#【 CROSSING BRIDGES | ( STARTER CALL ). 】 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

idle-daydreams · 4 months

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HEHEHE what a about possessive yandere starters. "Where do you think you're going dressed like that? Your body is for my eyes only" Dazai or Chuuya! Or Fyodor It's up to you! Thank you for taking my request I love your works!😌✨✨

I chose Fyodor because this prompt seems to fit him best. I hope its okay :)

Tw: Yandere, mentions of sexual assault and stalking, controlling behaviour

“Where do you think you're going dressed like that?”

You froze, hand still upon the doorknob. “Fyodor,” you said, stomach clenching. “I... was just going to the store for some stuff.”

Fyodor stepped out from the shadows of the living-room, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door frame. “Your body is for my eyes only,” he said in his flat voice. “Have you forgotten that, my love?”

Your stomach dipped again, almost painfully, and you took a deep breath to calm yourself. Fyodor was extremely caring, but his concern could be overbearing at times. “I know that,” you said. “But, I mean, I’m not dressed inappropriately.”

“Are you not?”

You looked away. At one time, you wouldn’t have given the black sweatshirt and leggings you were wearing a second thought, but ever since the accident you’d started to second-guess anything even remotely form-fitting. So your clothes tonight had been an active choice. “No,” you said defensively. “Lots of girls dress like this.”

“At home. Not when they go out alone after dark.”

“It’s fine,” you said, somewhat exasperated. “It’s still light out, and the store is like, ten minutes away.”

“But that outfit leaves too much to the imagination.”

“Its leggings and sweatshirt, not a string bikini,” you snapped.

Fyodor pursed his lips. Immediately, a stab of guilt ran through you. “I-I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I just - Fyodor, I don’t like it when you tell me what to do. I’ve always worn these kinds of clothes, and it’s been fine.”

“Has it?” Fyodor moved towards you, eyes hooded in the dim light of the hallway. You stopped yourself from instinctively pulling back, reminding yourself that it was only your boyfriend. Fyodor brushed his cold fingers down your cheek, and an uncomfortable flush ran across your skin nevertheless.

“Tell me, which one of us gets catcalled when they go outside, my little dove?” he said. “Which one of us had a stalker following them around? Who got assaulted right around the time we first met?”

“That was different,” you stammered, wishing he could pull away as he leaned in even closer. He was tall and thin, barely there at times; yet at times like these he could be overpowering. “It was late at night then, and I - I should have been more careful, but-”

“But this time it is different, yes? Because it is ‘still light out’? Because it happened that way the other time, so it cannot possibly happen now?”

You jerked as he ran his fingers along the insides of your thighs, quickly and violently. “Fyodor!” you exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He quickly flipped you over, pressing himself against your body until you could feel his manhood against your ass. Before you could react more than a startled gasp he stepped away, leaving you stumbling.

“I tell you what to do because you aren’t smart enough to be left on your own,” he said flatly. “What I did could be done by anyone, anywhere, at any time. Even at a nearly-empty convenience store while its still light out.”

“It won’t happen again,” you said, shaken by Fyodor’s callousness. “That guy is dead.”

“Yes, it is fortunate that he walked off a bridge and drowned after driving you into a breakdown.”

“I didn’t have a breakdown!”

“Really? You call that night you spent crying in my bed something else, then?” He grasped your chin in a pale hand, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Is it worth it, [Y/N]?” he asked softly. “Is it worth all of it just to defy me? The months of paranoia, having to abandon your job, your boyfriend, your life - will all of it be worth it just to wear an outfit? Because if you like the attention that much, as to twist my concern into something else, then I certainly will not help you should there be any consequences.”

Tears filled your eyes as you struggled to form an answer. You’d thought you were getting better, moving past the assault and the hellish nightmare of having to flee your home-town just to escape your stalker. But that niggling thought still lived at the back of your mind, the ever-present fear of being hunted again. Fyodor had been kind enough to help you out with settling in Yokohama, but you didn’t want to go through all of it again, and certainly not alone.

