🫂 (favourite way to hold each other) and 🧩 (tiny habit of the other they find most adorable) for the manondo asks please :))
thank you douglas, my lovely!! these are very cute <3
🫂 What’s their favorite way to hold each other when words aren’t enough?
🥲 ahh. if it's either of them not feeling great/feeling vulnerable/needing comfort? manon will bury her face at his neck and sling her legs around him to hide away from the world and he'll just hold her as close as possible in sort of a sideways knot. in turn, he will rest his head either on her chest or in her lap, depending on the position, and she'll soothe him by stroking his head or back until his breathing calms.
now, if it's to show the other how much they mean to them it's usually a really close hug, often with her in his lap to get even closer, and he'll bury his hand in her hair to really hold her head against him. in general, secondo is a lot more physical than verbal, so very often when he means to say 'i love you' he takes her in his arms instead :')
🧩 What tiny habit of the other do they find unbearably adorable?
For Manon:
he meticulously shaves with a straight razor every morning and she loves to watch him, especially when he dramatically styles his mustache
he always wears a kitchen apron when cooking
he makes silly faces or babbles when he dreams (like, scrunching up his nose, scoffing, pursing his lips, mumbling, snoring)
he refuses to wear sunscreen unless she smears it on his face with ZERO cooperation on his part (she only poorly acts annoyed by this)
For Secondo:
loves to watch her read with full concentration, biting her lip whenever she does and other micro expressions he finds cute
she always curls up when she sleeps, be it against him or just on her own (and it's not the only reason he associates her with cats)
the fact that she can't sleep without a goodnight tea
the fact that she ALWAYS burries her hand underneath his shirt when he holds her (i actually have a snippet about this here) ♡
there are probably more i am forgetting now but yeah :)
I realise it has been almost a year since I did one of these, but finally I've been writing again :) currently over 5k words into this lengthy one shot, around half way through I'd say. Thought I'd post a draft of the opening for now <3 hope you enjoy
Seeking both guidance and full anonymity, you decide to brave the journey to a seemingly lonely church. It becomes clear that there is something quite off about the nature of the church you have stumbled into.
Tags: religious upbringing, religious trauma, Primo being a bit of a bastard and taking enjoyment in your mistake , 18+ MDNI
Words: 2,138
Your hazy brain struggled to tell if it was because you were unable to see it from such a distance, or you had started to hallucinate after a treacherous journey, but you hadn’t expected to be greeted by such gorgeous surroundings.
The church from your window seemed so lonely, almost abandoned, if not for how you could catch occasional glimpses of candle light that made the tiny coloured windows glow so beautifully in the night. The little place always intrigued you, the way no one spoke of it and how easily its silhouette faded into the fog during the colder months, you half expected it to be haunted. But seemingly there was life here after all, as your eyes desperately strained to take in a garden that almost sparkled even in the limited moonlight. Despite it being shrouded in darkness, you couldn’t help but already feel comforted amongst the rich variety of different flowers and scents that drew you in closer. Gardens were hard to come by where you lived, and often you found yourself yearning to be amongst the hills, but never did you imagine such a reward for coming here.
After that moment of respite, the chapel itself finally caught your eye. Your heart thudded when you truly took in the height of the building, feeling so small standing in its unavoidable shadow that trapped you. The patterns in the stained glass were obscured by the darkness, as was every corner and crevice which made the building feel more daunting to wander into.
You knew such a beautiful garden wouldn't be able to thrive without a kind hand, but the small irrational part of your brain couldn't help but question if the garden was to lure people into what would otherwise be an imposing solitary church with no abbey in sight. The world must have urged you to not fall for your own fables, for the front door found you before you realised your feet had carried you there.
A flinch tensed your entire body when the giant door creaked, announcing your arrival much louder than you’d have liked, despite the hall being empty. With both feet inside, you sighed to yourself. Even without allowing yourself to indulge in taking in the old building, it was a little surreal to be inside the little church that always looked as if it had been forsaken, engulfed between the distant hills as if the world itself wanted to keep it from prying eyes.
