#if you ever want to order a bigger shirt let me know
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Hi there. I wanted to make a request for something a bit personal. All this week, my family has been criticizing my weight (which I have struggled with my whole life) and told me point-blank that no one would ever love me because of it. That being said, I would like to request a writing with Soap. Let's say the reader has been avoiding sex with him for a while. They'll kiss and stuff, but as soon as he starts pulling her shirt up, she pulls it back down and makes some sort of excuse. This goes on for a while until Soap confronts her about it. She basically then goes off, pointing out all her bodily flaws and how fat and hideous she thinks she is and asks him how he could ever think she was sexy. And all he says is, “How can I NOT?” And he makes love to her and every time she makes a complaint about her body or calls herself ugly, she shushes her, ultimately taking her in front of a mirror and making her look at herself and how sexy she looks taking him. And when they're done, Soap should talk about how she's not fat, she's cute and squishy.
i just want you to know that you’re not defined by your weight, and you will absolutely find somebody who will love you no matter your appearance <3 i’m a big girl dating a fit man and he treats me wonderfully, despite many people bullying me for my weight and thinking he’s silly for dating a big girl. you will 100% find somebody like that who will love you for you, and your family is wrong about that <3 i’m sending you all my love anon!!!
i hope this is to your liking!!
tw: NSFW, MDNI, brief angst with fluffy smut :3
Johnny was the love of your life. There wasn’t a doubt about it in your mind that he was the one you’d spend the rest of your days with, growing old together, showered in each other’s unconditional love.
Lately, though, you were wondering if you were the love of his.
The reflection in the mirror every time you snuck a glance whispered nasty things to you. Hurtful and cruel, dousing you in doubtful insecurity, all geared towards the way you looked. It pointed out all of your soft rolls, the pudge of your stomach, the cellulite on your thighs.
Every time you came face to face with your reflection, it was a constant thought that plagued your mind of why Johnny wanted to be with somebody like you. Why he chose you.
Blinded by your own criticism, it began to take a toll on your relationship.
It started off small, like gently pushing him away with a forced laugh every time he’d come up behind you and rest his hands on your hips, kneading the flesh. Or, when he’d lay in bed at night with you, arm slung over your stomach, seeking out your touch in order to fall asleep, you’d roll to face away from him, fearful of Johnny feeling the softness of your body.
It was a bigger issue when sex became less frequent — not that Johnny minded if you weren’t in the mood. He respected you. But Johnny knew you far more than you thought he did, and he could see the tell-tale signs of you distancing yourself.
He noticed the way you shied away from him, brushing his hands off like you were scorched from his touch. Hiding away in oversized clothing, concealing any sliver of your body.
At first, Johnny didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to approach it, and he didn’t want to assume anything was wrong. Maybe you were having an off time!
It wasn’t until tonight, where he had you gracefully laid out in your bed, that he knew something was truly wrong.
The rough pads of his fingers slowly slid down to the hem of your shirt while his lips remained occupied against yours, carefully slipping the fabric up across your stomach. Almost instantly, your body tensed up, your own hands grasping hold of the end of your shirt to roughly tug it down, successfully covering yourself back up.
Johnny paused, pulling away from your kiss to peer down at you with a worried furrow in his brow.
“Bonnie,” he frowned. “What’s all this about?”
You busied your lip between your teeth, turning your head away in order to avoid seeing the ache in his eyes. You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to confirm your insecurities by telling you he saw what you saw in the mirror.
“Talk t’me,” he encouraged, gently guiding your head to look at him, thumb stroking along your cheek.
“I just—“ You sucked in a breath, before everything came spilling out at once. “I don’t want you to see me. I know I’m chubby, I know I’m not small. I don’t understand what you see in me.”
“Bonnie—“
“I don’t see why you love me when I look like this,” you finished, cutting him off. By the time you finished rambling, you had to catch your breath. A frown settled on your lips, and the sight of it caused Johnny to ache.
“How could I not?” Johnny breathed, voice so tender yet serious. He stared down at you, eyes flickering over your face, wanting so badly to smooth away the downward pull on your lips and furrow in your own eyebrows.
You said nothing, darting your eyes away to look at the ceiling instead of him.
“I love everythin’ about ye,” he continued, leaning down to press a subtle kiss to your cheek, moving down to your jaw, then your neck. “And I certainly love yer body. Do I have t’show ye myself?”
You finally glanced back to meet his gaze. He had a smile on his lips and a gleam in his eyes, one only reserved for you.
“C’mon,” he urged, pulling himself off of you and guiding you to sit up.
Once the two of you were standing, he quietly asked for permission to undress you. He noticed your hesitance so he waited patiently for you to answer, but once you told him yes, he happily obliged.
Johnny worked slowly to peel off every layer of your clothing until they were a heap on the floor at your feet. He took in the sight of you bare, smiling bashfully at the vision, burning it into memory.
He made quick work to undress himself to match your nudity, before sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging you to sit on his lap with your back pressed to his chest. His skin was warm against yours, but his hands were like a burning fire when he slipped them down your sides and to your thighs.
“I want ye t’look in the mirror, bonnie,” he said, nodding his head to the floor length mirror that sat perched up against the wall. When you looked into it, you had a perfect view of yourself in his lap. “How could I not love that?”
You squirmed awkwardly, unable to see what he was seeing. That little voice in the back of your mind still had control, and Johnny could tell. He was determined to rid yourself of it once and for all.
Despite wanting to resist, you continued looking in the mirror, taking in the sight of you on his lap, your thighs resting snugly over his own. Your eyes followed the way his hand slid from your thigh, going up and up until it reached between, lightly dragging through your cunt. His fingers shined almost instantly from your slick, and he took pleasure in coating himself in it further.
A shaky breath left your lips, warmth of arousal pooling in your abdomen. You’d never been able to see him touch you before, but now you have a full view of it. His fingers began circling your clit, while his free arm wrapped around your stomach, keeping you pressed up against him.
“Beautiful,” he murmured next to your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched with you.
Johnny began indulging himself in the wetness of your cunt, unable to look away from the sight of his fingers sliding between your clit and your hole. He always thought you were stunning, but seeing you like this was heavenly.
Two fingers slipped into you, and your mouth parted, throat catching on to a surprised gasp. He grinned at you in the reflection, taking in the way you wiggled at the intrusion.
“Look at ye,” he hummed, fucking into you at a gentle pace with his fingers. “Bloody gorgeous.”
Your gasps turned into whines, eyes glossing over with a clouded need. You watched hazily as his fingers slipped in and out of you, and for a brief moment, you agreed with him. The sight of you falling apart from his fingers was new, almost thrilling.
As much as Johnny wanted to see you come from just his hand, he needed you to see yourself in the way he saw you. Slipping his fingers out earned a whine of protest from you, but he quickly shushed you by lifting you off of his lap so he could line his hardened cock up to your sopping hole, sinking you down on it.
“Fuckin’ look at ye, bonnie,” he sighed, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, indenting into your softness. He guided you up, slowly dragging his cock along your gummy walls, before pulling you back down, your ass flush against his lap. “Ye look fuckin’ sexy like this. My pretty girl.”
Seeing the way your cunt greedily clenched around his cock, glistening prettily in the reflection of the mirror, you felt surprisingly attractive. The voice in your head was quieting down, instead being replaced with Johnny’s loving praises as he took you.
Your stomach and thighs jiggled with every bounce he made from his hands on your hips, but the look in his eyes was undoubtedly burning with intense desire, clouded over with admiration. You could see how enthralled he was from the sight of you and how much it turned him on.
“This is all mine,” he groaned, squeezing your hips before bringing one hand around to grab hold of your stomach. He did it in such a loving way that you no longer felt insecure, you no longer had the urge to push him away so you could hide your body from him.
Johnny was proving just how beautiful he thought you were while simultaneously making you see it for yourself. He wanted you to feel good about yourself, and it was working.
When he saw the doubtful look in your eyes dissipate into a more confident one, he picked up the pace, eager to bounce you on his cock and make a mess of you. He was determined to make you feel so good that you wouldn’t even remember why you were insecure in the first place.
“So fuckin’ good t’me, don’t even know how I got ye,” he grunted. The words showered you with warmth, filling you up and teetering you near the edge. “I’m a lucky bastard.”
You could feel the build up grow more intense, your moans uncontrollably slipping out. He continued to praise you, engulf you in his compliments, dripping with nothing but love and want.
It sent you over that edge, clenching around him and your breath getting caught in your throat. Just from that sight alone, reflecting back at Johnny from the mirror, he didn’t fall too far behind you, filling you with proof of his undying love and claiming you as his.
From the look of fucked out bliss on your face, he was sure he got the message through.
Cleaning you up and lying you on top him, he basked in the post clarity, hands massaging along your hips.
“I wish ye would’ve told me sooner, bonnie,” he murmured softly, lips pressed against the top of your head that rested on his bare chest. “There’s nothin’ wrong with yer body. I like it this way. Can squish it whenever I want.”
You laughed against him, propping your chin up so you could look at him. His eyes were soft combined with the goofy smile on his face. He looked like a man head over heels, and it was with you.
“If ye need a reminder again, I’ll be glad t’fuck you in front of the mirror as many times as ye need. Or ye can sit on my face so I can worship ye.”
“I might suffocate you if I do that,” you snorted in amusement.
“That’s the point, bonnie. Do I have t’show ye again that I don’t care? Suffocate me.”
You rolled your eyes, pulling a bright laugh from him. He tugged you closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to your head. He’d happily show you as many times as you needed, no matter how many hours it took. He’d die a happy man if it meant getting to see and feel your softness everyday.
#angie's requests#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#johnny soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap cod#johnny mactavish#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#cod requests
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Eras Tour Rainbow Photo Tees have been added to the shop because summer stadium tours and sweatshirts don't mix. Available in 10 era appropriate shades plus ivory, white, and black.
#i know i use comfort colors a lot cause they're my fave and they only go up to a 3x#if you ever want to order a bigger shirt let me know#and we can try and find a close color match in a bella tee#taylor swift#the eras tour#my merch#fan made merch
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I Want To Be Your Boyfriend
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader
Warnings: Mentions of Sex
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.9K
Summary: Rafe never thought that he could fall for a Pogue, but the Goddess in front of him might change his mind.
A/N: This is a prequel to I Want To Be With You and requested by @sublimepenguinpeach-blog
When he first saw her, he thought she was the most beautiful Kook he had ever seen. The lavender silk Prada shirt she is wearing crops just above her belly button. It reveals a delicious sliver of her stomach that he just wants to rest his hands on. The recognizable double G of her creamed colour belt displays the girl’s financial status. But as Rafe’s eyes trail down to her pants, confusion crosses his features. The black jeans she wears are distraught with holes in a fashionable manner, yet, he doesn’t recognize the brand and the material looks too cheap to be a brand name. Her shoes also don’t match the top half of her outfit as the white Sketchers look so worn out that it had to be done because she can’t afford new ones and not because of aesthetics.
Sarah and the rest of the Pogues joining his Goddess help put the puzzle pieces together in his mind. His sister is known for her love of sharing her clothes with her Pogue friends, so the Goddess in front of him must be a Pogue. Unlike Sarah, Rafe would never associate himself with Pogues unless they were working for him. Yet, the concern she shows for JJ over a bleeding cut on his forehead from falling down makes Rafe realize he doesn’t care that she lives on the wrong side of the island. She lets out the most amazing laugh he has ever heard and he has to be the one that makes her smile. He makes his way over to talk to her, but Kiara stops him in his tracks.
“Don’t even think about it. She is too good for you,” she warns him away. He tries to sidestep her, “Come on, Kiara. Let me talk to her.” The girl shakes his head and turns him away. He doesn’t want to make a scene in front of the goddess, so he walks away in defeat. Throughout the night, he tries to talk to her and is intercepted by the other Pogues.
——
For weeks he has been trying to talk to her, but every time a Pogue is there to stop him. At least he learnt her name. Y/N Y/L/N, the name of a goddess. He is sent by his dad to pick up something to eat at The Wreck and this is when he sees her next. She is whipping down a table on the far side of the room, which makes him switch course toward her. JJ spots Rafe’s new direction and runs into his path with a smirk. “I’m sorry, man. I can’t let you near her.” “You can’t tell me what to do, Pogue,” Rafe spits out, standing up straight so the small height distance looks a little bigger. JJ wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand to try to hide his chuckle, “When it comes to her, I can. Now, as the French say, arrivederci.” Rafe is going to argue more, but the call of his name for his order pulls him away from the blonde.
——
It felt like fate when he got to the coffee shop to see her hunched over a notebook by herself. He looks around the store to check that she really is alone and no other pogue is in sight. He grins at this new revelation, sliding himself across from her in the booth. “I’ve been trying to introduce myself for weeks. I’m Rafe,” he sticks his hand out for her to shake. She brings her hand to his and he notices that although they are calloused, they are still supple, “I know your name silly. And I know you know that you have been trying. My friends don’t keep things from me.”
“Right, so you’ve just been making me chase after you on purpose.”
“You know, Rafe, you are the one with the name that means counsel of the wolf in Old Norse. I’m starting to see that it is a pretty accurate name.”
“You are just as smart as I thought you were because I have no idea what you mean.”
She finds his honesty cute, “I’m saying that wolves are predators and you have been chasing after me like a pray for weeks.” He likes that she isn’t condescending when she explains the joke to him. “Ahh, I totally understood that. Please, keep blessing me with your wisdom.”
——
Rafe has been talking and texting Y/N for a month now and he is finally convinced they are not going to be caught hanging out together by the other Pogues. This means he is finally going to ask her to go steady with him because he is assured they can go on a date without being caught. She stares at her TV show while his head is resting on her thigh near her stomach. He is between her legs and his focus is on his phone. “Y/N,” he catches her attention. “I want to be your boyfriend.” His tone is practically begging her to say yes. She looks down at him with a soft smile and her fingers lace through his hair. “Rafey, I would love for you to be my boyfriend. But I don’t think there is going to be much of a difference in our relationship,” she confides, twirling his hair between her fingers.
“Why not?”
“I don’t think you can get any more clingy than this, Rafey.”
“True, but there is something I can start craving more than your touch, Baby”
He lifts his head off her thigh and brings himself to hover over Y/N. He gives her a peck before moving in to deepen the kiss. His hands find the buttons of her shirt as he begins kissing his way down her neck. Forget about her laughter, her moans are the most amazing thing he has ever heard.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x y/n#outer banks fanfiction#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#rafe x reader#outerbanks rafe#outer banks rafe#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader#outerbanks#outer banks x y/n#outer banks x you#obx#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#obx fic#obx x reader#obx x you#obx x y/n
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CW: Force feeding, extreme feeding and weight gain, bdsm, intox, masochism/sadism
"Dang, she's really going to give it to me this time," you say looking at your calorie tracker app. You forgot to track your lunch today because you went out with a friend. "Oh well, time to face the music" you say as you get out of your car and make your way into the house.
The smell of cooking food fills the house and makes your stomach growl, which wouldn't have been out of place on Thanksgiving. But today was a Friday evening in May. You'd only seen her cook this way once before and that was the most full you had ever been in your life. She must be pissed with you. As you make your way into the kitchen, you see her busy by the stove. At the table are 2 chairs: one with a rope bondage system and one with a packed bong.
"Oh, you're home! Did you have a good day at work?"
"Yeah, at lunch I went to go visit my friend and...."
"And what?" she interrupted. "And...forgot to log your meal?" she walks over to you and lifts up your shirt, revealing the chubby belly that she had been building for the past couple months. "This doesn't look like a belly that ate everything it was supposed to. I'd ask you what you had to say for yourself but I honestly don't care. You know the rules, now it's time for your punishment." Her voice was calm and collected, but you could see in her face how much she had been waiting for this. She was going to enjoy watching you struggle.
"You know what to do. Take off your shirt and go sit down. Dinner is almost ready." She says and goes back to her preparations. You do as you're told and sit in the chair next to the bong. It seems like forever waiting for her to be ready. All the while your stomach will not stop growling for her delicious food.
Finally, she walks over and grabs the rope from the other chair and uses it to tie you down around the ankles, wrist and waist. The loop around your waist is already digging into your newfound soft tummy. Then she picks up the bong and holds it up to your lips. Obediently, you take a hit as she lights it. She then holds it back up to your lips and orders "Another one." You're so screwed.
When she walks over with the food your mouth starts to water. In any other situation you would call yourself spoiled. There was a spread of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts, buttery corn on the cob, dinner rolls and gravy.
"This is what you get for not holding up your end of our agreement. You told me you wanted me to make you fat and I told you to do everything I say," She says as she starts shoveling the food in your mouth. "And what did I tell you to do?"
"Track my f-umph" you start but she shoves another bite in your mouth before you could finish.
"So if you know what I asked you to do, why didn't you do it? Did you want to make me mad? Or are you just to stupid to follow directions?"
"I didn't mea-umph," it seemed like she was shoveling bigger bites into your mouth and you were struggling to keep up.
"Stupid little pigs like you don't have anything meaningful to say. Just shut up, any time you spend talking could be spent chewing." She cracks open a bottle of beer and sticks it in your mouth. You take a couple gulps then start breathing through your nose to recover for a second. "Nuh-uh, No cheating," she says in a singsong voice and plugs your nose with her fingers.
"She's trying to suffocate me," you think to yourself. You're already getting really full and your not sure how much of the beer you can keep down. You can either choke on it and drink it. She'll probably punish you if you choke.
It seems like forever while you chug the bubble beverage. Eventually, the bottle is empty. You drop it an let it clatter to the floor. You try to catch your breath but are interrupted by burps from the expanding liquid in your belly. When you finally collect yourself enough to comprehend your surroundings through your weed induced haze, you see her smiling, standing over you. There was a crazy look in her eyes you had never seen before. Something awoke in her, something primal, something dangerous. Being strapped to this chair and too high and stuffed to move, you feel like she's fattening up her prey.
