from the start. 

Nothing is as deadly as the love of a powerful man.

But this kiss? It's ruined me. This is the type of kiss I never knew existed. 

You sure about that, Dad? Because he's done everything to me.

Are you scared of me now?

You loved me - then what right had you to leave me?

I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.

One moment, you give me everything that I want, and in the next, you snatch all of that away.

It's hopeless. We can never work out.

The world didn’t want us together so I forged a new one where we would.

How could a peacock lust for a lion?

You're tattooed onto my skin, and the more I try to erase you, the deeper you sink in.

I’ve always liked you, from the first moment I saw you.

It's absurd how crazy love can make you...but even more absurd how stupid jealousy can make you.

 That you and I are meant to be together, but never meant to be.

Why does fate seem always to conspire against us? To deny us life's simple pleasures?

We'll meet after this war. I'll certainly find you wherever you'll hide. 

War makes fools of men and women wanton.

What offends you most, Father? That she's Catholic, or that she's poor?

If my father discovers you here, he'd cut off your little nuts and eat them. He can't stand you.

You tempress, I see you once and all I can think of is having you.

Feelings are forbidden, does not mean we cannot enjoy one another.

The more you deny me, the more I desire you. You are a plague in my mind.

Ever since we met, no one else can compare. 

How can I be with someone else, when I’m with them, it’s you I see.

You can have me, think of whoever you love. For tonight.

You can pretend I'm her/him. I don't care. I just want you.

[coolyiooo]

BSD Men Reacting To You saying "I fake my orgasms"

parings: Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Atsushi, and Chuuya

❗Warnings❗: begging, edging, praise, degrade, overstimulating, squirting and more

Summary:You two were in a bit of a small, stupid, argument. And for some reason you thought you'd get back at him if you said "I fake my orgasms" to him.

🖤DAZAI🖤

He looked a bit taken back, it was an out of the blue comment. He just stared at you with wide eyes

"So your telling me you were acting like you were dumb on my cock, to the point you couldn't even form sentences, or think about anything else but my name and my cock?"

You gulped a bit "yes"

He kept staring at you, then he smiled with his eyes closed. He looked very innocent looking

"Hm Then I guess I'm going to have to make it up to you for making you unsatisfied"

He then takes you to the bedroom and rails you like there's no tomorrow. Making you cum again and again. Orgasm after orgasm and he still hasn't stopped. The way this man kissed you, praise you, degrade you, moaned your name, and held you always put you over the edge. He put you in a state where all you could do was form small words and moan.

"Heh~ I knew you were lying bella~ your squeezing me so fucking tightly with your pretty little cunt ah~ mmn~ just tell me you were lying and I promise I'll stop~"

"MMMN~! I- I AAH~ w-was! MMPPH~ P-please AGH~! S-spare m-me!"

"Hmm~ I want a better apology bella~"

"SAMU~ y-your mmn-! The only one who's ever m-made me AGH~! Satisfied! MMM~ Please f-forgive me! Mmmn-! I'm sorry~!"

"Good girl~ as my reward mmn~ I'll bury my cum deep inside you ah~! You'll for sure cum again heh~ I'm sure you don't mind~"

💚RANPO💚

He looked at you with a bit of a worried expression.

"Are you trying to hurt my feelings?..because it's working"

When it comes to you, he cant handle any type of degrading, even if he knows it's not true.

"I know your lying but it still doesn't help that you hurt my feelings!" He said with a bit of tears in his eyes.

"I- I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking!"

"Then make it up to me!"

"H-huh? Well what can I do to make you forgive me?"

He thought for a second and then spoke "I want to see you dumb on my cock from how many times you'll cum on it" he said with a smile.

Later that night. You were jumping on his cock even after a couple orgasms. You and him were both hugging eachother even with you bouncing on his dick. All both of you could do was moan and whimper. He was also in the same state as you were in but he was just a tab bit more stable.

"Mmmn~! you feeling good on my cock, sugar? Ah~! Your so f-fucking wet mph~! from how much you came on my cock~"

You could only respond in whimpers and moans. "Heh~ I forgive you, sweetie~ mmmn~ now let me give you a little cream filling Mph~! as a token of my gratitude~"

💜FYODOR💜

He chuckled "is that your pathetic attempt of getting back at me? If your going to lie you have to make it believable, my love"

"I-"

He grabbed your chin and looked at you with dark eyes "You'll regret saying such a disgusting lie, my dear. I'll have to show you just how horribly wrong you are"

He drags you into the bedroom and makes love to you roughly. It felt so fucking good but Fyodor kept on edging you. No matter how many times you kept apologizing and begging for a release, he wouldn't grant you your wish.Its pathetic but you were crying at this point. You've never felt so desperate.

"P-please Fedya! MMM~! I want to cum! It hurts! AGH~! I need it~!"

He then pulled his cock outside of your quivering cunt. You whimpered loudly.

"Why should I let you have your release? You've misbehaved, and I have to teach you a lesson to never lie to me"

"I p-promise I'll never lie to you! I swear I've learned my lesson, I'll be better. Please just let me cum. I'm sorry, Fedya!" you said, crying from desperation.

Suddenly he kissed your cheek, that was wet from your tears, and began to ram into you, shaking the whole bed. You began moaning loudly, while gripping onto Fyodor's shoulders.

"Mmn~ Then what are you waiting for, my love? Let it all out~"

You didn't waste a single second and came, probably the best orgasm you ever had. You moaned so loud it was basically just screaming. It was such an amazing release, you squirted all over Fyodor. After you calmed down from your high, your body was basically knocked out. Fyodor then kissed your lips gently.

"Thank you, fedya" you whispered before you fell asleep.

💙ATSUSHI💙

His face turned pale like a ghost "a-are.. are you serious?" You could see a bit of tears in his eyes. How could he not? All he ever wanted to do was satisfy you, but knowing he's been failing, he feels useless

Oh no. What have you done? How could you do this to literally the nicest man on earth?

"I- I'm sorry I couldn't be a better man" he said, looking down, almost like a whimper. "I'm sorry I'm not good enough" You immediately hugged him

"NO! Atsushi I was lying! Your more than enough. Your literally perfect!"

He seemed confused "then why did you say that?"

"I just- wasn't thinking...I really was lying. If I'm being honest your the best man I've ever been with"

He felt relieved but he still felt like you were lying, his insecurities getting the better of him. You could tell he wasnt really believing what you were saying.

"How about... I show you just how much you satisfy me?"

You were soon both in the bed. You were being passionate and gentle, giving him so much praise he almost couldn't handle it. You were wrapped up in each other's arms, kissing every inch of the others body. You were both on your sides while facing each other, One of your legs held by his arm to put around his waist. His head on your shoulder being a whimpering mess.

"Mmn~ F-fuck! you make me feel so amazing, Atsushi~ mmnph~! i-im g-gonna cum again"

"Mmmn~! Me too ah! F-fuck! d-dont stop! Please~ I need to feel you cum on my dick again~ mph~! it feel so good~"

It's safe to say he forgives you and knows how much you love him.

🧡CHUUYA🧡

Our beloved man looks so offended. His eyes look so confused but he also looks a bit worried.

"Your kidding, right?"

"Well, what if I told u I wasn't?"

He looked at you with the same expression, then he started to smile, then began to full on laugh. You were confused.

"why are you laughing?"

"You said a joke so I laughed, dollface" he said with a slight smirk.

"Me and you both know I satisfy you very well. No offense darling, but if I didn't satisfy your needs then why do you always come to me, begging for my cock like a whore for a release?"

Now YOU were a bit offended, but it's because you know he's right."Do I really act like that?" You asked a bit embarrassed

He smirks "Hm? Well why don't I prove it to you, doll? So you can see for yourself"

You soon find yourself in your bed with Chuuya railing you, making the bed shake as if it's going to break any second. You were moaning loudly and so was he. Seeing how his hips moved into your pussy, desperate to reach the deepest parts of you to fill his cum into, was so hot.

"I-im gonna Mmmn~! Cum! "

"Then beg for it like you always do, doll~ Ah~! otherwise I won't allow you to~ Mnn~!"

"Please~ Mmn~ I need you to m-make me cum Mph~! it feels so good~ please don't s-stop! Ah~!" You whimpered, a bit embarrassed

"You always beg so beautifully Mph~! It makes me so fucking hard hah~ Go ahead and cum on my dick, darling"

You came on his dick, squeezing him with your pussy tightly. Your loud moaning was music to Chuuya's ears. The scene was so fucking unbearable for him he also came. You were both now breathing heavily, calming down from your highs. After a couple seconds, Chuuya started to pound you again.

"You didn't think we were actually done did you doll~?"

[teratosfavouritesnack]

Minotaur boyfriend x reader - fingering (fem! receiving), monstrous p in v (for the first time), praising kink

Your minotaur boyfriend has always been treating you as a fragile little thing, the most precious thing he's ever had the privilege to touch. He would never forgive himself if he were to harm even just a hair on your pretty little head. And that's hard to do for someone like him. It's so hard for a creature so big and strong and powerful to be gentle, especially since he's so attracted to you almost to the point of obsession. But for his sweet little princess... oh, he would do anything, even refrain himself from ravaging you like he's been fantasising since the moment he laid eyes on you. And he has refrained from doing so, oh so many times since you started dating. He's kissed you, made out with you, fondled your breasts, groped your butt and fingered your pussy but never went any far than that because he knew that if he had, he wouldn't be able to control himself and most likely break you. That's why he's been preparing you, preparing you for the moment he would finally be inside you. Preparing you for tonight.

And he can't wait to finally fuck your brains out.

"Baby, please..."

Your pleas always made him tense up and struggle to hold back the previous times, but tonight, oh tonight he smiles in response to your begging, stroking your cheek with devotion as he nods and takes his fingers out of your throbbing walls not without first brushing his thumb on your swollen clit and making you twitch again. He's been fingering you and stretching you out for the past... half an hour? Neither of you know for sure. You were already too out of it to focus on anything but the way his fingers curled inside you causing shivers to course through your body and he... well, he's been fantasing the whole time about shoving his aching cock inside you and break your back - so per say.

"I know, sweetheart... I know." he coos, leaning towards you to nuzzle his snout in the crook of your neck. Your skin is already so clammy to the touch. His large tongue flicks over it to savour your salty taste. His eyes meet yours again, his long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes crinkle with a smile. "I'll give you what you want." He whispers compiacently, as if he's conceding to grant a long-time wish of yours instead of something he's been yearning for weeks to the point of almost busting in his pants every time he merely thought of it. The way your eyes widen and your body jolts in anticipation under his pleases him greatly and encourages him to move further.

And so he eagerly starts his descend, trailing the flat of his tongue along your collarbones, lingering on both your breasts for a moment before sliding all the way down to your wet folds. He laps at you once, twice, three times while he smears your juices on the length of his cock with his still wet fingers. All the while his eyes are trained on you, taking in every little twitch of your brows or quiver of your lips.

When he leans back and positions his thick veiny and almost painfully throbbing cock to your entrance, he's still gazing down at you, eyes full of lust but with that same reverence constantly lingering there whenever he looks at you. You're oh so beautiful, lying on the bed under him, shivering and moaning as he rubs the tip of his erection against your dripping wet folds, coating it in your cum. Those little sounds you make when he starts to probe your entrance almost drive him to lose his control but ugh, no he can't lose it now. He's been waiting so long for this moment, tortured himself by holding back so many times, he can't ruin it all now by rushing it and hurting you - the exact thing that lead him to wait in the first place. No, he's going to do it the right way. It'll be so worth it.

He starts to put more pressure against your hole, moving his hips with just a little more force to fight against your resistance and push his tip inside. "You okay, sweetheart?" Your adorable frantic nodding makes him smile, his free hand coming to cup your face to provide a comforting touch. "You're doing so so well..." he coos affectionately, eyes flickering to your stretched cunt as you manage to swallow the protruding head of his cock. "Ohh, yes-" He strokes your cheek, shushing your subdued cries. "You're doing so so well, baby..."

He manages to stay still despite the urge to piston his cock inside you, and thus giving you time to get used to the strenuous intrusion. His thumb strokes the area of his lenght just barely left out of your hole, teasing your sensitive flesh as well, he drags the pad all the way to your swollen clit and back to his own erection in slow circular motions. He feels you relax bit by bit around him and so he continues to move his finger, lingering on your clit each time a little bit longer and pushing his cock a tad further inside you in the meantime. It's not long before more than half of his length slides inside your gummy walls. He stills again, hips twitching slightly in distress, his thumb now focusing only on your clit, pressing on it with more force. He feels you tense up again, your thighs quivering and your eyes fluttering shut as you reach another orgasm. Your slick and pulsating channel seems to swallow him up and so with little to no effort he slides all the way inside, bottoming you out with a sharp huff escaping his flared nostrils.