“... fine, I’ll change,” you said in a small voice.

“It will be better if you don’t go,” Fyodor said. “I planned to go get dinner anyway, so I will get you whatever you need.”

“That’s fine, thank you.”

“Ah, I’ve frightened my little bird.” Fyodor sighed, pressing his lips to the top of your head. You flinched, but forced yourself to lean in, reminding yourself once again Fyodor was your boyfriend. Who loved you more than anything in the world and had gone above and beyond just to prove it.

If only his touch felt kinder, instead of possessive.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I am sorry, my little dove. I did not mean to distress you.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly, resting his chin on your head. “But you have to remember, everything I do or say is to protect you. You need protection, after all. You do not know just how beautiful you are, just how unusual your pure soul is in this world of sinners. And your body is the temple of your perfection. So protect it from others, and keep it only for me.”

#yandere fyodor dostoevsky #yandere bsd #yandere fyodor #yandere imagines #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #yandere bungou stray dogs

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steddieasitgoes · 6 months

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@steddiemas Day 16 Prompt: Angst Themed Sentence Starters

3. I don’t know what you want from me. and 5. I don’t want to fight with you. Not tonight.

Tags: Established Relationship, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Protective Eddie Munson

wc: 1184 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“I don’t know what you want from me!” Steve shouts, arms thrown in the air.

He’s glued to the floor in their living room watching as Eddie stalks up and down the length of the room in the dim glow of their Christmas tree. Steve’s hands are clutched around the cordless phone, double-checking that he properly hung it up.

The last thing he needs is for his mother to overhear the argument currently going on.

The same argument that happens every year, without fail.

An unofficial tradition that Steve fucking hates.

“I want you to stand up for yourself!” Eddie shouts back.

Their voices may be raised, but they’re not screaming at each other. At least, not in the ways they were raised too. Their voices may be loud, but they don’t hurl insults at each other. Nor do they shout directly at each other, shouting their concerns into the void of the room instead.

“I do stand up for myself!” Steve defends, crossing his arms.

“Not when it comes to them!” Eddie growls, flippantly waving his hand in the air. “I thought we decided after last year's disaster that we weren’t going to put up with it anymore. If your parents wanted to be in our lives, they’d be there for us every day and not just on the choice fucking holiday so you’re mom can take her family picture that conveniently always makes me look terrible.”

“I know. Okay? I know we said that!” Steve uncrosses his arms, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The other hangs limply by his thighs, opening and closing into a fist, tethering him to the moment. “But they’re still my parents!”

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head. “Just because a piece of paper says they’re your parents doesn’t make it true.”

“I know, but—“

“No! No buts! They’re shitty people, Steve! I’m not going to apologize for saying that because it’s the truth! They only want you around when it's convenient for them and then they leave. You might not see it, but every time they walk out that door you turn into that lonely, abandoned teenager you’ve worked so hard to grow from! I’m not going to let them keep doing that to you!”

“Eddie,” Steve huffs. He’s not wrong, not in the slightest. But it still stings hearing it. Knowing that even though he tries to hide how he feels when his parents walk out the door every year, Eddie sees. That he hurts just as much as Steve does.

“What if it was my dad who called and said, “Clear you’re scheduled for the 20th, we’re having Christmas dinner since I’m going out on Christmas but still need to show face with my friends and see you?” What if he did it every fucking year for seven years, only to bitch and moan about every little thing? Questioning my life choices, talking shit about the man I’ve become because I didn’t live up to his expectations. Making snide comments about you when he thinks you’re not listening. Would you let him keep coming?”

“Of course not!”

“Then you understand where I’m coming from!” Eddie says, slowly making his way over to Steve. “I wish things were different. I wish your parents saw you for the amazing man you are. Saw us for all the work we’ve done to better ourselves. But they don’t. They never will. And I’m tired of pretending for a few hours every year to be okay with their bullshit. You deserve better than that.”

“I—“ Steve breaks, the first tear racing down his cheek before he can even register what’s happening.