To your relief, there was a small shimmer of what you presumed to be a candle lit inside the confession booth, illuminating what you’d escaped your little village for. That was the thing about living in a small community, voices are recognised and secrets are so easily spilled. Even so, people still somehow believed that their confessions were confided in with only with God and his chosen, but you weren’t willing to risk this. It felt like you had no choice but to seek out the distant church that no one seemed to have the energy to travel to. You felt included in that with how your feet ached to finally rest, but not once in your entire life had you seen anyone come here, it felt too perfect to not try.
“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,” you could hardly hear yourself over the meek way you slipped into your seat inside the booth. For a moment, you wondered if whoever on the other side heard you.
“And yet, you sound ashamed,” the man on the other side practically tutted. You hadn’t the brainpower to take in the odd tone of which he spoke, as you were entranced by the gravelly, yet deliciously deep voice that made you shudder slightly against your will. “Talk to me sibling, what is troubling you?”
You took a moment to breathe. Oddly his voice was quite fitting for a haunted castle, but it didn’t deter you. Something about his presence already felt welcoming, as if you didn’t need to feel guilty about pretending to be a sibling of this church just to get your words out.
“Well, I’ve been having these thoughts you see, thoughts that I can’t get out of my head. I can’t seem to repress them, the sin is getting in the way of my prayers at this point and I truly am ashamed, believe me.” Amongst your hurried breaths you could hear gentle shushing from the other side.
“Before I ask more of what’s on your mind, may I ask what we have taught here about troubling thoughts?”
“Yes, I know that we must find solace in prayer and confide in God, and have faith he will wash away the sin. But that alone hasn’t been helping and I feel like such a lost cause, believe me I’ve been trying.”
There was silence for a moment, followed by a “Hm.” Your heart thudded again, did you miss something out? Was he considering that you were truly lost?
“I don’t recall anyone new joining our church recently…” he mumbled in a low breath, likely to himself. You jolted. How it was that obvious you couldn't understand. If he didn't continue, you would have bolted out of there. “You will not find any shame here, you are quite safe from judgement within these halls, especially thoughts that are regarded as sinful.”
“I know we shouldn’t judge others no matter what,” your voice gave out a nervous chuckle, despite your relief of his reassurance. “Though I am here because I worry of what our Lord might have to say about this if I ever were to die soon.”
“You are sweet to worry, but my Lord would be very happy to welcome you if that were to happen.” You imagined a smile on his face through the way he carried his words, his tone could almost be mistaken for amusement, but it was nice how genuine it felt despite how wrong you knew he was.
“That is kind of you to say, but really I don’t think he’s happy with me right now.”
“I think I can say for certain from the sound of it that he would be quite pleased with you.”
You wanted to argue further, but you decided to just let it go and get on with making sure you really were going to please him. Who were you to argue with one of his trusted Shepherds after all?
“It is just thoughts you are ashamed of, si?”
“Yes, thoughts I have tried so hard to suppress but they just will not go.”
“You poor thing, especially when you have tried so hard to serve…” You weren’t sure what was laced in his voice that made you squirm, but it raised the hairs on the back of your neck. “You’d think such a merciful God would release you from such troubles no?”
“Well... I- I’m here because I thought He’d want me to seek guidance and redemption.” It was hard to hold your tongue at how a priest could sound so scornful of the Lord, but it was not your place to tell him what to say. Perhaps he was just trying to relate to your feelings on the matter.
“Perhaps you’re right.” You heard the man on the other side shift in his seat, it was easy to forget, so lost the faceless voice that you were talking to a person. “I think he’s sent you to the right place, agnellino.”
There was a heavy silence between the two of you, your heart clenching at the lower tone of whatever Italian name he just called you. You felt you should start talking about what had taken over your thoughts all this time, but something inside you was determined to make sure you couldn’t utter a single word of it to this man. The swirl of emotions stirring within and catching your tongue perplexed you. Whether you were alarmed about him, or if it was the guilt of pretending you were from this church, right now you were sure that you were going to leave without trusting him with a single thing.
“You think I shouldn’t feel so ashamed?” The words stupidly stumbled out of your mouth. He hadn’t said as much clearly, but it felt obvious that he was angling towards that.