She leans forward to gently rub your over stuffed gut, then you kisses your neck and whispers in your ear, "That's my good piggy. I'll give you a second to rest. After all, hehehe, you'll get a stomach ache if you don't pace yourself. And since you decided to break your end of the deal on a Friday I have all weekend to make you suffer." She grabs your face and holds it close hers. Looking into her eyes you can tell how badly she wants to ruin you. It almost seems like she's becoming obsessed with making you fat and losing her grip on reality. "Let's see if your 'friend' that you met for lunch today, who was so important that you would DARE to disobey me, will even recognize you by Monday."
#wg encouragement#wg fantasy#wg fiction#wg text#immobile#death feederism#feedee belly#death feedist#bd/sm masochist#bd/sm sadist#feeding kink
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The Danger Zone (Part 18) - Hangman
Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC
Word Count: 3.9k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.
Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Military Inaccuracies; Medical Inaccuracies; Crying; Angst; Family Drama; Deployments; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description
Summary: You try to adapt to life without Jake beside you anymore.
Series Master List
Master List
Dear Jake,
You probably haven’t even reached the aircraft carrier yet. You might even still be on the ground in Miramar. But I couldn’t wait. I miss you. You’ve been gone for less than five hours, and I already miss you so much. I'm not saying that to try and make you feel bad, but because it's the only thing on my mind now.
Everyone offered to take me out today to try and distract me, but I declined. I think that I just want some time to myself. I honestly don't even want to get out of bed. Maybe I’ll do some cleaning. Or who knows? Maybe I’m an accomplished knitter who hasn’t discovered her talent yet. Or maybe I’ll bake again. I don’t know.
Also, all of the tee shirts you left behind are now mine. Sorry, it’s just wife rules. You shouldn’t have married me and knocked me up if you didn’t want me to steal your stuff.
I miss you. I love you. And so does our little girl. Come home safe, Lieutenant Commander. That’s an order.
Love,
Your Wife
~~~~~
Dear Jake,
I went back to work today. Everyone tried to talk to me about you and the wedding and everything, but I just wanted to be left alone. Also, my cravings are all over the place now. And half of the stuff seems to make me throw up these days. Luckily, I still have the gum and toothbrush in my desk.
How’s everything? I assumed that you made it to the carrier by now. Or maybe you’re somewhere else entirely.
You know all of those spy movies over romanticize how sexy it is to be waiting at home for your husband to return home from some top secret mission.
It’s not sexy. It’s just annoying.
Here’s a photo of me and my bump. Don’t mind the mess in the background, I’m rearranging the whole apartment. Call it nervous organizing. It'll be cleaned up. Eventually.
She’s been a shy ever since you left. I can still feel her moving around, but even she seems to have realized that you're gone. I think that she just misses you. And I can’t blame her because I miss you too.
I love you, Jake. Come home safely.
Love,
Your Wife
~~~~~
Dear Jake,
I got the package that you bought for me. I hope that you know that if you were here, I would have given you a rerun of that time that we went to that desert concert. The one where you wouldn't remove your hands from my waist for a second. I hope that your big promotion doesn’t change how much you enjoyed it when I tied your hands up back in your truck.
Our daughter’s been moving around like crazy today ever since I played your voice for her. She doesn’t seem to be willing to kick yet, but we’ll get there in time.
I let Emma take me out today. We just took a walk around her neighborhood. Baby girl finally went to bed after that. But knowing her, she’ll wake up just in time for me to go to bed.
Here’s our photo from today. Emma took it. I can’t believe I’m going to get even bigger. You owe me a deep tissue massage on my back when you get home. And I’ll hold you to it.
We love you and miss you, Jake.
Love,
Your Wife
~~~~~
Dear Jake,
I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved in with Mav today. I thought I wanted to be alone, but I was wrong. Being alone with my thoughts just makes me sad and lonely and I don’t want our daughter to bake in that. She needs to inherit your smile and dimples, so I’m making a bigger effort to be happy.
Penny took me to get my nails done today. I got a light pink for our daughter, but now everyone’s assuming that we’re having a girl. I haven’t confirmed it because we didn’t discuss it before you left but don’t be shocked when you come home to a lot of pink.
I also started seriously researching some girl names. I never realized how many people I don’t like until I started trying to name our daughter. And you better speak up if any of the ones that I suggest are ones that have bad meanings to you.
I’m still digging through a whole bunch of lists but there’s such weird ones out there, Jake. And we cannot name our child something that would get us a look from her teachers. Or a stripper name.
I love you. Baby girl is behaving herself, but she misses you.
Love,
Your Wife
~~~~~
To My Beautiful Wife,
I finally got a chance to check my email. We’re settled on the carrier now, but we’ve been doing a lot of drills and long briefings. I'm sorry that I haven't written earlier. Know that the two of you are always on my mind.
I’m glad you got your gift. I tried to record what I could think of for our baby girl. I don’t want her to miss anything. And I don’t want her keeping you up at night. Has she kicked yet? By my count, you’re hitting seven months in a day or two.
Thanks for sending me those photos. I put up one of the two of you from that photo shoot in my plane. Really brightens up the place. But it also reminds me of what I’m missing. Sometimes I have to take it down so I can focus.
I miss you. I miss our little girl. Every day, every hour, every second.
Try to relax. I know that everyone’s probably told you that a thousand times by now, but I don’t want you feeling stressed about me. I’m fine and I'll be home as soon as I can. Please tell me that you didn’t lift anything heavy while you were moving into Mav’s house. Or maybe it's better if you don't tell me.
And you can tell everyone about her. I don’t mind. It’s not like we could keep it a secret for much longer anyways. But make sure to mention that I was right.
And you have to tell me the worst names that you've seen on these lists. I left a list of baby names I liked in my nightstand. I'd research them when I couldn't sleep at night.
I love you and I love our daughter. I’ll try to be home soon.
Your Husband,
Jake
~~~~~
Dear Jake,
I had my seven month appointment today. Baby girl is healthy and still measuring a little small. But her heartbeat is strong and I can tell that she’s going to be stubborn coming out. The doctor says that it’s only a matter of time before she starts kicking.
I hope that the ocean isn’t too rough and you can see the stars. I remember when Mav and I spent a month in Hawaii when I was a teenager. We saw the most beautiful stars there. What if we picked a star name for our daughter? Not Stella, though. That was our dog's name growing up and I can't name my daughter after a dog.
I didn’t lift anything. Mav wouldn’t let me. And neither would Bradley. They’re watching me like hawks these days. And no, I didn’t mean that as a bird joke. Also, I can’t name our daughter after a bird. I’m trying to end the family streak of joke names.
Mckeighleigh was the most ridiculous looking name I’ve seen so far. And we’re not naming our daughter Precious either. Or worse, Chastity. I don’t know how those nurses keep a straight face when they hear those names.
And your recording telling her to go to bed has come in handy lately. Though I did warn her that we’ll be discussing the fact that she only seems to listen to you about that when she comes out.
I love you so much Jake. You’ll be home soon, I know it. And we’ll be waiting for you when you do.
Love,
Your Wife
~~~~~
Dear Jake,
I can't fall asleep, so I’m writing to you instead. And no, it wasn’t our baby girl who kept me up. I’ve had the worst heartburn these days. And Tums don’t do shit. They say that means that our daughter will come out with a full head of hair. I say that I'd take a bald baby in exchange for better sleep.
My baby shower is in a few days. Next weekend. Emma and Phoenix said that it was going to be relatively small, and I hope that they stick to it. I’m not really in the mood to see a lot of people anymore.
I yelled at Bradley the other day for making an omelet with three eggs because he left an egg in the carton without a 'friend' because he left an egg alone in its row since there was an odd number of eggs. Apparently, I kept crying about it for a while, but in all honesty, I don’t really remember much of that conversation. I’m pretty sure that Bradley’s keeping his distance now. You probably would have enjoyed seeing his face.
I asked for a little box at my baby shower to put name suggestions in. I’m running out of ideas. I keep worrying that we’re going to name her something stupid.
Baby girl is growing bigger, and I can’t believe that I’m still going to get fatter. I’m struggling to grab things off of the floor now. Maverick got me one of those grabby things that old people use. You would probably find it hilarious.
I love you. I miss you. I’ll write to you tomorrow.
Love,
Your Wife
~~~~~
“Thank you,” you told Emma as she handed you a lemonade.
Emma and Penny took you out for the day to spend some time out of Mav’s house. You were growing increasingly less interested in leaving your 'nest,' as Bradley nicknamed it, and they were trying their best to get you motivated to go out and continue to live your life.
You had done some shopping for a dress to wear to your baby shower and now the three of you were getting a snack before you’d head over to the Hard Deck for the rest of the afternoon. You chatted for a moment before you sighed, slowly got to your feet, and grabbed your purse from your chair.
“Bathroom?” Emma asked you.
“Where else?” you joked, walking off.
A few minutes later, as you were washing your hands at the sink, you looked up when another woman stepped inside the bathroom. You offered her a friendly smile before her familiarity suddenly struck you. Quickly drying your hands, you reached for your bag and turned to leave. But the woman stood directly in your path.
She had stripes of gray cutting through what appeared to be deep auburn hair. She carried herself with a sense of purpose. And an expensive handbag. She reminded you of some of the women you used to see at the country club that you worked at in college. The type who turned a blind eye when their pig husbands made some demeaning comment to the women on staff and were never seen without some kind of drink in their perfectly manicured hands.
“You know who I am?” Georgia Seresin asked softly.
You stared her down, gripping the strap of you bag tightly. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you could practically feel the rhythm in your ears. Taking a breath and releasing it, you tilted your chin up and narrowed your eyes at her.
“What are you doing here?” you demanded quietly, looking around the small public bathroom. No one else was in there except for the two of you. “Are you stalking me?”
“I came to California when my son didn’t respond to my letter.”
“I wonder why?” you wondered sarcastically.
“What did he tell you?”
“Everything,” you stated firmly. “Which is why I would appreciate it if you stopped acting like it was just a coincidence that you ran into me here, hundreds of miles from your home, when Jake is conveniently deployed.” You paused for a moment before repeating through gritted teeth, “Why are you here?”
“To talk to you. About my son.”
“What about your son?”
“I know that your child isn’t here yet, but when they’re born, perhaps you can understand how much pain it could cause a mother to miss out on their child’s wedding or the process of them expecting their first child. From a mother to a mother—”
“—I’m going to stop you right there.”
You tried to keep your tears of anger in as you thought about Jake’s expression when he told you about his childhood. When you thought about the pain that you could hear in his tone, that you could feel radiating off of him.
“Because a woman who calls herself a mother would never do the things that you did. You stole him from a poor girl who loved him. You lied to her, promising that you would take care of him and love him. And then you turned around and fed him to the wolves." Nostrils flaring and angry tears threatening to fall, you added, "Did you ever even tell him that you loved him?"
“Of course, we did,” she admonished.
“Did you? Did you tell him that you were proud of him? That you loved him no matter what happened?” you snapped, trying to keep your voice even. “Every night my mom told me that she loved me and that she was proud of me. How many times did you tell Jake that, Georgia? How is a child supposed to just know that if you don’t tell them?” Shaking your head as you let out a shaky breath, you turned back to her. “And just so you know, there won’t be a day where Jake doesn’t tell our child that he loves them. Not one.”
Georgia adjusted her handbag on her shoulder and pursed her lips together. Clearly, she wasn’t used to being spoken to in this manner, but you didn’t give a shit about her feelings.
“Did you come here to convince me to talk Jake into speaking to you again? To buy my baby from me? A combination of the two? Does your husband know that you’re here? Is he waiting outside?”
Georgia took another moment to compose herself from your questions. She glanced down at the rings on your finger before meeting your gaze again.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Jake selected a woman as . . . outspoken as you,” Georgia stated, adjusting her handbag again. “No, my husband does not know that I’m here. And I’m not here to buy my grandchild. I’m here to try and get through to my son and I’ve realized that the best way to do that would be through you. The woman he married and is having a child of his own with.”
Your eyes flashed with annoyance at Georgia's words.
“I have no interest in having a relationship with you because Jake doesn’t have an interest in it.”
“There’s nothing I can do to persuade you to speak with him about me?” Georgia pressed, an edge of desperation in her tone.
“No, there’s not.”
“You would deny your child a set of grandparents?”
“I will protect my child from people who hurt their father.”
Forcing yourself to take a breath, you stared down Georgia for a moment. She looked far more pathetic than you knew she was comfortable with. Apparently, she thought that she would just waltz in, and you would agree with her without any pushback.
But she couldn't have been more wrong.
“You know, when Jake told me about his upbringing, I honestly felt a bit of sympathy for you, Georgia. Maybe you were convinced that being a rich housewife to a pathetic little man was a better life than being loved by a poor man. And I’m sure that your husband hasn’t been kind to you over the years.”
The rage flashed to the surface again as she turned away from you for a moment.
“But how could you look another woman in the eye and convince her to hand over an innocent baby to a man that you knew would be a horrible father? That you knew would hurt that baby?”
After a moment, you walked past Georgia, who did not move to block your path this time. You opened the door and strode out of there and you didn't dare look back. Trying to gather yourself, you looked up to see Emma and Penny a few steps away from you.
“Are you okay? We were getting worried," Emma questioned with clear concern.
“Fine. Let’s get going to the Hard Deck,” you stated, already turning towards the parking lot.
“What happened?” Penny asked, studying your expression. You didn’t reply and just kept marching towards the parking lot until Penny rested a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to slow down. “You’re shaking. What’s wrong?”
“Jake’s mom walked into the bathroom,” you explained quietly, looking over your shoulder.
“What?"
“She knew where you were?” Penny asked urgently, looking around with a protective stare. Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, she encouraged you forward again. “Come on, let’s get going.”
~~~~~
Maverick’s face darkened after you finished with your explanation about what happened at the mall. Grabbing his phone, he got up from the table with a serious expression.
“I’m going to make a call,” he stated firmly. “They can’t stalk you and your child. I don’t care who the hell that they think they are in Texas. That’s not going to fly out here. That’s not going to continue.”
“Who are you calling?” you asked as Maverick walked off.
“An old contact. I’ll be right back.”
Penny told you to just let Mav make the call as the remaining four of you remained seated at the table. You twisted your engagement ring around your finger nervously, sharing a look with Emma and Bradley, who sat across from you.
“She didn’t try to hurt me—”
“—Doesn’t matter,” Bradley interjected quickly. “It’s creepy and it’s over the line and it’s going to stop. Now. Just let Mav make his call. He'll handle it.”
“I know,” you sighed, holding your head in your hands. “Jake is going to freak out when I tell him.”
“You’re going to tell him right away?”
“I can’t hide it from him. It might take me some time to find the words, but I have to tell him.”
Penny hugged you to her side and rubbed your back with her hand, giving you the maternal support that you really needed in that moment. You sighed and leaned against her, desperately wishing that Jake would be home soon.
“Everything will be alright. We’re going to figure this out.”
~~~~~
Dear Jake,
I hope that everything is running smoothly where you are. And that you read this email sooner rather than later.
Penny and Emma took me to the shops yesterday and when I was trying to leave the bathroom, I ran into your mother. She came up from Texas and she told me that she wanted to talk to me about you. Said something about using me to convince you to talk to her again. I told her that I wasn’t interested in that because you weren’t interested in that. She let me leave after that.
I don’t want to stress you out or make you feel like you have to do anything when you’re so far away, but I wanted to be honest with you. Mav’s made a few calls and he seems to think that he has a solution. Don’t stress about us, just focus on your mission and coming home safely in one piece.
We love you, Jake. And we’re safe, we’re fine. And we miss you.
Love,
Your Wife
~~~~~
Folding some fresh laundry in Maverick's house a few days later, you looked up when you heard your phone buzz. An unknown number was calling you and despite your hesitation, you answered it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Honey.”
“Jake?” you whispered out shakily, holding a hand to your mouth. Moving to sit, you tried to calm yourself down and not just simply sob. “How are you calling me?”
“I have my ways,” Jake replied teasingly. Growing more serious, he asked, “Are you alright?”
“We’re fine, Jake.”
“I’m so sorry, Honey. She never should have been anywhere near the two of you.”
“We’re fine,” you repeated softly. “She didn’t threaten us. If anyone was threatening anyone, it was me.”
“That’s my wife,” Jake praised, causing you to smile bashfully. “But my father wasn’t there, right? It was just my mother?”
“Yeah. She said that he didn’t know that she was there, and I didn’t see him around.”
“Good. I’ll deal with them when I get home.”
“Okay.” After a moment you asked, “How much longer do you have?”
“Less than a minute. I’m sorry, Honey, I just needed to know that the two of you were okay. They thought that I was having some kind of stroke when I read your email and I managed to convince them to let me call you.”
“At least one good thing came out of the whole shitshow,” you sighed, resting a hand on your bump. “I love—”
You froze when you felt your daughter press her foot against your hand. Jake felt his heart leap into his throat when you cut yourself off and stop talking without a clear reason.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“She’s kicking,” you whispered softly.
“What?”
“Jake, she’s kicking. Our daughter is kicking!”
“She’s kicking?”
“Yes, she’s kicking,” you laughed, before your joy dimmed and tears pooled in your eyelids. Sniffling, you croaked out, “I love you so much, Jake. We love you so much.”
“I love you too. And I miss you so fucking much, Honey. And I’m so sorry that I’m not there.”
“Hangman, time’s up,” Jake heard from behind him, causing him to look over his shoulder.
“I’ve got to go, Honey,” he replied, grinding his jaw to try and stave off the tears. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too. Bye, Jake.”
The line went dead, and you slowly placed your phone down. Holding your hand to your mouth, you finally let out your sobs. And about a thousand emotions that you'd tried keeping in ever since Jake was forced to leave you.
Your daughter was finally kicking, but her father wasn’t here to feel her. And the thought only made you sob harder.
Back on the carrier, Jake rubbed the tears that leaked from his eyes.
He missed it. He fucking missed it. He missed his daughter kicking for the first time. He wasn’t there when his mother showed up out of nowhere and accosted you in a public bathroom. He wasn’t going to be there for your baby shower.
Jake had anticipated that deploying while you were heavily pregnant was going to be difficult. But he didn’t realize that it was going to be impossible, killing him slowly from the inside out.
“Hangman?”
“I’m coming,” Jake called back, clearing his throat. “I’m coming.”