He’s wrapped in Eddie’s arms in an instant, pushed and flushed with his warm chest. His shirt is soft, soothing the prickly feeling spreading across his own cheeks as he lets the tears fall. Eddie holds him, strong and firm. Rocks him slowly in his arms, and runs a hand soothingly up and down his back. Whispers encouragement into the wild tufts of hair on the top of his head.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie coos. “It’s okay. S’gonna be okay.”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Steve hiccups, pulling away from Eddie’s embrace. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either.” With a gentle hand, Eddie swipes the tears from Steve’s eyes before cradling his face in his hands. “Especially not about your parents. Maybe about your questionable taste in movies—“

“Hey!” Steve laughs, swatting at Steve’s chest. “You’re the one with the questionable taste.”

Eddie hums, shaking his head. “Keep telling yourself that, big boy.”

They stay like that for a few moments, wrapped in each other's embrace. Letting the tension ease from their bodies and minds. The air in the room already feels lighter, the lights on the trees twinkling brighter.

But there’s still a weight pressing on Steve’s chest. One he knows isn’t going to go away until he figures this out. Once and for all.

“What should I tell them?” he mumbles, words nearly lost amongst the quiet hum of their space heater.

“You could tell them we’re going on vacation? Or that we already made plans.”

“I don’t want to lie to them,” Steve sighs, feeling the pressure building behind his eyes again. “If I tell her that she’ll want to see pictures or hear stories and then it's one lie after another.”

“You could tell them the truth?” Eddie suggests, arms wrapping around Steve again. “Tell them that they don’t deserve to spend Christmas with you because of the way they’ve treated you. That we don’t need their negative energy in our lives.”

Steve grimaces. He wishes he could have a conversation with his mom. Wishes they had the type of relationship that allowed him the grace, to be honest with her. To give her space to listen and hopefully learn. But they don’t. They never have. All that will get Steve is an earful of guilt and yelling, followed by a call from his father about he broke his mother.

Still, what other choice does he have?

If he doesn’t want to lie, the truth is the only other option.

“Will you stay by me while I make the call?”

“Of course, sweetheart. M’not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Steve says, letting the plan take shape in his head. “Okay. I’m going to tell her the truth.”

“I’ll be the whole time,” Eddie says, squeezing Steve’s hand. “But if she starts yelling, I will grab that phone and hang up on her. You understand that, right?”

“I think you hanging up on my mom is the kindest thing you could do to her.”

“Damn right, it is!” Eddie laughs. “Now come on, let’s rip this bandaid off so we can start planning what we’re actually going to do now that we have the 20th free.”

“I’m sure you already have ideas.” Steve laughs, watching as Eddie’s eyes light up as they drink him from head to toe.

“Yeah,” he says, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. “I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve.”

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megachaoticstupid · 4 months

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Earthly delights

Huge thank you's to @her-satanic-wiles for bearing with me when i whined to her about this fic, to @gothdaddyissues for the amazing and beautiful dividers and to @foxybouquet for her masterlist of all the phrases and terms of endearment spoken in Italian. I used a lot of them in my fic. Also, please be nice, english is not my first language, so typos and mistakes are inevitable. And, this is my first smut, so, i hope you all will enjoy it 😊 Secondo was always diligent when it came to his duties as the Papa of the Satanic church, and you always respected it. But, when you learnt that upon his return, he already burrowed himself in loads of work, you decided to help him to relax a little bit.

Tags: p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this in real life), creampie, semi-public space (they are in his office), afab!reader, dry humping, fingering, fully clothed\fully naked sex, overall smut, usage of google translate in some places (two sentences) Words count: 4580

He sits in the quiet of his office having finally returned from his tour. Load of work piling up on his desk, reminding him of all of the months of his absence, making him grunt in displeasure and irritating him to no end. He did well on the tour, making the flock of his ministry grow considerably, improving what his brother did before him and now his reward is piles and piles of workload and the requirement to make a report on all of the money spent during his tour. He tuts. He really hates to work on his taxes, let alone to answer to Sister Imperatour about all of his spending habits.