His dilated pupils dart from your thoroughly stretched cunt to your contorted face, a mix of surprise and adoration and full on lust passing across his gaze. "Look at you... cumming all around my cock before I even start to move." His warm baritone voice is laced with awe and arousal, his fingers gently easing the frown away from your sweet face. "You're... s-s-so big!" you cry out and he grins, starting to move his hips against yours in slow but deep thrusts that leave you breathless. "And you're so fucking tight, love."

It's not long before he has the bed cracking and thumping powerfully against the wall under the force of his impetus, with you impaled on his massive cock, drooling, mewling and bouncing back and forth, tears stricking your face for the intense pleasure overrunning every cell of your body. He keeps on praising you the whole time, pleased by how well you're taking him, pleased by how your gummy walls wrap around his cock like a vice as you cum and cum multiple times around him. Grunts and puffs of air turn heavier and louder the more he nears his own climax, until your name falls from his lips in a low rumbling moan and his hot thick cum spills inside your swollen cunt.

Oh, was it worth it to wait! And now... well, now he can do it all over again. He's got so many missed times to make up for, after all.

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me ♡

[buccini555]

𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐓𝐚𝐠, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭

≡ You asked them to pretend they knew you because you were being followed by a strange person on the street

⌕ x r e a d e r!

ᶻ 𝗓ᵎ 𝐹𝑡. Kakucho Hitto, Rindou Haitani, Hakkai Shiba, Manjiro Sano and Baji Keisuke

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨

He would find your presence strange as soon as you suddenly started walking next to him, as soon as he noticed the distress in your eyes and your labored breathing, Kakucho would immediately realize that there was something wrong.

"P-please pretend to know me, I'm being followed." You said in a low tone to him, as soon as he heard you, he pretended he knew you.

Kakucho gently brought you closer to him, acting as if you were an acquaintance "It's nice to meet you here! Come on, I'll take you home."

He would stay with you until you calmed down and made sure there was no one else chasing you, after which he would take you to your home.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Rindou would wonder why you were walking so close to him, that would catch his attention and it wouldn't take long for him to realize that there was someone following you.

"Pretend you know me, please! There's someone following me." You whispered with a trembling voice, getting even closer to him.

Rindou would initially be in doubt whether he should trust you, but he wouldn't forgive himself if he ignored you and then found out that something happened to you even though you were a stranger.

"You around here? I missed seeing you." Rindou would say, resting his arm on your shoulders and hugging you, keeping an eye on whether anyone would still have the courage to follow you with him by your side, he would stay with you for a while to make sure you were no longer being followed and walk with you to your house.

𝐇𝐚𝐤𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐚

Hakkai wouldn't even notice his presence until you got closer to him.

"H-help me, I'm being followed, pretend you know me, please" You spoke in a low tone, he looked at you and stopped for a moment, but then offered his arm for you to hold.

"Good to see you!" He would say with an awkward smile, keeping an eye on the person who was chasing you, when he was sure there was no one else there, Hakkai would take you home.

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

As soon as you started walking next to him, he noticed how apprehensive you were, so he started paying attention to you and your surroundings.

"You ok?" He would say in a brief whisper.

"Pretend you know me, there's someone following me." You would respond in the same low tone, as soon as Manjiro understood the reason for your nervousness, he hugged you. "Wow! I hadn't even noticed you there, how long!" He said as he hugged you, watching around the street to make sure that person wouldn't be following you anymore, after a while, he would walk you home.

𝐁𝐚𝐣𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞

Baji would immediately be uncomfortable with the fact that you were walking so close to him, but as soon as he noticed the fear in your eyes, he knew there was something wrong, being a little more attentive, he realized for himself the fact that you were being followed.

You looked at it and said in a low tone that you were being followed. "P-pretend you know me, please." Baji looked back at you and gently pulled you closer to him.

"I finally found you! I missed you..." He would say. "...Who is this son of a bitch? I'm going to kill him." Baji whispered as he hugged you, you just replied that you didn't know that person.

Baji would spend some time taking care of you and then walk you home.

[yuaa-haru]

"Open"

pairing: your fave x fem!reader

Warnings: porn w/o plot, bdsm dynamics, spanking, overstimulation, blindfold, sex toys, name-calling, squirting etc.

a/n: my first ever post, i do hope y'all like it ig.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"Open" he said firmly, looking down at your body.

Your hands tied to the headboard, eyes with blindfold, naked. You opened your legs, just enough to see that glistening pussy.

His hand came slapping your inner thighs, making you whimper "are you testing me? I told you. Open."

You opened wider, letting him see you. You just thank god for the blinfold you have on, lessening the humiliation you're feeling.

"That's a good girl. I always knew you ain't a dumb little girl without having you stuffed by my dick, right?" You just knew it yourself that he was smirking.

Slap. "Ah!" you moan as his hands came down to your pussy. "Am asking you a question. What do you do when you're asked a question? Hmm?"

" 'm sorry, sir. I have to answer when I get asked" With the blinfold on, you never know what's coming next which makes it more exciting and nervous at the same time.

Gulp. And there you have it, that vibrating sound. The sound you only wish to hear when he's rewarding you, not punishing you.

Nothing to do, nothing to see. You just waited until he touched you. GASP. He placed it straight to your pussy lips. "That's a very nice answer, but still wouldn't cover your mistakes. " he said testing out the level of the toy.

"Now what happens to bad girls?" He asked pushing the vibrator inside. "hnngh! T-they can't enjoy the—ahh!—pleasure." You said hips moving away from the sudden pleasure.

He grabs your hips, making you stay still. "In short?" Pushes the vibrator in and out all the way. "I—anghh!!— have no right to— ahh!— cummm" you said ending as a whine.

He chuckles deeply. "That's right, they are not deserving to cum. " turning it higher, hearing your moans and pleas in the room, making his dick harder.

"But my girl wanted to cum badly, playing with your pussy without my permission. As a lover who wants the best for you, I shall just grant whatever you want right?" he said drawing an 8 figure on your clit hard.

"Hnngh! Am sorry—ahhh! Please! Ahhhh, nhnggh!" You begged, not wanting to happen what will happen. "I-i'm close! Sirrrrr! Hnggh! P-pleasee ahhh!" Your back arching while letting it all flow.

slap, slap, slap.

Strings of your juice connects to his hand as he continously spank your pussy. "such a bad slutty girl. Not even letting your owner decide what should happen, huh" SLAP. "ahh! Am sorry sir! Please hnngh! S-sensitive."

"Tsk, you only say that but I know for a fact that you don't mean it. " he push his hands inside your mouth with the hands he used to spank your pussy. You gag "hngh! , am shorry shir. Pleashe forgive me..." you said while sucking and licking his hand, tasting yourself.

You hear a chair move right beside your bed. The remote control turned to max, with the toy fully inside you. "Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Hnggh! S-sir! Hnggh! Hyahh! " your senses highten because of the blindfold, and you just came not too long ago overstimulating you.

" I remember I still have to finish some paperworks. Too bad I have to leave you here like this. Surely, you wouldn't mind right? Let me just finish all my paperworks and come back when i'm done. That is if I finish early. " as each word spoken, your mind becomes hazy, moans and please were heard from your mouth.

"Besides, you did this to yourself. The only thing you have to do now is wait for my return. That wouldn't be so hard now, would it? " you still nodded before losing your mind with the pleasure.

"I always need answer. But I'll let this slide for now. " he comes closer and kiss your forehead. "Safeword alway can be shouted when you can't do it anymore, okay? I'l stop it right away. "He whispered gently to your ears, then kiss them.

"I shall go now. And behave." His cold voice said, while exiting the door. Leaving you all by yourself, drowning in the pleasure set only for you.

—

Seconds turned minutes turned hours. You've stopped counting from orgasms you keep on having. The last time I check it was 6 or 7?

Even so, the level keeps on changing from the lowest suddenly to the highest. Playing with you until you writhe in pleasure. "Ah! Sir please! I can't anymore—hngh! N-not again! Ahh! " hoping that he would hear you.

Back arching, tugging your restraint, and eyes rolling back, yet nothing. You just have to take the pleasure and pain 'till you can't.

The door creeks open, you suddenly came back to your sense for a moment. "Sir? Anghh please remove i-it. Ahh. I'll be a good g-nghh!" You've come undone again, tongue out, moaning.

"My slutty bitch, look at you so helpless, so vulnerable. " you felt the bed move as he came to unlock the cuffs, kissing your hands to your arms. He tug off the blindfold allowing you to adjust your eyes. Swiftly, he stays behind you and you're in between his legs, both of you sitting in the bed.

He moves your hand guiding it to the damped part of the bed. "Did you have fun, hmm? Cumming countless of times from a vibrator. Now tell me, which is better that sex toy or me?" He whispered in your sensitive ears.

"Y-you sir..." saying it without hesitation, hoping it would lessen the punishment. He kissed your ears, going to your neck sucking that sweet spot that makes your head lean on his shoulders shaking from the pleasure.

He removed the toy from you, spreading those legs to see your reddened pussy. Clenching nothing. "Such a good answer, this pussy still like me better than a damn toy." Cupping it before asking. " who's is this?" "Ah! Y-yours sir." "Damn right it is, it's my fucking pussy." kissing your lips.

It was sloppy, kissing you while taking his shirt off. Laying you down the bed. "And i can do whatever I want with it." Smirks, letting his hand inside you.

"S-shit. S-sir! W-ait hnghh. 'm still sensitive. Hnggh!" arching your back, which makes it easier for him to suck those nipples. Kissing, licking, sucking, poking. He did everything with that tongue cause he knows how sensitive it is.

He stopped his hands for a sec, gathering all those juices before pushing in with scissoring motion. Making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Kiss! Pleaseee" you pleaded, "of course, how can I not? " he let you kiss him.

"A-am close sirrrr! Let me come please. I won't do it againnnn hnggh! Please, please, please." He nods. "Come for me, love." " I-i'll be good—fuuuuckkk!" Waves of pleasure comes through staining his arms and hands.

"Fucking hell, love. So damn hot squirting with my fingers" your eyelids starting to close, breathing in an out.

He bite his lips, metal unbuckling letting his member free. "Don't pass out on me, doll. " he lightly slaps your face.

"Gotta make you squirt on my dick"

[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

[asliceofzosan]

On Sanji's birthday, a smaller version of him shows up on the Sunny one day. Sanji reflects on who he once was and finally learns to forgive himself.

Happiest Birthday to Sanji <3

He was so small.

He wished it was like looking into a mirror — where he could clearly see everything about him that he considered weak in those glassy blue eyes that would never stop crying. But it didn't even feel like he was looking at who he once was, who he once remembered being, living, and breathing as.

He was so small.

Small enough that the birthday hat that Luffy made for him out of cardboard and rubber bands flopped over his forehead and covered his eyes. Those tiny, shaking hands gripped the tip of the hat and peeked from beneath the shade, confused but captivated by his captain's ever present grin. Small enough that when he was handed a riceball, he had to hold both hands out just so he wouldn't drop it.

He was so small.

And Sanji had forgotten how small he once was.

"You haven't moved for a solid ten minutes," Usopp said as he slid up next to him, leaning against the railing with a drink in his hand. "I'm sure baby Sanji won't get hurt if you look away, you know?"

"I'm not worried about him getting hurt." Sanji still kept his eyes on his younger self regardless. He was now playing a little card game with Chopper, who more or less didn't know the rules to the game either. So neither of them were winning.

"Okay," Usopp elongates the last syllable before sipping his drink. "Then go have fun, man! It's your birthday, after all."

Sanji hums and moves to light a cigarette. But one look at his baby self running around with Luffy and Chopper made him decide against it. Usopp pretends not to see the way Sanji brushes off the gesture like he always meant to do that.

Waking up with a crying child in his bunk bed this morning was not how he pictured his birthday to start out. Waking up and seeing the version of him with that wretched steel helmet on his head was something else entirely. His younger self looked terrified and almost tried to escape – run away from him.

"P-Please... Don't hurt me..." The little boy said, his trembling hands covering his head as if that would truly protect him. Sanji's heart broke. It's been years since he thought of this moment, years since Whole Cake Island, and years more since Germa ever occupied the forefront of his mind. So seeing his younger self, shaking and crying and begging for his life, stirred something protective within him. Protect the child inside of him that was screaming to be held for once, held tenderly, held like he was loved.

"I won't hurt you," Sanji said with his voice barely above a whisper. "No one will hurt you here."

"How do you know that?"

Sanji swallowed, ducking his head. Living on a pirate ship doesn't necessarily guarantee safety. But there's one thing he can always guarantee when he's with the Straw Hats...

"I know because you're loved," The little Sanji's eyes clouded with doubt. Sanji understood all too well why. So he slowly reached out, his hands stopping just shy of the lock on the helmet. Little Sanji moved back a fraction of an inch but Sanji just smiled at him. "Let's get this off of you and I'll show you just how loved you are."