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#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick#top gun: maverick#top gun#tgm fanfiction#tgm#jake hangman seresin#the danger zone#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x you#jake seresin#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman series#jake seresin fic#hangman x wife!reader#hangman fic#jake seresin fanfiction
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I need a 3rd part with Nate soooo bad
SINFUL DESIRES (part three)
read part one here
read part two here
read part four here
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nate x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re going on a date this weekend! oh, and the date is your arch nemesis… so you say.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing, friendly banter
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 704
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: second anon i kid you not i wrote this in the afternoon and had it in my drafts to post later and when i saw that in my inbox i was gobsmacked LMAO
ANYWAY thank you sm and here is the awaited part three💕
the mirror placed on the wall next to your front door has your reflection on it as you fix up your hair and lipgloss.
you still cannot fathom that you’re going on a date with nathan doe.
well, he didn’t want to admit that it was a date. he said — and quote — “we should go get something to eat this weekend. dress fancy, too!”
the ringing of the doorbell echoes through the foyer, and you give one last peek at yourself before opening the door.
nate’s dressed in a white dress shirt, black dress pants, and shoes. he has a small bouquet of tulips in his hand, your favorite flowers ever since you were little.
he remembered.
his eyes scan your body that’s hugged with a sage green dress that has some poof to it, daisies embroidered on it. the sleeves are off the shoulders, and gold jewelry decorates your ears and neck. “well, well, well. look who came to their enemy’s doorstep holding presents. how thoughtful.”
“oh, shut up. i’m here to pick you up for our date.”
his hand never left your thigh as he drove to the restaurant, and you hate to admit that the feeling made you blush.
he opens the door for you, and you step out to admire the exterior. the lights around it are dim and the colors of the building are warm earthy colors. it’s definitely an italian restaurant. also your favorite ever since you were a kid.
he remembered that, too.
the hostess brings you guys to the table, and you get settled as the both of you look through the menus.
“you look very beautiful tonight,” he says, peeking at you from above the menu since they're bigger than your heads.
you hide your smile with a lip bite. “thank you. you look handsome.”
he chuckles, tapping your foot from under the table. the waiter comes over, places your orders, and takes the menus.
nate leans on the table to admire you, smiling as you start talking. “do you know what we should do after this?”
“what should we do, pretty?”
man. that nickname’s starting to grow on you.
you grin. “we should go to barnes and noble. i need more books.”
“you don’t need more books.” he rolls his eyes. “nerd alert.”
he lets out a sound of pain when you kick him under the table. “nate, please? for me?” you give him puppy dog eyes along with a fake pout.
he crosses his arms. “we’re not going to fucking barnes and noble.”
you went to barnes and noble. you drag nate behind you by the pinky, smiling when the whiff of books hits you.
you go over to the young adult section, skimming through them to find a book that’ll interest you.
he’s leaning against the bookshelf, staring in awe. he doesn’t understand how one can love books so much, but it’s okay because it’s you.
when you find a book you like, you go over to the counter. “hello!” you greet, placing the object on the counter.
the cashier scans it, tapping a few buttons on the screen in front of her. “that’ll be $21.00.”
you go to reach for your card, but hear a BEEP and look up, seeing nate’s card inserted into the machine. “you already paid for dinner.” you say lowly.
he nudges you with his arm, taking out his card. “do you have a pen by chance?” he asks the woman, using his hand to portray a writing motion.
she gives one to him, and he moves you so you’re behind him. he starts to write something in your book, and you jump to try to look over his shoulder. it’s no use.
“na—”
“thank you.” he smiles, giving the pen back and grabbing your book. “let’s go.”
when you guys get comfortable in the car, you sigh. “what’d you write in it?”
he stares deep into your eyes, taking the book off of his lap and handing it to you without saying another word.
you hesitantly open it, and a small message written in blue pen is revealed on the inside cover.
y/n,
will you officially be my girlfriend?
circle one:
yes or yes
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts
#nate doe#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nathan doe#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#nate doe smut#nate doe fanfic#sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo fluff#nate doe fluff#✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!
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✨️Bodhi durran ✨️ that's it.
BUT ALSO
Imagine him being the most amazing boyfriend. I don't know if you have seen lockwood and co on Netflix but that scene where lockwood dresses Lucy's wounds and is looking dead ass deep in her soul smiling, my god bodhi material.
To get to my point if you could write a one shot of bodhi finding out you're injured and going ballistic to anyone that let her out of their sight and got hurt and then finding you trying to wrap your wounds and instantly going all soft and helping I would be forever in your debt
Ps. If you haven't watched lockwod and co it's absolutely worth it.
I haven't watched the show so if this isn't exactly how you pictured this, I apologize✨🤍
Worries
"Where is she?", Bodhi yanked onto one of the recruits, who was in the same formation as you, shirt up. The poor lad looked like he was about to shit himself at best as he stumbled over words. The thing was... Bodhi was fun and games until he wasn't. And that wasn't part come a lot sooner than expected. Considering that the past weeks of him being a section leader had been rather calm. But that sorry fuck just had to show off. Had to break formation. Had to try to prove his piss poor ego and get you hurt.
"You're speechless all of a sudden?", Bodhi shook the guy in his grip, "Answer the goddamn question before you end up like a roasted chicken on the solstice table". You could hear a pin dropping in the background that's how silent the squad had gotten. "I think I saw her entering the building", some other recruit cut in. Bodhi narrowed his eyes, "You think or you saw?", shoving the quivering male he stepped aside sizing everyone up.
"You weak shits better listen and better listen well", he practically growled through gritted teeth. His first instinct was to run after you. He saw the blood gushing from your hand after the coalition. But he also knew his title. Causing a bigger scene than necessary would only turn heads your way. And neither of you needed that. Neither of you wanted to become a target leading to one another. "If any of you will ever do anything similar to what Marco did today", Bodhi grunted. Gods, he felt like Xaden. "I will skin you myself and believe me your dragons will smoke you alive. Dismissed", he practically roared as the recruits hurried away. Bodhi ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair.
"She is up in your room", the voice made Bodhi jolt slightly. Garrick was leaning against one of the pillars. "I passed her, she's fine, man", Garrick continued to speak since Bodhi just stood there, "You did well here too. More and more like our beloved Xaden every day". He knew it was a dig. The two cousins had been compared ever since their interactions were brought to the daylight. "Why don't you go fuck yourself", Bodhi grunted as he walked past his friend. "Gets boring after a while", Garrick chirped in return. Bodhi simply snarled but that of course earned a satisfied chuckle from Garrick.
"Show it to me", the sudden bag of the door practically hitting the wall and the raised voice made you drop the blood-soaked rag. You knew Bodhi was gonna find you eventually. Your dragon was practically counting the minutes for you ever since you had flown back first and dismounted. "Bodhi, it's okay", you tried to keep your voice calm. The wound wasn't all that bad it was the angle and the damaged tissue of the skin that caused it to bleed so much. "Don't you it's okay, me", he grunted, "Show me", his voice was lethal low. He never used that tone with you. It was his section leader's voice. The voice he gave a report in. But it never was showcased around the people he trusted and cared for.
"There's nothing to look at it's...", "I didn't ask, I gave you an order", he cut in, grabbing your upper arm gently so he could look at the damage himself. Bodhi's eyebrows knitted together for a moment, his jaw flexed. "Sit", he muttered motioning towards the bed. "Bodhi", you breathed out. "Baby, I swear to everything holy to me", he exhaled a shaky breath, "you either sit or I am carrying to the healer's wing and will put you on bed rest for a week". You huffed at his threat but you knew that he wasn't bluffing so you followed his orders.
Bodhi was so gentle as he carefully wiped away some of the blood before pressing a clean bandage on your cut, securing it in place. Make sure it's tight for a couple of hours before the bleeding slows down. He would redo it in a couple of hours. Wash it off with a salve he would go ask for. Then another bandage. Then... "Bodhi, I can hear you making plans in your head", you muttered. It was cute watching him fuss at times. It was his way of showing love but you also knew that his head was a wild space and it only took one bad thought to have it all spiraling out of control. "Does it hurt a lot? Do you need something for the pain?", he asked, his concerned eyes searching yours. "Start by giving me a hug and then sit down with me", you said softly, "I promise, I'm fine". You reached out for him, taking his hand into yours, squeezing it.
"I just hate seeing you hurt", Bodhi breathed out, his shoulders drooping. "The feeling is mutual but there are times we can't do anything about it", you reached to run your fingers through his messy curls. That now was completely out of control since he no doubt had been pulling at them. "Do we have a murder scene in the backyard?", you nudged your boyfriend's shoulder, making him snort. "Not yet but we might...", Bodhi exhaled, turning to face you.
"You promise you're okay?", you met his worried gaze but this time instead of answering him you just leaned in and kissed him. Slowly and tenderly. Letting him feel your love. "Good enough proof?", you asked when you two finally broke apart. "Not sure... maybe a couple more kisses", Bodhi thoughtfully nodded his head. You giggled slightly before cupping his face once more.
#bodhi durran#bodhi durran x reader#bodhi durran imagine#bodhi durran x you#bodhi durran fourth wing#bodhi durran iron flame#bodhi durran fourth wing imagine#fourth wing imagine#fourth wing x reader#iron flame imagine#iron flame x reader
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OOOH can we get a lil' something for Yoongi from even days?
Of course, I won't let you guys starve haha (pls don't hate me) Warnings for obvious NSFW content oops..
It's quiet. So quiet, in fact, that you could swear you can hear the watch on his wrist click with ever second passing, mechanical clockwork spinning and moving with time passing by. Then, he chuckles. Lowly so, almost like the purr of a tiger.
He's pleased. Entertained, even. Amused.
"Come here." He orders with a gentle tone, no need for harsh dominance because you're perfectly behaving. Sometimes, you don't.
Because sometimes, you want him to punish. Sometimes, you need the harsh sting of his hands on you. Sometimes, you aim to misbehave. But today, you don't. Today, you just want to please, and beloved in return for it.
A simple exchange. Your efforts for his affection.
You stand in front of him. It's yet again quiet as he observes you, only sound coming from his hands inspecting your body, fingers easily pulling your shirt over your head, before they untangle the knot holding your shorts up your waist. He pulls them down. You step out of them in trained movements. He smiles.
You're just such a good girl for him, most of the time.
He knows what you want. Why you want this in particular, why you need it. And it falls in place perfectly with his own desires and wants, two puzzle pieces aligning into one bigger picture. You're just what he wants, and he's just what you need.
Security. Comfort. Guidance.
Someone to take the control, lead you and take away the burden of decisions and choices. He's your master, your king, your everything, and you've chosen that for yourself years prior. You wouldn't want anyone else ever again.
Never.
"Sit." He orders next, has made space for you on his desk in front of him, and you do as he says, as you sit right in front of him on the cool wooden surface. He reaches out, observes you for a second, before his fingers curl into the opposite ends of the front of your simple black panties. Yoongi has been working out these days. It's evident to you, the change. But his hands had always been big, and strong.
One of your favorite features of his, right after his eyes.
Fabric rips, gives up quickly at the way he pulls it apart, your already wet cunt exposed to him, and your toes curl for a second in anticipation. It's a gamble, right now, because Yoongi doesn't just eat you out, or maybe give you a handjob.
You'll either be a crying mess at the end of this, skin slick with sweat from your body trying to handle orgasm after orgasm, or you'll be begging for your release, anything to get him to grant you at least one high without ruining it for his own fun.
You wonder what you'll get. Both sound absolutely amazing to you.
He can see your aching hole already clenching around nothing, hand reaching out to have his fingers spread you out further, just to enjoy the sight a little longer. His thumb collects some of your arousal, moves upwards to flick your clit, and he watches how your lower stomach tenses up, body fighting the urge to flinch.
And then, you drip.
One single drop of your essence, falling onto the carpeted floor of his office, right between his shoes.
His lips twitch upwards, eyes moving towards yours, as you look at him with the eyes of cornered prey.
Oh he knows exactly what he's going to do to you.
And he will enjoy every second of it.
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts smut#yoongi imagine#yoongi smut#bts yoongi imagine#min yoongi imagines#min yoongi imagine#yoongi imagines#yoongi drabble
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sit on my face ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★
plussize!reader x mike schmidt blurb
MINORS DNI I HAVE A BAT
⊹ ࣪ ˖ mentions; plussize!reader, cum eating, munch!mike, oral sex (reader receiving), gender neutral reader (with female parts)
⊹ ࣪ ˖ a/n: as a plus size writer this means a lot to me n i hope u guys like it!!
* ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
2:30 am, you wake up in the bed with your boyfriend of 5 months, he was still awake at this hour and it had you worried, you two have sad sex many times and it was amazing each time, but mike proposed something different “now that you’re awake i have something to ask you” he looks rugged, hair messy, shirt crumbled on his frame.
“i want you to sit on my face and let me eat you out” mike looks at you with a serious look on his face
“what?” you rub your eyes as you chuckle a bit, not knowing if he was serious. you’ve always been bigger and your ex boyfriend never wanted to give you head because of your weight, it was dehumanizing. but mike was different, he wanted every part of you, as long as you would let him.
“i want you to sit on my face” he repeats, you know he’s being serious right now. “mike-“ you say as he cuts you off. “listen, i know you’re thinking about it but let me make it clear. i will make it good for you, i just want to give you the utter most satisfaction i can give you. please sit on my face baby”
mike has always loved your chubby stomach, kissing your stretch marks and laying between your legs. he’s joked about wanting you to choke him with your thick thighs before but you laughed it off, saying “i’ll choke you mike” “then i’ll die a legend” he would quickly say back
“alright i’ll sit on your face but promise me you actually want this” you laugh at him. “more than anything. i need it and i know you do too.” he looks at you, his brown eyes being swarmed by the black of his pupils. lust fills him as you take off your shirt, exposing your breasts to him. “what a sight” his eyes darting up and down from your breasts to your thighs
“are you sure you really want this?” you ask him. as the words come out of your mouth his head nods up and down while his cheeks flush with red. you take off your shorts and underwear, and mike spreads you legs faster than you’ve ever seen before.
mike starts off with licking a stripe down your already wet pussy as he pushes a finger in, stimulating you, mikes tongue licks around everywhere but your clit and you’re desperate for some friction.
“i’m ready when you are” you say to him. almost immediately he jumps up and lays flat on the bed with his eyes closed. “get on” he orders. you agree and carefully position your legs between his head, hesitant to sit fully down but he insists.
“you sure i’m not gonna kill you right?” you say, genuinely worried. “i swear.”
you sit down completely and he begins. mikes scruff rubs against your legs in a uncomfortable way that just turns you on more, the burning of it between your legs feels so good now.
mike moans unashamed, like he’s getting more out of this than you are. he grabs your hips and pushes you down on his face more, attempting to get as much as you in his mouth as he can, tongue emerged into your wet pussy. “fuck mike” you moan as your shoulders relax and your back curls forwards. mike moans into your cunt and the viberation gets you. mike takes his hands off your hips and guides them to his hands, as he takes both and holds them in front of you.
you’re already to close to release from his tongue inside you, his scruff rubbing against you and him moaning inside you but then he inserts 2 fingers inside of you, curling them inwards repeatedly hitting your g spot and causing you to scream out “fuck mike i’m s’close”
“cum on my face” you hear him mumble. you orgasm as you hold mikes hair and ride it out on his face.
mike comes out from underneath you, face is glistening from your release all over him. you look down and he has a surprising wet patch on his gray sweatpants. you take his lips and suction onto them, getting a taste of your release as well.
* ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
#jersey writes#five nights at freddy's#josh hutcherson#mike shmidt#fanfic#mike schmidt x reader smut#smut#mike schimdt fanfic#mike schmidt headcanons#mike schmidt#josh futterman#plus size reader#afab reader#josh futterman smut#jealousjersey
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teach me your kingly ways
for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'platonic stobin'
rated m
wc: 652
cw: referenced sexual activities
tags: established steddie, awkward robin, buckingham
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"You can't be seriously telling me that if I just walk up to her and ask her out that will work," Robin let her face fall into her hands.
"That's exactly what I'm telling you," Steve said. "It worked on him."
Steve gestured over to where Eddie was nodding along to something Chrissy was saying to him, fond smile on his face.
"That doesn't count!"
"Are you trying to say Eddie's easy?" Steve folded his arms across his chest. "Because it took me another six weeks just to get his shirt off."
"I'm saying he was already in love with you when you asked so obviously he was gonna say yes!" Robin started throwing her arms around as she ranted, forgetting that the object of her desires was standing not too far away. "Chrissy hasn't given me any sign that she likes me and she probably doesn't because I've been throwing signals left and right. I can only tell a girl she looks beautiful so many times before it becomes creepy, dingus!"
"Robs, does she know you're into women?" Steve sighed, starting to get frustrated with Robin's inability to make a move. "Or does she think you're just being a good friend?"
"I can't just tell her I'm into women! Then she'll know."
Steve threw his arms up.
"I hate to break it to you, but if you ever want to touch her boobies, you're definitely gonna have to tell her you like women. Or at least make sure she knows it's not platonic booby touching."
"Please stop saying boobies."
"If you ask her out, I'll stop," Steve smirked, nudging Robin's arm. "I might even offer to go on a double date so it's less awkward for you. Ease you into things."
"Oh, how chivalrous," Robin rolled her eyes. "That doesn't help me, Steve. I'd just be worried that you and Eddie would be so in love and Chrissy would expect me to be smooth or something and I'm not-"
"Hey Robbie," Chrissy was suddenly standing in front of them, beaming at Robin. "Eddie said something you needed to ask me before I head out?"
Steve's head shot over to Eddie, who gave a finger wave and then turned towards the kitchen like he hadn't just made bigger moves than Robin and Steve combined.
"Oh, did he?" Robin chuckled nervously. "I-"
"Oh yeah! The thing!" Steve smacked his own forehead. "Remember? You were gonna ask her to go to that place with you?"
Robin looked like she was about to kill him or pass out, in that order.
"Right, the place."
"What place?" Chrissy looked excited.
Steve threw Robin a thumbs up as he backed away.
"Oh, um, you know that new restaurant downtown? They have these fusion salads that sounded like the ones you make at home and figured maybe you'd wanna go? With me? Sometime?"
It wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worst.
Steve nodded in encouragement as Robin looked at him.
"I didn't know they opened already! I saw they have this plum salad with a ginger vinaigrette, and it sounds so good. I'd love to go!"
"Um, awesome!" Robin stood up straighter. "And it's okay that it's...just us?"
Chrissy leaned in and whispered something in Robin's ear, leaving her face bright red when she pulled away.
"Bye guys!" Chrissy turned and yelled to Steve and Eddie, who was standing beside him watching.
"Why does Robin look like she's gonna black out?" Steve asked Eddie.
"Probably because Chrissy just told her they could hang out at her place after."
"So you've been working that angle this whole time," Steve leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder. "Impressive."
"You should go check on her, she looks pale."
"She's in shock, she just needs a minute."
"Steve!"
"Be right there!" Steve turned to give Eddie a quick kiss on the lips. "Love you, you meddler."
"I come by it honestly, sweetheart."
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddieholidaydrabbles#robin buckley#platonic stobin#chrissy cunningham
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Troublesome Twin: But Daddy I Love Him
Warning list-
hunger games warning, abusive family, mother died in childbirth with the twins, Arachne, Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Gaul, violence, and murder.
I think that’s all, let me know if there’s more!
Word count- 1333
“I need to see Dr. Gaul immediately,” Coryo ordered to a peacekeeper at the lab.
He was escorted to her lab and waited for her to come in.
“Come to beg for her life?” Dr. Gaul asked.
“No,” Coryo explained. “No, my stitches, they broke loose. I didn’t want the doctors asking questions.”
“Come, sit.” Gaul ordered. “Pull your shirt down. This might hurt.” Coryo groaned as Dr. Gaul worked as he watched the birds in the cage. “Jabberjays we call them. We sent them out during the war to pick up rebel conversation, squawk it back to us word for word. Watch. A failed experiment, but an instructive one. I’m rounding them up district by district now to see what better purpose they might serve. I’ll see you in the auditorium for the finale, Mr. Snow. You should be proud of yourself. Your songbird, Lucy Gray, put on a wonderful show. Oh, and do give my god-daughter her dose of morphling. I saw it in your pocket. It’s about time for her to take it. Same as this morning. She needs to take it with food. I’m sure she’s in a lot of pain.”
On his way back Coryo put a handkerchief with Lucy Gray’s scent into the snake cage.
“Coryo,” Y/N asked, when she saw him come back with some food. “Where did you go?”
“To get you some food my love.” Coryo explained, bending down next to her so no one would hear them.
“What really happened?” Y/N asked.
“Just trust me. I went to go see Dr. Gaul to get my stitches fixed up. Now, I need you to eat and take your medicine.”
“Coryo, I’m not hungry.”
“I know, my love, but I need you to eat. Can you do that for me baby? I need to take care of you so you can get better, but in order to do that, you have to listen to me, sweet girl.”
“Okay,” Y/N sighed.
“That’s it, baby.” He smiled, leading a fork with food on it to her mouth for her. “Here.” They heard a noise and looked up. “Lucy Gray, is she okay?”
“She won’t be for long,” someone explained.
“That is not gonna be good,” Lucky explained, as drones flew down with the snake tank.
“Work, please,” Coryo whispered as Y/N squeezed his hand.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if it was candy?” Lucky laughed. The snakes came flying out killing everyone, making all of the watchers gasp. “Oh, not candy! Down goes Wovey.”
“Oh, my gosh.” Y/N breathed, a tear falling down her face.
Everyone watched as the snakes killed everyone but Lucy Gray as she sang to them.
“She… She won.” Coryo explained. “It’s over, she won. She’s won, let her out.”
“Afraid, that’s not your call to make, Mr. Snow.”
“Dr. Gaul, she won. It’s over, let her out. Must be the singing, it’s calming them.”
“She can’t sing forever,” Dr. Gaul let out.
“Val,” Y/N let out tears in her eyes, breaking Dr. Gaul’s heart, as the crowd chanted to let her out. “Please. For me.”
“Get her out.”
“Thank you.” Y/N breathed.
“Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the tenth annual Hunger Games!”
“You did it Coryo!” Y/N smiled, as Coryo picked her up and spinned her in the air, making her laugh.
“We did it my love! I can take care of you for real now.”
“I love you so much!”
“I love you more!” Coryo explained, putting her down and passionately kissing her lips as everyone cheered around them.
“I’m so happy for you Coryo.” Y/N smiled, as they sat in bed that night.
“I’m so happy for us.” He smiled, holding her close to him. “We can finally start having that future we always wanted. We can get things back up and running here, make it look good again.”
“We can buy Grandma’am all of the dresses and chocklett she wants.”
“Tigris doesn’t have to work for scraps to keep us afloat.”
“You don’t have to see your father ever again. We can buy us a bigger bed where we can both comfortably fit.”
“And I can get a dog!”
“I’ll buy you all the dogs you want, baby.”
“We can both go to the University and you can start working your way up to president.”
“And you can work with your God-mother, after I take over her founding instead of your father.”
Y/N gasped as she looked up at him. “You’d do that for me?” She gasped.
“Of course my love. I would do anything for you.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you more. Now, get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”
The two walked hand in hand into Dr. Gaul’s office the next day.
“Do you think we’ll get to see Lucy Gray?” Y/N asked, as she walked in with Coryo.
“I don’t know.” He replied, looking around.
“Lucy Gray?” Y/N called.
“Lucy Gray,” Coryo echoed.
They stopped when they saw what was on the lab table in front of them. Coryo’s compact mirror that now belonged to Y/N and Coryo’s handkerchief.
“Coryo?” Y/N squeaked in a whisper, clutching his hand as tight as she could.
“I warned you, Mr. Snow,” Highbottom let out. “Cheating will be punished. More poetically than even I could have hoped.”
“Lucy Gray,” Coryo let out, slightly stepping in front of Y/N to protect her. “Where is she?”
“I would be more concerned about your own survival if I were you. Or that little toy of yours.” Highbottom explained as Mr. Crain walked in. Y/N’s eyes widened as she watched her father walk in with a murderer's look, and her sorrowful older brother behind him. She looked from her father to her brother to her god-mother, then to Coryo with fear racking her body making her trimble so bad that Coryo had to help her stand.
“It’s fitting that both of your parents could be here for your big moment.” Highbottom continued. “That compact. How many times did I see your mother use it, I wonder… to powder her beautiful face? Come now, we all know that child from 11 didn’t die of disease. Or that lumberjack from 7. And that old handkerchief, we found in the snake tank, apparently condemning you with your father’s own initials. Your family won’t ever see that prize money now of course. President Ravenstill has left your form of punishment up to me, and your little toys up to her father. But for you, I’ve decided banishment to the districts where you’ll serve your Capital in exile for 20 years as an anonymous, peacekeeper grunt.”
“No!” Y/N screamed, trying to charge at Highbottom, but getting help back by Coryo. “No! You can’t do this!” She screamed, tears falling from her face as her boyfriend held her, his heart breaking into a million pieces.
“Do you hear that boy?” Highbottom chuckled as Y/N screamed and cried as her brother went over to grab her. “Finally. The sound of snow falling.”
“NO!” Y/N yelled as peacekeepers dragged Coryo away from her. “Coryo! Coryo!”
“I’ll be fine!” Coryo cried, as he was getting dragged away. “Take care of yourself. I love you!”
“Coryo!” Y/N yelled as her father hit her, making her scream.
“You are a disappointment to the family!” He yelled, pulling on her arm until it broke as she screamed. “And a disappointment to all of Panem!” He yelled, punching her face. “You’re never going to see him ever again. Or anyone for that matter!”
“But Daddy, I love him!” Y/N yelled, like a child as Coryo was struggling to get back to her in the peacekeepers arms as they dragged him through the doors.
“I’m having his baby!” Y/N yelled, unsure of what to do. The doors closed and Coryo was gone as the room went silent for what she said.
tag list here
Tag list: @uglyfish3rman, @Edb954, @joyfulyouthlover, @Warlike-morning, @melodyoflove99, @thatgurljen
#tom blyth fluff#tom blyth fanfiction#tom blyth imagine#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth x you#tom blyth x fem!reader#tom blyth#coriolanus fanfiction#corio snow#coriolanus imagine#coriolanus snow fanfic#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow fluff#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x wife#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#corionalus snow#coryo snow#coryo x reader#suzanne collins#young coriolanus snow#coryo x you#coryo#president snow#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes
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Let Me Strip, Angel
Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of Genitalia and Removal of Clothes
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.5K
Summary: Some drunken games are ones that Y/N really doesn't want to have to clean up after.
Masterlist
How does Y/N know her boyfriend is way too drunk right now? He calls a frat wide hour strip game to order. It doesn’t help that his groupies are encouraging his behaviour. She isn’t jealous of them because she trusts Rafe and knows how much he loves her, but she knows how this game is going to end. Every hour the boys in the fraternity remove one article of clothing of Rafe’s choice until she has to chase after one of the boys to stop him from streaking down a street that should be kept family-friendly. As much as she loves seeing his chiselled abs, she does not want to have to do that again.
The only person that can call off the game is the frat president. “Rafe, can you please call the game off? Some of the boys already have three strikes and will be expelled if they are arrested for streaking,” Y/N begs, trying to take the solo cup out of his hand. He looks at her with loving eyes and gives her neck kisses, “Come on, let me strip, Angel. It’s just a fun little game.” She rolls her eyes at him trying to butter her up with kisses. “Rafey, it’s twelve o’clock. Time to take off your pants,” Beatrice interrupts, flashing her lock screen with the time on it to him. Rafe drunkenly nods his head and tries to pull down his pants. Rafe yells, “Alpha Epsilon Pi! Pants.”
Y/N sighs at the action, helping him unbutton his pants so he can take them off. One problem at the time and streaking is a much bigger problem than a pantless boyfriend. At least they still have both socks to take off first. He cheers like a toddler when he finally gets his pants off. “I want you to wear my pants like a scarf, Angel. Show the boys who you belong to,” he slurs out the demand, wrapping his khaki around her neck. She just shakes her head and unwraps the pants from her neck. She is already sweating with his t-shirt and flannel on. “You know last time you played this game, I chased a naked Topper down the street and had to tackle him. Do you really want me to be that close to his bare dick, again?” she leverages, twirling his pants’ leg in a circle. This news causes Rafe to stop in his tracks; he has totally forgotten that fact.
He sobers up quickly, “You’re right, I don’t want that. I’ll call the game off.” His pout absolutely kills Y/N because she hates to see him sad. “You can keep the game going with the socks but you have to stop at the boxers. Deal?” she offers, ghosting their fingertips together and stepping closer to him. His expression quickly turns to a grin, “Deal. You are the best girlfriend ever, Angel. I love you!” He gives her a quick peck on the lips and runs off screaming how amazing she is to the overcrowded party. She lets out a giggle at her boyfriend’s childishness and heads upstairs to get rid of some of the clothes that are causing her to overheat.
#let me angel#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x y/n#outer banks fanfiction#rafe fanfiction#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron series#rafe obx#outer banks rafe#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#outer banks x reader#outerbanks#outer banks x y/n#outer banks x you#obx#obx imagine#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx x reader
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Crass
Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader
Synopsis: Y/N hates Chris with every fiber in her body, but one night while clubbing things take a turn🤭
Warnings⚠️: SMUTTTTTT, hate sex?? Fucking in a public place, enemies to lovers-ish??? Mann idk it’s just sum sweet for the kids (hope yall know that meme. I do not write for kids)🤞🏽
Song for the imagine: Rude Boy- Rihanna
⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️
I like the way you touch me there
I like the way you pull my hair
Babe, if I don’t feel it I ain’t faking no, no
Can’t remember the last time Chris and I ever got along. He was such a fucking dick always, and I was a bitch. Everyone tried to keep us apart most of the time.
I wasn’t exactly too sure why I hated him. It could be the fact that he thought he was untouchable, hot and his ego was bigger than his fuck ass hair. I really had it out for the guy
I hate any guy who acts like they’re all that, and that their shit doesn't stink. It made my blood boil because who are you? You're a nobody go away. Chris was the textbook definition of this
Actually Chris was the definition of toxic masculinity. Every ick a guy could give you was exactly what Chris was. If some of these girls knew half of who he really was they’d leave his ass in the dirt.
I was Nicks friend, but he came as a package deal with his loving sweet brother Matt, and that fucking gremlin Chris. Usually my interactions with him included me rolling my eyes at him, huffing at his words and full on walking away while he was in the middle of speaking. Because it’s like shut the fuck up, you know?
Tonight Nick asked me to come to the club with them because Nick really wanted to dance. Weird ass request but I agreed…it’s dancing with Nick I had to go
I had gone to the triplets house while they were all getting ready. I let myself in, and walked to Nicks room where Matt and Chris were also at
“Hiii” I said walking in
“Ughhhh” Chris said groaning and throwing his head back
“Shut the fuck up” I said throwing my purse at him
“Why are you always tagging along” he said
“In case you didn’t know Nick invited me first, and then I presumed you were being an ass eater and had to come too” I said giving him a bitchy smile
“Whatever” he said rolling his eyes
“Exactly” I said laughing at him
“Mattttt you look so cute” I said looking at his outfit
“Thank youuu” he said smiling at me
“And me?” Chris asked
“Who gives a fuck about you” I said giving him a dirty look
“Y/N what color shirt?” Nick asked me holding up two shirts a purple one and a green one
“Purple all the way” I said to him
“Great minds think alike” he said nodding at me, and walked to the bathroom to put the shirt on
“Y/N thinking? Who would’ve thought” Chris said scoffing
“You’re lucky you’re nicks brother because if not I would’ve laid your ass out by now” I said looking at him
“Guys no fighting” Matt said
“Yeah sure…” Chris said scoffing
“You don’t know my past, I beat up guys like you” I said looking at him
“Whole lot of yapping shut it” Chris said kicking my back
“You fucking dick that hurt” I said reaching back and pinching his leg
“Ow you bitch” he said pulling his leg away
“Enough fighting for once holy shit” Nick said coming out of the bathroom
“Tell your dog of a brother to chill out before I clock his shit” I said to Nick
“Chris be nice for once” Nick said looking at him
“I’ll try, but I can’t make no promises” he said smiling
We had all piled into their car, and headed downtown to the clubs. When we arrived we walked to the one that looked the safest for Nick and I.
We headed in and found a table to sit at in the back. We ordered some drinks, and once we drank them Nick and I went up to the dance floor to dance
We were dancing to Pour it Up by Rihanna singing and dancing on each other.
“THROW IT THROW IT UP WATCH IT FALL OUT” we screamed as we danced
Once the song ended we headed back to the table
“Fuck I love dancing” I said sitting down and drinking my water
“Me fucking too” Nick said catching his breath
All of a sudden Bottoms Up started playing
“FUCKKKK THIS IS MY SHIT” Nick and I screamed
We had gotten up and danced to the song for like two minutes before needing another break.
We sat back down, and was bopping to the song
Right as it got to Nicki’s part Nick started recording, and turned the camera on me, so I started rapping
“I’m with a bad bitch, he’s with his friends” I said pointing over to Chris, and Nick recorded it
“I don’t say hi, I say keys to the Benz” I said sticking my hand out at Chris
Nick started recording Chris and Matt and himself, and then flipped it back to me
“YELLIN all around the world, do you hear me? DO YOU LIKE MY BODY? ANNA NICKI” I said rubbing my hands all over my body
Nick finished recording and posted it to his instagram story, and by this point Rude Boy by Rihanna started playing
“WE HAVE TO DANCE” I said to Nick
“I’m sooo tired I’ll get the next one” he said fanning himself
“Chris?” I asked him randomly, he looked at me before nodding, and following me to the dance floor
I started singing to him
“Come here rude boy, boy, can you get it up?” While swaying my hips
He pulled me in whispering in my ear
“Be careful how you sing at me” he said
“Don’t flatter yourself rude boy” I said winking at him
I went to walk away, but he pulled me back slamming my back against his
“You want to dance, so fucking dance” he said sternly sending a shiver down my spine. I wonder if this was the three drinks I had making me feel this way
He held me by stomach against him while I grinded up against him, and he followed his hips with mine
I spun around swaying my hips and dragging my hands down his body as I went lower, and then came back up swaying my hips while looking into his eyes
“You’re sexy as fuck when you do that” he said leaning in
“I must be mistaken, is Chris Sturniolo being nice to me?” I said turning around and grinding against him again
“Don’t push your luck baby” he said gripping my waist
I continued to sway my hips against hip, and let my head fall back onto his shoulder
I looked over at him, and he was looking at me already
“Kiss me I know you want to” I said with a smirk
Suddenly Chris lips crashed to mine, and we began to have a heated make out session as he ran his hands up and down my body as we danced
Soon we pulled away, and I looked at him before walking off the dance floor and heading back to the table
“What the fuck was that?” Matt asked shocked
“I have no fucking idea” I said closing my eyes and shaking my head
“Still hate me?” Chris said walking up from behind me
“Shut up…you got lucky” I said looking at him
“I’m going to the bathroom” I said walking away
I got to the bathroom, and there was only two girls ahead of me, it was a single stall
When it was my turn, as soon as I got in and locked the door I heard banging on the door. I unlocked it and opened it seeing Chris
“What the fuck?” I said, and before I could react Chris shoved his way into the bathroom locking the door behind him
“You hate me so much just fuck me already” he said walking over to me
“Why would I fuck you?” I said rolling my eyes
“You don’t look at me, touch me and kiss me like that and think it’s fine” he said
“Come on then Chris I can take you” I said smirking at him
He ran up to me crashing our lips together, and slamming me against the wall with a thud
We began to make out sloppy, my hands raking through his hair and him grabbing my body harshly with want and need
“Getting handsy are we?” I said pulling away
“Stop being a tease already” he said rolling his eyes
“Where’s the fun in that” I said
“Fuck I hate you so much” he said biting his lip and smashing his lips to mine again
Going down to my neck leaving sloppy wet kisses
“Fuck Chris” I moaned out throwing my head back against the wall
“We have to be quick” he said coming back up to look at me
“Yeah okay” I said in bliss
Chris hiked my dress up, and unbuckled his belt sliding his pants and boxers down enough for his dick to spring out
“Such a slut, letting me fuck you in here” he said slipping his hand into my underwear rubbing my clit
“Fuck Chris” I moaned out looking into his eyes
“Just fuck me already, I hate you I don’t want this to go on longer than it needs to” I said through gritted teeth
“You might hate me, but you’ll love this dick” he said smirking at me
“Arrogant fuck” I said
“Annoying bitch” he said back
He lifted up my right leg, bring his dick to my entrance and slowly inserting himself into me
“Shiitttt” I moaned out wrapping my hands around his neck
He lifted both my legs up completely holding me up against the wall by fucking into me
“Mmm for someone who hates me so much you sure are taking my dick well” he said moaning out
“Just because I hate you doesn’t mean you’re not hot” I said moaning and licking my lips
“Oh she thinks I’m hot” he said
“If you weren’t balls deep in me right now I would’ve smacked the shit out of you” I moaned out throwing my head back
“Play nice baby” he said thrusting into me faster and harder
“Fuckkk Chris this feels so good” I said
“You feel so good around me baby” he moaned out
Chris was thrusting into me at an ungodly pace, and I hope no one was outside waiting for this bathroom
“All it takes was for my dick to be in you to get you to play nice” he said cockily
“You’re lucky your dick game is strong because I hate you so fucking much right now” I said
“The feelings mutual babe, nothing new here” he said huffing out
“Shut the fuck up” I said
“You’re so annoying” he said back
Chris started to pound into me even harder causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head, and my mouth to fall slack
“I’m going to cum holy shit” I moaned out letting my head fall forward
“Yeah baby cum on my cock. I know it’s all you’ve ever wanted” he said with a cocky grin
“Don’t boost your ego” I panted out
He kept pounding into me, and I started to clench down on him. My toes pointing in my shoes and my thighs beginning to shake
“FUCKKKK IM CUMMINGGG” I screamed out allowing my thighs to shake, and my pussy to clench around Chris cock
I was coming down from my high, my eyes still shut, my mouth still open and my breathing heavy.
