Im Not Defending Myself Against A Vampire. Suck Away Gorgeous

Can I also ask for Primo and „whispering in-between kisses“? You know what types of kisses 👀

I know the exact kind of kisses you want. It's time to worship that old man.

What You See I Primo x gn!reader

~ Primo needs you to tell him what you see when you look at him ~

(1800 words, fluff, angst, body worship, some spice, nsfw, 18+ only, not beta read)

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“Amore, what do you see when you look at me?”

You set your brush down onto your vanity and turned sideways in the chair to look at Primo.

“I see someone that was supposed to be dressed ten minutes ago.”

Usually Primo enjoyed your teasing and he often teased you back.  It was an easy banter between two people that had known each other for many years.  Looking at Primo right now though it was clear he was not in a teasing mood.  He sat down heavily on the side of your bed, a long sigh exhaling out of him.

“That is not what I mean.”  There was a tone to his voice you didn’t normally hear and it made you get up to head his way.  You held your bathrobe together and quietly padded over to stand before him.  Primo was staring down at his hands in his lap, wringing them together nervously, so you dropped to your knees and slipped your hands into his to stop the movement.  “Tell me the truth.”

You pulled his hands towards you and placed kisses into each of his palms before looking up at him.  He met your gaze now, his eyes searching yours for an answer.  

“I see the man I’ve admired for many years and loved for many more.”  Primo snorted and pulled his hands away with enough force you fell back on your butt.  “Hey, what’s going on with you?”

“That is not what I asked.”  He stood up and then reached down to you, gently grasping your elbows and pulling you to your feet.  You let out another ‘hey’ when he tugged you over to the windows that overlooked his garden.  Primo squeezed your hands and then let go of one to grasp your chin.  “Now, look at me and tell me what you see.”

You pulled away from his hands and then placed yours on his shoulders.  With a firm shove you got him to fall into the chair behind him and climbed after him.  You straddled him, your knees on either side of his legs.  He wouldn’t meet your eyes so you used his own move on him and took a hold of his chin.

“I see someone that is tired from all of his years of working hard for this church.”  His mismatched gaze met yours then and your heart clenched at the look in his eyes.  You leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before moving down to kiss the soft, puffy skin under each eye.  “You never get enough sleep because you’re up too late worrying about your brothers.”

The only answer you got was a soft nod and you smiled at him before kissing the tip of his nose.  Your lips trailed from there to where the skin next to his mouth where he had wrinkles from smiling and then further down to where it had begun to sag.

“My Papa is getting older and his face shows it.  His body shows it.”  You kissed along his chin and then made your way down his neck, whispering into the wrinkled skin there when you stopped again.  “Can I keep going, Papa?  Can I show you what else I see?”

You felt him nod above you so you slipped your hands into his robe and pushed it off his shoulders.  He was bare underneath and you took a moment to admire the body you had been intimately familiar with for many years now.  When you started kissing him again you made your way from his neck across to his shoulder.

“Your skin has seen too much sun, Papa.  Look at all these freckles.”  To illustrate the amount he had you made sure to kiss each one you saw.  You made a mental note to be more forceful with sunscreen next time he went out in his garden.  Down his arm you went, finally holding his hand up between you so you could both look at the rough skin on the back.  A few of his knuckles were misshapen, arthritis having begun to set into his joints many years ago.  “I can tell that these hands have done so much.”

“Like what?”

Primo’s voice was quiet and shaking slightly.  You were afraid to look into his eyes because if you saw tears there you would end up crying too.  He needed you to be strong right now and you refused to let him down.

“Your hands have held onto so many others here, guiding them onto their path within the church…leading them in prayer…pulling them from the lake during their unholy baptism.”  A thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.  “I’ve seen this hand slap Secondo on the back of the head when he misbehaved as a child.”

“Or as a grown man.”

It was good to hear Primo laugh and you chanced a look at his face.  His eyes shone with unshed tears and he sniffed when he saw the same in your eyes.  He brought his free hand over and caught one when it started to trail down your cheek.  

“I remember you holding Terzo’s hand when his mother passed away, how you carried him around the garden so he could pick flowers to take to her grave each week.”  You grabbed his other hand when he tried to wipe your tears away again.  “And I remember when you stormed up to Nihil and took Copia from his arms.”