“You catch on quite well.” Your feet started to itch towards the door with a mind of their own. Concentrating, you forced yourself to stay still to soak in the praise that something inside your body wanted to reject so badly. “Most of my flock at some point have come to me feeling guilt about a thought, confessing how stressed they have been over such a natural thing. Like you, they feared something they hadn’t even done. Thoughts are just part of being a human being on this earth, even horrible ones, especially sinful ones, and you will find no solace in running away from your nature. You will never find peace without acceptance.”
“But…” Speechless. You had no idea how to navigate this. Never had you heard anything like this before, let alone from one of the heads of the church. “I thought that these thoughts came from the devil, that his temptations are tests and through prayer you’ll know peace, or you’ll let the thoughts corrupt you.”
“Believe me, the devil cares for your soul less than you think.” The way he said that made your chest clench, as if he was smiling fondly and the devil was an old friend of his. “He celebrates sin, but what is regarded as sin does not come from Him. If you rely on prayer and faith, you’ll only repress what is a part of you. It will never wash away, only be buried under the sand.”
You didn’t know if you wanted to tear up or throw up. It sounded like this man wasn’t going to let you repent for your sinful thoughts, that he thought you didn’t need to. You felt guilt even listening to such views, how could you turn you back on Him for the sake of embracing sin? You wanted nothing more than to run back to the comforts of your little town, where you could shroud yourself in the faith that would protect you from him. Your skin crawled, to think that despite it all, you could confess your darkest sins to this man. That his calm, alluring voice made you want to stay.
“Are you alright?”
You hadn’t finished your confession yet, what was plaguing you still on the tip of your tongue. Would he suddenly judge you or would he tell you to embrace it like everything else? Both potential responses terrified you to your very soul, and before you could register it you were on your feet.
“I think I must take my leave Father, I appreciate you hearing me.”
“Father is a title that I am not used to hearing.” The voice sounded amused once again, “I am referred to as Papa, I think you will find this church is quite different to what you have been used to.”
“I apologise, Papa.”
“It is alright, you are very new after all. But I’m sure you’ll catch on quite soon. You are sure you will not stay and confess what ails you?”
“I… I don’t think I can.” You didn’t think you should.
“I see. It takes time for some people, especially when it is your first time. You know where to come when you’re ready.”
Stumbling out of the confession booth, you could only nod as he bid you goodnight, despite him not being able to see you. Reflectively you squinted as your eyes adjusted to the new unexpected light. The moon had decided to welcome you out, kissing the stained glass and bringing the colours to life. For such a lost church, it was so beautiful, adorned in warm tones against the cold night that almost enticed you to stay even longer. To cloak yourself in the alluring warm light and spend your time in such a quiet church, it sounded almost perfect.
You may have stayed if the world was kind to you, but your eyes widened to the unmistakable shapes that the deceiving light streamed through. The orange glow formed from flames mocked you with its gentle beam that pointed directly at you. Amongst them was the skull of the goat, the Devil, who's eyes you couldn't pry away from. You stepped back with a soft gasp that sounded sharply through the hall. Your heart pounded so heavily you thought it would vibrate through the disgraced church. You had been a fool who stumbled into the wrong church, and it was glaringly obvious to the devil worshipper that you were naive little prey that stumbled in from the little Christian village.
For a brief moment he feels like he’s standing in the chapel, gazing into the face of Lilith on the triptych, envying the serpent that is intimately wrapped around her body. He would worship you, he thinks, in much the same way.
Content: 2.8k words, f!reader, smut (breast play, dry humping, kissing, marking, praise, oral sex m receiving, p in v sex, soft dominance, couch sex, unprotected), some affectionate and loving Secondo smut ♡ – 18+, MDNI
Masterlist – Ao3 link
He watches you for a time-stopping moment – the frame is frozen, the video on pause, the clock ticking in a vacuum. He is the visitor in a museum of fine arts who stops in front of a painting to admire. The scene is simple. You sit by the window in nothing but a loose shirt, the evening sunlight illuminating your head like a halo – an angel dipped in liquid gold. The book you’re reading is one of his, a restored early edition of Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita, and you handle it with the care of a mother cradling her child.