Chris pulled out and helped me down on the ground. Pumping his cock in his hand, and suddenly he came into his hand his lower abdomen constricting and his brows furrowing as his mouth fell slack
“Fuck Y/N” he said fucked out
I had fixed my underwear and slid my dress back down
“I still fucking hate you” I said looking in the mirror and fixing myself up
“I fucking hate you too don’t worry” he said pulling his pants up with his other hand, and coming over to wash his hands
“Friends with benefits?” I asked him
“Only if we’re only fucking each other” he said drying his hands
“Ohhh territorial?” I asked him
“You’re mine” he said
“I thought you hated me?” I asked
“Oh I do, don't get it twisted” he said fixing his belt
“Mmm sounds like you have a crush” I said fixing my makeup
“Do not” he said rolling his eyes
“It’s okay Chris I have a crush too” I said winking at him
“I don’t like you” he said rolling his eyes at me
“Yeah keep telling yourself that….” i said getting ready to leave the bathroom
I had unlocked the door, and shockingly nobody was waiting. I walked out, and Chris followed after. Coming up behind me grabbing my hand and interlocking our fingers
“Mmmm but no crush?” I asked him
“Don’t push it” he said giving me a stern look
We got back to the table and Nick and Matt were looking at us with smirks on their face
“Hope yall fucked the hate out” Matt said
“Mmm fucked, but the hates still there” I said shrugging my shoulders
“Yall are absolute dogs” Nick said laughing
“What can I say” Chris said shrugging his shoulders
We had decided to head out, and head home. For someone who hates me Chris sure did enjoy having me staying in his room that night…..
The End
Alright guys I hope you enjoyed this one because I sure did……am I becoming a Chris girl??? LMAOO HELL NAH I KNOW WHERE HOME IS I LOVE YOU MATT🧎🏽♀️🖤
-J💅🏽
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EPISODE 19 ♡ AFTERGLOW AND DAYLIGHT
HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU
masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 1001.
when dawn came upon him, kuni heard nothing from you. and when the afternoon passed, there was still nothing. he was slowly getting nervous and worried. he hasn’t heard anything from your group ever since he saw kazuha’s car leave last night.
but he still held onto that small speck of hope.
the hope that made him, broke him, and left him begging for more. hope is a dangerous thing for someone who doesn’t know how to stop. for someone like kunikuzushi. but is it really worth it to give up when he's finally given a sign that his love is going to be reciprocated?
so he waited for you, just like he always did. after all, kuni will never get tired of waiting for you.
he paces back and forth in the living room of his condominium, wondering what to do. if he had to be honest, he really should’ve made you chase him a bit more. but even so, how can he resist when you literally told him that you loved him the night before? the rain started getting stronger, and it was around six in the evening already.
kuni sits down, deciding that he should just order himself some takeout. as soon as he tapped the place order button, his doorbell rang. confused, he opens the door.
and there you were, drenched from head to toe.
“i love you.”
“well, aren’t you soaked?” he replies, leaning against the doorstep.
you roll your eyes at him, fighting back a smile. “let me get dried, first," he chuckles. “alright.” when you entered his condo, you made your way straight to the bathroom to dry yourself. but before you could close the bathroom door, kuni called out to you.
“and (name)?”
“yeah?”
“i love you more.”
“really now?” you teased.
“what a way to ruin the mood.” this time, it was his turn to roll his eyes.
“i was kidding! look at me; i’m literally blushing right now.”
“uh huh. get yourself dried already.”
you smiled at him fondly before you shut the door. and once you were done, you asked to borrow an extra shirt from him since you were wet from the rain. you sat down next to him, wearing his shirt, which is slightly bigger than yours.
“so.”
“so?”
“do you remember anything from last night?” he asks.
“yeah, from entering the bar up until you know.”
“no, i don’t.” he says. you glare at him in return, in which he just gave you an all knowing smile in response. “up to when you kissed me!”
“what took you so long, though?”
“oh, i slept the whole day, but i immediately made my way here when i woke up.”
he nodded in acknowledgment. and then there was silence.
“i’m sorry," you suddenly say. “what for?”
“for everything—the mixed signals, the mean things i’ve said before towards you, especially after we broke up, for raising my pride far too high, and for that... night, especially that night, but most of all, i’m sorry that i took this long.”
you took a deep breath.
“i love you, kuni. i’m ready now. i want to love you the way you love me—an unconditional, pure, and committed love. i’ll stop being scared now.”
it felt relieving to finally say those words out. this is what you’ve been waiting for ever since the night you realized you couldn’t lose kunikuzushi again in your life.
“took you long enough.” you let out a light laugh at his words. “i know.”
“but… can i ask?”
“go ahead.”
“what took you so long?”
“ah. well, you know. i just thought you were just too good to be true back then. i felt like i didn’t deserve you, and the fact that we were going through our first year didn’t really help either because i felt pressured. we lasted during twelveth grade during college application season, sure, but things just became… different when college actually came around. i didn’t know what i wanted back then; i drowned myself in studies, i ended up shutting you and the others out more than you could count.”
“but you still stayed with me despite that—despite me pushing you away. you understood me, and i really appreciated that. but you deserved someone better. you’re made for many, many great things, kuni. and i didn’t want to become some sort of hurdle for your career. so i broke up with you instead. you didn’t deserve to be with the old me, but now that i think of it, i was a red flag as of late, no?”
“i didn’t see you as a red flag,” he starts. “but honestly? you were a perfect example of a walking paradox. you didn’t know what you wanted, but i did. i wanted to show you that you deserve love despite having my own obstacles in life too. you’re the risk i wanted—no, you’re still the risk i want to take. if i had to choose someone over and over again, it would be you. it will always be you.”
you wiped away the few tears that left your eyes. “thank you, kuni.”
“don’t cry; did you know that you’re an ugly crier?”
“stop ruining the mood!” you smacked his arm. he laughs and proceeds to wipe away your tears for you. “but kuni?”
“mhm?”
“let’s take it slow again, okay?”
“of course.”
it may be unbelievable for others to believe that the snarky, usually grumpy, and typically cold kunikuzushi scaramouche is actually someone who would be like this in terms of love. but kunikuzushi couldn’t bring himself to love another after you; the love that he once believed was black and white turned out to be golden—something to remember, something to cherish. and you’d rather have kuni be the one to catch you every time your walls start crumbling around you; you’d rather have him be the one who would understand you and love you nonetheless.
you were his daylight. and he was your afterglow.
taglist (open): @yinyinggie @blue-b3rries @ryuryuryuyurboat @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @lilikags @haliyamori @diorlumx @mamafly @zuunotsane @iloveosamuu @featuredtofu @kana-de @xiaoderrrr @f1orent1ne @alhaitie @yelleloww @brain-r0tt @jamieexistss @danfelions @e0nssadrift @lovemari @kunikissr @chluuvr @lazy-sanns @lxkeeeee @swivy123 @sketcheeee @quacking-simp @tiredslepz @vxcmx @kichiy0shi @yingofthemoon @feiherp @sicut-sol @mayuumine @xiaosoneandonly @xtobefreex @bananasquash @im-the-ruler-here @hiraethhv @yumiaur @oughhhhmamamia @beriiov @cindywasneverhere @klanxii @fangygf @draclula @aromaticism @shotosjupiter @lyzisbitchingagain @lovelykrystal @riraaya @aether-darling @kochothehoe [1/2]
#( smau — how you get the girl ! )#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin imagines#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche smau#kunikuzushi x reader#kunikuzushi#x reader
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hey for the prompts list could you do the one below? I don't have any specific idea though
“Is this… turning you on?” (no.12)
Buck was angry. He was angry and he was done hiding it. Eddie had been behaving like an asshole ever since he decided to quit the 118.
His motives were legitimate, he’d give him that, but not the way he was acting. Hanging up on his calls? Changing the lock so Buck couldn’t get in?
Oh, no, mister, they weren’t gonna play that game.
So he showed up at his door. Unannounced and carrying around ten pounds of unsaid insults. If Eddie wanted him out of his life, he’d give him a reason to.
“What are you doing here, Buck?”
The question ignited something in him. After everything they had been through, he didn’t deserve this kind of ending. He didn’t deserve this residual hammering because Eddie didn’t know where else to place it.
“I came here to give you one more chance to not be a fucking coward.”
“Save it.”
If he didn’t know him so well, he’d say he was uninterested. But no, Eddie was annoyed, and it made Buck all the more angrier.
Before he could think it through, his hand was stopping the door from slamming in his face. He took a few steps, allowing himself in despite Eddie’s look of utter disbelief.
“Don’t shut the door on me. You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you shit,” he said, his tone harsh and unwavering, although he did step back. “It’s not my problem if you can’t move on.”
“Move on?” he muttered, towering over the man. “Is that what you think this is?”
Eddie looked at a loss of words. He simply stared, fury and unresolved trauma glimmering in his eyes.
“You’re cutting me out of your life,” continued Buck, “you think that’s a polite thing to do after I’ve cared for you the way I have?”
“I don’t give a shit about politeness, Buck,” Eddie barked, turning red, his finger now pointed at him. “You tried to stop me from leaving after I told you why I was doing it.”
It was the same scene from years ago, at the grocery store. How did this become his fault yet again?
Buck scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So?”
“So, you looked over Chris’ best interest.”
The frown on his face was swamped with evident confusion, and it must’ve thrown Eddie off his game. He straightened up, looking for courage to explain.
“You claim to care so much about him, yet-”
Buck put his arms down, his face contorted in either threat or pain. “Don’t. Don’t tell me what I think you’re gonna tell-”
“Yet you don’t seem to live up to your words.”
It happened in a flash. It really, really did. Buck’s hand flew up, with the sole intent of slapping Eddie across the face, but the man had training. He grabbed him by the wrist and twisted it, making his knees bent.
Firefighting had taught him a thing or two, so Buck rapidly regained his poise, kicking Eddie’s ankle and making him shorter. He didn’t wanna hurt him, but he didn’t know how to stop. “Don’t fight me,” he hissed, the words trapped between his teeth.
“You started it, asshole.”
That was all Buck heard before he was being thrown to the ground. He grabbed Eddie’s shirt in a hurry, pulling him down with him. He fell on his elbows, wincing in pain, and Buck took the chance to turn him over and straddle him from behind.
He took his hands and placed them over his lower back, pinning him in place. “You’re fighting the wrong person.”
Eddie struggled beneath him, wiggling his shoulders and legs, but Buck was bigger, and stronger. “Let me go,” he ordered.
“No,” he said, taking both his hands with one of his, and putting the other on Eddie’s head, pushing it down flat against the floor. “Not until we solve this.”
Then Eddie moaned.
Buck blinked, his grip loosening. What?
“Let. Me. Go,” he repeated, this time his voice strained. It sounded like he had swallowed against his body’s will. “Now.”
Buck frowned, pushing Eddie’s head down again. It prompted another sound, but it wasn’t quite so. “Is this… turning you on?”
The mere suggestion made Eddie throw his hips back. He closed his eyes, caught red-handed, like a thief. “Buck…,” he said, way softer than before. It was a plea. That he could recognize.
Buck licked over his lips, not completely sure how to continue. Never in a thousand years would he have guessed he could have this effect on him.
Unsure, he ground his hips down. Eddie’s breath hitched, and he slammed his own head against the floor. Buck’s cock twitched. “Is this what you wanted?”
The question went unanswered, and he repeated the motion. Easily enough, his bulge bumped against Eddie’s ass. A low groan. “Buck, I-.”
“All along,” he said, now grinding harder, “all you wanted was to be fucked?”
“Buck.”
Buck leaned down, pressing on Eddie’s hands now with his body. He settled against his back, nuzzling his nose on his hair.
“All you had to do was ask.”
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Please take this as my Seven Sentence Sunday!
tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @wikiangela @fortheloveofbuddie @callmenewbie @lover-of-mine @honestlyeddie @hippolotamus & @evanbegins thank you all so much!💗 I’ll get to your works tonight
tagging in return @wildlife4life @housewifebuck @malewifediaz @buckleyobsessed @mattsire @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @911-on-abc @giddyupbuck @cowboydiazes @steadfastsaturnsrings @eddiebabygirldiaz @butraura @theotherbuckley & @jeeyuns ✨
#Seven Sentence Sunday#buddie#911 fox#911#eddie diaz#evan buckley#911 tv show#evan buck buckley#buck x eddie#buck and eddie#911 abc#buddie 911#buddie ficlet#buddie fanfiction#buddie fanfic#buddie fic#buddie wip
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Unprecedented | Secondo x gn!Reader
Or: The four times you almost get Secondo to admit his feelings for you and the one time you succeed.
Summary: working with Secondo is only half as bad as people make it seem – at least until you fall in love with each other.
Content: 12.7k words, gn!reader, pining, sexual tension/suggestive language, food mention, blood/minor injury, forced proximity, soft secondo, terzo being a menace, smut-ish in part four but definite smut in part five (thigh riding, unprotected sex, penetration, dom/sub dynamics), 18+ MDNI
thank you for being patient with me, this is my first time writing Secondo, so pls go easy on me ♡
Masterlist – Ao3 link
1 Voluntary Abstinence
The air gets colder by a few degrees as you take the last few narrow steps down the winding staircase into the basement. Burnt-down candles are illuminating the hallway from small alcoves, wax dripping down the weathered stone, their light flickering off the dark brick walls. Amongst these dancing shadows you make your way to the door at the other end of the hall. It’s made of iron, heavy and airtight, the rooms beyond kept on very specific temperature and humidity levels to preserve the precious items they’re protecting.
You push it open and find yourself in a small antechamber that leads into three different rooms – a tiny office, the restoration workshop and a small storage room. Entering this area always feels like stepping foot inside a secret laboratory, though it looks far less sterile with all the shelves of old tomes, paintings and other cursed as well as non-cursed artefacts.
“Papa?” you whisper upon closing the door.
“Office,” a steady voice calls back.
You find Papa Emeritus II bent over the desk, sorting through papers. He’s wearing his narrow reading glasses, the paint by his ears slightly smudged while his outfit remains pristine. Black slacks, a black button down shirt, sleeves rolled up casually, his usual black leather gloves switched for white cotton ones to avoid fingerprints and sweat stains.
He’s hard at work, has been for most of the morning, trying to save a rare first edition of Nietzsche’s Der Antichrist. He lets you observe him from time to time, ever since you expressed your genuine interest in his restoration work. His book-binding fascinates you the most so whenever an interesting project emerges, he lets you know and you get as much time off from your regular clergy duties as possible in order to learn from him. Lucky for you, Sister has no issue excusing you from time to time to help Papa down here. Not many Siblings have the patience or steady hands to work on these intricate projects and even less want to work with Secondo at all, if only for his understandably high standards when it comes to handling fragile artefacts.
“How is it going, Papa?” you ask casually.
“I am taking some time to document the process and sort through these,” he says. “My hands are a little too shaky for bookbinding right now.”
When you don’t reply, he finally looks up at you. His eyes appear bigger behind the glasses but he quickly takes them off, the marks now imprinted on his nose making you smile. Only the smile quickly vanishes when you take in his tired eyes. Even under the black make-up he looks exhausted, sleep-deprived and almost hungover, though you know he wouldn’t drink in the middle of a project like this. So there has to be a different cause.
Secondo, meanwhile, takes you in as well. You’re wearing the tight habit that hugs your body in all the right places today and he’s very pleased with that. Perhaps by now you’re aware it’s his favorite, he knows you’re observant like that, such a smart, sharp-witted thing you are. He’s trying very hard not to stare but you’re too busy worrying to notice.
“Are you feeling alright, Papa? You look… ugh.” You’re clearly trying to find a polite way to put it and it amuses him greatly. Even now you hesitate to speak your mind around him. “I mean, you seem like you’re in need of some rest.”
“Yes, sleep was not a priority last night.” He smirks to himself at the memory, he can still feel it in his sore muscles as well. “So you will have to excuse me looking a bit tired today, Sibling.”
Your lips press together into a thin line. “Oh. Of course.”