“That old fool wasn’t cut out to be a father.”

“No he wasn’t, but you were.”  You placed his hands on the arms of his chair and leaned forward to place a kiss on his chest over his heart.  His chest hair was more white than blonde now, much like the hair on his head before he had begun to shave it, but it was still soft to the touch.  For a moment you rested your ear against him, listening to his strong heartbeat.  “You’ve been there for all of your brothers and helped them to become the men they are today.”  

He took a deep breath under your ear and you could tell he was trying very hard to control his emotions.  You weren’t done though, because deep down you knew what his biggest worry was when he started this conversation.  Very slowly you turned your head so that your lips were against his skin and you kissed a trail to his nipple.  You flicked your tongue against it before pulling it between your lips and nipping at it softly with your teeth.

“Amore…”

“Hush Papa, I’m not done.”  You moved to his other nipple and gave it the same amount of attention before going lower to where his skin had started to pull down with age.  The wrinkles here were larger, the skin soft and warm against your lips.  Primo jumped when your tongue left a wet trail across his chest.  “When I look at you Primo, when I touch you, I see a man that has aged beautifully.”

Your mouth moved to the center of his chest and you slid off his lap to rest on your knees before him.  The robe was easy to pull off his lap and now he was completely bare before you.  His cock was still soft, but that didn’t surprise you.  It didn’t bother you either.  You placed your hands on his knees and then slid them up his thighs, resting where they met his waist.  Primo abruptly dropped his hands to cover yours and gave them a squeeze.

“Not tonight, I don’t think, amore.  Too much going on in this old head.”

You smiled and moved closer to him, shouldering his legs further apart.  

“It doesn’t make a difference to me either way.  Do you know why?”  Primo shook his head, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp as you leaned forward and started to mouth along his soft cock.  “Because I still see the man I love no matter what is happening here.”

Even soft his cock was long and you took it as deep as you could, the tip reaching well into your mouth.  You tongued the underside, pulling back so you could press it against his slit.  His thighs had begun to shake under your hands and you heard him groan above you.  As you bobbed up and down a few times you let out a little moan when you felt him finally twitch in your mouth.  With a smile you pulled off, a string of saliva lingering from your lips to the tip as you moved away.  Primo pulled a hand out from under yours and rubbed his thumb against your bottom lip, smearing your saliva around.

“Shall I keep going Papa?”  He gave you a quick nod, taking a deep breath as you mouthed along the side of his cock.  It twitched again, slowly filling out as you gave it attention.  You licked the drop of precum that started to leak at the tip and then looked up to see him watching you.  “Will you tell me now?  Will you tell me what you see when you look at me?”

He brought his hands up to cup your face, smiling softly as he pulled you close enough to slip his cock into your mouth once more.

“I see someone that is more beautiful than any flower in my garden.”  Primo grunted as he began to thrust in and out of your mouth, his cock nearly fully hard.  “Someone that has never left my side, that ah!  Cazzo.  Someone that…someone that I love more than anything.”

His moans started to mix with your whimpers as he moved faster, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with every thrust now.  There was so much more you wanted to say.  So much more that he needed to hear but you didn’t want to stop him.  You wanted him to fill your mouth with his cum, you wanted to swallow everything he gave you.  

Primo’s fingers began to dig harder in your hair as his cock started to kick in your mouth.  It wasn’t long before he nearly doubled-over as he came.  Your mouth filled with his release and you did your best to swallow it all, lapping at his cock to clean off what you could.  When he pulled out you kept your lips wrapped around him until you pulled off with a soft pop.  He was looking at you like you were the only other person in his world and you found your eyes filling with tears again when he spoke softly to you.

“In you, amore, I see someone that I will worship until my final days.  If you’ll let me.”

“Forever, Papa.”

He chuckled, wiping the mixture of saliva and his release off your chin before leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

“Forever.” 

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

my masterlist

my ao3

Here Comes The Sun (Luleå 2011)

My Secondo

+18 MDNI Includes: 2k+ words. Secondo/reader, loneliness, anger, fighting, physical threats (no physical violence. (Honestly, I don't even have any real warnings for this one. It's just angsty domestic fluff right now. But I'm not promising that will last.) Notes: Listen, I am WEAK for soft Secondo. And I will not apologise. Just let me have my grumpy man in peace. Please see my AO3 version with translations included. (Terrible Italian by Google.)