His irritation is palpable when you walk in into his office, tray in your arms and a light, warm smile on your lips.

“Good evening, Papa” you say, walking closer to him

Secondo only grunts in return, scanning through the paper in from of him, reading glasses on the tip of his nose. He doesn’t even look at you, as you come closer and finally stand near him. On other days he wouldn’t even let you walk after his return from tour, catching up on all of the days he couldn’t kiss you, suck you, fuck you. But now all of that passion was given to his papers and, even though you have always respected his work, today you just can’t help it.

You set the tray right on his desk in the middle of his work. His favourite bucatini all'amatriciana and a cup of espresso were lovingly prepared by you and now waited for him to notice. Grabbing a comfortable chair near the window and dragging it to his desk, you sit down and just stare at him. He always loved to call you his kitten and now you decide to behave like one, sitting and looking at him, silently demanding his attention. After a few minutes of very uncomfortable silence, he breaks his focus and turns to you, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. His stern look softens for a minute and he looks at you lovingly

“Bambina, I am busy, what do you want?”

You smile at him, caressing his cheek with a free hand and say “For starters, I really want you to eat. Siblings told me that you haven’t yet”

There is a silence as he mules over your words and you can see stubbornness in his eyes. He looks tired, paints cracking at the corners of his eyes and mouth and there is a smudge at the bridge of his nose, where he, no doubt, pinched it, trying to compose himself or irritated at some reports and numbers. Secondo looks at you, catching your gaze and sighs, avoiding your words.

“You look really tired today, bambina. Did something happen? Has work been hard on you today?”

“I had to cover for two Siblings, they fell ill. And then I cooked something for the grumpiest papa in the world and now he refuses to eat.”

You sigh, obviously teasing him, edging slightly to make him feel guilty. And it works, his features soften, a shade of guilt crosses them and he says gently, taking the cup of espresso and removing his glasses.

“Mi scusi, gattina, you know how it is difficult for me to be cared for, si? Grazie, thank you. I really appreciate it, but you shouldn’t have worried about me, you better rest after the long day”

“And let my Papa sit here alone, angry and hungry?”

You tease him even more, trying to pry from him the needed reaction and finally you receive it. He rolls his eyes, takes the sip of espresso and grumbles approvingly, enjoying the bitter drink, made just the way he loves. Secondo looks at you and motions for you to come closer and sit on his lap and you oblige, seemingly happy to finally be with him after all of the long days and months apart. His arm snakes around your waist pulling you even closer to him, while he finishes his drink. Putting aside the cup, he looks at you with affection and cups your cheek, gently stroking tender skin under his gloved fingers.

“So, la mia gattina made all of this for her Papa, si? Mi scusi, I was too preoccupied with work, bambina. Let me finish it and I will eat it okay?”

He asks tenderly, reaching out for the papers, you sitting on his lap give him all the motivation in the world to finish the report. But you are not having it, frowning at him and taking his face in your hands

“If you will not eat right now, you will see all of your stupid papers on fire, hear me, love?”

At your little threat something quickly flashes in his eyes, his grip on your waist tightens. A smirk appears on his lips.

“Who would have thought that la mia gattina would become a fierce lioness, if I will not eat. Maybe, I should start starving myself to face your wrath more often, hm?’

He smiles at you teasingly and your cheeks flush. You know very well what happens when you show your temper. Your thighs tighten to give you some friction as you core becomes warmer. But it can wait. You sigh, look at him and turn to the plate on his table, gathering food on the fork and bringing it to his lips. Secondo doesn’t protest, obediently opening his mouth. You both continue this for some time in the quiet of his room, interrupted only by the fork clacking against the plate and the rustle of your habit, while his hands relearn the feel of your body. All of your curves and tender spots are gently teased and cupped by him, making you frustrated and wanting more with each second while his face remains stoic and uninterested. You know that this is all a play that will lead you to fun, so you ignore it, continuing your task.

When you are finished, he looks at your tenderly, with a hint of mischief in his eyes, work long forgotten in your presence:

“Thank you, gattino, it was delicious.”