Secondo does not miss the hurt that’s flickering over your face. Once, he might have, but by now he’s seen this look so many times that he can catch it in milliseconds. The guilt he feels upon glimpsing it is the main reason he established certain rules in the first place. As a man with many lovers, Secondo had to find ways to stop anyone from developing any actual feelings for him that he cannot reciprocate. Most of the time, this isn’t a real issue, the intentions are clear, people seek adventures, a like-minded lover who can satisfy them in ways that others can’t. But from time to time expectations change, feelings get in the way and it’s so very human but very bothersome at the same time. Secondo has no desire to toy with anyone, so at the first hint of anything that goes beyond lust, he usually calls it quits to avoid inflicting any more pain than necessary.
But there is a key difference here: You’re not his lover.
“Well, I won’t keep you, Papa, I just wanted to see the progress and check in on you. I have to help out with lunch preparations now, but perhaps I can come back later,” you say without meeting his eyes again. “I wish you a productive day nonetheless.”
He wants to stop you and say something, only he’s not sure what there is to say at all. Please, do come back? Don’t leave yet?
It’s only when you’re out the door that he realizes he could have just thanked you.
✦ ✧ ✦
Despite what occurred in his office before lunch, you’re back in the early afternoon hours, presenting him with some painkillers and a cup of black coffee. He can tell by the smell alone that this hasn’t been brewed in the kitchens; you clearly begged Terzo to let you use the fancy coffee machine in his office. It’s always worth it, even if Terzo teases him mercilessly when it comes to you by now, his little assistente, as he calls you.
You don’t comment on your hasty exit from earlier as you set down your cargo on his desk and take a seat on the wooden chair opposite from him. You’re staying for a while, it seems, that’s good. He can use your company after working alone in the basement all day.
Not used to someone taking care of him, Secondo tries not to show how your simple gesture affects him. “Thank you, my dove. This is just what I needed.”
You smile with genuine kindness, the sort of smile that always makes him pause as he feels its paralysing effect on him. “You’re welcome, Papa. Are you feeling any better?”
He smiles and takes a much needed sip of coffee. “Yes, but I think I should take a bit of a break from…” He stops, trying to word it carefully. “… the nightly activities.”
“Oh, really?”
Your eyes bore into his and it’s like you’re begging for the honest answer he simply cannot give you. Secondo knows – he knows of your feelings for him, he knows of your desires, your wishes, your hopes. And he’d be a liar if he claimed not to return them. But right now being a liar seems easier to him than admitting to any of this.
“I am not getting any younger and I can’t have it impacting my work too much,” he states instead, a lame excuse for certain. His stamina is impressive even now and his reputation precedes him. It’s the lack of sleep that’s affecting him more and more, some joint pains maybe, but even that is barely worth mentioning – he can focus when he has to. Satan knows he could have a Sibling or even a ghoul over every single night if he really wanted to.
There is only one reason he doesn’t find proper fulfilment in most of these nightly encounters anymore. And that reason is looking at him with wide and far too hopeful eyes right now.
“I’m sure some people will be very sad to hear that,” you finally say, glancing away.
Not you, no, he thinks.
You shift in your seat, then, and he can’t tell why exactly you’re so nervous all of a sudden. It could be the subject matter. He doesn’t take you for being shy, so maybe it’s because of your very obvious attraction to him, the mere idea that anything could happen between you, implied by the fact he’s telling you about his sex life right now when you’ve been lingering on a safe professional level for months.
Secondo is not in the habit of discussing his private matters with people who aren’t involved, as much as Terzo tries to coax the details out of him over drinks sometimes. He is a private person, discreet, not necessarily secretive but certainly disinterested in any sort of unqualified opinions. But with you he feels safe enough to at least hint at them, if only to see that delicious blush spread across your gentle face.
“Well, I’m not saying that I’ll stay abstinent forever,” he finally says, aware that he’s sending out very mixed signals. “But I think I will be more selective from now on.”
You look at him again and your eyes still shimmer with expectation. He almost hates himself for giving you false hopes. But he can’t help it, you just look so stunning when you’re flustered for him, when your eyes circle in on his bare forearms, his gloves, his lips, your breathing becoming heavier by the second. Arousal suits you, he decides. It takes a lot of restraint to withstand the urge to show you what he could do to you if he just gave in. And this is certainly not the first time the image of fucking you on this very desk pops into his head.
In the end, you don’t comment. It’s something he appreciates a lot about you, the fact that you know when to shut up. And for the rest of the afternoon, while you watch him work on the Nietzsche, standing idly by the side with your eyes glued to his hands, you barely say another word. But you don’t have to – the very telling smile that never leaves your face speaks for itself.
✦ ✧ ✦
2 Papa’s Personal Pasta Day
Wednesday is Pasta Day.
Three different types of pasta, three different types of sauce you get to choose from. It’s the best day of the week, everyone agrees – even Secondo.
And yet your Papa is nowhere to be found today.
It’s not rare for him to skip lunch or avoid the bustle of the dining hall, but you always, without a doubt, catch him here on Wednesdays. As you eat the remainders of your own meal, staring at the empty spot next to his brothers where he usually sits, you wonder what keeps him occupied. You know he finished the Nietzsche but you also know that he recently got another box filled with rare books. So the only real explanation is that he’s even busier with those now.
Which means he’s skipping lunch altogether.
A sudden movement in your peripheral vision. Terzo stands up with his tray, though you can already see two Siblings scurrying towards him, ready to do the job for him. Without thinking too much you gulp down your last bite and hurry after him, asking a friend to dispose of your empty plate, an idea forming in your mind.
You catch him in the hallway as he’s sauntering back to his office, humming a merry tune.
“Papa!” you call out to avoid running after him for another five minutes.
“Hm?” Terzo spins around, smiling in recognition. “Oh. Buongiorno, Sibling. Don’t you look so well today?”
“Thank you, Papa. I was wondering if you can you spare me a moment?”
“Ahh, for you always!” The corners of his mouth curl up into smirk. “I hope you don’t come to complain about my fratello? Because that list is already very long.”
You assure him it’s not a complaint and follow him to his office. Once inside, he casually leans against his desk, folding his hands neatly in front of him as he awaits your plea. A few dots of red pasta sauce stain his right glove but you’re too nervous to point them out to him.
“I have a… a request,” you start, fidgeting under his intense gaze. “It’s unusual and I totally understand if you won’t allow me such a thing. But… can I use your kitchen?”
“My kitchen?” he asks, brows shooting up in surprise. “Whatever would you use my kitchen for?”
You blush profusely as you start to explain. “It’s just… your brother skipped lunch today and you know he’s working so hard on these books right now. He probably forgot to eat again and it will give him another headache in approximately two hours. I would ask to use his kitchen, of course, but then it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore and you know I can’t use the Ministry kitchens because they’re busy in there now cleaning up. And I really don’t want to bring him reheated leftovers.”
Terzo considers this, considers you. “Oh Sibling, you really do like him, eh? What is it that you see in him? He’s a grumpy old man with no sense of humour.”
“He’s not so grumpy when we’re alone,” you offer, even more heat creeping up your neck. “And he can be funny, in a kind of dry, unintentional way.”
“Hmmmm. My coffee machine, my kitchen…” Terzo furrows his brow, the skull paint on his face giving him a slightly menacing look. “What is next? My bedroom?”
Your eyes widen. “Oh no! No, it’s not that kind of… not that kind of thing.”
Terzo chuckles and his features relax, making way for genuine amusement. “No? You want to tell me you don’t fuck down there?”
“N-no…”
“Ah, well, so it is on me to give it a little nudge?” His hand moves up to his chin in mock contemplation as he smiles at you. “Va bene, you can use my kitchen but I have one condition.”
You give him a pleading look, folding your hands in front of your chest. “Whatever you want, Papa, I will gladly do it.”
He smirks again, fishing for his keys before throwing them at you. “I expect some leftovers in the fridge tonight. And they better be good.”
✦ ✧ ✦
Carrying a tray down the narrow steps into the basement is not an easy feat, especially because your mind constantly tries to tell you that this is a bad idea and you forget to watch your steps. In the humidity underground the stone gets especially slippery, just like your situation with Secondo. You’re not quite sure how he’s going to take this. You shouldn’t have made such an effort. This whole idea was born from mere intuition, from that pathetic need to impress him that you always carry around with you.
But you just can’t control that tiny part of you that wants to prove just how perfect you are for him, how well you’d take care of him if he just allowed you to be in his life – no matter how unlikely that is.
You just hope it’s not awful, especially since Terzo is going to eat that big bowl of pasta you left in his fridge. To be fair, his kitchen looked like it had never been used before, so at least you don’t have to worry that you messed up his routine.
You sigh in relief when you see that the lights are on in the workshop. You can hear Secondo in the main room, so you set the tray down in his office, the only area down here where eating is actually allowed, and then knock very carefully to avoid startling him.
“Oh.” His eyes land on you and sets down the book in his hand that already looks mostly finished. “Good morning, Sibling.”
You lift your eyebrows with a smile. “Hello, Papa. Though I’m afraid I have to tell you that it is not quite morning anymore.”
He eyes the clock on the wall above him, exhaling in defeat. “I forgot the time, to be honest. I missed lunch, no?”
You linger near the door, ready to take the plunge. “Well, you did, but… are you hungry by any chance?”
✦ ✧ ✦
Secondo is not quite sure what to expect when you lead him into the office. What he certainly didn’t expect was a tray that resembles the ones used for room-service in the upscale hotels he loves to frequent, cloche and napkin included. He knows you have good taste by being around you so often, but that it is this excellent is news to him. The thought of you choosing this fancy dishware for him is almost enough to make him smile.
“So you brought me lunch?” he asks, though he should not be surprised by your efforts. You’re always attentive, you most likely noticed him missing earlier and pieced it all together.
“I made this in your brother’s kitchen,” you warn him. “So, he might ask about it.”
As he takes a seat behind the desk, Secondo’s brow furrows. “You made it? It’s not from the kitchens?”
At this question you bite your lip. He tries not to stare at your mouth. “Uhm, I made it, yes. I didn’t want to bring you stale leftovers and besides, they didn’t have your favorite today…”
Secondo leans back in his chair. He can tell that you expect him to scold you, to tell you that he wouldn’t have minded the leftovers, that you shouldn’t waste your time on such a thing, but that’s not what’s on his mind at all. To anyone else, he might have said these things, but to you? He feels his heart swelling in his chest at the gentle care you offer him, an altogether unfamiliar feeling, so all he can really do is stare at you in wonder.
You seem uneasy under his lingering gaze, your restless hands fiddling with your habit. “Okay, well, I should leave you to it. I have other dut–”
“No, no, you stay,” he commands and there is no room to question him. He will not let you scurry off again, not this time.
He waits for you to take a seat before he removes the cloche from the plate, revealing a beautiful serving of Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe, complete with freshly ground pepper on top as well as some half-molten parmigiano. He fails to suppress a surprised exhale as he takes in the food. It’s a beautiful plate, one he may well find in one of his favorite restaurants in Rome or Milan.
“How do you know what is my favorite?” he asks, spreading the napkin out over his lap.
“Oh well, I’ve… I’ve seen you get it for lunch whenever they offer it… Maybe it’s not your favorite, I just assumed…”
“It is my favorite,” he admits. “You’re very observant, my dove. I should be more careful around you, eh?”
You smile at him and the corner of his mouth curls upwards as well before he quickly averts his gaze. Secondo grabs the fork and moves it around in the pasta, his stomach giving an urgent growl. It’s beyond him how he managed to miss lunch being this hungry, but you made sure to give him his very own Pasta Day and a much better one at that.
From your side of the table, his feelings are still veiled in shadows, hidden by the severity of his features. You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking, but you have to admit that the situation is a bit awkward because all you do is sit here and watch him eat. Secondo, completely unbothered, has quickly finished half of what you put on his plate and you feel mildly concerned that you didn’t bring enough. He moans softly every few seconds and you struggle to hide what it does to you. There is something inherently erotic about this man eating your food, the way he seems to treasure every single bite, how he licks the sauce off his painted lips before using the napkin to gently clean them, leaving a mouth-shaped black stain on the cloth. It’s not hard to imagine the same shape covering every inch of your body, an entirely unhelpful thought. Secondo can’t hear how rapidly your heart is beating in your chest, but he may well notice how you sit there with your thighs pressed together, hands covering your lap.
“It’s good?” you ask for distraction, fiddling with a loose thread on your sleeve.
“Very good,” he states. “Have you not tried it?”
“Uh… well I had to hurry down here before it got cold.”
Secondo fills another fork, expertly wrapping the spaghetti around its tines. Then he holds it out to you, his other hand kept flat underneath it, and you realise that he wants you to eat.
That he wants to feed you.
Your chest feels like exploding as you lean over the desk to reach him. Eyes locked with his, you slowly open your mouth, pushing your tongue out just enough to give him a glimpse. His hand doesn’t move, in fact he’s completely static as his eyes move to your open mouth. They stay glued there, his own lips parting just slightly. The expression turns his features unusually soft.
“Papa?” you ask, trying to hide a grin.
Secondo looks back into your eyes, but before he can move, you wrap your lips around the fork and slowly drag the spaghetti off. He watches your every move and his reaction gives you the courage to continue. You moan softly at the taste, the intense aroma of the Pecorino still evident in the sauce and it is good, you have to give yourself credit for that.
You hum vocally, a sound that hits Secondo like a brick.
You’re so deliciously unaware of the pain he’s going through, how the sight of you licking your lips nearly drives him insane. Your tongue darts out to reach the corner of your mouth, but there is some sauce closer to your chin that you have to remove with your thumb. When you suck it off the digit, Secondo has to fight a deep groan and it comes out as a strangled cough. His cock is twitching in his pants, already half-hard, and he knows he has to get a grip. You’re eating, it shouldn’t have such an impact on him.
“I may need some more practice,” you say, sitting back in your chair. “But I would say it’s better than in the kitchens.”
“You’re modest,” Secondo states. “It was perfect, my dove, thank you. I could not have prepared this dish any better and I have made it a hundred times.”
An almost shy smile, only betrayed by the way your lips quiver as you hold back your delight at his praise. “You’re flattering me, Papa, I’m sure you’re way more proficient than I am.”
It’s an endearing look on you, a hopeful sort of confidence, laced with a hint of hesitation. He’s not sure where his next words come from, but despite their barely hidden meaning he can’t hold them back. “I hope I get the chance to return the favor soon. I think I know what your favorite is and I happen to know the perfect recipe.”
Your grin widens, your whole expression one of warmth and joy and he’s rendered speechless for a very conspicuous amount of time.
“Should I get rid of the tray?” you ask. “I think your brother wants his dishes back.”
He finds his words again at the mention of Terzo. “Only if you come back down here after. I need your help this afternoon or I am going to miss dinner as well.”
“Certo, Papa,” you say, mimicking his Italian. “I will be back before you notice that I’m gone.”
You grab the tray and he watches your figure disappear through the door, slumping back in his chair with a myriad of thoughts and feelings running through his mind that he can’t possibly catch up with. His hand finds his crotch as soon as you’re out of sight, adjusting just enough to get rid of the painful tightness in his pants.
At least this time he didn’t forget to thank you.
✦ ✧ ✦
3 Seeing Red
He’s trusting you with a Crowley.
It’s unprecedented. Secondo had Siblings watching before, he had them assist him before by bringing him tools, but never before has he allowed them to touch any of his delicate books.
It’s the next logical step. You have been watching him for months now, you have practiced on less valuable books and shown unexpected talent. And even now, with the Crowley in hand, he’s surprised to find himself trusting you completely.
Inexplicably, his eyes find you ever few minutes without his own doing. It’s not to control you, though maybe a tiny part of him does indeed check in with the state of your work. Whenever you look back, you hold his gaze so confidently. It’s intoxicating to have your eyes on him, fully aware that you reciprocate the feeling, and even when you don’t look back, seeing you so patiently focused on the needle in your hands is quite the sight.
His staring doesn’t stay unnoticed. You catch him looking at you for the tenth time in the past few minutes, though that is only a rough estimate. As elated as you are by his attention, you’re genuinely getting frustrated with him. He has to feel the tension between you. You refuse to believe that all those lingering looks are meaningless to him.
A sudden sharp pain in your finger. You hiss, more in surprise than in pain, and quickly pull away. The thick, curved needle pierced your white cotton glove and dug straight into your skin. By pulling it out so rapidly, you must have damaged an artery or at least left a pretty big wound because the blood spills out immediately. The shock only lasts for a quarter of a second before you pull your hand away, just in time before a few heavy droplets of blood drip down your wrist and onto the floor. Fortunately, the book still looks pristine and you take a shuddering breath of relief.
“What happened?” Secondo asks.
“I… I–”
Before you can explain, he’s by your side, roughly grabbing your arm to hold it steady.
“I didn’t bleed on the book,” you stammer. “I pulled my hand away really fast.”
His grip on your wrist is impossibly tight and you wonder if he’s going to scold you for your clumsiness, for being so distracted. His lips are pressed together as he takes in your shaky frame, his eyes meeting yours with such intensity that you struggle not to break away and you feel your lips quivering as you fight back tears.
“I’m so sorry, I– I didn’t–”
“I don’t care about the book,” he says and then he pulls you out of the workshop. Once you’re safely back in his office, he leaves for the storage room. You stand there, watching the blood run over your hand, pressing your thumb into your pulse in hopes of limiting the blood flow just like he did. But the once white glove is ruined by now, blotchy and red all over.
When Secondo returns, he carries a first aid kit. He sits down on the chair in front of his desk and motions for you to join him. You carefully step beside him, hand out-stretched in a cautious offering, but he’s having none of it, he just pulls you straight into his lap and grasps your wrist again.
“Let’s examine the damage,” he says, even though you’re not sure you can even hear him. His strong thighs are firm underneath yours, keeping you steady, but then there’s the throbbing in your finger, his hand on your arm, a wild mixture of impressions that overflow your sensory perception. Your rapid heartbeat surely does nothing to help with the bleeding.
