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a-fools-circus · 6 months

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Salacious Want

Papa II/f!Reader

Desc: after confessing to Secondo how you've spent your time alone, he makes sure you know that the only person allowed to touch you is him Word Count: 6.3k Tags/Warnings: bondage, bdsm, impact play, degredation, edging/orgasm delay/denial, rough sex, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, choking, dom/sub, ownership, creampie, aftercare, bc aftercare is important and i want to showcase that i think Secondo fits the duality of being both a rough dom and a tender loving dom, please note that there is one moment when the reader claims to be overwhelmed, but every moment of sex beforehand and afterwards is consensual with both participants willing

this was originally intended to be a fic for Kinktober. obviously that didn't end up working out, BUT i still wanted to write this bc i liked the idea, and i've yet to give Secondo some love so here it is ! this ended up being very fun to write and way longer than intended so i think it's a win. Secondo stans i'm starting to understand you. enjoy babes <3

also available to read on ao3 here

Minors DNI/NSFW below the cut

It was only a few hours ago when you were sat in the shadowed corner of the confession booth. The only thing separating your figure from Secondo’s was the wooden lattice in the center.

Secondo had been preoccupied with his responsibilities all day. It wasn’t his fault—the workload came with his status as Papa. You didn’t blame him for it, and he was adamant to remind you that he would rather spend his time with you. But you were left on your own. You had to sate your desires—by yourself—in private whenever you had the time. It was boring after the second or third time. Your own touch wasn’t nearly the same as his.

You knew the risks that came with teasing him (most of which would come from him), but the opportunity presented itself perfectly when you realized that he would be hosting confession. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to do something to coerce him, to convince him to focus on you instead. Taunting him with the knowledge that he missed out on your pleasure seemed like the perfect way to rile him up.

Armed with your knowledge, you taunted him from your shadowed corner of the booth, detailing every aspect of your indulgence. Every sound you made, every fantasy that crossed your mind, every part of yourself that you touched—it all came forward in your own kind of confession.

Secondo was good at appearing disinterested. Annoyingly good. You could get on your knees and beg for an hour straight, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He knew he could make you do whatever he wanted when you were desperate to be touched, and he used it to his advantage often.

But his silence from the other side of the confessional was more than feigned disinterest. You could practically feel the disapproval radiating through the lattice, somehow knowing he was staring with that stern gaze he only gave you. He was most intimidating when he was silent, but it was even more nerve-wracking not to be able to see his reaction.

You made it worse by reminding him of his responsibilities; he had to continue carrying out the rest of confession for the following Siblings. You made your way out, leaving him to stew in his frustration as he was forced to ignore the aching arousal between his legs. That was the nail in the coffin.

Once time granted him respite from his duties, he wasted no time finding you.

Now you were sat on your knees on his bed, bent over with your face in his silken sheets. You were completely bare except for the collar around your neck and the restraints that bound your arms behind your back. You were placed near the edge of the bed, instructed to “keep your ass in the air and stay still.”

You couldn’t see Secondo, but you could sense his steely gaze scanning every inch of your body as he stood behind you. There was no doubt he could see how wet you were; after what felt like hours of sitting here bound, you were getting desperate.

The click of his shoes on the hardwood floor is the only sound in the room. Every echo of the sound makes you throb, your holes clenching around nothing. You’re sure that sight is obvious to him, too. But he says nothing as he looks over your restrained body. The anticipation in the air is thick, heavy on your mind as you wait for him to do or say something—anything.

After what felt like an hour of staring, he finally reached a hand out to brush over your thigh. The cool texture of his leather glove surprises you. Secondo’s touch is featherlight, barely grazing your body as it slowly trails inward. His pace is maddening, and you know he’s doing it on purpose.

The trail of his hand stops when his fingers hover daringly close to the spot he knows you need him most. The space beside you on the mattress sinks as his knee comes to rest there. Secondo leans over you, still barely touching your skin.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” Your senses heighten as the sound of his voice finally caresses your eardrums. You tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him.

He’d discarded his regalia at this point, now wearing only the black turtleneck and dress pants he sported underneath. Just the sight of him made you want to pounce on him and make up for lost time. But you contained your impulses, humoring his demands as the threat of his dominance made you ache.

You swallow hard. The face paint he hadn’t bothered to clean off only made him look more intimidating. “You,” you whisper back to him. “You, Papa.”