Years ago, if he saw this version of him, he would have tried to avoid the kid like the plague. He didn't want to be reminded of such a horrid time. He didn't want to remember a point in his life where he was too weak, too fragile, too human.

But now it is different.

Now, he knows that being too human was not his greatest flaw but his greatest strength. And that being weak doesn't mean he can't be strong too. It may have taken him so many years to get to that point. But better late than never, right? He doesn't know what will happen if he lets his younger self know that he'll find these people one day. But he's lived through tough times with a dream and the smallest spark of hope that Luffy and his crew kept ignited.

And it wouldn't be such a bad thing to let his kid self... finally be a kid.

"Hey," Usopp nudged Sanji and pointed with his lips in one direction. "Check out who little you took a liking to."

Sanji looked back just in time to see a certain green-haired swordsman giving tiny Sanji a piggyback ride. Something mushy and sappy and gross stirred inside his heart. One that he hasn't been a stranger to for a couple of years now. His hand subconsciously gravitates to the long golden earring dangling from his left ear and finds himself smiling as his younger self laughs at something Zoro said.

"I wanna grow up to be as big and strong as you!" Little Sanji exclaims, his tiny arms wrapped securely around Zoro's neck and shoulders. Zoro laughs — a loud guffaw that shouldn't be as attractive to Sanji as it is this very moment. He reaches up to ruffle little Sanji's hair.

"You'll become even better, little buddy."

"Even stronger than you?!?"

"That's debatable," Zoro says with a little snort. Sanji rolls his eyes with more affection than he ever wants to admit. Within that time, Zoro has transferred little Sanji off of his back and into his arms, and the image of Zoro holding this version of Sanji – with a tenderness he only ever reserves for Chopper – has his mind racing with scenarios his heart can barely take.

"One of the strongest people I know is also the kindest," Zoro says, tucking a strand of blond hair behind little Sanji's ear. "No matter how many people put him down, he'll serve 'em if they're hungry. Doesn't mean jack shit to him if they've got the highest bounty in all the Blues."

"And I think..." Zoro looks up and locks gazes with present Sanji — his Sanji — and gives him a wink. "If you ain't got a big heart, there's no way you can't be strong."

"My father says I care too much..." Little Sanji says, his hands bunch up the fabric of Zoro's shirt. Zoro smooths the hair out of his forehead and does something that makes Sanji's stomach do backflips.

He kisses the little one on the forehead.

"We all need someone who cares a little too much." Zoro assures him and it feels like Zoro isn't speaking to baby Sanji anymore. His eyes are stuck on the man he married, his gaze unwavering and true, and Sanji can't help but blink back a few tears that were forming the whole time. "It's okay for you to care. It's okay for you to feel. Heck, it took me a hell of a long time to learn to love someone properly as much as I do now."

Little Sanji looks up at Zoro, stars in his all blue eyes. "Will I get to love someone too?"

"Of course you do, kid." Zoro ruffles his hair again and touches the tips of their noses together briefly. "You're so loved, Sanji."

Hearing that, Little Sanji's eyes flick over to older Sanji, who's been watching them the whole time. Remembering their previous conversation, Little Sanji smiles the biggest smile that could put every star in the sky to shame.

I'll show you just how loved you are.

When everyone is asleep and the only ones left on the deck are a tired little blond cook-to-be and his future self, something in the air tells them that it might almost be time to go. Little Sanji's arms were wrapped around older Sanji's neck, his head resting on the man's chest so he can hear his steady heartbeat.

"This was the best birthday ever," Little Sanji says as he fights back a yawn. Sanji chuckles, holding the boy a little tighter.

"You'll have so many more birthdays like this, kid."

"Will Zoro be in all of them?"

Sanji laughs. Leave it up to his tiny self to also fall hopelessly in love with his oaf of a husband. Time is a circle, perhaps. "Not all of them. But enough of them to matter."

"That's good," Little Sanji whispers, nuzzling even closer into Sanji's space. Silence befalls them and distant wind chimes greet them. Little Sanji stirs, unsure. "I don't wanna leave."

"I know."

"I'll be back, right?" Little Sanji looks up at him, that same fear burning in his gaze. But Sanji sees something brighter there – the persistent spark of hope that things will eventually get better. That he'll leave that cold lifeless cell and breathe in the salty sea air on a pirate ship that has never been more alive.

He wants this version of him to always have that spark. For that spark will eventually become a roaring fire – the one that tells everyone that Black Leg Sanji is here. And he's here to stay.

"You will," Sanji tells him, giving his younger self one last bright smile. "It's gonna take a while, buddy. But you'll be right here."

Little Sanji mirrors his smile, reaches out to hold his face between his tiny hands, and presses their foreheads together. In the blink of an eye, the child was gone, and Sanji lets out the shakiest sigh. He leans his head back to rest against the wall, feeling happier than he's ever been since the day he got married.

"You'll be right back here, kid." Sanji whispers into the air, reaching his hand out to the sky to trace his own constellations. His own path. His own vision of the future, fortified by the euphoria of living in his present.

Sanji's other hand goes back to his left ear. Back to that earring. And smiles.

"Because you are so loved."

Happy Birthday, Sanji 🥹 I know this is late but I really wanted to write something for my favorite babygirl. Something a little different to the Zoro birthday piece because I need my boy to admit how loved he is 💛💛

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Do think I’m your babygirl? I think the fuck not.

Pairing/au: Joel Miller x afab!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 4095

Rating: +18, NSFW, minors please don’t interact

Warnings/Tags: pov second person, smut with very little plot, angst, casual sex, no use of y/n, reader is described having breasts and vagina and wearing a dress and heels, no other description of her is given, reader’s thoughts in italics, mention of infidelity, swearing, pet names (babygirl, good boy, baby, princess), reader is bad at feelings (she has her reasons though), soft!Joel, brief mention of Sarah, a lot of kissing, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl, please!), reverse cowgirl, balls grabbing, a little of bit of scolding during sex 😈, plot twist, neck kissing, nipples play, teasing… I think it’s all? If I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

A/N: First of all, if you happened to read something similar but badly written on AO3 don't worry, it's still me, no one stole anything from me and I didn't steal anything from anyone lol

I've been wanting to rewrite this for a long time and I think I'm pretty happy with how it came out this time. I really hope you like it too. As always, English is not my first language, I don't have beta and I finished writing it last night at 3am (ops, I did it again!), so please forgive me if you find any mistakes.

To anyone reading this, thank you for your time! I added a brief A/N at the end, see you there!

“Should we get out of here?” he whispers in your ear and you nod “where?”

“My house”

You give him a quick kiss on the lips agreeing “okay”.

You just met him but he’s the most handsome man to ever approach you in a bar so you don’t care.

You’ve already been the good girl, the one to introduce to someone’s parents, the one who’s always kind and modest, who never says a word too much and does everything in her power to make her man happy.

Turns out it didn’t do you any good.

You were engaged, a year ago.

You and Mark had the whole plan.

The wedding, a house with a white picket fence, a nice yard, a dog, a big family.

It was all decided, until you found out he was cheating on you with one of his coworkers.

All those “babygirl, I’m going to be late”, “babygirl, don’t wait for me for dinner, that asshole of my boss gave me a ton more paperwork to deal with”, “babygirl, tell John I’m sorry I couldn’t come to his party today but I still have a million things to do here at the office”, “I miss you, I wish I didn’t have to work so much” texts…all bullshit.

One day you came home early from a work trip and found him on the couch of the house you had rented and where you had lived together for two years with his dick stuck in his colleague’s pussy.

What a piece of shit.

You spent four years of your life with him and yet it felt like you had never really known him. You wondered how he had managed to lie so well, for so long, without even flinching.

You cried, you screamed as he made up some lame excuse to justify himself, you wondered how you had wasted all those years with someone like that. How come you hadn't noticed before how fake and manipulative he was? How come you hadn't noticed that every time you argued he tried to make you feel guilty even though he was the one who was completely in the wrong?

Oh yeah, you were in love. Blind, dazed, completely drunk with love.

Love that chews you up and spits you out.

What a huge scam.

Never again, you thought.

Mark could have gone to hell with his colleague, you were done.

You would no longer let feelings get the better of you.

Sure, men were still nice. When they were quiet and fucked you good and then went back home, no strings attached.

He says his name is Joel.

You put a finger over his mouth to silence him when he tries to add his last name. “I don’t need it,” you tell him.

“Whatever you say, beautiful,” he replies.

His voice is definitely a plus. Deep, husky, charming. It goes straight to your cunt.

Even his beard brushing your cheek as he speaks in your ear to make himself heard over the chaos of the bar isn’t bad at all.

A small talk later you decide he is the perfect one night stand.

He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a gray T-shirt with a plaid shirt over it.

His hand is wrapped around your waist in a delicious way, just above your hip. Big, expert hand. His brown eyes are staring at you, intense and piercing. Chocolate eyes, and you've always liked chocolate.

His plushy lips curve into a smirk when you say “let’s go cowboy, it’s time to show me what you got”

He chuckles, reaching down and squeezing your butt.

“After you, princess”

You roll your eyes at the pet name but he’s too gorgeous to back down.

He walks you to his pick up truck, in the parking lot.

He drives to a nice neighborhood, full of small houses with well-kept yards and safe streets where you imagine kids riding bikes and playing softball. The contrast between him and what’s around you makes you laugh. Joel doesn’t seem like a friendly neighbor, a candidate for trick-or-treating on Halloween, or the life of the block parties. He seems distant, a man of few words, a grouch. Which is perfect as far as you are concerned. You had stopped caring about men’s chatter.

When you were talking at the bar you noticed that his hands are calloused, rough, you were about to ask him what job he did but you decided you weren't interested.

Who cares, this guy will be out of my life after tonight.

You look at his profile in the truck, his expression when you put your hand on his thigh while he’s driving, his lips that twitch slightly, his Adam’s apple that jump in his throat, his hand that grips the steering wheel a little tighter. Really, truly, delicious.

You like him. His thick raven hair with just a few streaks of gray, his high forehead, his aquiline nose, his strong jaw. Your best friend sent you a tiktok a while ago about her favorite actor with a little song that said Girl dinner playing in the background. Watching Joel in the car you think of that. Except he isn’t just dinner but a six-course meal at a fancy restaurant.

By now your opinion of men is that they are all assholes and cheaters and the guys you met after Mark only supported that theory.

When you met someone cute your new philosophy was legs open, heart closed.

You wouldn't have opened your heart for Joel, but your legs yes, very willingly.

He parks in front of a cute little house, with a rose bush climbing up a trellis to one side and an impeccable lawn.

A small porch with a rocking chair and pots of geraniums complete the picture. “Jesus,” you think “This guy and his house have nothing to do with each other”

Joel has a worn-out, 90s rock star look in a flannel shirt and combat boots, a guy like him could have lived in a shitty loft with a mattress on the floor and wooden crates for nightstands.

“Here we are, princess” he says. He got out of the pick up and come to open the door for you.

“Quaint neighborhood,” you observe.

“See, I’m unmarried but I have a daughter” You stop him right away. “Nah, too much information.”

He has a daughter. You didn’t expect that either. And you don’t want to know, you don’t want to know a damn thing about him other than how good he fucks.

“Okay” he mutters, shrugging. He seems a little confused by all your restrictions but it is essential for you to keep your distance.

Knowing this already bothers you, you should have taken him to some motel instead of his house. He has a daughter, so he's a responsible family man? A guy who never does things like pick up a stranger in a bar? What if he hasn't gotten laid since Bush was president?

You don’t have time to waste on foreplay and cuddles, he’s not the “let’s talk first” type, is he? He doesn't seem like it but at this point you're not sure of anything anymore.

You enter his house and look around. It's a nice place, comfortable, simply furnished, there's too much brown around for your taste but it's okay.

You don't have a chance to process the photos hanging on the wall and scattered around on the tables and bookshelves before he pins you against the wall and kisses you.

It's a hungry, sloppy, passionate kiss, his lips moving over yours as if he wanted to devour you in one bite.

“Great job” you think, at least you were right about something, he is a man who doesn't waste time on ceremony.

His tongue slides warm into your mouth and it tastes like whiskey, his hands run over your body, caressing you.

First the neck, tightening slightly against your throat, then on your shoulders where he slides the straps of your dress. Then on your chest, to pull down the fabric just enough to uncover your bra. He cups one of your breast with his hand, squeezing it. He pulls down the bra and uncovers your already hard nipples. He leaves a trail of kisses and small bites on your jaw and all the way down the column of your neck, until he reaches your chest taking one of your buds into his mouth, you feel the warmth of his tongue and lips, licking greedily at it and then sucking it slowly, his beard tickling on your skin.

Fuck, this guy knows what he's doing.


You mentally apologize to him for doubting it, as you throw away your heels, kicking them to the floor.