He looks at you, as if you the only ever light in his life, as if he lives only for you, and you melt under his gaze. Tenderly, he cups your cheek and brush it, lovingly, gently. And then in a next second, Secondo kisses you, holding you as if in any minute you will disappear. His kisses are tender, growing hungry for you with every passing second. He licks you bottom lip and slightly bites it, asking for invitation you give so readily. Even if you both didn’t want things to escalate this quickly, your pent-up longing and love for each other, which only increased during all of those long days of not seeing each other, get the upper hand. And now your tongues swirl around each other, and you know that no desperate phone call cannot make up for the feeling of his arms around your body, while he devours you.

His hand plays with the hem of your habit, not sliding under it, but still teasing you, taunting even. He draws small circles on your soft thigh. A devilish smirk plays on his lips, while he watches you squirming in his lap, knowing well enough how he affects you. His other arm slips down from your face and now lightly cupping your breast, teasing tender nipples under all of the layers on you. Too much layers to his opinion. His lips leave yours, find your neck and start exploring tender skin underneath them, sucking it and sometimes nibbling on it, leaving a trail of small hickeys. You whimper at each nibble, his every caress setting your body on fire, throwing fuel to your never-ending desire for him.

As your cries for him get louder, he nudges you to move slightly and you obey quickly. Your back now is flush against his chest, thighs hanging on other sides of his legs, leaving your cunt fully open to his touch, save only for your underwear. You shudder in anticipation when he slides his gloved hand between your legs, chuckling when he hears a squelching sound against the leather.

“Sei così bagnata per me, bambina.” He cooes. “So ready for your Papa, eh?”

You only whine in response and buck your hips when he starts teasing your clit. The sight of you, so desperate for him and for his touch, boosts his ego. Secondo presses on your clit slightly harder, going in circular motions and ripping from you moan after moan. His other hand tugs at your habit, gently raising it and revealing your body inch after inch, pulling it over your head and discarding it somewhere on the floor of his office. The cool air makes you shiver and covers you in goosebumps, you feel how your nipples harden under your bra, both from arousal and cold air.

As soon as you are in your underwear, Secondo latches on your skin, leaving sloppy kisses along your shoulders, breathing in your sent and humming happily, finally feeling at home. You are his everything and finally you are once again in his arms and no thanks to him. Secondo feels the need to apologize and the only way for him to do that is to bring you a lot of pleasure. His hand is still on your clothed, soaked core, playing with your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the sweet release. You haven’t seen him for so long, that now even this light foreplay can bring you to orgasm really fast. Your own hand flies to his over your mound, clutching it, not knowing whether you want him to stop or finish you off faster. Your nails are digging into the leather and drawing a hiss from his lips

“La mia gattina is that desperate already?” he purrs in your ear and then nibbles on your earlobe, drawing another loud whimper from you. “So desperate that she harms her poor Papa, who tries so much to please her? It hurts me so much, amore”

Secondo says in a mock worry and hurt, but you don’t answer, too caught up in the moment, whimpering for him. He tsks playfully and speeds up slightly while you buck your hips against his hand, trying to chase the pleasure. You feel him growing deliciously hard against the strains of his slacks underneath his papal robes. You feel bratty today, encouraged by his attention, so you decide to give him a little bit of friction. Still bucking your hips against his hand and you grind your ass on his hard cock. He groans. His grip on your waist gets tighter and then slides up to your breast, pulling up your bra and teasing your nipple, pinching it slightly, gently pulling on your breast. You cry out, fully resting against him, your head buried in his neck, as you get closer and closer to your impending orgasm.

“Please, Papa, harder. I need it.”

You sound desperate enough to please him and he does just as you ask. Focusing fully on your clit with his thumb, he slides middle and forefinger to your entrance lightly nudging it and swiping your clothed folds. He sucks on the skin of your neck again and bites on it a little bit harder than before. And it was the push you needed, the knot in your stomach releasing and you cry out in pleasure, hips still bucking to prolong this chase and your head throwing further back to his shoulder in pure bliss. Secondo talks you through it, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and kissing your neck tenderly.