You fight the urge to shift nervously but he doesn’t seem to notice your state, just turns your hand skyward and gets to work. He meticulously removes your bloody glove, one finger at a time, the fingertips of his own turning red in the process. Frustrated by the barrier, he removes them as well, throwing them aside with an annoyed grunt. Once his bare hands grasp yours, you feel a shiver running down your spine. The pain in your finger ceases to exist for a moment as you realise that this is the first skin on skin contact you ever shared. You’re closer than ever, so close you can smell the remainders of his cologne, feel his exhales on your skin.
“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Secondo muses. “You hit a bad spot.”
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I’m not usually so careless.”
“I know, my dove. It happens.”
Not to me, you want to say, not while I’m here, trying so hard to impress you.
“Go wash out the wound,” he orders then, his hand patting your hip in encouragement, dangerously close to your ass.
You reluctantly hop off his legs and wash your hand in the sink in the workshop. The water runs red at first but turns clear in the matter of seconds. With the blood gone, the wound only looks half as scary and you’re far less shaky when you return to the office.
You expect Secondo to just leave you to yourself now, but he immediately pulls you back into his lap, turning slightly to reach into the first aid kid on his desk, fiddling for bandaids and a spray bottle with disinfectant. You patiently hold out your hand, waiting for him to figure out the logistics.
The antiseptic stings and you flinch, more from shock than actual pain. Secondo is so careful, not a single tremor in his deft fingers as he applies the bandaid, making sure it sits tight around your still throbbing digit.
“There,” he says. “It is better now, yes?”
You nod, sniffling as you try to calm down. “Thank you, Papa.”
His mismatched eyes meet yours and the concerned furrow in his brow softens. One of his hands rests on your hip, the other comes up, hovering by your jaw as though he’s scared to touch you. You feel his fingertips grazing your skin, tickling, exploring cautiously.
His gentle touch gives you courage. You lean in slowly and press your lips to his cheek. The feeling of his skin against your lips is so soft that you linger, kissing again and again, slowly moving them further down while one of your hands skims his other cheek. Your last kiss hits the corner of his mouth and you hear him suck in a sharp breath through his nose. His lazy grip on your hip suddenly tightens until you can feel the tips of his fingers digging into your flesh.
You sit back and look at him. There is something wild in his eyes now, a flicker of… you can’t quite decide if it’s lust or anger. For a long moment he stares at you like this, a terrifying expression that keeps you static. Right when you come to the conclusion that he must be angry, that you have to apologise, his hand shoots up to grab your chin and then his fingers push into your hair, his second hand joining in until he’s properly holding your head. He growls and presses his lips together until his whole face is tense.
“Papa,” you whisper. “Did I–“
He shuts you up by moving to stand, simultaneously lifting you onto his desk and pushing himself between your legs until your chest is pressed to his. The first aid kit flies to the floor, but the impact is only evident by a distant cluttering because all you can focus on is him. Secondo’s hands find your head again, holding it in place as he continues to stare at you, eyes moving from your lips to your nose to your cheeks that are squished between his palms, and then, finally, they meet yours.
You think he’s going to kiss you as he leans in, but then his head abruptly turns to the side and he buries his face in your neck. With a groan, he pulls you further into him, squeezing so tightly that you lose your breath.
“You’re killing me,” he mumbles. “Oh, my dove, you will end me.”
”Papa–“
Another groan. He sounds like he’s suffering, a wounded animal about to turn into roadkill. You don’t quite understand. It feels good to be so close to him, to have him hold you like this, so you simply sink into his embrace, move your unhurt hand to the back of his neck and softly scratch his scalp. He sighs deeply, slowly relaxing against you.
“What is this?” you mumble.
He gives a dry chuckle. “I wish I knew.”
✦ ✧ ✦
4 The Storage Closet Incident
Are you high on glue and paint solvent? Maybe.
In any case, your head is spinning. You spent all morning so far sorting through a fresh delivery of restoration materials, taking inventory and checking if they’re complete. Papa was here earlier to check in with you but left for a clergy meeting half an hour ago, so you’re left alone inside the storage room. There are three more boxes outside in the hallway and you’re on your fourth now, different types of paints and solvents and glue. You never opened any of the cans but you swear you nevertheless inhale the biting fumes.
Upon crossing out the last few items on your list, you hear a heavy knock. Maybe you should be cautious with opening considering that no one ever knocks here, but you do indeed find Secondo in front of the entrance, still fully robed.
“Forgot my keys upstairs,” he mumbles, patting down his pockets as though they would magically appear if he just tried hard enough.
“You can take the ones inside the storage room for the rest of the day,” you suggest.
“Humph.”
He’s usually in a pretty foul mood after clergy meetings that involve his father, so you’re not surprised by the lack of conversation. You watch him pull the keys out of the lock – the door stays open while you’re busy in the storage room anyway – and when he carries them into his office, you think nothing of it. Any potential concern would have escaped you at the latest when you catch him shedding his robes through the open door. As soon as they’re hung up on the coat rack in the corner, you can’t help but sigh. He’s wearing his classic black shirt underneath – black because it won’t show the paint stains on his collar. But it barely touches his neck anyway; he keeps it open just enough to display the first few inches of dark, curly chest hair. You take in his slender form, the taut muscles on his arms stretching out the fabric as he moves around, sorting through the papers on his desk, hands covered in tight black leather gloves that perfectly match his belt.
“So…” He looks up and catches you staring. “How is inventory going?”
“Great,”you say, finally looking back at your actual work. “I’m more than halfway done.”
“Good,” he says. “You’re fast.”
You smile when you deposit the last bottle of glue onto the shelf. “Speaking of inventory, can you help me carry the rest of the boxes? I left the big ones for when you get back.”
He’s already back out of the door before you even finish your sentence, carrying one of the heavier cartons inside to where you’re standing. You push it in front of the designated shelf and wait for him to bring the other two boxes in as well – carrying both at the same time. On his way inside he bumps against the open door to the storage room and it falls close behind him. He sets the boxes down and you notice him flinching as he rights himself, even though he covers it up with a low cough. You make a mental note to acquire something for his back pains, perhaps Primo can whip up some sort of tincture or cream. And even though you highly doubt Secondo would let you rub it into his back, the image is very clear in your mind now.
You hide your deepening blush by pulling out your neat little list, flipping through the pages without actually reading anything. “Thank you, Papa. I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon sorting these until Sister needs me.”
He moves to reach out for your arm, but his hand drops before he ever reaches it. “Thank you, my dove. I know it’s tedious work.”
You smile at him, a little disappointed that he didn’t touch you. “Well, I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
His gaze lingers on you for a little longer before he pulls himself away to return to the office. Only then do you realise that something is very odd in here. The door is closed. Fully closed. With no functioning door handle inside, you have no way of getting out without the keys. For a second, all you can do is stare at the metal bar used to pull it open – and the very empty hole where the key would usually be found.
“You have the keys, Papa,” you remind him.
“I don’t,” he states. “They’re on the desk.”
His lips are pressed together tightly and you can feel the colour draining from your face. No one ever comes down here, there is no chance people are going to find you anytime soon, at least not before your friends notice you missing.
You swear you can hear him mumble a cazzo, before he lets his forehead rest on his hand, massaging his temples, but your heart is beating so fast that it drowns out all other sounds. You’re not necessarily panicking, even though you do suddenly begin to wonder whether you’re secretly claustrophobic or not.
“It’s fine, I have my phone,” he says but you already know there won’t be any reception down here. Your suspicion is confirmed when he sets it down on the shelf next to him with a little too much force.
“My friends will probably come looking for me when I miss lunch.”
He looks over to you and suddenly his expression changes. There is a glimmer of something almost dangerous in his white eye that makes him look menacing, the effect only amplified by his skull paint and the sharp lines of his cheekbones. You back against the wall behind you, unable to look away despite your body telling you to be on alert. The last time he looked at you like this was when you hurt your hand and you wonder if he’s finally going to initiate more. The thought is arousing and bone-chilling at the same time.
”Papa–“
“Are you scared?” he interrupts, reading you perfectly.
“No,” you reply. “I’m not claustrophobic.”
He approaches you slowly, the soles of his black leather shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. “That is not what I meant.”
When he stops right in front of you, you swallow, your throat suspiciously dry all of a sudden. You can smell him over the paint solvent now, his cologne so heavy in your nose that you get dizzy. If you weren’t high before, then you are definitely high now. Instead of fear, you suddenly feel incredibly, stupidly bold, full of adrenaline and longing.
“I’m not scared of you,” you say somewhat confidently. “I’m not scared of being alone with you.”
You should be, his eyes are telling you. Even closer now, he leans into you, his hands resting on the wall on either side of your head. You know the eye contact is something he enjoys so you keep your eyes on him without flinching away.
“If I had you right here right now no one would hear you screaming.” He chuckles uncomically, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. “I could do to you whatever I want.”
“Then why don’t you?”
He furrows his brow. “Hm?”
“Why the hell don’t you?” you challenge. “Why don’t you show me what you want to do to me?”
He seems taken aback by this, staring down at you with his lips slightly parted. For a second you think he’s going to snap back, scold you for disrespecting him, but he just huffs out a laugh. “You know why.”
“No I don’t!” You fight back tears as all of your suppressed emotions threaten to spill out. A strangled sob almost swallows your next words. “I don’t.”
Secondo stares at you and you finally look away, trying hard to stay quiet. You know this is not what he expected to happen and neither had you. But you can’t stop, you’ve lost control over your emotions and now that the cork has been removed you can’t get it back inside.
“I keep trying to find a reason why you don’t want me.” You force your gaze to meet his once more, despite being afraid of what you’re going to see in his eyes. “What’s wrong with me, Papa? What do I lack that the others before me had? What is wrong with me that you don’t even want me for a night?”
You’re crying now, struggling to make sense of him. Frankly, you’re already embarrassed by your outburst and expect him to laugh it off or gently tell you that he appreciates you but just doesn’t feel attracted to you like that. Even him yelling at you would help at this point.
“My dove–”
“Don’t call me that.”
He cocks his head to the side, his lip quivering slightly. “Where is this coming from now?”
You don’t reply, even though your pout should be answer enough. Secondo regards you for a long moment but there is no anger, only curiosity.
“Who knew you could be so feisty?” he mumbles, leaning in even closer but turning away just before your mouths can touch.
His lips ghost over your cheek, down your jaw, but they never touch. All you can feel is his hot breath on your skin, the tip of his nose dragging over your cheekbone. You squirm, letting out a desperate, high-pitched whimper. Secondo chuckles against your ear and the unfamiliar sound goes straight to your core, goosebumps running all over your body.
“You’re cruel,” you whisper. “So cruel.”
“I am.” His lips touch the shell of your ear. “But you seem to enjoy it.”
Impulsively, you wrap your hands around his neck for support. Secondo moves to look at you again, his pupils blown wide with lust. This time, you close the gap by leaning in, but he turns away just slightly, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You try again, more boldly this time, and you swear your lips are already grazing his, but then they’re gone again. His hand moves to grip your chin painfully tight, his thumb digging into your cheek so hard you can feel it pressing against your teeth. You’re completely immobile and when you test it out, his grip tightens even more. You’re pretty sure you’ll find subtle bruises all around your jaw tomorrow.
Secondo’s mouth still hovers just in front of yours, his exhales tickling your face, but he remains just out of reach. You whimper in desperation and he chuckles again, nuzzling your nose.
“Not so bold anymore now, eh?”
“Please,” you whine, squirming in his grip.
“Please what?”
You let out a half-strangled mewl. “P-please.”
Secondo hums and he can feel your body shivering underneath his, muscles jerking, everything inside of you trying to reach for more. He knows he’s being cruel, knows that you’re suffering, but he can’t deny that the thrill of having you at his mercy like that is spurring him on. He wants to test out your limits, see how far he can go, if he can get you to beg even more. You’re always so good, so quiet and polite. Seeing those previously unknown sides of you is like unwrapping a birthday gift and why should he stop when there is still so much more to explore?
You whimper louder this time and he brings his other hand to your waist, pulling you flush against him. A gasp and your mouth stays open just slightly, lips wet and glistening with spit, still pushed into a beautiful little pout bis his gloved fingers. He pushes his erection against you, eliciting a moan from you that seems to come from somewhere deep within. It’s what tips him over the edge, his patience dissolving into thin air. He unravels, closing the gap and swallowing all of your other sounds with his mouth. The kiss is sudden and almost violent. He has to release your jaw to ease the pressure on your head, but he just moves his hand down to your neck instead. More moans and whimpers as his tongue pushes into your now open mouth and it’s adorable how you keep trying to move against him. He rewards your efforts by easing up just slightly, allowing you to taste him as well.
Secondo is not sure what’s taking hold of him but he can’t fight the urge to taste more of your body. You’re all breathless when his mouth moves to your cheek and over your jaw, soothing, exploring. His lips find the soft skin below your ear, a shiver running down his neck. He can feel the tendon there twitching underneath his tongue and then he’s just sucking with reckless abandon, his intensity the result of a week-long, maybe even month-long starvation.
You moan into his ear and he thinks he’s going to lose it, his hips move on their own accord, pushing against you. It’s not a lot of friction but it’s enough to extract a deep groan from him. He wants to let go, he wants to have you so bad that it’s starting to obscure all rational thought. But he can’t lose control like that, not right now. As a safety precaution he pulls away, slotting his knee between your legs instead. With his hand on your hips he pulls you forward and you groan at the friction. A strangled sob and you try to wriggle for more. It’s uncomfortable with all the layers of clothing in between. His own pants are so tight that it provides him more pain than relief but to see you unravelling under his ministrations is enough to keep him going.
“Please,” you whisper, wriggling even more but his hand on your hips stays firm. He can feel the fabric of his pants getting wet under your movements, your crotch hot against his leg.
“Feels like you’re leaking onto my thigh,” he whispers back. “You’re such a mess, my dove, and I haven’t even done anything yet.”
You moan again, completely beyond words. He had this coming, he knows it. This was bound to happen at some point, the inevitable. But you’re at his mercy now and Secondo knows how to handle responsibility. He can see in your eyes that you’re too far gone now and for a second this clarity hits him like a brick. It’s almost like he’s watching the scene from above, bird’s eye view. This is exactly what he did not want – to fuck you like it’s just that, like it’s just sex, a quick romp in a closet, not even fully undressed, no real intimacy. Right now, it’s all you want, it’s all he wants, but what’s going to happen after?
Secondo pulls his head back to assess the situation, but when he sees the slowly drying tears on your cheeks, your still watery eyes, his paint and spit smeared all over your face and neck, he can’t bring himself to say any words that could possibly hurt you.
He’s lucky to be spared any excuses by a plethora of muffled noises in the background. Your eyes widen at the same time as he hears them and reality slowly settles around you again.
“Fratello?” The voice is barely audible through the thick door. “Secondo? Hellooooo?”
He acts faster than you even seem to realise what’s going on, gently letting go of you in favour of banging his fist against the door as rapidly as he can, trying to draw attention to you. There is barely any time to recover. The door opens after a minute and you find Terzo glancing into the room, hands still on the key in the lock.
“Oh, there you are, Secondo. Got locked inside, eh?” Then he smirks. “And with your little assistente no less. Tesoro, you look so flustered, did my brother–”
“Stai zitto,” Secondo snaps, pushing past him before his brother can get any good glimpse at the situation in and on his pants. “What do you even want down here?”
“Oh, thank you, caro fratellino, for saving us from being locked inside this room all day.”
A scoff. Secondo’s eyes find you again when you close the door of the storage room behind you and you struggle to meet his eyes. A pang of guilt, fear even, of what is going to happen now.
Terzo, completely unhelpful, looks between the two of you. “So, what happened here, eh? What did I miss?”
“Nothing, Papa,” you say quickly. “The door closed but it doesn’t have a handle on the inside. We had to use the key for something else earlier and forgot to put it back.”
“That’s not what I meant, tesoro.” Terzo glances at his brother and then back at you, furrowing his brow now that he’s seeing you both in proper lighting. There is a sudden edge of concern on his face. “Sibling, you look like you’ve been crying.”
Secondo is surprised that this is the first thing his brother comments on. You avoid both of their gazes, wringing your hands behind your back. “Oh, it’s nothing. I should probably go… I need to get back to work and I’m already late. Sister won’t be happy.”
Terzo cocks his head to the side, stopping you before you can walk out. He talks in a hushed, gentle voice, practically shutting Secondo out. “You should take a moment to calm down, tesoro, have a trip to the bathroom before you face Sister. You’re quite the mess.”
You nod at him, a grateful smile on your face, and then your eyes meet Secondo’s. A quarter of a second, nothing more, and he has no chance to convey anything with his expression. You give Terzo another pained smile and then you hurry outside.
The two man both wait for you to close the door before they face each other. Secondo has settled behind his desk by now, a healthy distance between them that seems to be the only thing keeping their tempers in check. Secondo can’t help but scowl, gripping the edge of the table so tight that his knuckles turn white. “This is none of your business, Terzo. I don’t meddle in your affairs.”
“Why did they cry?” Terzo asks, unimpressed. “What did you do?”
“Why do you ask it like that?”
“It’s usually not a good sign when someone cries after making out, fratello. Don’t think I cannot see your ruined make-up. Your little assistente looked even worse.”
Secondo almost jumps from his chair. “You think I would hurt them?”
“I don’t think you would hurt them,” Terzo explains calmly. “Not physically at least. But everyone sees how they look at you, stronzo, how you look at each other. Did you fuck up?”
Secondo breathes out a sigh, his hand relaxing as he leans back in his chair. “I don’t know.”
Terzo takes a few cautious steps towards him. “Look, I know, you’re not the type, you don’t fall in love, blablabla. But it is never too late to settle down if you find your person, you know? It may feel like giving up your freedom, but look at what you gain.”
“Aha. And what is that?”
Terzo smirks. “Someone who puts up with all of your bullshit.”
A drawn-out pause as they stare at each other.
Finally, Secondo exhales all the stowed anger, shaking his head incredulously. “I can’t believe you’re trying to explain to me how relationships work. You.”
Terzo shrugs, moving back towards the exit. “Think about it. You are going to feel so much more balanced.”
He’s halfway out the door when Secondo notices that he never told him why he was here in the first place. Thinking back, he’s not sure he’s ever seen his brother in this workshop or anywhere close to this part of the basement before.