Perhaps you notice his attention. The frames start moving again as your head turns in his direction. And then you smile. He can’t bring himself to look away, even though he knows it will eventually disturb the view. If the sunlight is warm, it holds nothing to the warmth in your gaze.
As expected you close the book and delicately place it on the armchair as you rise. He watches your figure as it crosses the room, so familiar to his eyes and hands, yet never losing the charm of novelty. You stop where he has reclined comfortably on the sofa and his eyes are drawn upwards to meet yours, the scene changing into a new composition. For a brief moment he feels like he’s standing in the chapel, gazing into the face of Lilith on the triptych, envying the serpent that is intimately wrapped around her body. He would worship you, he thinks, in much the same way.
You reach out with cautious hands, cradling his head as softly as the book, like he is precious beyond any measurable worth. Secondo can’t resist the temptation any longer, wondering if you are the serpent after all. He pulls you down into his lap, face pressed against yours so firmly that you can feel the outline of his nose in your cheek. You wrap your arms around him for support, giggling slightly when he drags his lips over the sensitive spot below your ear. He inhales the sound like he inhales your scent, then exhales in warm huffs against your tender throat.
“You smell divine, my dove.” He nuzzles you again, slowly this time, then hums in delight. “My favorite scent.”
You move your hands back to his head, gently scratching and massaging his scalp. “You’re very affectionate today.”
His lips ghost over your jaw. “Is that so bad?”
Right when you open your mouth to answer he sucks on your skin and you gasp, squirming on his thighs to try and calm your growing need. His hands settle on your hips in a firm grip, keeping you steady as his wet lips trail further down. “N-No.”
“You taste divine too,” he mumbles, unimpressed by your reaction. “So good for me, so very good for your Papa.”
“Seco–”
You trail off when his lips attach to your neck, sucking roughly. You cling to his shoulder, his neck, anywhere you can reach, moaning as you feel lustful shivers running down your spine. For a while you get lost under his ministrations, all your love for him so very palpable when he touches you like this. His teeth nibble your skin, his tongue soothing over the spot before he sucks yet again, so hard you wonder if he’s trying to absorb you, suck you into him. Desperately aching for him, you attempt to move your hips against his, to feel more of him, but his grip is too firm. With his mouth so insistent, your skin soon starts to burn, then properly ache. Maybe he’s already broken it, licking up your blood without faltering.
“Papa, it h-hurts,” you whimper.
He breaks away slightly. “Does it?”
“Hm, lots.”
“Mi scusi, amore, I get a little… carried away. You forgive me, sì?”
“Mhm.”
You’d forgive him anything, you both know this, especially when he calls you amore. The corners of his mouth spread against your neck as they form a loving smile. His lips tenderly move over the abused spot, a featherlight kiss that sends goosebumps over your skin, leaving a wet mark that feels cool as he breaks away.
“Better, yes?”
You smile as you gaze into his shimmering mismatched eyes, then at his mouth that is all messy and blotched. “Yes, better.”
“Give your Papa a proper kiss now, hm?”
Your lips meet his in a silent gasp, remains of his make-up mixing with your spit and leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. His kisses are always deliberate, even in your daily life. He never kisses in passing but sacrifices a few precious seconds to linger, firm and intimate, until you know he does not take even a fraction of you for granted.
There lies a certain pain in knowing that someone wants your body but nothing more. That they love you enough to take your pleasure but not enough to help and carry the weight of your soul. This is not what being with Secondo feels like. He is slowly, carefully peeling the outer layers from your heart, reaching into the depths of your desires beyond just the carnal lust you both share. Every kiss and touch caress parts of you that you kept protected for so long that you forgot they existed. You think, you hope, that you are doing the same for him.
You break the kiss for a sigh when his hands push underneath the shirt that is draped over your body, unbuttoned and falling open as soon as his hands move upwards to cup your breasts – his shirt, really, that you wrapped around your shoulders earlier that evening. Your skin is soft as he feels the weight of them, gently kneading the supple flesh and circling your nipples with his thumbs. Secondo kisses you again when you arch into his touch, swallowing the whimpers and moans his deft fingers draw from you. You’re free to roll your hips now and you take advantage of your position. He can’t fight off a groan when he feels the outlines of your cunt grinding down on his cock, slicking your underwear as well as his pants.