As you calm down from your high, he helps you to get up slightly on your wobbly legs, pulling your underwear down your legs and sitting you back on his lap. Your breath hitches when skilled hand snakes to your entrance and stops here. He grunts and then pulls his hand to your mouth and whispers into your ear. His voice is laced with lust and temptation, making you think about the ancient serpent deceiver, holding up an apple for Eve

“Come on gattino, do what you always love to do. Bite”

And you do just like that, biting in the glove, feeling the taste of your own release on your tongue as he frees his hand. He takes it from your mouth, gently swiping a finger on your lips and reaches once again to your waiting core. You part your legs wider, resting one of the feet on his desk. Your core is dripping for him, previous orgasm makes your cunt gush your juices further down on his papal robes, making a mess out of him. And he loves it. You are a mess only because of him, whimpering and shaking for him, boosting his ego and making him feel the urge to praise you and feel the desire to prove his worth for you, to worship you. Gently opening your folds and gathering your slick on his finger, he brings it his mouth and hungrily licks it clean with a moan.

“Perfetta”

He hums, as you whine from the loss of contact. Secondo chuckles and kisses your neck soothingly.

“Patience, amore, I am starved”

He continues your torment, swiping your slick and pulling it into his mouth, as if he is dying of thirst and hunger, licking up his fingers clean just to dive down again and get another swipe. To him you are the most delicious and enticing dessert and he can’t get enough of it. All the while, you are a whimpering mess, sitting on his lap, with legs opened wide and grinding on his cock, trying to get back at him for teasing you so much. He humps on you back, moaning slightly, still cleaning you up with his fingers, his free hand rests on your waist and squeezes it slightly. And only after he feels that you are clean enough and ready for a second round, Secondo kisses your shoulder and gets closer to your entrance. You feel how he finally slides his middle finger inside of you, your walls instantly clenching around it and he starts moving.

He works you up perfectly, setting up a nice pace and you can’t help but moan louder and louder, the foot of his palm rubbing on your clit. The pain from the overstimulation brings you pleasure and makes you roll your eyes. You hiss, moving hips in rhythm with his hand. His office is filled with wet sounds, your moans and his grunts. This cacophony of sounds is so loud, that you are sure that if whoever decides to stand behind the door, would hear everything and it turns you on even more. You clench harder around his finger and he immediately adds another one, stretching you nicely, preparing you for him.

“So good for me, gattino, so fucking tight”

He cooes into your ear and continues his assault on your core. Your vision blurs from sensations, tears of pleasure are running down your face, smudging your mascara, leaving black traces on your cheeks. He takes you by the throat, dragging you closer to him, slightly choking you to heighten your pleasure. You whine, your orgasm building up faster than the previous one and you feel his third now finger inside of you, filling you up. Your nails dig into his arms and the back of his neck, trying to get him closer to you, as if you wanted to merge with him. Secondo nibbles on your earlobe slightly and whispers to you, ignoring slight pain

“Give me another one, amore. I want you to cum, please”

And you do that again, your body too pent up to disobey and tease him at this point. This orgasm hits you harder, making your legs shake and reaping out of you almost pornographic moans of pleasure. Your chest moves heavily, as you try to breathe deeper and slower, coming down from the high of the climax. Secondo holds you tenderly, leaving gentle kisses on your shoulders and face, drawing soothing circles on your skin to help you to calm down.

Once your senses return to you, you turn to him and bring his face closer to you in a lingering kiss, showing him how much you love him and how you missed him so. The remnants of his papal turn into a complete grey mess around his mouth. You break the kiss just to face him fully, straddling his hips and kissing him once again, more passionately. Now, you take the initiative in your hands, biting on his bottom lip, silently asking for him to open his mouth. Secondo moans, hands gripping your waist as he opens his mouth greeting your tongue with his. Your hands gently hold his face, brushing his cheeks and smudging the sides further. You know how much he hates wearing paints and smile into the kiss, knowing very well that he will grumble later reapplying his makeup. Your hands slide down to his shoulders and down his robes, tugging at the fabric and pulling it apart, fingers brushing against his white shirt. Breaking the kiss, your look at him, smiling with mock frustration.

“My Papa wears so many layers”

You pout and pull down his robes slowly, looking him in the eyes. Secondo doesn’t move, letting you do whatever you want with him, closing his beautiful mismatching eyes, when your fingers touch his neck accidently. You open his shirt button by button a bit hurriedly almost tearing them from the fabric, too greedy to tease him properly and rile him up. You lean down to him, kissing his neck, breathe in the scent of his perfume lingering on his skin and pulling down his shirt further. You see his chest, covered in hair, his soft tummy and strong arms and filled with such a relief of finally seeing him, with tenderness and deep love that you can’t help the tears to well up. Secondo’s face suddenly changes from pleased to concerned, hands cupping you face gently, wiping away few stray tears from your cheeks.

“Amore, what’s wrong? Was I rough to you?’

His voice is gentle, his expression soft and he is ready to stop if you are not in a mood anymore. But you place your hands upon his and shake your head, slightly embarrassed of your tears.

“Sorry, love, I am just so happy, that you are back. I missed you so much.”

“Ti amo, tesoro. Anche tu mi sei mancato e ti amo così tanto. Ringrazio Lucifero per ogni giorno che trascorri con me, separato o no”

He tells you back, feeling vulnerable and immediately switching to his mother tongue. You don’t understand all of which he is saying, but his tone and love in his eyes are enough for you to lean down on his forehead, hugging him close to you. Both of you stay still for a moment, enjoying the closeness, the warmth of your embrace.

As you calm down, Secondo starts peppering your face in small kisses: your eyes, cheeks, the tip of the nose – everything is paid attention to. Finally, he kisses your lips, showering you with his own feelings and a few pleased grunts, his thumb stroking your cheek as he does an you sigh contently, snuggling up to him. Your lips brush each other tenderly, lovingly, savouring the moment of intimacy. After several longing kisses, he parts with you, once again resting his forehead against yours, his arms are holding you close, making you feel safe and secure with him.

“We can stop-“ you don’t let him finish the sentence, placing your fingers upon his mouth and shaking your head.

“And leave you with a raging boner? I am not so cruel, love”

You chuckle, leaning to him and kissing him more passionately and he happily obliges, placing his hands on your hips and squeezing them. Your hands are on his chest, scratching lightly the skin under his fuzzy hair, earning his grunt of approval. Soft fingers tracing down his body, caressing the skin, following the happy trail and finally stopping the edge of his slacks. Now, you don’t hurry, relearning his body anew, all of his wrinkles, bumps and scars are newly etched into your memory, as you touch your lover, who does the same with you. I gently strip his from his shirt, while he unclasps your bra and put it away. With a slight tug his belt is unbuckled, the zipper and then slacks are pulled down enough to release his briefs his cock straining against the fabric, staining it with drops of precum.

You smile, a string of pride coursing through your body, even after several years together you still feel happy to see how much he wants you. Kissing him again, you palm him through the briefs, earning a hiss and a gentle slap on your ass from him. With a giggle, you free him from the restraints and pump him his several times, swiping the finger over the tip to gather his precum as a lube. He moans and hisses under you, gripping your thighs so hard, you are sure they will be bruised. You stop briefly and spit on your hand to lube him up perfectly without any pain.

As you pump him with one hand, you squeeze his balls slightly, timing your movements and look at him. Secondo looks deliciously sinful: eyes glazed with last as he looks at you and your body, drool gathering in the corner of his mouth, his bucking up so that he can get more pleasure and the most pleasant moans and grunts spilling from his lips. To him you look like the most seductive temptress, a succubus in the flesh sent by the Satan to reward or punish him, whichever you choose. Your hands continued to pump him, trailing down the whole length of the shaft, squeezing it the way he loves and leaving him desperate for more. You love how needy he looks, how he gropes your body wherever he can reach, leaving red marks from gripping your supple flesh too tight sometimes, overcome with sensations. You lean down and pepper his soft skin of the neck with kisses, sometimes sucking on it, leaving marks. Your lips are stained black from the papal paints. You feel the heat pulling once again in your core, making you even wetter for him.