You moan loudly as his heavy hand lifts the hem of your dress and covers your entire pussy. He presses hard on your clit and your body tenses like a violin string, you arch your back seeking more friction. He places his other hand on your hip, caging you between him and the wall. He continues to kiss you, while he dip in your slit through the now completely soggy fabric.

He grunts in your ear “so fucking great mmm pussy is dripping on my floor, isn’t she?” 
You don't even have the energy to cringe about him using pronouns for your cunt as he pulls your panties aside and dip two fingers into your slit, moving up towards your clit, rubbing it.

His eyes are settled in yours, you feel hypnotized by his gaze, so overwhelming and beautiful. It pierces you to the wall. 
His fingers stroke your clit in small circles, slowly and then faster, applying pressure every now and then. His smile widens as he watches you needily and hotly arch into his palm.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?”
You desperately clench around his thick fingers when he slides his index and middle into your hole. When he begins to slowly sink inside you you feel like you can’t hold his gaze anymore, it’s almost like he’s digging into your soul, your head crush into the crook of his neck and your arm tightens around his shoulders. 
Your brain is completely clouded with pleasure and its scent, wood and leather with a fresh clean undertone. He smells so good. It’s intoxicating.

Your dress is bunched up around your waist, just enough to allow his hands to feast on you.
His fingers keeps getting in and out of you reaching your most sensitive spot while his other hand goes back on your tit, playing with one of your nipples, twisting and gently pulling it between his fingers. 
You can no longer hold back your whines, they mix with his hoarse grunts, filling the air in the room.
“Fuck, it feels so good” you wail and he grumbles “yeah…such a nice cunt, fuck, so tight” 
He pumps even harder into you, scissoring a bit, hitting your g-spot again and again, his thumb on your clit and you feel your peak building up from your tummy and raising hot into your chest, you’re gasping for air as he bites in the tender skin of your neck and lowers his mouth back on your nipple. 
“mmm I would never stop sucking your tits, God, they are so - fuck” His voice dies in his throat as you clench hard around his fingers whining “don’t stop please don’t stop oh fuck sogoodsogoodsogoodsogood”, you sound almost like you’re on the verge of crying. 
He gently urges you “let go, gorgeous, give it to me, drench my fucking fingers” 
And you come, as much as you hate being told what to do he’s having the best of you. It’s basically the only moment in which you give yourself the chance to get lost, when your climax starts shuttering all over your body, wave after wave, washing away your control over yourself. 
He holds you down as your body shakes uncontrollably.

His mouth leaves small kisses on your sweaty skin, cradling you through your orgasm along with his hands that gently cup your ass, squeezing it. You moan against his neck, clinging to his flannel shirt.

His fingers slide out of you and he brings them to your mouth, he runs them over your lower lip, wetting it with your pleasure and then gliding them over your tongue to his knuckles, you lick them greedily under his satisfied gaze.

You stay hugged against the wall for a while, not saying anything, just breathing on each other's skin.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly when he feels your breathing return to normal. “I’ve never felt better.” You answer, finally looking into his eyes again and running a hand through his hair, ruffling it.

He's cute, too cute, his eyes look at you sweetly and he caresses your cheek, brushing his thumb on your skin.

This is no good, this is no good at all, you think.

You have to do something before you make the terrible mistake of melting like ice cream in the sun for this man. You can't afford that. So you take matters into your own hands.

You push him against the wall in turn and his wide eyes tell you he wasn't expecting it.

You give him a smile as you lower your hand to his pants, feeling him hard under your touch. He’s big. Much bigger than you expected even though you just got a preview of him pressing against your thigh as he finger-fucked you.

Your hands quickly fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them. You make room in his underwear to reach his cock. Joel grumbles “oh fuck, yes”

“Take off your clothes” you order. Joel undresses in a second, throwing his clothes and boots on the floor. You lick your lips at the sight of his bulging boxers. You move back against him, massaging him from above the fabric, feeling a large stain spreading across the front. He’s dripping profusely, which makes you even more hungry and eager to try him.

You smile at him as you lower yourself to your knees, bringing his boxers down with you.

His cock springs free right before your eyes, hard, uncut, and impossibly perfect. Your hand slides over the line of hair leading to his crotch, slightly beaded with sweat, and wraps around his base. He doesn’t stop staring at you, enraptured.

Your hand moves up and down his length, lingering at the tip, collecting his precum and spreading it out.

You feel your saliva building up in your mouth and as much as it annoys you to admit it your clit twitch, you can’t wait to taste it. Your mind is fighting against this guy, but your body knows exactly what it wants and doesn’t care if it gets carried away.

You place your tongue on the tip, swirling it around and then sliding it flat down his shaft, over his throbbing, engorged vein, down to where your hand encircles him.

You hear him grunt and your mouth twists involuntarily into a smirk.

His musky flavor coats your tongue as you continue to work his length, you look up and there he is, hair tousled, eyebrows furrowed, mouth agape, eyes like ebony that sparkle with lust, beautiful as a painting. He almost hurts your eyes. You squeeze them shut, concentrating only on the heat in your mouth and your movements on his red and swollen tip.

You slurp greedily increasing the pace as you feel him throbbing more and more intensely.

You are enjoying the silence filled only by the sound of your obscene lapping and his hoarse moans when he decides to speak.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re incredible”

Your blood runs cold, it’s like an unconditioned reflex you can’t escape. An uncontrolled anger rises from the pit of your stomach, you stop and let it out through your mouth. His face becomes confused, you take a deep breath to try to calm the fire that burns inside you and ask him sharply: “what did you call me?”

Mark's face materialized before your eyes, vivid as it hadn't been in a long time. It’s terrible.

He hesitates for a moment before saying “babygirl” in a garbled whisper.

“Don’t ever do that again” you tell him in a firm voice before moving closer to his cock and he mutters “no one has ever complained”

You stop again “It gives me the ick. So if you want me to continue I suggest you stop nagging like a child. Otherwise I can always walk out that door and let you finish with your hand”

“It’s just a pet name” he says, rolling his eyes, like it were no big deal, as if it didn't mean you were going back to where you started, to when you were too blind to realize how much of a liar your fiancé was, to when your heart was in pieces.

He can’t know, that’s true, so you haven’t completely blurted out. But that annoyance still rises in your throat. And you can’t cry, you really can’t. So sarcasm creeps in. “You think I’m a little girl? A princess who needs saving? Fucking Snow White?”

His cock is still standing between you two, waiting for attention. You might laugh at the situation, maybe make a joke about how well he holds his erection, but you're not really in the mood.

His Adam's apple moves in his throat, he gulps air before answering: “no, but…I mean, it’s just a word”

You shrug, looking at him with reproach and resignation at the same time, and try to answer with all the nonchalance you can muster. “Okay. It will mean that pornhub will take care of you, I don’t give a damn” If he can’t compromise then he’s not worth your time, just like every other man.

You start to get up and he stops you, a slight panic in his eyes “oh no, come on, don’t be like that. Ok, ok, I won’t say it again”

You lower yourself again and are about to start over in silence when it occurs to you to teasing him a little, just a little and only because he ruined the moment for you. He did it unintentionally but still. You don't mind the rough play and you think this big guy in front of you can take it.
“Let's try” you think “I can always stop”

It’s not like you’re going to hurt him badly, just teasing.

So you look him in the eyes with all the candor you can, taking one of his balls in your hand. You squeeze it and say “Are you going to be a good boy? Are you going to shut the fuck up for me?” 
“Yes” he murmurs. 
“I’m not your fucking babygirl, we clear?” 
“Yes” 
“Say it.”
“You’re not my babygirl” he whispers.
You squeeze hard on his ball, seeing his lower lip twitching with pleasure, his eyes dark with lust.
Yeah, he likes that, it’s clearly painted all over his face.
“Louder”
“You’re not my babygirl” his voice breaking in the attempt as you put your mouth on his ball sucking hard on it.
You let go with a satisfied smile “Perfect”
You take his shaft back into your mouth, squeezing the other ball gently with your hand and he leans against the wall, eyes shut and whimpering.
It’s so good to hear him like that, your clit is throbbing between your leg and your arousal is dripping all over your inner thighs.
You stop when you feel him on the edge, another few licks on his red and angry tip would be enough to send him over but you’re craving him into your cunt. And also, you like seeing him all pent up and needy for you.

He’s basically babbling at this point, begging you and swearing, eyes desperate for a release, all his body tense and covered in a light layer of sweat.

He’s totally gorgeous and you’re not done yet.

“Don’t cry baby, I will give you what you want” you coo, your lips curved into a smirk.

You get up and take his hand, guiding him on the couch in his living room.

It’s a nice brown leather couch, there is a little hollow in one of the pillows and you imagine that is where he usually sits to watch tv. This is also unnecessary information that makes him much more human and cute than you would like.

You can see him on Sundays, sprawled out there, his feet up on the coffee table placed in front, a beer in his hand, watching football.

No, that’s too much.

You sit him down in the center, caressing his cheek. You pinch one of his nipples and he lets out a groan. You take off the dress that at this point is practically dangling uselessly from your waist, your now soaked panties and your bra which he took care of pulling down earlier making it useless as well.

You’re finally completely naked before his eyes.

You throw everything aside on the floor, feeling incredibly vulnerable but trying not to show it.

Joel is silent but you can see his eyes feasting on your body, lusting over every curve before settling on your pussy that glistens with your juices.

You move closer and lean him against the back of the couch and sit on him, holding his cock with one hand and gently pushing it into your hole. You are incredibly wet but you proceed with caution anyway, he is too big to take in one thrust.

He pants beneath you, lacing his hands on your hips and guiding you gently. You can't see his eyes anymore, which is good for you, he's already made you feel exposed enough. It’s better this way, you can take what you want from his body without letting him affect you too much.

When you are fully seated on him you start to move, bouncing on his thighs, swinging your hips, he tries to keep up with your pace, thrusting into you as deep as he can, sinking into your wetness.

One of his hands moves to one of your breasts, cupping it and squeezing it, brushing your nipple with his palm and then taking it between his fingers.

You lean forward slightly to let him reach that soft spot inside you that always makes you see stars. Your ears are filled with his moans, the sound you like to hear when a man fucks you.

Nothing more than his natural, delirious, desire-filled sounds.

You throw your head on his shoulder and he kisses you, you cry into his mouth as you feel his hand move from your breast to your clit and begin to rub it furiously.

His tongue is warm and delicious in your mouth, a small trickle of saliva runs down your chin as you try to chase it and dance with it.

He's at his peak now, you feel him pulsing hard inside you, his moans muffled on your lips.

“Come inside, I’m on the pill” you only manage to whisper.

His pubic hair tickles your ass as he slams into you repeatedly, until you feel long, hot streaks of his cum painting your walls.

You continue to rock on his hips, lacing one hand around his neck, kissing him, until everything gets confusing, blurry, overwhelming in a way you can't explain. You reach him in a state of bliss, sweaty and exhausted but never as satisfied as you are now.

You pull his cock out of you and sit on the couch, he is on your neck in an instant, leaving a trail of small hungry kisses as you both try to catch your breath. You close your eyes so as not to see his, probably softened and vulnerable, nothing more wrong than letting yourself be taken by the tenderness after sex.

After a while he gets up and disappears into the kitchen without saying anything. He returns with a glass of water and hands it to you. “Thank you,” you say, before quickly swallowing it to ease the dryness in your throat. You set it on the coffee table and stand up before he tries to say something stupid.

You gather your clothes, getting dressed as he watches you from the couch, you feel his eyes on you the whole time.

You lean in to give him a kiss and his hand on your hip feels like a silent request to stay.

You don't say anything, there's no need to say anything.

You walk out the door without looking back.

You're not a babygirl.

A/N: I personally don't mind being called "babygirl" and Joel could call me anything, really. LOL I just wanted to try something different, hope you all liked it. Thanks again for reading, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ❤️

[luveline]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write anything else for the steve zombie au with the established relationship! It's seriously so good I can't get enough

hi I hope you don’t mind me using your request for the kidnapping fic! r and steve live inside a community during the apocalypse, and she gets kidnapped :( but he’s not gonna stop til he finds her :) pls forgive typos

steve zombie!au <3 fem!reader. tw abduction, drugging, mentioned SA (reader is NOT sa and there is no graphic imagery), guns, general violence. 8k words

When you get 'home' that evening, arms aching from a full day in the community pantry, there's somebody sitting in your bed. 

"Fuck, Stevie," you say with a flinch, hand hitting your chest with an audible thud. 

"Sorry!" he apologises immediately, springing up to meet you. He's in pyjamas, a foreign sight, freshly washed up. "I got home early and thought you'd be happy to see me." 

You reach for his wrists, relief that he's not a murderer or a zombie dulling the panic. "I am," you assure him softly, "of course I am. I missed you." 