“I want you in my mouth,” you whisper. “Please.”
He has never been able to deny you the pleasure of tasting him, no matter how fast it usually brings him to his release, seeing that you are always so eager to please him. When he looks into your eyes now, filled with need and devotion, he swallows against a dry throat.
“Ask me again,” he says. “Tell me how much you want it.”
“Please, let me taste you. Let me feel your weight on my tongue, Papa. I crave you.”
He gives a nod and you break away to settle between his legs on the floor, thighs tightly pressed together. His arms have spread over the back of the sofa and he shifts his hips forward to grant you better access, bracing you between his strong thighs. With the same deft, cautious fingers you open the buckle of his belt, feeling your own wetness on his crotch as you pull down the zipper of his slacks. He is beautifully hard and Secondo gives a relieved sigh when you pull his cock from its restraints. You immediately nuzzle it, pressing your cheek against his hot, leaking member.
“You are an infernal sight,” he comments. “A paragon of lust and devotion.”
You smile and rub your face against his cock, looking up to meet his intense gaze. His eyes are focused on you as he brings his hand to your other cheek, so tenderly that it draws a sigh from you. You lean in to kiss his abdomen, pressing more soft kisses around his cock, the tender skin where it meets his body, down his length, never losing sight of him. His skin tastes salty and his dark pubic hair tickles your nose as you kiss down to his balls. The hand on your cheek fully cups you now, his thumb pressing just below your eye, and you smile up at him.
“Are you teasing your Papa?” Secondo asks, swallowing hard in his visible strain.
“No,” you assure him with a kiss to the underside of his shaft. “I am loving my Papa.”
His lips part but before he can say anything, you close your lips around his tip and distort his words into a low groan. Instead of forcing you to go faster, he allows you to set a languid pace, breaking away to kiss his hooded tip every so often while his hand gently combs through your hair. You take your time, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes, trying to show him exactly how much you appreciate him. You don’t need him to be strong and perfect all the time. You want him to let go of his social constraints and allow himself to just be when he’s with you – your partner, your lover, the Papa of your very own church.
His breathing becomes more erratic when you take him deeper, caressing him with your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. You can feel his thighs flexing at your sides and you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, never losing sight of him. His eyes stay on yours as well, even as his eyelids begin to flutter from the stimulation. His hand tightens in your hair but he doesn’t exert any force, just holds you, massaging your scalp encouragingly.
“Amore,” he warns when he’s getting close. “Come up here, per favore. I want to feel your skin on mine.”
You break away, leaving him wet and achingly hard as you climb back into his lap. He urges you out of your garments, then pushes his pants fully down while you work open the buttons on his own shirt. He’s meticulous and before long you have your hands on his solid chest, caressing the dark curly hair that runs all over his body.
“I want you, Papa,” you whisper, kissing him again with an eager, open mouth.
Secondo allows you to grind down on his cock, the wetness between your legs easing the movement as he glides between your folds. You moan into each other’s mouths at the sensation and he pulls you close, chest against chest, so perfectly intimate and warm.
When you break away from the kiss, he purrs. “You have pleased your Papa, I think it is time that he pleases you, hm?”
His hands firmly grip your hips again, denting the soft flesh as he moves you to lie flat on your back. The sofa gives a squeak when he settles between your legs, spreading them as wide as the narrow surface allows. This is not his ideal spot in your quarters, he prefers to have space, to take his time with you to give you the attention you deserve. Right now, however, he is too stunned by the sight of you sprawled out underneath him with the evening sun still dipping your curves into its orange light. He remembers his silent promise to worship you and so he lets his lips caress every inch of your body he can reach.
He begins at the bruising spot on your neck. Already you squirm, trying to guide his mouth further down, and so he gathers your hands to pin them over your head. He has taught you patience over the time you’ve been together but he can never quite tame your eagerness. Not that he earnestly wants to.
“Ssh,” he says. “It is my turn to love you now.”