He gets more needy under your touch, hips bucking into your palm, cock twitching and you know that he soon will reach the orgasm. Slowly, your hand stills on his length, reaping from him a grunt in protest and a heavy glare. You take his face in your hands, looking him in the eyes and move closer to him, so that his tip is close to your entrance. He eyes flicker from grumpiness to pure lust, as he holds you close, feeling your cunt dripping on his tip.

“Sei così bagnata per me” Secondo murmurs. “Senti che duro che sono per te. Ti voglio fottere”

He almost forces the words out of him, fighting the urge to kiss you and just pull you down on his cock. You smile at him, propping your hands on his shoulders, while he lines up himself with your entrance and pushes you down slowly, burying his face in your chest and moaning slightly. You moan with him, feeling his cock inching deeper and deeper inside of you, he stretches you out completely, making you feel excitingly full. As he bottoms out, you both stay still for a moment, adjusting to new sensations and after that you start rolling your hips. The tip of his cock hitting the sweet spot with every movement, your walls are tight against his girth, squeezing him and fluttering around him. Secondo rolls his hips in rhythm with yours, one of his hands snakes between you, rubbing your clit to bring you to orgasm, while he leans to your chest, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking on it.

“S-secondo!”

You whimper desperately, your head falls back and you fasten your movements. He grips your hips tightly, picking up almost a ruthless pace and helping you bounce on him, his thumb never leaving your clit, rubbing it in circles, bringing you closer and closer to the orgasm. You feel him twitching inside of you, as he moans breathlessly under you, moving almost painfully hard and fast. The room is once again full of your moans and slaps of skin against skin. You lower abdomen tightens, as he switches your nipples, sucking on another, flicking his tongue on your sensitive bud. Your grip his shoulders tightly, digging nails in them and with a loud moan reach your climax. Your body shudders, back arching and your legs trembling, his hands supporting you, while he pumps his cock in and out of you, prolonging your orgasm almost to the point of overstimulation. You know that Secondo always needs a push, so you raise your head slightly and whisper into his ear:

“Please, Papa, fill me up. I want your cum so much.”

And these words finally push him over the edge. His hips startle, breaking the rhythm, and in two long strokes of his cock, he stills and spills inside of you, painting your walls white. You both sit still, catching your breathe and hugging each other in the bliss of an orgasm. You feel his dick softening inside of you and squirm slightly, both of you whimper too overstimulated. He stills your movements, tightening his grip on your hips and burrows his face in the crook of your neck

“Stay still, amore”

He murmurs, lips brushing on your skin and his arms snake around your waist to bring you closer to him, squeezing you like a stress toy. You sit comfortably in his arms, too fucked out to do anything else than let him stroke your hair and your back, soft praises leaving his lips and sloppy kisses left on your skin. Once you come to your senses, he helps you to dress up, making you look as proper as he can and then fixes his clothes as well. Pulling you into his lap, Secondo kisses you on the nose, smiling softly.

“Okay, gattina, I need to finish the report and after that, I am going to make sure you are not going to walk properly for two weeks. Deal?”

You smile at him back, making yourself comfortable in his lap and putting your head on his shoulder

“Sounds like a plan”

Translations from Italian:

Mi scusi – I am sorry

Gattina\La mia gattino – kitten\ my kitten

Grazie – thank you

Bambina – baby

Sei così bagnata per me, bambina. - So wet for me already, Bambina

Perfetta – perfect

Amore – love

Ti amo, tesoro. Anche tu mi sei mancato e ti amo così tanto. Ringrazio Lucifero per ogni giorno che trascorri con me, separato o no – I love you, my treasure. I missed you too and love you so much. I thank Lucifer for every day you spend with me, separated or not.

Sei così bagnata per me. Senti che duro che sono per te. Ti voglio fottere – You are so wet for me. Feel how hard I am for you. I want to fuck you.

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