He smiles and moves in for a hug, kissing your cheek quickly. "I missed you too." 

Missed isn't truly the right word. Steve goes out on scouting and scrounging missions for the community voluntarily, and every time he leaves you worry he's going to die, because it is a very likely outcome. There hasn't been a community fatality in weeks, but that doesn't help soothe the ache of his absence. 

"You smell really nice. Did you get a hot shower?" 

"Perks," he says, faking modesty. 

"Perks," you grumble. "I spent the whole day lifting canned tuna and I don't get a hot shower." 

His smile doubles in size. "No? Well then, it's a good thing you have such a nice boyfriend," —he digs in his pocket, unveiling a green plastic shower token with a smirk— "huh?" 

"Is that for me?" you ask, grumbling completely gone. 

"If you want it. There's a catch, though." 

"What's the catch?" 

You can both hear how in love you sound. In a world where hot showers are rare and valuable as diamond, his giving you a shower token may as well be an "I love you'. It's selfless. 

"Kiss before you go?" he asks. 

"That's not a catch," you say, taking his face into your hands. His cheeks are soft, stubble shaved away. 

You rub his bottom lip with your thumb. "Get into any danger?" 

"None. Not a geek in sight." 

"Good boy," you say, thumbs either side of his lips now, leaning in for a perfect, prim kiss. 

You move back and rake the hair away from his face, upward, and for a moment he looks as he did before again. His hair falls back down and he's still beautiful, the guy you love. 

"Are you sure I can have it?"

"I got it for you," he says, "but if you really don't want it-" 

"No, I want it," you deny quickly, eyes narrowed at his nearly ditzy smile. He can be so evil. 

Steve climbs into your bed, a myriad of blankets and quilts and sheets, anything to stay warm. Honestly, you and Steve are pack rats now you have a place to keep your things, and you love to be comfortable together. That means soft things and nice smells are a must. 

You turn to your bathroom hamper and pick up one of your two shower gels, a silver of soap, and the brand new bottle of shampoo you'd been given a few days ago. It's your prized possession. 

"Don't take that soap," Steve says, "there's a new bar by the sink, take that one." 

"We really shouldn't waste it." 

"We won't." 

You shake your head at him fondly. "It's fine, I'll use it. Keep the new one for cold, sad showers." 

His head sinks back into your pillows, his face turning toward your side. He couldn't be less obvious about it if he tried, pulling your pillow toward him until the pillowcase is rubbing his nose. 

You wrap your things in a towel, also nice and soft, and hesitate at the door. Steve's eyes have closed. You know he isn't sleeping, and that if you ask him to, he'll come and sit outside of the shower stall to fend off your paranoia. But you're trying to give life here a chance, a proper one. You have no reason to fear for your safety — the shower block is only five minutes away in the old College's gym. 

You put your stuff down at the end of the bed and climb on knees beside him. 

"I'm gonna go shower now," you say. 

Steve goes to sit up, eyes fluttering open, and you hold him down, peppering his cheek with three, four, five quick kisses. "No, stay. Love you." 

“You stay and sleep. I’ll be back soon. So soon.”

"You sure?" 

"Yes," you say, smothered against his cheek. You give him another kiss for good measure, a selfish one, as most of them are. You hope he enjoys receiving them as much as you love bestowing them. Your lips practically tingle. 

"Okay. Love you. See you in twenty." 

"Twenty," you promise. 

Another kiss sneaks its way in there before you're grabbing all your stuff; your bathroom necessities, your change of clothes and your room key on a string you hang around your neck. You slip out the door and down the hall of Little Hawkins, stepping over a hallway game of speed played by two opposite tenants you recognise from high school and slinking sideways round one of Mallory's huge art projects propped up against the wall. 

It's dark outside. To keep a low profile, the community you live in, sometimes called The College, or some variation of its real name, Valley Pine Community College, opts to keep the lights off at night. There are fairy lights strung up to gently guide anyone who needs to move around, and considering it's not even 7PM yet, there are lots of people outside. 

"Hey, kid." 

You hug your bundle of things closer. "Hi, Hopper." 

Chief Hopper is standing in the middle of the squad with Joyce Byers and Jeremy Livingstone, his second in command and his co-leader, respectively. 

"Shower?" 

You smile sheepishly. "Steve gave me a token." 

"How romantic," Joyce says sweetly. 

"He's a secret sweetheart," you mumble. 

"Could you tell him to be a little more secretive? He's setting a precedent here," Jeremy says. 

The three adults laugh. You nod politely and bid them goodbye with a smile, cutting over the grass of the quad where a path has been worn by shoes just like yours to the gym. 

There's usually someone there until 10PM. Everyone needs a shower after a long day, and lukewarm ones are totally free. It's hot water showers that need a token, because they need the generator to run. Jeremy does his best to keep the distribution of tokens fair, but people still use them to barter for other things. You imagine that's how Steve came to have two. 

Sure enough, a young woman you think is called Tori sits in a chair by the door to the shower room, foot propped up on another chair and crutches on the floor. 

She accepts your token and puts it in a basket with the others, all handmade and flimsy. "You need me to do it?" she asks. 

"No, that's okay. Stay sitting." She smiles gratefully. 

The shower room is clean and cool. You put down your towel, grinning at the leftmost shower. There you are, you think cheerfully. Then a sound behind you, the soft fall of one step. 

You don't remember much after that. 

— 

Steve falls asleep waiting for you. 

He wakes, reaching for your body in bed next to his, expecting an armful of your softness, your tummy or your chest. He opens his bleary eyes in search of you when he comes up empty, mumbling your name in the dark. His arm feels heavy as he lifts it to check the time. 9.44PM. He looks around the entirety of your small room. You're not here. 

He bolts up fast, bone deep nausea spreading and pervasive, his neck protesting the sudden movement with a twinge. Thighs swung over the sheets, he stumbles onto discordant footing.

You're not out on the quad, and neither is anyone else. He follows the string lights to the gym and there are no signs of life. He makes it all the way to the shower room before he sees somebody, a girl on crutches hobbling toward him with a flashlight helmet clipped over her forehead. 

"Hey," he says, slowing, "have you seen Y/N? She's this tall, wearing a royal blue hoodie? You can't miss her." 

She falters. "I- yeah, I saw her. Maybe an hour ago?" 

"Is she still here?" 

"The building's presumably empty." 

Steve skirts around her to look for himself, but she says, "Wait, wait." 

She readjusts her grip on her crutches. "I didn't see her leave, but she wasn't in the showers. I checked." 

"You didn't see her leave?" 

"No, I thought it was weird, but I figured she'd had too long in the hot water and felt guilty about it. I was gonna tell Hopper at the town hall." 

The town hall isn't a town hall at all, it's a space cleared in the cafeteria. Hopper lingers there most nights so people can talk to him without feeling pressured by their peers. You and Steve always call it the 'snitching hour', instead of the witching hour. 

"You're sure she's not there?" 

"I checked every stall." 

He doesn't believe her, because if you aren't in the shower, where are you? You haven't made any friends yet, you aren't situated, you have Steve and you have the older lady Mallory, and that's it. 

He's not too proud to admit he sprints to the shower room, calling your name and checking behind each stall door, each changing partition curtain. The only thing he finds is a slither of soap, the shard of bar soap he'd told you to throw away, lying on the floor. 

You'd insisted you wouldn't waste it. 

He picks it up and pockets it, throwing his gaze around the room in another circle to be sure. 

You aren't here. 

He runs back up the hallways and through the front entrance, where the girl on crutches is hobbling toward the main building that houses the cafeteria. His heart races with a strange adrenaline — he shouldn't panic, right? You could be anywhere, and anywhere doesn't have to mean somewhere unsafe. You could be with Mallory, with Robin. Hell, you could be with Dustin. He's half expecting to find you in the canteen, fresh and smelling sweet, sitting at one of the long dinner tables for club night. You'd said you wanted to learn gin rummy. 

You aren't in the cafeteria and neither are the cards club, but Hopper is. He has a paperback in his lap, and a cigarette is held between his lips pointing down, illuminated by a small lamp on the table behind him.

"Woah, where's the fire?" 

"Have you seen Y/N?" 

Hopper doesn't like his tone, the panic it's laced with. His expression hardens from surprise to concern, paperback closed. "Hours ago. She was on her way to the gym. She didn't come back?"

"No." 

"She usually stray?" Hopper asks. 

They both know the answer is no. You don't go anywhere that isn't scheduled work or the gym showers without Steve; while your distrust of this place and the people here has waned since you arrived, it's still very much alive.

"Never." 

"Don't panic," Hopper says, though he looks a little unsettled himself. He hides it swiftly. "Half the people here are your age, she probably just got to talking."

He stands up, shoving his paperback on top of the fold out chair and zippering his jacket closed. 

Steve rubs his mouth, in a daze, searching his thoughts for where you'll be.

"Harrington?" 

"What?" Steve asks, looking up. 

"You might want to get some warmer pants on. We'll start searching. Door to door. Wake your friends up." Hopper clears his throat. "She's here somewhere." 

His confidence eases Steve's roaring pulse. He looks down, finds he's still wearing the polka dot pyjamas he'd fallen asleep in. He'd been too worried about you to notice. 

— 

You feel majorly unwell. Eyes so sore they beg to stay closed, throat raw like you've been forced to eat sandpaper. Your hand knocks out and hits something solid.

"Stevie," you say. Your voice is patchy, frosted over. "It's freezing. Did you," —you cough as you raise your head from your pillow— "leave a window open, baby?" 

A cold gale of wind rushes over you. Goosebumps erupt down the lengths of your naked arms, and your eyes open finally, searching for the cause of the desperate cold. 

You fear for a moment you've gone blind. 

The sky is dark. A deep, formidable blue with a smattering of stars. Your breath catches as you take them in. They appear by the handful, flecks that well like drops of blood to pinpricks. 

You are not in bed. 

This is not your room. 

"You've been sleeping for hours. You're fucking heavy, did you know that?" 

You turn your head slowly, prey and predator, hoping your stillness will deter any sudden movements. 

"Where are we?" you ask, trying to get a good look at the body next to you. 

You're not sure if it's the right question. He likes it, though, and his hand squeezes yours where your fingers rest, intertwined, against his chest. Sickness wraps around your stomach and wrings it, a strange haziness concluding your thoughts.

"Don't worry about it." 

Panic lights every nerve ending and a wretched trembling runs down your arms, your legs. You try to make it stop before he can feel it. You know your fear is a currency.

"Are you cold?" he asks. His voice is neither warm nor frigid, each syllable said with an impassiveness that leaves little to be inferred. 

"I don't have my coat." The words don't want to be said. 

"We left in a hurry." 

"We did?" 

Your throat aches. You try to remember why you're here, fingers dead still in his hold. There's something soft behind your head, a throw blanket that scratches your cheek. You don't know who he is. You don't recognise anything about him, moonlight splashing milky light over his face and neck. He has a broad scar under his jaw, but beside that, this man is completely unassuming. 

"You don't remember?" 

You shake your head. "No," you say softly. 

"You fell in the shower. I helped you up. You told me you wanted to leave." 

"Leave?" you ask. 

"The College." 

"I said that?" 

"You didn't have to say it. I know you hated it there." 

You swallow, uselessly, over and over. The night sky pours Onto you. Your pulse bumps, bumps, bumps. 

"Who are you?" you ask. 

"You don't know me?" 

His fingers tighten around yours. 

"I- I'm new," you defend.

"Of course you don't know me. Nobody fucking knows me. I thought shit was bad before all this, you know?" His grip tightens worse. "Invisible at work, at home. And there were so many people, I mean, fucking thousands of people, I was a nobody. I thought maybe now I'd be somebody, but you don't know who I am." 

Please, you think, please. What's his name? 

"Connor," you say quietly, hoping to pass it off as nothing if you've gotten it wrong. 

His grip relaxes ever so slightly. "I knew you were different. You see me, and I see you." 

He moves toward you, and he must see you flinch backward into the solid, frozen earth behind your back. His smile flickers. He leans over your face, dark, long hair tickling your cheek. 

"I know you hated that place just as much as I did. So we left." 

Looking back, you'll wonder why you acted as you did. Acting into his delusion. That night, you wait hours for him to fall asleep. He never does. Each time you try to pull your hand from his, you're met with a fiercely suspicious look. You feign sleep. 

The sky slowly lightens. You stand when he stands and you pull your hand from his whether he wants it or not, so cold you feel like you've been burned all over, so tired you're surprised you have the strength to scramble backward. 

He turns, and you notice the gun tucked into his waistband for the first time. 

"Where are you going?" he asks, hand inching up his leg.

You take a step toward him, wobbly on purpose. "I think I'm stiff from the floor." You smile at him awkwardly. 

He sees bashful where he should terrified. "I will miss the mattresses. Don't worry, we'll find you something to lie on." Your skin crawls.

"Where are we going?" 

He points southward.

You're no genius, but you assume that means The College is northward. 

A bullet can follow you a hundred feet away. Running brazenly won't work. Though you're guessing he'll kill you outright rather than let you escape, which may not be the case. He's running on delusion — he has a saviour complex, clearly, to have stolen you like this. He wants you, and you have to assume he wants you alive.

"Can I have some water?" you ask. 

The ache in your throat is a burn. You imagine this is how it feels to have a geek maw deep in your flesh, a sizzling burn, a heated fear. 

He digs through his singular rucksack and pulls out a litre bottle of water full to the cap. You take it, guzzle it, and choke when he cusses. "Fuck- Stop! Are you stupid? We have to make it last." 

Water dribbles down your chin as he snatches it out of your hand. 

"Sorry," you say. It feels as though you've swallowed a stone. "Sorry, I didn't know. I couldn't know, I don't know any of your plans, Connor." 

He stuffs the water back into the bag and procures a white length of plastic. It takes you a second to realise it's a zip tie. Much less to feel terror reignite itself in the depths of your stomach. 

"Wrists together." 

"Connor, I don't think-" 

"You're smart, aren't you?" 

Quiet stretches. The sun leaks desperately needed warmth through the thick tree branches, sun rays painting his skin blazing white as he rags your wrists together and wraps the zip ties around them. The plastic bites into your skin unapologetically. 

"I wanted you to take me," you say. "What's the need?" 

He smiles. Teeth white, gums red. Stark. 

"You're smart," he repeats. "I'm smarter. Now come on. Walk." 

—

Steve doesn't find you. 

Hopper gives him invasive free reign over the community like a dirty cop. He tells everybody at breakfast exactly what's happening. He asks if anybody has seen you. He asks if you've made plans to run away. He says that, if you're in hiding, he'll protect you, even if that means protection from Steve. 

Steve's not even mad. If you are hiding from him (you're not, of course you're not, but if you are — Steve almost wishes you were, just so he'd know you were safe) you're doing an amazing job. There are no traces of you, and as the hours stretch into a full day without you, Steve's borderline homicidal. He has slammed on every door. He has checked every dormitory room, every public space. He has pulled boards from closed over windows, and kicked in weakened door jams of every building within the fences. 

Currently, though, he's having a breakdown. Tears, ugly and messy and loud, race down his face. He's running so hot they practically steam. Robin stands on the other side of the stall. He's really hoping she'll pretend she can't hear him, but she says, "Yikes, Steve." 

"Where the fuck is she?" he asks, sounding about as numb as he feels. 

"I don't know." 

Her response is softer. Robin knows Steve isn't angry at her, and doesn't take his scathing question personally. The fear he's feeling is overwhelming, hence his tears. (The tears are made of worry, too.) 

"Somebody-" God, the thought is like white hot heat cattle poked into his spine, anger wells to the surface. "Has her. Somebody's fucking done something to her. She wouldn't just leave." 

He stares at the stall door and wills tears away. This isn't helping you. 

"Steve," Robin says, "don't bite my head off. What if she did leave?" 

It hurts because it's what he's been asking himself. Under the anger and the fear for you, there's fear of you. What if you've abandoned him? Loved him this long to toss in the towel at the finish line? 

Still, he defends the you he knows you are. "Fuck off, Buckley. I love you, but fuck you." 

"No, listen to me Steve." 

"Robin-" 

"I believe she wouldn't 'just leave' but that doesn't mean she didn't leave," Robin says in a rush, fighting to be heard. "I know she's- I know you're both in that gross, disgusting, married for sixty years, buried in the same plot, holding hands kind of love-" 

"The point?" 

"So I'm agreeing with you, asshole. I don't think she'd leave of her own volition, but she's not here." 

"What if she is? What if I go look for her and she's here and Barney from the kitchen has her tied up under his mattress?" 

"We've looked," Robin says, anger colouring her own tone now. "We've fucking looked, Steve, you and me and Dustin, Mike and Hopper, we've been in every room and hashing this out won't make her magically reappear, we need to go look for her. Maybe she did fucking leave you, and maybe she's lost. Whatever it is, you're gonna kill yourself not looking.

"Time to make a decision," she adds. "The longer we sit here the further away she gets." 

Tears burst unbidden in a race to his jawline.

He knows you better than he knows himself. He knows you've loved him for a long time, maybe since the day you met. He's loved you almost as long, and he doesn't care how selfish it sounds when he says he loves you so much more. If the last time you'd spent together is it — sorry, but Steve can't accept it. A slurred out 'Love you' and your kisses warming his cheek. That can't be all there is. 

He'd spend the rest of his life looking for you, if only to feel the weight of your body between his legs, your sleeping face tucked under his chest. Your hands, forever cold, chasing the heat of his spine as you slip them under his t-shirt. 

Hopper looks reluctant at the suggestion. 

"Kid-" 

"I'm not really asking. I need permission to get my bat back from the armoury, and food. Or forget the food." Someone knocks into his back and apologises. The cafeteria is teeming with people. Steve doesn't stop to look back to see who it is. 

"It's not about supplies. Everybody is accounted for, we checked, do you know what that means? Nobody else is with her." Nobody took her, he implies. She left of her own volition. 

"That's exactly why I need to go." 

"She took a rucksack with her." 

Steve blinks. 

"Three litres of water. Enough food for a month, and a pistol." 

You're smarter than three litres of water. And—

Steve's heart skips. "She doesn't know how to use a gun."

He knows exactly what's happened to you. Even if everybody else thinks he's crazy, or stupid, or plain naive, he knows you wouldn't take a gun, so somebody else took one, and then they took you. He imagines you with the barrel pressed to your nape and brims with indignation. 

Hopper grabs Steve's arm tightly before he can turn away. He likely doesn't want a scene in the cafeteria, not when the arts and crafts club is sitting two tables away, a whole classroom of children with delicate dispositions. 

"You're sure you want to go out there and look for her? Kid, nobody saw her leave, there's no signs of struggle. Chances are she left willingly." 

"You really believe that? Honestly?" 

His expression says everything Steve needs to know. Hopper doesn't believe what he's saying — he's feeding Steve a narrative in the hopes that it'll spare him. His decision is a hard one to make, prioritising the lives of the many over the few, and it's noble, but Steve couldn't care less about the risks. 

Hopper realises his plan is not going to work. He roughs up his hair and sighs. 

"Can't work a gun?" he asks Steve, nearly defeated. 

"She would pick the knife." 

"Fine. Better round up anybody stupid enough to go with you." 

—

"I think you're handsome," you say. 

Connor glares at you. He'd been in the middle of a self-hating rant, how he's ugly and how girls are all shallow. He's not even that ugly, but his expression, so full of hate, makes him monstrous. 

"I do," you further.

"Yeah, right." 

Your wrists hurt. The zip tie cuts into your skin even in efforts to hold your wrists together. You're raw, almost bleeding. And you're so fucking cold; this guy's an idiot, and you're gonna die of hypothermia if you can't charm him into giving you his coat. 

Your plan is awful and it likely won't work. You're trying to seduce him so you can take his gun, and hope you don't have to actually fire it. You've never killed somebody before, but you're willing to do what you need to if it means you'll survive. Your thoughts won't stop spiralling about Steve. He loves you. He's looking for you. If he never finds you, his life will be more ruined than it is already, and you'd never forgive yourself for that. You care about him too much to want to put him through the guilt of losing you. How he'd been looking for Robin, you don't want him to be that version of himself again. Closed off to everything, and everyone.

Under all that you're still hoping he's going to save you. You're gonna hear him calling. You hope — you know — Steve won't think you've left. While you haven't been quiet about your doubts living in The College, you wouldn't leave without him. Steve is the safest place in the world. 

"Connor," you say, eyes on his face and unflinching, determined to lie well, "are you kidding? Out of everyone, I only showed you how I was feeling. Why do you think that is?" 

He stares at you. 

You make a show of shivering. It isn't difficult. 

"You're the kindest person there, I know that," you say. "Nobody else would risk what you are to help me escape. Nobody, not even-" You wince. "Not even Steve." 

"Ugh, don't talk about him," Connor says. "You won't ever have to see that mindless idiot again." 

"You promise?" 

He stops walking. "You don't want to see him?" 

"No," you lie. "I- look, Connor, I know it's not something to be proud of, and I'm not proud of it, but I knew he could take care of me, you know? We were all alone, and I just needed someone to look after me. I was so scared. And I felt like I owed him." 

"You could've left him the moment you got to The College." 

You put on a sad little smile. I'm sorry, you think desperately. I'm sorry, Steve. 

"He wouldn't let me."

Quiet prevails again, the only sounds the wind and your shoes over brittle foliage. 

"I wanted to talk to you, and I think he could tell. He'd always pull me away when we s-s-saw you." 

His eyebrows furrow gently, a softness on his face that might seem genuine if there were any light behind his eyes. Connor peels off his jacket and tries to help you into it. 

"My wrists." 

"Right," he says. 

He pulls out a penknife. You know what to do, planning how you'll enact your next move in your head as he cuts you loose and helps your numb arms and fingers into the sleeves. He zips you up. You try not to breathe.

He takes a half step back, and his breath turns to a grunt, hands cruel at your wrists when you throw yourself at him. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

"Trying to hug you…" You say, heart a hummingbird in your chest. "I'm sorry, I just- I just wanted to say thank you." 

"You want to say thank you?" he asks, 

You regret it. You've already decided, as horrible as it is, that if he tries to hurt you or force you to do anything intimate with him, you're going to run, gun or no gun. This decision changes every other second. Better to let him hurt you like that and live, or better to die? 

"Yes," you say breathlessly. "I want to say thank you." 

"There's a cabin not far from here. That's where we're going. I've been getting it ready for us. You can show me how grateful you are when we get there, so pick up the pace." 

"A cabin?" you ask, tripping over your untied laces in your hurry to do as he says. 

"I've been getting it ready for weeks," he says. "Sneaking back and forth hasn't been easy, you know? Fucking migraine." 

Sneaking back and forth.

Who is he? Sneaking? Why would he need to? Who the fuck is he? You know of him as you know most people, and you'd been lucky to remember his name. If he hadn't gone on supply and scrounging trips with Steve, you wouldn't have. 

A memory. 

He'd been with Steve. 

Two weeks ago, Steve had come home depressed. Deflated, he'd encouraged you down into bed and laid out on top of you, frown pressed to your collar. You'd drawn a confession from him in ribbons, one hand rubbing his back until the tension he'd carried slipped away, the other resting at the back of his head. He'd been on a scouting trip, and he'd lost his partner. No sign of him, no signs of a geek death, nothing. He'd disappeared. 

That had been Connor, and everybody thinks he's dead. 

If they believe you left, they believe it was by yourself. You have to hope Steve believes you'd never go without him. 

If he doesn't, you are completely alone. 

—

Robin ties her shoe laces tightly. They're new, and they're startlingly white. Nothing ever looks so white these days. Bleach is a resource they can't make, and it gets hoarded by the medical team whenever they find any. Clothes here aren't dirty, but they'll never be pristine. 

She puts her foot back on to the floor next to Steve's back, where he poked around under her bed for useful things to take. Her torch, her batteries, her rucksack. 

"Robin… is this a fucking illegal food store?" 

"That's blowing it out of proportion." 

He climbs out from under the bed and drops her armful of twinkies, moon cakes, and a single Hershey's cookies 'n' creme. 

"You can take that one," she says, pointing at the Hershey's. "A treat for lovergirl. You may need leverage to win her back." 

He takes it. At this point, Robin's sure he'd cut his own hand off to bring you back with them. She kicks the rest of her contraband haphazardly under the bed and gets into a sweater, then another sweater, before zippering a winter coat over top. Robin's young, and mildly fit, not in shape but not out of it, so she volunteers for supply runs when Hopper asks for them. She can climb, and she's skinny enough to fit into places that other people can't. She's ready to go look for you. 

Steve stands and makes his way to the door, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder. 

They move out to the quad, where a sad roster of rescue squad applicants wait. Jonathan Byers sits on the low wall of the fountain, with a girl called Vanessa on one side, and a guy called Christopher on the other. Dustin and Mike stand talking, and Steve is barely in hearing range when he says, "You aren't coming, Henderson." 

He stops in front of the fountain. "Are you ready?" 

They all stand. Jonathan, surprisingly, has a gun strapped to his hip. "Hopper's orders," he says, sounding how Steve feels. 

"Steve," Dustin says. 

"You aren't allowed to come, for starters." 

"I am, we're sixteen, we can-" 

"Can't. That's why Will isn't here, right? Or Lucas? Because they actually listen when Hopper says no." 

Mike glares. "I'm not here to go save your girlfriend." 

"Awesome." Steve relaxes the tiniest bit, slapping Dustin's arm as they pass. "Thanks, Henderson, but you can't come. Stay here and make sure nobody claims our room." 

Dustin shouts a string of expletives at their backs. 

They pass through the North fence checkpoint. They're trying to retrace your steps. There aren't many to retrace. They assume you've gone North of the camp because South of it is Indiana, and Steve can't see why you'd backtrack.

They walk for hours. The sun moves through the sky all lazy and slow, tortuously so, and the only thing Steve can think of is you. It burns. 

The first hint of you is a scrap of fabric. It isn't yours as far as he knows, but he and Robin look at it, look at each other, and then pick up the pace. A half hour later they almost miss it, a black button in amongst dry earth. An hour later, there's a water bottle cap. 

"Holy fucking shit," Robin says. "She's leaving us breadcrumbs." 

"She's a smart girl," Steve says, too defensive considering Robin's praising you. "Of course she is." 

"I've been thinking," Jonathan says, his voice low and gravelly from a long period of quiet. "The theory is that she's uh, been kidnapped, right?" 

"That's the theory," Steve says tightly. Trying his best not to be a dick, because Jonathan hasn't done anything wrong. 

"So who took her?"

Steve's migraine throbs. He has this tension like a knit behind his eyes. He doesn't know who took you, he can't work it out, and it doesn’t make any sense. Hopper checked the lists and everybody in the community had been accounted for, and Steve had seen nearly every face himself hammering on doors. 

"My mom poured over that list, she ticked everybody off," Jonathan continues. 

"It doesn't make any sense," Steve says, "I know that, but she wouldn't leave like that, not–" 

"No, I'm not saying that," Jonathan says quickly. "I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm saying we have to think outside of the box. Whoever took her isn't on the register." 

"But they somehow knew enough about The College to take her without anybody seeing them," Vanessa says timidly. 

"They took her from the shower room," Steve says quietly. "Her soap was still there, 'nd the girl on duty said she never came out of the first door again, so they took her from the back, and quietly." 

"Maybe she got lured out," Robin says. "Maybe they tricked her." 

Jonathan closes the small walking gap between himself and Steve, face earnest and concerned. He looks like a friend. 

"Remember Tina and Sadie, they left two weeks ago to look for their mom? They're not on the register, they could still be close." 

"But what would they want from her?" Christopher asks sceptically.

Steve feels an inkling of memory…

"Steve," Robin says apprehensively, giving him major side eye. 

"It's fucking–" Heat like nothing he's ever felt burns behind his eyes. If he could, Steve would squat down on the ground and just sit there for a while, until this rush of fire and fear and missing you had toned it down, but he can't stop moving, so he staggers to keep walking. "Connor. It's Connor." 

"The Creep?" Robin asks. 

"I thought he died?" Vanessa asks. 

Steve picks up the pace of his steps, and tries to explain coherently, though his voice sounds ragged as his thoughts, "He didn't die, he– he disappeared. And he was so weird, he kept asking me about my girl, and just thought he was a perv, he–" Steve looks at his small group. "He was too interested in her. I should've seen it." 

"So he's not dead?" 

Steve's thinking that might be up for debate. 

—

The cabin is a shit show. When Connor bragged about fixing it up, you'd stupidly believed he actually fixed it up. His delusion stretches beyond you. It's cold to the point where your worries of hypothermia are no longer worries but eventualities, especially now he's realised the same thing and taken his coat back off of you. It hadn't fit well anyhow. 

You huddle in the corner of the room where a small wood fire burns in the stove, not too shameful to hold your numb fingers over the flame. Connor rages behind you, grumbling hate to himself and slamming whatever it is he can find against other things. Door to the frame, chair to the wall, his bag kicked across the room. You know that, eventually, his anger will turn to you. Projection of anger has rules. The wall won't look nearly as satisfying as a bruise. 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder as demurely as you can. You've smoothed down your hair, wiped your dirty face, and while you're no angel, he chose you, right? You must at least be his type. 

Or maybe you'd been an easy target. 

You wish you'd listened to Mallory all those weeks ago when she'd told you that having only Steve was a terrible idea. Not because having Steve is terrible, having Steve is everything, but because you can't imagine many people who'd be willing to fight for you. If he's coming to find you it's likely all by himself. Can Steve overpower this guy? You'd thought you could but you're not so sure. He's a tall man, an easy six foot. 

He's scaring you. 

You would try to calm him down if you weren’t worried he’d want you to show you how grateful you are for being rescued. You’d rather he rail at the window than touch you.

A sound like splintering wood has you flinching forward and away from him, hands dangerously close to the fire. You pull them away with a gasp, reminding Connor of your presence. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” you say hurriedly. “You should come and sit down, huh? You’ve been walking all day.”

He sits down beside you after a pensive, dramatic minute rubbing his own head. He drops his bag by your feet and you take whatever warmth you can, hiding your shoes underneath it. 

When he puts his hand on your thigh, you try to pretend it’s Steve. Steve sitting next to you, warm and soft and ready to pull you into his lap, that place between his legs, chest to chest and eye to eye. You want his hand in your hair, and his hot back under your frostbitten fingers.even when you were new, not quite in love, he’d let you hide your hands under his t-shirt. He’s that kind of good, right down to the marrow in his bones. 

You wish you’d known what was going to happen. Not even to ask him to come with you. You think after everything the two of you deserve a proper goodbye. All that pain and all that affection and this is how it ends? 

Connor’s hand creeps further down the length of your leg. You think, alright. Alright. I’ll do whatever I have to do if I get to see Steve again. 

A sound like cracking wood echoes outside. 

Connor is up and against the wall in two blinks. You follow him, breathing shallow as you peer outside. You’d agreed to the wood fire, knowing you’d get irretrievably sick without it, but you hadn’t mentioned the rule. You and Steve didn’t have too many, just enough to keep you alive, and the most important was to know the area before lighting a fire while it’s still light out. The smoke is a dead giveaway every time. 

Another sound.  

Someone has seen the smoke. 

“What do we do?” you whisper. 

He holds up his hand. 

“What are we gonna do?”

“Let me think.”

“Should we put out the fire?”

“Shut up!” he says harshly. “Shut up, Jesus Christ. I can’t think with you jabbering in my ear.”

Connor opens his backpack and takes out a zip tie. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head emphatically, “no, you can’t.”

“It’s this or I handcuff you to the radiator,” he says. 

A silence stretches between you both. He grabs your wrists and closes the zip tie around your wrist until you’re sure your hands will fall off, plastic digging cruelly into the lines already there. 

“You’re evil,” you murmur. 

His eyes turn to frosted glass. For the second time, you think, There’s nothing there. Nothing kind. Obviously not: he’s such a loser he felt he had to take a girl captive to get some. Fucking freak. 

He takes your face into his hand, squeezing your jaw in his paw of a hand. You whimper, your teeth grinding and your bones creaking from the force of it. 

“Stay quiet.” 

You stare. 

“Say ‘yes’.”

His fingers dig into your skin so hard you know you’ll have fingernail welts. 

“Yes,” you say, feeling as though you’ve choked on your own tongue. “I’ll be quiet.”

He throws your face away and your head smacks the wall. No more happy families. You cringe and slide down into yourself, a curled ball as he leaves the room. The gun clicks in his hands as he switches off the safety, and another metallic sound follows. You know it isn’t good. 

You cower for a moment, freaked out beyond words, and then you pull it together. For Steve. You sit up and press an awkward hand to your aching, stinging jaw. There’s blood on your fingers when you pull your bound hands away. You slide onto your knees and struggle to stand, shoulders riding the wall. Your ears are posted for a sound. There are a hundred options and you don’t want any of them. Run away, get killed by whoever’s out there. Run away, get killed by Connor. Run away, get killed by a geek. Run away, survive, and never find a way to unbind yourself. Run away into the hands of someone crueller. Run away and never find Steve. 

A female voice calls out. 

“We just want to talk!”

That’s nobody you know. It’s not Robin. You try not to feel heartbroken, and when you do you try to hold it rather than have it drag you down. It’s not Steve, fine, but it’s a woman, and she’s probably a whole lot safer than Connor. 

“I’m armed!” Connor shouts. 

You walk slowly to the window and peer through. Down the cabin steps and in the grass stands a dark silhouette you know is Connor. Further along is a woman and another figure. You’re not sure who. 

“So are we!” she calls. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. What are you supposed to do? What’s the answer here?

The shouting out front continues, but that’s not what distracts you— there are sounds coming from behind. There’s someone at the back door. You cast your gaze around the room to look for something that can help you. There’s a fire poker on the floor near the wood stove. You rush to grab it, almost falling at the weight of your own head. 

The first pop of the gun makes you drop it. Tears roll down your cheeks as you scramble to grab it again, hands shaking hard as footsteps sound in the hall. Another gunshot makes you gasp, the third has you swallowing a sob. You press yourself hard into the wall with the poker held aloft. 

The door opens. 

For a second, a split-second, you don’t recognise him. 

“Steve!” Jonathan Byers shouts, grinning, “I got her!”

Thudding races from the kitchen and down the hallway. Steve appears behind Jonathan like a dream, a dizzying relief to see in all his pale sweetness. 

You drop the poker and a sob comes so hard you can’t keep your eyes open. You’ve never felt anything like this. A nightmare over so suddenly and all you can do is fight to open your eyes. 

Steve crosses the room, steps over Connor’s tantrum like it isn’t there, and wraps his arms around you. It’s a different kind of tightness, nothing like the cruel press of Connor’s fingers. Steve pulls you together, steadies you, cheek smashed into the top of your head and arms circling your shoulders. Your fingers shake, you can’t move your hands, and still you curl them around his coat uselessly. You can’t get a hold on him, but it doesn’t matter. Steve has you. 

“It’s okay,” he’s saying, strands of panic sewn between the reassurance in his lovely voice. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Come on.” You’re crying like a little kid. You can’t stop, and you can’t breathe. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

Steve draws away from you, barely an inch, to slide the blade of his pen knife between your wrists. The zip tie splits and you vy for him weakly, your hands to his waist. 

He shoves the pen knife into his pocket and grabs your arm. “I know, I know, but we have to go. We can’t stay here, the noise’ll draw company we don't want.” His hand roams up to your neck. He cups your face, his palm blistering to your chilled cheek. “Hey,” he says, smiling a rare smile. “My girl… it’ll be okay. I’m gonna fix it. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

He nods at you hopefully. You swallow your sobbing until it’s a wet gasping sounds and nod back. He looks at you for a charged second, before he wraps his arms around you again. Gentle, so, so careful. Your head rests in the crook of his arm, a crop of kisses laid over your cold cheek. 

“You’re freezing,” he murmurs.

“I’m okay,” you say. “I’m fine now.” 

—

Steve sits in the path of the window, afternoon light drizzling into his eyes and over your sleeping face. He squints against its brightness and stands to pull the curtains closed, fingertips on your shoulder. He has to stretch to reach, but he refuses to stop touching you. He’s worried you’ll disappear if he does. Contact keeps you here. 

Curtains closed, he sits back down tentatively, looking for your hand in the mess of blankets and quilts covering your body. He’s wiped the blood from your cheeks, tended to your small inflamed cuts with disinfectant. He’s wrapped your sore wrists, spent hours rubbing your frostbitten fingers, worried the cold killed your circulation. You’ve slept for hours now, only stirring when he had to use the bathroom. He’d been gone for less than a minute, a heart attack in sixty seconds, and you’d been awake and trying to get out of bed when he got back. 

He stays close. 

He just wants you to rest. 

Steve pulls back the blankets and slips in beside you slowly. You turn into his movements, and when he’s flat on his back you let your weight rest on him completely. Your breathing tells him you’re waking up, not quite slow, not quite deep. 

He takes your hand into both of his and hugs it. Found it, he thinks.

“Stevie,” you utter. 

“Yeah, I’m here.”

You smile and push your face into the juncture of his neck. 

There aren’t really words for what Steve feels. Relief like a hurricane. Guilt something worse. Love, anger, worry. It’s all mixed together and he can’t pull one from the other, but he knows one thing. 

“I couldn’t live without you,” he mumbles. 

“Good,” you say. You snort into his skin. “Not good, baby, that’s awful, but-” You pull your hand from his to wrap it around his shoulders. He pulls you up onto his chest. “Good, ‘cause I can’t live without you.”

“You don’t have to.”

Your voice is scratchy from a lot of tears. He never wants to hear you cry like that again. He’s only heard it once before, when you’d fallen through the first floor of a dilapidated house a hundred miles away, and after hours where he’d assumed you’d never wake up again, you did, and you’d been in so much pain you couldn’t stay still. You’d shook for days. 

“I would’ve looked for you until I found you,” he says, unsure what he wants. He thinks, selfishly, that he’d like some comfort. 

“I know,” you say, your hand moving up, up to his hair. 

You lean back to see him, the two of you nose to nose, and stroke his hair away from his forehead one strand at a time. 

“Will you kiss me?” you whisper. 

“Depends,” he whispers back. “What’s in it for me?”

“Anything you want.”

He smirks at you. “Already got everything I want right here.”

“In that case, you’ll have to consider it part of your philanthropy, handsome. I’m a charity case.”

“How dare you say that about my girl,” he says, his feigned indignation hard to believe with the mildness of his tone, and his lips so close to yours. 

He kisses you, worried you’ll fall apart. It’s a sad kiss, not what he’d expected, though it’s better than the terrified one he’d stolen before you fell asleep. That had been nervous energy and imprecise, all the urgency of your first kiss and none of the finesse. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, peeling away from his case to frame his face in your hands. 

He could say no. Tears burn behind his eyes, his nose stings, he could burst into tears in your arms. 

“How can you ask me that?” he asks, watching as your eyes pinch into a squint and all your eyelashes kiss. 

“I love you,” you say. 

He chokes on air. “I know that. I love you, too, but you’re the one who got hurt. You’re the one who’s hurting, why would you ask me how I am? You’re—“ Too good. Too good for me. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Steve.”

You have tears in your eyes and he’s flooded with guilt. He brought it up too soon, he knows. It’s barely over — you need to feel safe, and won’t if he keeps reminding you. 

“I’m okay,” he says softly. “How are you feeling, huh?”

“I’m actually starving,” you admit, squishing his cheeks with your hands. 

“You want me to go get you something?”

You look down bashfully. “I really need to shower, Steve. You might be blind to my grime but I’m gross right now–”

He kisses you to cut you off, a sharp, saccharine kiss that makes you giggle. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, idiot.”

“Your girlfriend is a creature.”

“A creature!” He uses his weight to push you onto your back, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re done. You’re done,” he repeats, beaming at your infectious laughter, “you think you can talk about yourself whatever way you like, don’t you? It’s not happening.”

“Okay, I won’t,” you say, your eyes locking with his. 

He watches your lips part, feels the rise and fall of your chest under his. 

I’m so sorry, he wants to tell you. 

You’re finally smiling. He won’t ruin it.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling his lips into a big smile. 

It’s easier than he anticipates to smile. You needle your arms over his shoulders and tug him to your chest, your own smile like a brand next to his ear. 

“I missed you,” you say. “I know it’s stupid.”

He exhales heavily. “I missed you too.”

[dilvuc]

『 WHEN YOU GET JEALOUS 』 pt. 2

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: fluff

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: gender neutral

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: when you get jealous pt.

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: dorm leaders x gn!reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: none

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: when you get jealous

╰┈➤ when you get jealous pt. 1

╰┈➤ VIL

dating isn't easy, not when you're dating a model and actor with 5m followers on magicam. it made you so jealous. not jealous of vil, but the fans who tried to grab his attention. you had been scrolling through the comments and it was filled with love and support from fans, plus comments that are…different.

you are now a bodyguard…

“Aww, these fans are too kind.” vil chuckled bashfully. “It's nice of them to bring me gifts.”

“Too many gifts. You don't know if it's from fans…” you mumbled with your arms folded. you are cautiously sure that it might be some creepy photos of vil or some dangerous objects. vil sighed, “You're overthinking it. It might be some wholesome gifts.”

you prepared your magic pen, waiting for something dangerous to happen as vil opened the box. the box opened to reveal a teddy bear with a bowtie. suspicious…

“So cute~” the beautiful blonde beamed, pulling the bear from the box. you sighed, “You should check to see if there aren't any cameras inside of it.”

“...Fine, whatever. You're either jealous or just overprotective. Perhaps both.” vil huffed, turning the teddy’s back to face him.

it turned out there weren't any cameras inside, just cotton. yeah, you did that on purpose to get vil to ruin the teddy bear because you were jealous and now you are forced to fix it.

╰┈➤ IDIA

jealous. you're jealous of the mega plush you win for idia on his birthday. what's the point of being jealous of a object? boy, the ignihyde dorm leader was clinging on the plush, happily snuggling with it. the plush was precious to him. almost too precious. that plush needs to back off, because

idia belongs to you…

“Say, Idia. How much do you love the plush?” you asked, holding back your jealousy.

“W-well, it's a gift from you, so…I thought it's precious to me. It made me think of you” idia timidly smiled, holding the plush close. you felt a strike in your heart, you're gonna have a heart attack.

“Damnit. My heart…” you clenched on your heart.

“P-please hang in there, [Y]!” idia sweatdropped. you knee down on the floor, already feeling defeated. you shouldn't be jealous of a plush. if it makes idia happy, then it's fine.

the dorm leader knew you were jealous, so he decided to put the plush to the side and demanded a cuddle from you. you were overjoyed that you nearly collapsed.

╰┈➤ MALLEUS

you're not too overprotective like sebek, right? but worse. you did vow hundred years ago that you will protect malleus and there you go, jealous. jealous of the mc. lilia knows you vow to protect him, but…

aren't you being a little too overprotective?

"[Y], dear…Please stop glaring at them." malleus demanded you. you stop glaring as malleus’ command and look away. but when he's not looking, you continue the death stare. “[y]...”

you flinched a little, “Yes…?”

“If you won't stop, I won't forgive you…” malleus scolded you with a pout. you instantly apologized, “Sorry…!”

you rather die than seeing malleus angry at you. although, his pouty face is cute.

╰┈➤ author note: please note that this is a slow update. i will still accept your request, but it will take a while since i'll be working on my books on wattpad. if you wish to read those books, here's my wattpad account.

twst masterlist

rules

[wiidvw]

I Fall to Pieces When I'm With You.

pairing. Dallas Winston x Black ! Fem ! Reader.

summary. After seeing you talking to Soda, Dallas can't help but be jealous.

content. Small angst. Smut—oral sex(m!receiving), P in V sex, unprotected sex. Dallas takes pics of r during sex. Slight themes of a toxic relationship. Not proofread.

𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗢𝗢𝗡, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘 the Curtis’ house, talking to Soda. You smiled softly with each word, nodding when he said anything—like you did with everyone. You were always friendly like that, and you didn't think it could be taken out of any context other than that. 

     However, Dallas, who was a few feet away, stared at you and Soda, clenching his jaw and nearly crushing the cigarette in his hand. He ignored the obvious explanation for you talking to him, which was because he was your friend, and immediately took it as you flirting with him or him flirting with you. He desperately wanted to walk over to you two and snatch you away—and probably yell, which would lead to an argument, but he didn't care.

     He controlled himself—barely—and took a drag from his cigarette as you and soda laughed. 

𝗙𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗡𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗘, 𝗗𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗦 walked you home. As you walked quietly side-by-side on the sidewalk, Dallas smoked a cigarette, the smoke filling your nose. “You like Soda?” Dallas asked, breaking the silence.

     You glanced at him. “What?”

     “You heard me.”

     “As a friend, of course. Why are you asking this?”

     “Why are you laughing at him like that then?”

     You stopped walking, glaring at Dallas. “What are you getting at? Soda is just a friend, and he's yours too.”

     “What are you flirting with him for then? Smilin’ at him like that.”

     “I was never flirting with him.”

     “Sure, you weren't. I'm not blind, doll!” He began to raise his voice at you.

      Your eyes burned and your throat ached at his words. You desperately wanted him to stop talking, so you started walking again, ignoring his hateful words. 

     “Where are you going?” He followed you.

     “Stop following me. I can walk myself home,” you said and continued to ignore him when he yelled after you.

𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥, 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗗 arrived home, you lay in bed, reading a book, until you heard taps at your window. You knew only one person who did that. You stood from your bed and stepped toward the window, opening the curtains to reveal Dallas Winston outside. You opened the window, furrowing your eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

     “Let me in. I'm freezing my ass off out here,” he said, making you roll your eyes and move to the side, allowing him to climb inside your room. You slid the window down after him.

     “What are you doing here?” You repeated, your voice soft, careful not to wake your parents. 

     “A guy can't see his girl?”

     A pang of guilt struck your stomach. “No, you're right, I'm sorry.” Your head flashed images from earlier with your argument with Dallas. “Dally, I'm sorry about before. You were right, I shouldn't have been talking to Soda like that—”

     “Don't worry ‘bout it—”

     “I'll do anything for you to forgive me.”

      Dallas’ lips curled into a smirk. “Anything?”

     “Anything.”

      An unlimited amount of inappropriate scenarios and fantasies filled Dallas’ mind, in which he forced them away and settled for having you kneel in between his thighs as he sat on your bed. Your hands clawed at his belt, pulling his jeans and boxers down, his hardening cock springing out. Your hand wrapped around the base, pulling a strained sigh from his lips. You leaned forward, wrapping your plump lips around his tip, a salty taste coming onto your tongue as you licked circles around him. 

     You glanced up at him, his head thrown back as a hand went to the back of your head, slowly pushing your head lower and lower. You forced yourself to breathe in through your nose as his cock was close to hitting the back of your throat. You were doing this for him, so you wanted him to feel good.

     However, when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, you couldn't stop yourself from gagging. You didn't mind, though, when you heard a groan from Dallas. “Fuck, doll,” his hips bucked, making you gag again, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, which eventually fell when you allowed Dallas to fuck your mouth.

     It was an image that Dallas wanted to keep forever. He reached for the camera you kept on your bedside table—God, was he happy you kept it there—and snapped a picture of you in your current state. 

     You heard the noise, but you were so focused on Dallas and pleasing him, you didn't care to protest—it's not like you could if you wanted to.

     He nearly tossed the camera back on your nightstand, his hands returning to the back of your head as you swallowed around his cock. Your nails dug into his thighs while you struggled to stop gagging, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose.

      “Goddamn—” he pulled you off, a loud gasp coming from you, coughs following afterward. With the backs of your hands, you wiped the tears and looked up at Dallas. “C'mere,” he said breathlessly, and you quickly followed his demand, straddling his lap. 

     Dallas kissed you roughly, hands traveling underneath your top, cupping your breasts through your bra. You whimpered at his harsh grip while your hands tugged at his shirt. You pulled away, pulling off your top and throwing it somewhere on the floor. Dallas’ hands gripped your waist as you reashed back, removing the claso from your bra, allowing it to slide down your arms, and letting it join your top.

     Dallas attached his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling softly, making you squirm and tug at his hair while he rested his hands on your back, pushing you closer to him. “Dallas,” you whine, but he ignores you. He switched to your untouched breast and repeated his previous actions until the brown bud peaked, replicating the other. Meanwhile, you tried to silence yourself, covering your mouth with a hand; however, Dallas quickly swatted your hand away, humming around your nipple.

      Without realizing it, you began to grind against his cock. You hoped he couldn't feel how wet you became.

     He pulled away with a pop and guided your body into position, in which you lay on your back while he pulled off his shirt and pants. You pushed down your shorts and underwear, kicking them on the floor. Dallas moved in between your legs, tip teasing your entrance.

     He knew he should give you some type of prep, but you were already so wet. Besides, this was for him, wasn't it? 

     Dallas gripped your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he slowly pushed his cock inch-by-inch into your cunt. You gasped softly, leaning your head back into your pillow. He rested his hands beside your head. “Goddamn, doll,” he groaned as he buried his head in your neck, softly biting at the flesh. 

     Once he was fully buried in your cunt, he allowed you to adjust for only a few, short seconds before pulling out to the point that only his tip was inside before thrusting harshly inside, pulling a loud moan from your lips, which hoped nobody else heard. 

     He gradually set a fast pace, abusing your cunt, the sound of skin slapping filling the room along with your barely muffled moans. Despite his harsh actions, it felt so good. Your pleasure only increased as Dallas reached a hand down to your clit, rubbing fast circles with his thumb.

     “Dally,” you whine, nails digging into his back. 

     “Yeah, doll?” He spoke, looking down at you with a small smirk on his face. 

     Another whine escaped your lips when he pulled out. You knew this was about him, but God, it felt so good. You glanced up, watching as he pushed both of your thighs to your stomach before sliding his cock back inside your cunt, a groan coming from Dallas.

     Your moans quickly returned as Dallas’ resumed with his fast pace, building up your already close climax.

     “Takin’ me so well, doll,” his voice sounded rough as he spoke. “You're mine, you know that?”

      You nodded, babbling fragments of sentences.

     His hand returned to your clit, watching as your face contorted in pleasure. He felt his climax too, but he wanted you to cum first. “You close?” He asked, placing kisses on your neck. 

     “Yes!” you cried. 

     “Come on, doll, cum for me.”

     With his harsh thrusts, thumb on your clit, and words, you came with a soft moan, clenching around his cock. You were so focused on your release, you didn't hear the click of your camera.

     You also had no idea that the next day, Dallas took those polaroids of you and showed them to Soda, bragging but also telling him to stay away from you.