“What did you want down here?” he calls after him.
“Huh?” Terzo turns back to him, shrugging nonchalantly. “Ah, you know, a ghoul noticed you two were trapped in there and to be honest… I’m kind of invested now.”
✦ ✧ ✦
5 Returning the Favour
A note.
You pick up the weighty envelope that someone, most likely a ghoul, had delivered to you earlier by sliding it underneath your door. The paper has your name on it in beautiful cursive, deep black ink, a green wax seal with a II stamped into it, keeping the contents safe. The note inside is written in a similar fashion, kept very brief and in neat handwriting. All it says is: My quarters, 7pm. Secondo.
Considering you spent most of the night in pure agony, this is a welcome glimmer of hope. He is reaching out and that is what matters, despite all of your doubts and anxieties telling you otherwise, obscuring the joy you should feel at the fact that things are finally moving.
You take the note and press it to your heart, sitting back down on the bed in your tiny quarters. It smells vaguely of his cologne or at least the whimsical part of you wants it to. In any case, he wrote it, thinking about you, maybe even longing for you. Your worries slowly melt at that thought, even though you’re aware you’re in love with the most unattainable man in the whole abbey.
If you had glanced outside the window in that very moment, you would have caught Secondo making his way through the gardens and to the greenhouse – a man on a mission.
He had been pondering all night what he could possible do to make it up to you, to set things right. And there is really only one thing he could think of: Food.
When you made him lunch he promised to return the favour. Another unprecedented lapse. Secondo cooks, he loves to cook, but he does not cook for his dates. It’s too intimate, too personal. His kitchen is sacred, preparing food a form of meditation after a long day. It’s a part of himself he doesn’t share with fleeting encounters.
So when he found himself in a nearby Italian market earlier, carefully choosing the ingredients for a meal, he almost felt lost. He’s bought in bulk before, he’s bought for himself before, but he’s never bought specifically for two. And most unsettlingly, it feels good.
Now, here in Primo’s sanctuary, he has almost made peace with these new developments.
Almost.
“Buon pomeriggio, fratello,” he greets the older man. “I am in need of some fresh basil.”
Primo immediately picks up his scissors. “Che fortunato. My basil plants are thriving at the moment.”
Secondo has no doubts about that. The smells inside the greenhouse are rich and aromatic, a sensory reminder of all the summers he spent in the Italian countryside, trying to connect with his roots. As much as he loves big cities with their bustling night lives, clubs and parties, exclusive bars and restaurants… this is home.
While he’s busy reminiscing, Primo moves to an array of basil plants in the corner, their oval leaves a vivid shade of green. Secondo is pleased with that. They’re going to turn his dish into the most beautiful colours and since his objective for today is that everything has to be perfect, details like that matter.
“È sufficiente?” Primo asks.
“A bit more. I am cooking for two tonight.”
Primo furrows his brow, cutting some more leaves off the delicate plant. “You have a guest for dinner? Someone special, then?”
Secondo hates that he knows him so well sometimes, but Primo is the only one who was ever even close to a healthy father figure for him. His counsel is the only one he truly values, even though he is rare to seek it out these days.
All he can do is give a curt nod in reply.
“You’re in love,” Primo states with a smile. “That is a good thing, you know?”
Secondo makes a face. “I feel like I am sick. I don’t know how people do it.”
“It will stop feeling like that at some point,” Primo explains, carefully placing the cut basil in a small basket. “You will grow to appreciate a steady presence by your side, fratello, especially when you reach my age.”
Secondo wants to reply that he doubts it, but it would be a lie to pretend he hasn’t thought about it since getting close to you. You are steady. You are smart and kind and caring, he can talk to you as well as be silent with you. There hasn’t been a single moment in all these months now in which he’s grown tired of you. And yes, that is unprecedented as well.
“Thank you for the basil,” Secondo says.
Primo gives him a gentle, brotherly smile.
✦ ✧ ✦
A tentative knock.
Secondo looks up from the counter and towards the door, his heart rate quickening in a concerning jump. Another knock, more confident this time. He chuckles to himself. You’re nervous but you don’t want him to think that you are – which is exactly how he’s feeling right now.
Before he opens, he wipes his hands on his black slacks, rights the collar of his white shirt, and then there you are. There you are.
And it’s a sight he will never forget. He’s very pleased to see that you dressed up for him. When he kisses your cheek in greeting, he catches your scent and the perfume with its sweet as well as tangy notes perfectly mirrors your character. It takes everything in him to break away again.
“Thank you for following my invitation,” he says, closing the door behind you.
A shy smile. “It sounded more like an order.”
He feels his heart plummeting and for a second there is a shadow of doubt crossing his mind. “Is that the reason you came? Because you felt obligated?”
Your eyes widen and you quickly shake your head. “No. No, I would have come either way, no matter why you want me here.”
Relief. He takes your arm and gently guides you further into the room. “I want you here because I promised to cook for you and I intend to keep that promise.”
“So, this is a dinner date?”
“Yes.”
“A date date?”
“Yes.”
Your smile is worth it, genuine and so bright that he almost forgets what he’s supposed to do. Your lips are all he can focus on when you’re so close and it’s only when he sees them form an O that he realises he’s been staring. Secondo finally pulls you into the kitchen area and motions for you to sit on a stool at his counter. It’s surreal to see you here, such different surroundings, but it’s a sight he could get used to.
“Is that fresh basil from the greenhouse?” you ask.
Secondo values a professional mise en place, every ingredient neatly laid-out ready to be used which gives you the perfect opportunity to analyse everything he’s going to use. “It is.”
“So you did guess my favourite.”
“I didn’t guess, my dove.” He looks up at you. “You’re not the only one who is observant.”
You smirk and while he’s busy filling a big pot with water to boil the pasta you take in his quarters. Naturally, they are much bigger than yours, the kitchen and living area combined into a spacious room, all dark colours, black and grey, contrasted with a few light grey touches here and there. You notice a lingering smell of incense and what you can only assume is cigar smoke. A small serving cart turned into a bar sits next to an emerald green couch with velvet upholstering. Your eyes are drawn to a carafe filled with a dark ember liquid, sitting right next to a crystal ashtray that reflects the remainders of sunlight streaming in through the arched windows.
Secondo sets the heavy pot down on the stove and the thud makes you turn your head back to him. He’s noticed you drifting off, hoping that you like what you’re seeing, that you wouldn’t mind spending time here more often. His home in the abbey has been crafted very consciously over the past decade, every item carefully curated. He’s toying with the optimal balance between luxurious and still slightly understated, comfortable.
Your face doesn’t betray your opinion but as he turns on the stove, you slip from your stool. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you join him behind the counter and tries not to let you deter him from the task at hand – salting the water, one of many steps. You come to a stop right behind him and then he feels your arms snaking around his waist, squeezing tightly as you press yourself into his back, your cheek right against his shoulder. It’s an unexpectedly tender hug, like you just need to be close to him in any way that you can, and despite your soft affection that he so struggles to accept, he’s immensely relieved to have you closer.
Secondo lets you hold him for however long you want. He can clearly imagine your squished cheek, your puckered lips, and all he wants is to spin you around and kiss you breathless. But his plan says no physicality until after dinner. He knows he won’t be able to stop once you start touching, and he has a lot to do until then, a lot to say until then. So it’s dinner first, then discussing the necessities, and then he can fuck you.
“My dove, you’re distracting me,” he says, finally adding a generous amount of salt to the water.
“Mhm.” You duck underneath his arm and hug him sideways now, your face melting into his neck. When your nose brushes against his sensitive skin it’s almost enough to make him come undone. A shiver runs down his spine and you give a satisfied hum at his reaction. “Actually, I was wondering… is it allowed to kiss the chef?”
“Ordinarily, it’s not.”
A kiss just below his ear. “And un-ordinarily?”
Fuck his plan.
He grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, bringing one gloved hand up to cup your cheek. He stops for a second, taking in the barely visible bruises on your jaw. With the memory of what happened in the storage room clear in his mind, he feels a jolt of lust, and then his mouth is on yours. This time, he’s not as forceful, but it’s not as soft as he would wish either. He can’t help but push his tongue into your mouth at the first opportunity, tasting you and a hint of minty toothpaste. You moan softly, clinging to the front of his shirt until he’s sure he could have spared himself the trouble of ironing it.
He breaks away, staring at your swollen lips, the skin around them all red and wet with spit.
Oh, that mouth.
He’s going to lose his mind over it, slowly but surely, and he can’t help but kiss you again, slower, deeper, exploring every inch of you with his tongue.
When he breaks away this time, you smile and the way it stretches your lips, plumps the apples of your cheeks and brings out that joyful glimmer in your eyes – it feels so personal, so very intimate to him. This kind of smile should belong to him and only him.
“Are you very worried about this?” you ask suddenly, smoothing your hand over his shirt. “About us?”
A deep, long sigh. “I worry, yes. I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”
Your hand slides up his neck, softly cradling his cheek. “All I want is you, Secondo, in any way that I can.”
He smiles at the use of his name, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch. It may well be the first smile in a long time that he doesn’t even attempt to hold back, though he’s not sure if that’s true. He catches himself smiling at the mere thought of you more often than seems healthy. In your presence, his mouth does a lot of things he simply can’t control anymore.
Like kiss you again right now, fiercely, passionately, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth until you start whining. At this point, he doubts he will ever be sated. His need for you is an ever-expanding black hole and he’s teetering at the edge of being consumed himself. But he’s no stranger to uncertainty, to taking risks, as much as he hates the feeling of powerlessness. And so the next time you part, he turns off the stove despite the water almost boiling, and pulls you into his bedroom.
There should have been a conversation at some point tonight that lasted more than that one sentence of reassurance you gave him, an honest exchange of expectations, feelings and hopes, but maybe he doesn’t have to say it.
It’s a knee-jerk response, a very reactionary change of plans: Make love to you (or at least attempt it), eat dinner, then fuck you for the rest of the night.
The bedroom, unsurprisingly, is dominated by a huge four-poster bed, clad in emerald green sheets that give off a sweet scent, only overpowered by the smoky aroma of the incense burning on Secondo’s altar, the light of numerous black candles dipping the room in a warm, flickering light, heavy curtains blocking out the sun completely.
You stand in front of his bed shivering in anticipation.
“Two things,” he says, eyes fixated on yours. “First: In here, it is Papa. At least for now.”
You nod.
“Second: You will tell me immediately if I do anything that you don’t like. No shame, no judgement. You use your words to let me know what you want or do not want. Yes?”
“Yes, Papa.”
He smirks. You learn fast, but he knows that already. Secondo reaches out for your hands, taking both of them in his and bringing them to his lips, gently but insistingly kissing your knuckles. In the dim light, his features look daunting, a stark contrast to his soft mouth. His eyes meet yours, fervently, longingly, and then he drops your hands and pulls you in for a real kiss. This time, knowing he won’t have to hold back anymore, he lets his hands roam free, opening buttons, freeing every inch of your skin with deft, confident fingers, until you’re completely bare in front of him. His mouth doesn’t leave yours even as you gasp for air, sucking and licking on whatever he can reach. Ultimately, he keeps your bottom lip trapped between his teeth to allow you some air, teasing it with his tongue before swallowing your next breath yet again. Meanwhile, his hands explore the outlines of your body, big, curious hands still covered in leather, mapping out every single detail.
Shaky fingers toy with the buttons on his shirt, not managing to open any of them but trailing further down until they find his belt. He allows you to fiddle with the buckle, if only because your warm fingers graze his abdomen with every attempt to open it. When you give up and reach further down, he gently removes your hands and pulls away from the kiss.
You look at him with big eyes, whimpering softly, and he can tell that you’re nervous.
“Relax, my dove,” he says, swiping his thumb over your hot cheek. “All I want is to take care of you. Now, get on the bed.”
You do as he says, so obedient. Secondo removes his belt slowly, watching you stretch out amongst his sheets and pillows. His hand falters at the sight. You’re beautiful, a dream come true, and in that moment he is immensely relieved that he did not give into his impulses before.
With your eyes on him, he removes his shirt and steps out of his pants. He didn’t bother with underwear, so when he joins you on the bed there is nothing separating you anymore. Your skin is hot under his as he crawls between your legs, towering over your shivering form.
He can’t help but kiss you once more, licking into your waiting mouth. Your hand moves to his head, scratching softly, and he hums as he allows his lips to travel to your neck. He finds a deep purple hickey there which shouldn’t come as a surprise to him since he left it there a mere day ago but the sight nevertheless makes him proud. You’re already marked as his and when the night is over, your whole body will be.
Making true on that promise, his lips trail down your body, stamping soft, lingering kisses to your chest, your nipples, licking down to your abdomen where he stays for a moment.
“Hm, così dolce,” he whispers. “So sweet.”
“Papa,” you say.
He looks up. “Yes?”
You buck your hips slightly. “I need… I need more.”
He sits back, intense eyes circling in on you as he removes his gloves, throwing them aside. “Open your mouth, tesoro, show me that sweet tongue.”
You do, poking out your tongue slightly, and he leans back over you, sliding two fingers in between your still swollen lips. You start to suck, swivelling your tongue around his digits and he can feel his cock twitching at the sight and feeling.
“So good for me, my dove,” he whispers. “So good for your Papa.”
You moan around his digits, the vibrations sending a pang of need into his body. When you start to breathe heavily through your nose, he decides that his fingers are wet enough. His hand snakes down your body, collecting more of your arousal, and then he starts working you slowly, carefully. You whimper, demanding more, but for right now he’s not going to hurry. You’re not going to come before he’s inside of you.
He continues for a bit longer until you can feel the arousal flowing through your whole body, building up into waves that make you shiver. His fingers find your waiting hole, spreading out the combination of spit and arousal on his hand and stretching you open bit by bit. His hard cock, already leaking precum, sits hot and heavy against your thigh. Mismatched eyes never leave yours, catching ever flicker of lust and pleasure in your half-lidded eyes, even as the squelching sounds between your legs get louder and you barely manage to hold his gaze anymore.
“Please,” you whisper. “Please, Papa.”
“Please what?” he demands. “Words, tesoro.”
You swallow heavily, chest heaving as your body tries to search for his, but he’s hovering just above you, propped up on one arm, massaging your insides with the other.
“I want you, Papa,” you say. “Please, I need you inside of me, need to f-feel you. Please.”
Secondo could listen to you all day and maybe later he’s going to see just how long he can get you to beg, but right now he’s too impatient, too eager, spurred on by how tight and wet you feel around his fingers. His cock is aching for friction and so he removes his hand, ignoring the disapproving whine you let out.
“Since you ask so nicely,” he says.
Cock in hand, he lines himself up, carefully pushing inside. Your head falls back into the pillows as you let out a drawn-out hum, taking him so well, inch by inch, and he feels a flutter inside of his chest at the sight. Your legs wrap around his back, heels digging into his ass, and he lets his chest sink onto yours, waiting for you to relax, to adjust. Pressed together like that, a searing wave of emotion overcomes him, deep, warm, an intense longing to never let go that is utterly unfamiliar to him. He has to unload the sudden tension in a heated kiss, feeling your moans and whimpers reverberating inside of him as he slowly starts moving.
He tries to make it last, to keep up a careful, deliberate rhythm. He really, really tries, biting his lip to hold back, but he soon has to go faster to stay sane. More desperate noises from you as his thrusts get harder and weeks of held-back need for you spill out from inside of him. Attaching his lips to the still unmarked side of your soft neck, he starts sucking, biting, trying to absorb you into him. You keen, one hand on his neck, the other tightly grabbing his shoulder for support. With a pop, he removes his mouth to take a deep breath and your expression is hazy, eyes clouded with lust. He shifts his weight onto one arm, angling your hips up slightly and you clench around him over and over again at the changed angle, crying out softly at every roll of his hips. He feels himself getting close and to his relief he can tell you’re getting there too, trembling underneath him more and more.
“Please,” you say, strangled, whimpery. “Please, Papa, I n-need to– need to come.”
He growls, bringing his hand between your bodies to help you over the edge. It’s strenuous, his arm protesting wildly, but when he feels your sticky arousal on his fingers, it’s enough to keep him going.
“Come for me,” he says. “Come on my cock, tesoro. You’ve been so good for your Papa.”
It’s all you need, two more thrusts and a few words of praise, and you tighten around him, crying out as your whole body shudders. He gives a few more laborious thrusts to draw out your pleasure before he finally changes the angle, taking the weight off his arm until he can pound into you harder, chasing his own release. His hips snap against yours, loud obscene sounds, and you whimper in overstimulation, arms wrapping around him gently as he stills. A low moan leaves his burning throat and he spills inside of you, filling you up with his seed. His hips stutter a few more times before he rolls onto his side, dragging you with him.
Heavy, panting breaths fills the sudden silence of the room. Secondo pulls you close and you settle against his chest, breathing kisses to his sweaty skin, softly licking up the column of his throat. He only hums and for a long time, you stay like this, tangled up in silky sheets and the comfort of each other. His hold on you is so tight that you don’t, not even for a second, doubt whether he meant everything that just happened, all the things he can’t bring himself to tell you yet but that you can feel so clearly even in his silence – and for now, that’s enough.
“You sabotaged my dinner plans,” he finally whispers, breathing more slowly now. “I didn’t even get to open the wine.”
You chuckle against his neck. “Would you like me to help you preparing it now?”
Secondo sighs deeply, pulling you closer. “No, my dove, give your Papa a few more minutes of this, yes?”
By the way you can feel him twitching against your belly, you highly doubt that it’s only going to be a few more minutes. He knows this too, his plans long abandoned, and when you prop yourself up to look at him, eyes full of reverent love for an old man like him, he starts to embrace all of the changes you bring into his life. Maybe Terzo was right after all, maybe it’s never too late, not even for someone like him.
Thank you for reading! I know this was very long but believe me, writing it was a pain too :D I hope you enjoyed it – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always very appreciated ♡
Masterlist – my Ao3
#secondo x reader#papa emeritus ii x reader#secondo#papa emeritus ii#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus iii#the band ghost#the band ghost fanfiction#secondo smut#secondo fluff#soft secondo#ghost#ghost fanfiction
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