The deep breath you take at his words vibrates under his mouth as he kisses your sternum. You shiver, goosebumps spreading underneath his lips. Secondo gives himself another few minutes, covering your chest in kisses, leaving a few deep red marks in the most prominent spots.
“Please,” you whisper, your wrists fighting against his strong grip.
He does not let go, instead he brings his lips back to yours, pushing his tongue inside the cavity of your mouth and delving as deep as you allow. Your hips buck and he presses you down with his full weight, plundering your mouth until your lips are swollen. His free hand moves between your bodies, ghosting over your mound until his fingers graze your clit. You gasp at the contact, closing your eyes as they lose their focus. He aligns his cock with your entrance, teasing you both by dragging his tip along your slit and lightly dipping inside.
“Oh, Papa.”
Secondo stills and circles your aching, swollen clit, drawing whimpers and deep lustful sounds from your throat with every rotation. Your moans are his favorite gospel, your breathy words the most devoted prayer he has ever heard. Again, your arms resist as you shift beneath his grasp, rolling your hips into his touch in your search for more.
“Papa,” you whisper, voice laced with complaint.
“You want to touch me, amore?” he asks, tightening his grip on your wrists.
“Yes.”
“Hmmmm, will you beg for me? You know how I love it when you do.”
“Papa,” you repeat, squirming impatiently in his hold. “Papa, please. I want to touch you.”
He doesn’t let go but looks down at you with a loving glimmer in his eyes that speaks more than any confession ever could. He looks vulnerable and for a drawn-out moment you just look at each other, no words necessary when your eyes meet. His lips part and the last traces of his resistance slowly melt away.
“Secondo,” you whisper now. “Please.”
He finally releases your wrists and then his whole face softens, the deep creases evening out until he’s smiling. You wrap your hands around his neck, refamiliarising yourself with the tenderness of his skin as your fingertips trace every single curve you can find. It’s the touch of a butterfly, tickling so softly that it takes his breath away.
“Amore, you have already touched me,” he says, a shimmer glossing over his eyes, tears or a trick of the light, you’re not quite certain, “in so many ways.”
With that he finally pushes inside, dragging his cock slowly along your walls until your hips are flush and he can’t go any deeper. He fills you so perfectly, molding you around him to match his shape. Every roll of his hips is a revelation, every moan a promise of his unending devotion to you. You pull him closer until his full weight is resting on you and you can feel his warm skin on yours. Even though his thrusts are more shallow now they seem to fill you even more thoroughly, spreading pleasure in your whole body. Soon you clench around him, your hands grasping him tightly, and he grinds into you with more fervor.
“Come for me, my dove,” he whispers, grunting when he feels the tightness in his own body that announces his impending release. His thumb goes back to drawing circles over your clit. “Come for your Papa.”
You shudder, then the heat in your belly spreads in rippling waves as you fall over the edge, wrapping your legs around him to keep him as close as possible. Secondo stills for a moment, inhaling sharply when he feels you tightening around him, revelling in the sounds you make, the sensation of your body trembling underneath him with the intensity of your pleasure. All of his senses are attuned to you.
“Hm, so good for me,” he says, trying to hold back for a little longer. “S-so good.”
When you begin to come down from your high he continues to move, extending your pleasure. You gently stroke his neck, his back, caressing him as he approaches his own release. He can feel the love in your soft touches and his chest clenches, his heart stuttering just like his hips when he finally comes. He groans and buries his face in your neck as he spills heavily inside of you. He gives you all that he has, a few more shallow thrust to prolong the sensation. When he is spent, he rolls you onto your sides, keeping you close.
In the shared space, your breaths mingle, and he can’t help but nuzzle your nose, placing another soft, lingering kiss to your mouth.
“I love you, Secondo,” you whisper, still caressing the back of his head.
“And I love you, my dove,” he replies.
You smile and close your eyes but he can’t bring himself to stop looking at your relaxed, angelic face. If he had any talent he would paint you just like this, capture you basking in such deep bliss and preserve the sight for all of eternity. Instead he leans in to press two featherlight kisses to your eyelids, another one to your nose, then your lips, and traps the picture deep inside of his heart.
Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡