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Chapter 1: Fight or Flight

You’d fallen asleep before he’d come back. That had never been your custom, but you’d stayed up as long as you were able. Drifting off at some unholy hour with the bedside lamp still on and your book lying on your chest. Not that you’d really been reading. Your mind had been elsewhere and you were sure you’d read the same paragraph a dozen times, still not absorbing a single word.

And now it was morning. The only signs that he’d been there at all were your book, page marked, set on the bedside table, the lamp turned off, and the way his side of the bedding hand been thrown back when he’d gotten up. If he’d touched you at all, it wasn’t enough to wake you. The sun outside was shining, the birds were singing, and a warm breeze drifted through the window, but the none of it could change the cold from the empty place he should have been. Or the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

For days you had tried. Been the Good Girl he wanted, met his hard stare with sweet smiles, tried everything you knew he liked best to coax him out of the foul mood that had descended and refused to loosen its grip. But nothing had worked. Last night was just one more thing that stung more than you could bear. There wasn’t even the sound of the shower that you’d become accustomed to waking up to. The bathroom was dark, the steam already faded, his paints carefully replaced in their drawer. His robes were gone too. For a long time you pace, trying to calm your breathing, to stop your heart from pounding until it feels like it will burst from your chest.

Crying won’t help. It won’t fix this.

No, this needs a new approach. You shower and dress, picking your clothes out carefully. Items he gifted you. Not the dresses that hug your curves or the tops cut to let him admire your chest. No, the ones he chose for your comfort, not his own lust. The ones that say more than any of the others that he loves you. The soft black sweater that feels like a warm embrace. The leggings you know he thinks are silly but that he is content knowing you are happy in. The simple flats that barely make a sound on the stone tiles and will let you get through the day without your feet aching from the usual heels.

You start down the hall to his office bravely enough, but the closer the door gets, the more the worry settles into your gut. Writhing like a pot of eels. It won’t do. He’ll smell the fear on you. You’ll never get anything if he thinks he can simply dismiss you. And if that happens… if he really does send you away so flatly… what more is there? Pack your things and slink back to your old dorm with your tail between your legs. Never meet his gaze again. Break your vows entirely and run. No. No, this is worth fighting for. Bury your worry and steel yourself. Show him you won’t be so easily set aside.

You knock three times firmly and wait. Finally his voice calls for you to enter, muffled by the thick wood of the heavy door. You enter without looking directly at him, turning to close the door behind you first. When you do look at him, he stares with that same cold expression he’s worn for days. An edge of impatience in his eyes.

Secondo.

His perfectly pressed robes and his carefully applied paints. Sitting straight and tall in his chair. The full weight and majesty of his office radiating from him like the very fires of Hell itself. And you’ve never seen him look more miserable.

“You were gone when I woke up.” It’s not a question or a plea for an answer. Just a flat statement of facts.

“You were asleep when I got in.” His deep voice is as cold as his stare.

“I waited up. I thought you weren’t coming home at all.”

“There is work to attend to. Then and now. If you’ve come to pout over things beyond my control, I can save us both the time and tell you it will change nothing. You knew my work from the start. It should be no surprise now.” His tone sounds more like being scolded by a teacher than words from the man you love.

“I haven’t come to pout.” You say sharply.

His brow creeps up. Just a hair. “Is that so? Then what?”

No more need to force that confidence. Something in his dismissive tone fans an anger that has been building. Every day this mood continues. Every day he won’t tell you what’s wrong. Every day he stays distant. It’s been building and with five words, it explodes into an inferno.

You walk over to his desk, the huge, dark wooden thing that it is. Every bit as imposing as Papa himself. With one hand, you swipe his carefully placed things to one side, ignoring his growl of frustration, and climb up on to the desktop. Sitting directly on his papers. Crossing your legs and staring at him defiantly.

“You are testing my patience.” He says dangerously through gritted teeth. But you don’t move. Just staring back at him. “Scendere dalla scrivania.”

“No.” You snap.

The shock of the disobedience breaks through his scowl for half a second and even that feels like victory.

“You would disobey?” He says, incredulously. Scowl settling right back in place, mouth twisting with anger. “Is this how a good girl behaves?”

“Is this how a Papa behaves?” You fire right back, anger burning hot. “You want your good girl? Well I want my Papa. So, you tell me, what is it to be? Shall we both be left wanting or will you let go of your damned pride and talk to me?”

Secondo pushes back his chair and stands. He’s never more imposing than when he draws himself up to his full height, with his robes and his paints. It’s almost enough to make you back down. Almost. He growls in frustration and looks like he might drag you off the desk whether you agree to move or not. Never, not once, has he ever laid a hand on you in anger. But you’ve never fought him like this either.

Instead you slide off the desk and stand in front of him. Hardly a threat. Standing barely taller than his shoulder. “Fine. Have it your own way.” It’s difficult to be so angry while looking up at someone, but you manage it. “I won’t bother you any further. When my Papa returns, please tell him I’ve missed him terribly. But you, whoever you are, you are no Papa of mine.”

Turning to make your exit, already preparing for the weight of the door to slam it properly, his hand grabs your arm. His grip is like iron and pulling away is useless. You still turn back sharply, ready to fight him even harder. But instead his expression has lost its edge. Replaced by something tired and lost.

“Fermare.” It’s not an order but a request. A plea. “Ti prego... non andartene.”

Your own anger fades, worry rising up to fill the void. “Allora parlami. Per favore.”

He lets go of your arm and sinks back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are a stubborn and wilful thing, Amore.”

“You knew that before you ever took me into your bed. Did you really think that would change now just because it’s inconvenient?” You offer him your hand and it’s a relief when he takes it. Softly kissing each of your fingers.

“Sono sicuro che non cambierà mai. E sono felice. Amavo questo di te allora e lo adoro adesso.” It’s the softest his voice has been since the darkness consumed him.

Satanas, you could cry. Finally seeing a glimpse of him through the fog. The man you fell in love with. The man beyond his serious expression and strict adherence to his schedule, who’s sermons boomed off of the stone walls and made even the bravest Sisters take a step back. The man who could speak so sweetly, who’s caresses were always so gentle, who’s warmth would envelope you to keep you safe from anything that might threaten to harm you.

Instead, you settle yourself in his lap. Wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. Feeling his steady breathing and the beat of his heart. Waiting until you can trust your voice to speak. “Secondo, amore mio, ti prego... dimmi cosa c'è che non va. Dimmi come posso aiutarti. È una tortura vederti così. Per stare senza di te. Mi spezza il cuore.”

For a long moment he doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t move. Part of you worries that if you look up at him, it will be that hard, cruel face again. Until he sighs and wraps his arms around you, hugging you close. He kisses the top of your head and sits in silence a moment longer. “… Forgive me, Amore. Forgive me. I have been a fool and unforgivably cruel. You don’t deserve that.” He says finally. His voice is so soft, it almost doesn’t sound like him at all. “… and I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that.” You hug him a little tighter, trying to protect him from his own words. “Don’t ever say that. It’s not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” He says, but the exhaustion takes the bite out of it.

“Of course you do.” Looking up at him, the dark clouds finally parting. Leaving behind a man who looks like he needs to sleep a month and to be treated with all the gentleness and care in the world. “Sono tuo, amore mio. Solo il vostro. Adesso e per sempre.”

“Me?” He asks, an unfamiliar uncertainty creeping into his voice. “Or Papa?”

You look at him curiously, worried, and suddenly very aware that there are piece of information you are missing. He is Papa. His duty, his paints, his robes, all of it. It’s simply a part of him. But without those things? Of course you love him. The private version you get all to yourself, when he can relax and let go. Even a little. When he can shed the mask he wears for the world and be vulnerable and honest.

“You, Secondo. You are the man I love. Papa is your title, your job, your duty. Secondo is the man who holds me at night to keep the bad dreams away, who comforts me when I am hurting, who makes me smile when I am sad. Secondo has my heart and soul.” You reach up to cup his cheek and he doesn’t pull away. Instead pressing into your touch.

“… You wanted your Papa back.” He doesn’t meet your eyes. Hell’s teeth, he’s never been like this before. So withdrawn and hurt he can’t bear to look at you.

Your own angry words ring in your ears and the guilt claws at the back of your throat. You know what you said, why you said it. But, if this is what lies at the heart of his worries, you can hear how it must have sounded. “Secondo…” any apology you can think of sounds so hollow and inadequate. “I meant you… really, I did. I should never have said those things. Never. I… was so angry… and hurt… and I was trying to hurt you. Please, my love, please forgive me. I’m so sorry. I thought I was losing you, that you were finished with me, that… that I’d failed you. And what do I do? I come in here to attack you. Try to push you away. Make you end it if it’s over.” Fool, fool, stupid, useless, stubborn fool. You curse yourself. “It’s not my Papa I need. Not the paints or the robes or the office or any of it. It’s my Secondo I can’t live without.”

His gloved finger hooks under your chin, tilting your face up toward his, and he kisses you. Deeply. Not rushed or demanding. The sort of kiss that melts you every time. Crushing yourself against his chest and losing yourself in the unshakable certainty that there is nowhere in the universe you are more safe or more loved. Living in that moment of the most familiar comforts, the things that feel like home. The smell of his cologne, the weight of his arms holding you close, even the bitter taste of his espresso still lingering on his lips.

“È l'uomo che voglio essere per te. Sempre.” He says, barely a whisper, lips brushing against yours.

“Sei sempre stato tu, amore mio. Dal primo momento che ti ho visto.” You bump your nose softly against his and kiss him again.

Secondo sighs and rests his forehead against your. His eyes slide shut and, for a long time, you both sit in silence. Breathing as one. Finding the first real comfort you’ve both had in too long. Letting go of the anger and frustration and hurt. Finally feeling safe, if even for a moment.

He breaks the silence first. “Amore…”

The hesitation weighs so heavily, it threatens to crush you both.

“They are talking of… replacing me. Stripping me of my office… my title.” His shoulders slump.

“Nomina di un nuovo Papa.”

Yeehaw 🤠

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Wdym I'm 5,000 words into part 3 of Confessional and no one has bumped uglies yet?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN??!?!?!?!??!?!!!!!?!?!?!??!?!

one more? | cardinal copia x gn!reader

Inspired by all the kiss prompts. This is for @leezlelatch ♡

content: 750 words, gn!reader, some suggestiveness and spice but nothing explicit, lots of kissing going on here, we get a little frisky

Masterlist – Ao3 link

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Lunch breaks are invariably too short. They feel even shorter since you spend them wrapped up in Copia’s cassocked arms, hidden away in an empty corner behind the entrance to the library. Your back is pressed against the cool stone walls, your habit disheveled from his wandering hands, leaving half of your leg exposed to the chill draft haunting this part of the abbey.

The cool air feels heavenly against your heated skin where Copia’s fingertips are trailing up to your hip and back down in a steady dance. It’s oddly tender compared to the way his mouth is so insistent on devouring you. You can only imagine the purple discolorations blooming on your neck right now, the smears of lipstick and bite marks he left in his impatient fervor after he’d pinned you to the wall.

The bells have long since chimed to announce the passing of lunch hour. He should be back in his office and you should be back behind the reception desk. And yet your arms are still tightly slung around his shoulders as his tongue licks into your hungry mouth.

“I have to go back,” he mumbles for the fifth time as he breaks away for air, trying to step back but you don’t let go of his neck. “Amore…”

With your hand in his hair, you press your mouth to his once again, ignoring his complaints. His biretta has long since fallen off his head and you make use of the easy access, dragging your nails over his scalp in the way that he loves so much. He moans loudly and kisses back for a moment, moving his swollen lips against yours just almost chastely now. With the kiss distracting you, his gloved fingers wrap around your wrists and he pulls them off of him, pretending to pin you to the wall. With your hands off of him, he tries to tear himself away once more, but your fingers grasp his pellegrina at the last second. You yank him back, bringing your mouth to his ear as he stumbles into you. “One more kiss? Please?”

“You want your Cardinal to be late?” he whispers, bracing himself against the wall behind you.

“Yes, if it means I get another kiss.”

“I will get in trouble, amore.” He drags his nose along your cheek before nuzzling yours. “Do you have no compassion for me?”

“No.”

He tsks, pulling back slightly when you try to capture his lips again. “So cruel. So cruel to your Cardinal and you claim to love me.”

“I do love you. That’s why I want another one, silly.” You try to pull at his robes again but he won’t budge. “Please please please.”

He whimpers softly. “You know what begging does to me, dolce.”

“Please. Please, Cardinal, I need one more.”

“One more, then you will let me go?”

“Mhm.”

He leans in, kissing you as softly as he can muster. You trap his full bottom lip between your teeth for a second and he groans, pressing in harder until the back of your head hits the wall again.  He pulls away with a desperate sigh and you whine at the loss of him.

“One more,” you beg, tugging at his robes.

“Amore,” he groans. “You are getting greedy now.”

“Isn’t greed a virtue?”

“I think you are mixing that up, no?”

He gives you another peck before he fully pulls away. You allow it this time, conceding in favor of your own reputation. Someone is going to want something from you any second now and you still have to get presentable.

Copia straightens his rumpled cassock before glancing at your ruined face with a smirk. “We continue this tonight, amore,” he promises. “You will bring the same hunger, yes?”

You nod, smiling like a fool when he winks at you. He almost stumbles over his own feet as he turns back around, still drunk on endorphins and your taste. A few deep breaths and you gather your wits before your eyes get caught by a red blob of color on the floor.

You pick up his biretta and put it on your head. He’s already halfway down the hall when you call out to him. “Looks like you forgot something, Cardinal.”

He spins around, the skirt of his cassock whirling around his legs. “Don’t even say it, amore.”

“You’re lucky,” you say with a grin. “Payment is very cheap today.”

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

oh silly little old people (i couldn't find a good reference and had to improvise a lot)

his tits are out

Pronouns and gendered words

Hello! Just a bit of a heads up for every writer out there:

If you're writing dialogue in a romance language (specially spanish or italian), be careful with the gendered words! I know there are barely those in English, but here's a few examples so you get what I mean:

•Friend≠amigo. Amigo -> boy friend Amiga -> girl friend. Friend is gender neutral, but there is no equivalent in Spanish.

•Pretty≈bonita. It can be, but bonita describes something considered femenine (a plant, a house, the living room, etc.). It can also mean bonito, which has more of a masculine meaning (the sea, the sky, the grass, etc.). Pretty is gn, but it isn't in Spanish.

•Mouse ≈ topo. Mouse can be topo in italian, but it can also be rat. Different genders, possible same word.

•Kid ≠ bambino. It's more like: little boy -> bambino Little girl -> bambina. Something similar happens in Spanish:

•Child≠niña/niño. Again, child is gender neutral, but there is no gender neutral equivalent in Spanish.

There is also, officially, no such thing as they in Spanish. The literal translation would be ellos, but it specifically addresses a group of people and cannot be taken otherwise. So, what to do? People who identify as non binary in Spanish usually use gendered words with an e. Bonite, niñe, hermose, etc. It depends on each individual, but that is the widely accepted way of addressing a person. They is often translated to elle (a new word, if you see it a certain way) in Spanish, but again, it depends on each person.

I decided to make this post because I've read a few fics (both reader inserts and other types) that have characters with neutral pronouns but end up being referred to in a gendered way when another character speaks to them in a different language. I know it isn't your intention, it’s difficult to figure out when it’s not your native language. Still, I hope this helps a little bit, we should all be careful and do an effort to respect people's pronouns in all languages!

Feel free to message me if you want/need help :)

As a child, I was always searching for the meaning of it all, the big Why; and my father always said that there is no one big purpose but I had the most ripe orange today and kissed my cat goodnight, I think that's enough purpose for a day.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

Better late than never right? …….Right?!

The last sentence I wrote:

Like a lamb to slaughter here in an isolated office, tucked away in the corner of the Ministry.

From a steamier Secondo WIP 👀👀 We’ll see if it ever leaves the grips of my word docs

Thank you for the tag @copias-sewer-rat and @ghostchems ♡

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

He doesn’t fight the amused smile that tugs at his lips as he carefully extracts the expensive lighter from your hands, slipping it back into the pocket of his slacks. 

This is from my vampire Secondo fic :)

tagging: @leezlelatch , @causticjuice , @rspitespitfield , @sweatandwoe (only if you want to/haven't done it yet of course) ♡