“Mm. Bene…” His husky-toned affirmation almost makes you whine. “Then why did you touch it without permission?”

Secondo’s words catch you off guard at first. You start to speak, a tiny squeak leaving your mouth, but the words fail to form. You look away in embarrassment. Your eyes catch on the obvious bulge that strains against the front of his pants.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging firmly until your shoulders rise off of the mattress. Secondo leans in further, his breath warm against your ear. The scent of patchouli and tobacco floods your nostrils. “You will answer when I ask you a question, yes?” He growls, the sound of his voice rumbling in your ears.

You swallow hard, eyes fluttering shut at the pain on your scalp. “Yes, Papa—”

“Look at me.” You do exactly as he says, your body thrumming with desire as your eyes flicker up to meet his. “Why did you touch yourself without Papa’s permission?”

“Because, I…I was desperate, Papa.” Your heart pounds in your chest at your confession. Judging by the way he scoffs, you assume your response isn’t satisfactory.

“Desperate?” Secondo echoes. You nod in agreement. “What, desperate to make yourself cum just so you can tell me what a disobedient, needy whore you are?” The leather of his gloves squeaks as Secondo tightens his grip.

The degrading term sends a surge of arousal through you. The sensation is only heightened by his grip on your hair. “No, no, Papa…I…I just wanted to be touched. I really, really needed it.”

“Oh, is that it, piccolina? You just needed to be touched?” You nod fervently, humming a small “mm-hmm” in reply despite the blatant mockery in his tone. “Perhaps I should remind you how you taunted me, then. The way you told me how hot and wet you were when you fucked yourself? How you came so quickly by your own hand?”

Secondo punctuates his annoyance with another firm tug on your hair. You whine, hissing slightly at the soreness in your neck. “I…I didn’t mean it, Papa,” you manage to choke out. “I just…wanted you to know how much I missed you…How much I need you.”

“It sounds to me that the only thing you ‘need’ is a lesson in restraint, sì?”

A whine rumbles in your throat at his suggestion. You want to fight back, to argue and prove your point, but that would only garner more punishment. You nod in response before realizing your muteness is unsatisfactory. “Yes, Papa.”

Secondo releases your hair and you fall forward, your face planting into the sheets. He rises off of the bed to return to his place behind you. His hands run teasingly over your body with gentle brushes that give you goosebumps. A shiver runs down your spine as his hands move further down.

You barely feel two of his fingers glide through your slit, your wet arousal gathering on his digits. You don’t know when he removed his glove, but you relish in the warmth of his bare hand instead of the cool leather. Your hips roll towards his touch in an attempt to gain any of the friction he seems to deny you. Your wrists twist in their restraints. His fingers spread you open to reveal your entrance.

“Look how wet you are,” he taunts. The leash attached to your collar rustles before being pulled taut. Your head jerks back, your shoulders lifting off of the bed as your back arches. You can feel Secondo’s cock—hard and straining against his pants—as he presses against you. “Open.” You hear him growl.

The demand sends a wave of heat through you. You comply, but you’re barely able to part your lips before his hand moves away from your cunt and his fingers force their way down your throat. You fight off the urge to choke in order to remain obediently willing.

“You wished to show me how much you needed me, sì?” You nod, humming around his fingers. “Show me, then. Take my hand like you would take my cock.”

You eagerly heed Secondo’s words. Your mouth sucks and licks his fingers with enthusiasm, savoring the taste of your own arousal as it coats your tongue. You ignore the way your body aches from the awkward position he’s contorted you in. Saliva seeps from your lips and dribbles down your chin, escaping you as you swirl your tongue around his digits the same way you do with his cock.

“Greedy little mouth…” Secondo growls as he watches you intently. His hand stays firmly enveloped in your mouth as he presses his body against yours. You groan around his fingers when you feel his cock press against your ass. “Look at you, drooling all over yourself, pretending my cock is down your throat. You look so desperate.”

You shift on the bed, trying to clench your legs together in a desperate attempt for friction at the sound of his degrading tone. Secondo notices immediately. His hand slides out of your mouth, not caring that strands of saliva spill from your wet lips, and delivers a harsh smack to the swell of your ass. The sound echoes in the room. The sudden sting makes you cry out, your eyes widening in surprise.

A firm tug on the leash makes you choke momentarily. “Keep your legs spread,” Secondo growls, his hand reaching down to tug at your thigh and force your legs apart while the other pulls the leash taut. “If you can’t be good, you aren’t getting touched.”

Your hands tug at their restraints, fists clenching with frustration. “I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I’ll be good, I promise. Please touch me, please.” Your words come out in a flurry, rushed and desperate, as you pant for breath.

Secondo’s hand releases the leash, allowing you to fall forward again. His hand immediately snakes around your waist to land on the space between your thighs. Saliva-wettened fingers land on your clit and swirl in agonizingly slow circles. Your breath catches in your throat, a shaky gasp leaving your lips. Your hips jerk into his hand as a silent encouragement.

Another sudden spank takes your breath away. His hand stops its movements and you whine. “Stay still. You’ll only take what I give you, sì?”

You nod, sighing dejectedly. “Yes, Papa.”

It takes all of your strength to keep your hips in place and resist the urge to grind into his hand when he continues to swirl his fingers. Your thighs tense and your mouth falls open with whimpers and moans.

Secondo barely increases his pace at the sound of your pleasure. Your hands ball into fists in their restraints, a low groan ripping from your throat. You curse, desperately using every ounce of control to keep your hips still.

“Mia piccola puttana…she can be good when she wants to be, hmm?” He tilts his head, watching your pleasure-contorted features. His hand speeds up slightly and you gasp.

“Yes…Papa…Fuck…”

“She likes it, doesn’t she?”

“Yes…Yes, Papa, I like it…” Warmth pools in your abdomen, winding tighter with each swirl of his fingers. Your thighs begin to shake as you lose the battle of staying still. Your hips thrust desperately forward, eager to hit the orgasm that lingers so close to fruition. “Please, Papa. It feels so good…fuck..!”

Secondo pulls his hand away mere seconds before the warmth spills over. You cry out, a high-pitched whine ripping from your throat as your orgasm slowly dissipates. Your hips buck forward as if trying to chase his touch.

“Why did you—?”

“You don’t deserve to cum yet.” His voice is stern, leaving no room for argument no matter how badly you want to. “Poverina…you did not think I would give you what you want that easily, did you?” Your lips part to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. “Such a greedy whore…you made yourself cum and you think you deserve it by my hand?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I won’t do it again, I promise.” You whine, grinding your ass against him in a silent plea. The roll of your hips is slow as you feel the outline of his rigid length through his pants.

Another harsh slap comes down on the swell of your ass. You gasp, the sting coursing through you and halting your movements. “Now you think you deserve my cock?” Secondo’s grip digs into the skin of your hips as he accuses you, his grasp so tight you can almost feel the bruises begin to form.

“No, no, Papa. I don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” He taunts. His hand massages the red handprint blooming on your ass, soothing the lingering sting. “Are you going to start being good for Papa?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Bene…” He gropes your ass, the tight grip making the welts forming on your skin sting. “Now be a good girl and ask for it. Nicely.”

“Please, Papa…I want you to touch me. Please touch me.”

Secondo scoffs at your plea. “Now I know you can beg better than that.”

A whine builds in your throat, but you swallow hard to contain it. “Please, please, please, Papa. Please touch me. I need it so fucking bad.” You pant. “I need you. I need your touch. Please.”

Without warning, two fingers push past your entrance and stretch you open. You gasp at the sensation, cursing as Secondo pumps his fingers at an unrelenting pace that gives you no time to adjust or savor the feeling. Your nails dig into your palms as you whine at each thrust of his hand.

“Fuck! Yes, yes…” You cry out, your cunt throbbing around his fingers. “Thank you, Papa. Fuck me…”

Secondo’s other hand holds you in place, gripping your hip so tight you think it’ll leave bruises. His fingers curl, searching for that sweet spot that’ll leave you crying out. As soon as he hits it, you curse in a loud gasp, your back arching to push your hips into his touch. He massages the spot with each pump of his hand, sending waves of pleasure through you that make your toes curl.

“Fuck, Papa! Yes, yes, yes. Right there. Right there.” Your moans fill the room, your cries reverberating off the ornate walls. Each plea is louder than the last. Your arms tug at their restraints, your hands flexing, desperate to hold on to something, anything.

Secondo groans, his voice husky. “Desperate whore, all worked up by my hand. You love it, don’t you?” You nod and mutter a small “mm-hmm”, too overwhelmed with his pace to form a proper response. “Fottuta troia,” he growls, taking a fistful of your hair and tugging until your shoulders lift off the bed. He leans over you, his fingers still pumping with their unwaveringly strong pace. “You answer your Papa, sì?”

You wince, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure that courses through you. “Yes, Papa. I…fuck—I’m sorry, Papa,” you manage to squeak out between moans.

“Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good my hand feels.”

“It feels…so fucking good, Papa,” you whine. Your words aren’t enough, evident by the way he tugs on your hair again for encouragement. His lack of response has you on edge. “You fuck me so good. I-I love the way your hand feels in my pussy.”

The tight grip on your hair is unrelenting. The awkward position you’re held in makes your back sore, but the pleasure granted to you overrides any discomfort. Warmth builds in your abdomen yet again, swirling and coiling with the need for release. Your thighs tense, your walls tightening around his fingers as your pants grow quick and loud.

“Oh, fuck…I’m…P-please…” Your voice quivers as you beg. “Please, Papa, can I cum this time?”

Secondo nuzzles against your neck, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. “Oh, dolcezza,” his words seem sweet, but you recognize the mocking in his tone. “Asking like that, you almost have me convinced.” His fingers pull out of you, a wet, squelching noise accompanying their retreat. “Almost.”

The whine that escapes you is even louder, even more desperate than before. “No, Papa…why did you…” You stammer and whine, unable to form a complete sentence. You almost feel like you could cry as the coil of warmth slowly dissipates. He releases your hair, a grunt escaping you as you fall forward onto the mattress and he moves away. “Please touch me again, I can’t…I need to cum.” Your hips roll in the air, desperate for some form of contact.

“You need it?” You hear him echo, almost as if he’s mocking your plea.

You nod your head and hum a small “mm-hmm” with a whine. “Yes, Papa, I need it. I need to cum so fucking bad.” You shiver when you feel his fingertips reconnect with your heat for just a moment, barely grazing over your folds. “Please, just keep fucking me. I was so close, I—”

Secondo cuts you off with a harsh spank, the sound echoing in the room. His hands hold tightly onto your hips, dragging you backward until your ass is flush against his body. And his achingly hard cock that strains behind his pants.

“Greedy whore thinks she deserves to cum already…” He mutters as his hands trace the swell of your ass.

“No…no, Papa, I didn’t mean that…” You pant, your breath heavy. “I just…fuck, I want it so bad. Please…”

He goes silent as his hands continue to trace gently over your skin. The silence heightens both your nerves and your desperation. Finally, his gruff voice breaks the silence. “Tell me again, cara: who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Papa.”

“Bene.” He presses his body more firmly against you. A quiet whimper escapes your lips at the feeling of his cock so close yet trapped beneath layers. “This pussy is mine. Mine to use and fuck whenever I feel like it.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Say it.”

“My…my pussy is yours, Papa. Yours to use, yours to fuck.” You swear you feel his cock throb behind his pants.

His torso presses against your restrained wrists as Secondo leans over you. If you weren’t so afraid of being punished and denied any longer, you’d grab ahold of his shirt and tug him closer. His hands move to your hips, where his nails dig into your skin. “You cum when I tell you to. When I decide you deserve it.” His voice is a sultry whisper, like a smooth velvet that wraps around your senses. It makes you want to forget about your own desires.

You nod, sighing at his words. “Yes, Papa.”

“If you pull another stunt like that—taunting me with your impatience—I’ll tie you up and make sure you don’t cum for hours. Do you understand?”

The thought makes you shiver in a mixture of arousal and fear. You swallow hard, nodding your head again. “Y-yes Papa…”

“Are you going to be good for Papa?” His hips roll against you, and while the friction isn’t stimulating for you, it makes you gasp nonetheless.

“Yes,” you choke out. “Yes, Papa. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“No more touching yourself without Papa’s permission, sì?”

“Yes, Papa.”

His hands squeeze your hips, but the gesture is more playful than painful. “Molto bene.”

Secondo ruts against you, dragging the bulge in his pants along the curve of your ass. He groans before moving to grind against your slick heat. The wetness of your arousal seeps through and stains the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less.

One of his hands slides up the arch of your back, avoiding your restrained wrists and caressing your spine. “You want Papa’s cock, sì?”

“Yes. Yes…please, Papa,” you whine breathlessly.

His other hand trails down your hip and over the swell of your ass before groping you firmly. His grasp is rough, making the welts that have formed from his spanks sting. “Beg for it, puttana.”

You sigh in frustration at his words. “Please, Papa. Please put your cock in me.” You fight with every ounce of restraint to keep your hips still. You want nothing more than to rub and bounce your ass against him, to hear him groan and curse at the friction. But you know doing so would earn you another punishment. “I want it—I need it—so fucking bad. Please, please.”

Secondo leans away from your body. The loss of his touch leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yearning harder for him. “She needs it, she says…” You hear him mock you as the faint sound of a zipper catches your attention.

You groan at the familiar feeling of his cock as the rigid and warm flesh lands on your ass. Secondo wraps one hand around the base, his other hand gripping your hip as he guides his cock to the space between your legs. He barely brushes against you, only allowing enough contact to cover himself in your slick arousal. The light friction makes you whine.

It’s not until you feel the head of his cock rub against your swollen, neglected clit that you stop whining and start panting. It’s even harder to stay still, especially when his pace is so languidly slow.

Your toes curl with strain. “Papa, please…I can’t…I can’t wait anymore…”

Another harsh spank comes down on your ass, making you hiss. “You can, and you will.” He growls. “Be good.” He continues the light and gentle grinding, his hands moving to rest on your ass and spread you open for his viewing pleasure. “Sathanas,” he curses, the sound making you throb and clench around nothing, which he certainly notices. “Così bagnato per me...you are a desperate little whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Papa.” Your nails dig into your palms as your body tenses in anticipation. “Please give it to me.”

He slides his cock along your folds, moving back and forth in long, sensual strokes. He pulls back to guide the head of his cock to sit at your entrance and grazes it teasingly, never pushing forward with enough force to enter you. You know he’s savoring the way you whimper and squirm. You groan, the sound turning into a whine.

“Please, Papa…” Your voice is breathless at this point, so desperate you could cry. “Please, please, I can’t wait anym—Ah!”

You’re cut off by his sudden, forceful thrust forward as he buries himself inside you with one movement. The stretch of your walls stings, making you hiss and curse. Your wrists tug at their restraints and your thighs go tense as he immediately starts a rough and unrelenting pace, giving you no time to acclimate to his intrusion.

Each thrust is met with one of your loud and desperate moans. Secondo runs his hands over the curve of your hips, his thumbs rubbing gently over your skin in a manner that completely opposes his rough movements. He groans, the sound sending heat to your core, and you feel him lean over your body.

The leash suddenly goes taut. Your head is lifted off of the mattress, strangling your moans as they leave your mouth. “This is what you wanted, sì?” He growls into your ear, punctuating his question with a set of firm thrusts. “To be fucked hard and rough like the whore you are?”

“Yes! Fuck…fuck, yes…” You cry out, voice strained against the collar around your throat. “Thank you, Papa, thank you…Lucifer below, it feels…so good…”

He leans back and pulls the leash with him. His free hand holds your hip tight, his grip strong enough to make you ache. He groans, cursing something in Italian under his breath, before spanking you again. Your walls flutter around him at the pain. “Dillo di nuovo. Tell Papa how good his cock feels.” His voice is low and rough, practically a growl, as he pounds into you.

“Your cock feels so fucking good, Papa…” Your eyes flutter shut as your head becomes light. Your moans and whines are guttural, choked out by your collar. “I love it…I love the way you fuck me…Don’t stop, Papa.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on it, puttana.” Secondo punctuates the word with a particularly rough thrust, making you cry out with a strangled moan. “You’re going to cum for me—when I tell you to.”

The room fills with sounds of your pleasure; moans and cries leaving your lips and the repeated, quick slapping of skin against skin. His own groans hit your ears and excite you further. He pounds into you with a relentless rhythm, quick and hard thrusts that make your body tremble under him.

“Papa…I’m gonna—fuck…” You feel your thighs shake, unsteady as the warmth in your abdomen tightens.

“Not yet.” He snaps back. He tugs on the leash again, making your head lighter as air escapes your lungs. “Solo un’altro po…”

It’s almost impossible to hold on any longer. The heat that swirls in your abdomen coils tighter and tighter with each thrust, the impending release crescendoing with no sign of stopping. All you can choke out is a quiet, strained “please” in between his powerful thrusts.

Secondo groans at your tight and wet heat, the sound turning into a slight chuckle that reverberates in your ear as he leans in. “Poverina…you need it, don’t you?” His voice is light and sweet despite the mockery in his tone. You nod before muttering a small “yes, Papa” in return. “Cum for me, tesoro. Cum on Papa’s cock.” He growls in your ear, his pace never wavering.

It takes only a few more of his rough thrusts to send you over the edge. The sound that leaves you is one you didn’t know you could make: a loud and guttural moan built up from constant denial that spills involuntarily from your lips. Your entire body tenses and trembles underneath him as waves of pleasure make you throb and clench around him. His pace never changes, working you through the high until your muscles go lax.

His thrusts slow down until they become slow rolls of his hips against your weak body. He releases the leash, letting your head fall against the mattress with a soft thud. His hands trail over your breasts as he leans to place a small, gentle kiss on your back between your shoulder blades.

“I’ve never heard you make those pretty sounds before.” He mutters against your skin. His hands knead your chest as he continues to roll his hips against you languidly.

A weak smile forms on your face. “I…I told you I was desperate,” you pant between heavy breaths. You groan with each of his thrusts, the leisurely pace doing nothing to soothe the overstimulation. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you for—ah—letting me cum…”

His hands trail down your body, his touch tracing your curves before returning to your hips as he leans back. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, dolcezza.”

You barely process his words before he pounds into you again. He wastes no time finding another intense and rough rhythm. Your body tenses as the overstimulation makes you whine, your hands balling into fists as they tug at their restraints. You cry out, your body shaking under the power of his thrusts.

“Fuck, Papa! Shit, shit, shit…”

Secondo’s deep groans fill the air, complimented by the wet sounds of sex. “Merda. I didn’t think you could get any tighter.” One of his hands lands on the small of your back, purposefully avoiding your bound wrists.

Every thrust sends a shock wave of pleasure through you, surges of overstimulating ecstasy that course through every inch of your body. It’s an overwhelming sensation, making every muscle tense and every moan and whimper more desperate than the last. Your noises only spur him on, each pathetic sound met with a powerful thrust that makes you whine louder.

“Papa…fuck, I can’t…it’s too much…” Your knuckles turn white as you ball your hands into fists. The overstimulation hurts, but the pain only adds to the pleasure he gives you. You trust him enough to know he’d drop everything if you were genuinely hurt. But right now, he knew you had no interest in stopping.

The leash suddenly goes taut, your head lifting off of the mattress again at his sudden tug. He spanks you again, your cry strangled by his sharp tug on the leash. “Fucking take it,” you hear him growl. Another spank makes you whine. “You’ll take my cock until I’m done with you, puttana.”

You groan at his words, your back arching into his thrusts. “Y-yes, P-Papa…”

His thrusts turn sharp and quick as he ruts against you. It’s primal and needy—almost animalistic—the way he moves. Each slap of his hips against your ass makes you hiss, the welts left from his hand stinging at every movement. Your body remains tense, every drag of his cock along your walls causing you to clench around him.

“Così fottutamente buono...questa figa è perfetta, tesoro…” You can barely hear his low, husky voice over the sound of skin meeting skin. Secondo tugs again on the leash, making you groan as your head jerks back. He leans down until his breath hits your ear. “You’re going to cum again for me, dolcezza.” His tone is clear—his words are a command, not a suggestion. “I want to feel this pussy milk my cock.”

The vulgarity in his words makes you whine. “Yeah…yes, Papa—fuck, I wanna milk your cock dry.”

“Sì, that’s what you want, giusto? You want Papa to cum in you and fill you up?” He growls in your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, Papa, I want your cum…Please, pump me full.” You strain to speak against the tight collar, but your plea is loud and desperate.

You can hear his breathing growing heavier. You can tell he’s getting close. He shoves his cock as deep as he can as his thrusts turn into forceful rolls of his hips as he grinds against you. The friction makes the marks on your ass sting.

Secondo’s free hand snakes around the curve of your hips, wasting no time finding your swollen and aching clit. His fingers swirl in time with each movement of his hips. The rhythmic pace between his deep penetration and the delicious friction of his hand makes you writhe under him.

You curse, your hips jerking wildly into his hand and against his hips, too overstimulated to find a rhythm. “Papa…Papa..!” You cry out and whine as your eyes screw shut.

He knows exactly how to make you tremble, all of the movements that send you closer to the edge and make you melt under his touch. The repeated clenching of your cunt makes him groan and curse.

“Fuck, Papa! I’m gonna…Sathanas, I’m gonna cum again, shit…” You feel your thighs shake and tremble, every muscle in your body tensed as the heat in your abdomen returns, mounting to a high.

Secondo pants, tugging on the leash again. “Dai, dai…cum for me, cum for Papa.”

The dual pleasure leaves you unable to resist, the sensations overwhelming your body. Your second orgasm is even more intense than the last. Your body shakes and your moans turn into whines as the pleasure leaves you overwhelmed. You don’t even notice the few tears that escape as you writhe and tremble. He works you through the high, his hand swirling perfectly against your sensitive core to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He only removes his hand once your whines turn to hisses.

The continuous, rough movements enacted on your overwhelmed body borders on pain. But you know he’s close, evident by his heavy breathing and groans as he pounds into you with the last of his strength. His grip is tight on your hip as the other hand holds your leash taut to keep your body in place.

With one final powerful thrust, Secondo stills as he spills himself into you. You feel every kick and pulse of his cock as he fills you. He groans, growling something in Italian, but you’re too far gone to comprehend it. He releases his grip on the leash, allowing your head to fall to the mattress.

Your body goes lax as he pulls out of you. Both of you grunt at the sensation. A wet squelch fills the air as you whine at the emptiness, too accustomed to his presence despite how overwhelming it feels. Your hips fall flat on the bed as you pant for breath and groan at the soreness in your back.

A wave of relief courses through you as your wrists are released from their restraints. The ache in your shoulders is painfully evident now that you can move freely. You roll onto your side, blinking heavily as you look up to see Secondo’s face.

His paint is smeared in various places, streaked by beads of sweat. His chest heaves with his own heavy breaths. You get the urge to scold him for exerting himself at his age.

He leans over you, reaching down to unfasten the collar around your neck. You instinctively tilt your head to make the process easier. You sigh when the garment is removed, allowing your skin to breathe and give your neck a break. Your eyes are heavy as you watch him place the collar and restraints on the nightstand with care.

Secondo leans down again, running a hand through your hair. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Un momento, bella,” he mutters against your skin before leaning away.

You watch as he walks in the direction of the adjoining bathroom before he disappears past the doorway. A small smile graces your face. It was easy to get intimidated by him, by his steely gaze and guarded demeanor, but he showed you a tenderness that no one else could match.

It was never as evident as it is in these moments. When he walks back into the room with a damp washcloth in his hand, your heart swells. He always takes the time to treat you so gently after sex, especially when it’s rough.

He cleans you carefully, running the washcloth over your flushed skin. He moves you with a sense of care and worship, like you’ll shatter beneath his touch if he isn’t careful. The warmth of the wet fabric is soothing, making you sigh with each stroke. He occasionally leans down to place kisses along your skin.

Once you’re clean, he lays the cloth on the nightstand. You know he’ll retrieve it later, probably after you’ve drifted off to sleep. He guides you to lay against the pillows, helping you move in your sore state. You groan at the aching pain in your body—the sting of your ass, the soreness in your shoulders, the aching of your back. He runs a hand over your thigh, fingers barely grazing your skin as his touch trails over the swell of your ass.

“You’re still red,” Secondo remarks. You feel the slight tingle of discomfort, your skin warm from the welts that have formed. “You must still be sore.”

You can hear the concern in voice, almost as if he regrets what he did. “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt that bad. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure?”

You smile at him, at his worry. “Yes, I’m sure.” You extend an arm towards him, beckoning him closer with your hand. “Now come here. I want you to lay with me.”

“Oh, is that right?” He teases. Despite his sarcastic tone, he’s already kicking off his shoes. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes. It is. You need your rest too, old man.”

You hear him scoff before he climbs onto the bed and situates himself beside you. “‘Old man’, huh?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your back is flush against his chest. He’s careful to keep distance between your hips so as not to irritate your welted skin. “Stai attento, mia cara. You wouldn’t want another punishment so soon, would you,”

You giggle at his words, laying your hand atop his arm and pulling him closer. You groan as you settle against the bed, attempting to allow your aching body to relax. You feel his arm move away from your waist. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his thumb massaging firm circles into your sore muscles. The gesture makes you smile, your head turning back to look at him.

“You don’t have to do that, Papa.”

“Oh, of course I do,” he responds, his hand working towards your shoulder blades. His lips brush over your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Mia piccola bellezza was so good for her Papa. She deserves to be taken care of.” His lips land on your neck, trailing kisses down to your shoulder. “You’re always so good for Papa,” he mutters between kisses.

He leans in to kiss you, and you turn to meet his movement. The gesture sends sparks through you. You smile against his lips, pressing into his kiss and relishing in the warmth that blooms in your chest.

You don’t know when you fell asleep after that. You laid there, allowing him to tend and care for you however he felt necessary. Not every touch was meant to massage or tend to your sore muscles, but you didn’t care. Just having his hands on your body was enough.

This was how he showed his love to you, and you found nothing but comfort and security in his arms.

#surprise ! i posted #crazy i know #clown's stuff #papa emeritus ii #papa ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa x reader #the band ghost smut #the band ghost #ghost bc

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eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 6 months

Note

AS MY TREAT I WANT THE MOST SILLY, GOOFY AAA HCS OF THE PAPA'S.

Like idk Copia used to have to wear earplugs because Terzo snores so loudly it's literally obnoxious or something like that.

“aww my middle finger likes you”

❤︎ synopsis — this is pure bullshittery and crack in its finest form with the papas. they can be a little crazy at times

pairing: all papa emeritus’ x gn!reader (can be platonic or romantic)

theme: crack ✦ , fluff ✿ (if you squint)

a/n: this is a toast to my bestie for being an absolute chad. i was high making these, enjoy.

cw: terzo is a warning enough on his own. that’s it.

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➵ papa primo

he’s the oldest so he constantly has to deal with the shit from his psychopathic brothers

like— primo is basically THE mom friend, except he’s the mom for moe, larry and curly over here

(moe, larry and curly being secondo, terzo and copia)

he constantly had to hold back secondo from beating the shit out of terzo because terzo made fun of him for being bald

“I’M GONNA RIP OFF YOUR WEAVE—“ “SECONDO NO—“

bro unironically listens to weezer

like full out busting down a just dance move to this music

you once caught him dancing to it, and he stood there frozen like the man emoji

he told you to never speak of it again and you just nodded, trying to plague your mind of that horrendous image

primo cannot cook for shit too btw

you were once out and asked him to make something before you got home to the ministry

the minute you walked in the door, the kitchen stove was on fire and all of primo’s ghouls were running around and screaming in infernal about the fire

meanwhile, primo stood there not knowing what to do, looking like the man emoji AGAIN

it’s basically his trademark at this point

“…. primo what the absolute fuck—“ “it wasn’t me i swear.”

while primo’s ghouls were still learning english, he once said “fuck you” to you in a very sarcastic way

but the ghouls thought it was how humans said “hello” in english

so they went around to the other siblings of sin, and sister imperator saying “fuck you” to them while leaving all those poor people offended and dumbfounded

you smacked the back of his head after that and forced him to apologize to his ghouls and to the siblings of sin (plus imperator of course)

and he gave the ghouls extra scritches too

primo also has the dad sneeze

like he can send another universe to the next tomorrow with his goofy ass sneeze

he once sneezed so loud he scared copia and caused him to bang his head on the wall

it was kinda funny tbh

anyways yeah note to self stay 10000 feet away from primo if he’s on the verge of sneezing

it’ll save your life

┅✦┅

➵ papa secondo

secondo has two moods

“oh my satan you’re all so stupid i literally hate you all” and “tee hee i’m a girly girl”

like ??? what’s this guy on???

this guy has the sass of a high school history teacher

like secondo’s being so deadass about whatever he’s saying but he’s always fucking saying it like—

“c’mon now, you literally have the style of a hairless roach 💅”

it confuses you a lot of the time, really

secondo has his moments where he’s sweet, but for the most part he’s pulling up the middle finger to everyone he sees

it’s a habit

someone could say hi to him in the nicest way possible and he’ll just grumble and flip them off

it’s not even that he’s trying to be mean, it’s a habit (a very bad habit)

you once got tired of it and smacked his hand, when he flipped you off. so it’s safe to say he no longer does it

at least to you

secondo is an absolute menace to his brothers

with primo he’s chill because he’s the eldest, but with the younger two he’s got no chill

definitely made copia cry at some point during his younger years

he later got his ass chewed out by you and primo, because no one makes copia cry

secondo’s literally so bossy it’s kinda funny

he’s always one flip flop away from smacking someone every time someone pisses him off

him and terzo are BEEFING all the time

and it’s over the stupidest shit too

“you’re stupid.” “well, you’re face is stupid” “you’re both stupid, end of the discussion.”

you once switched out all of his skull face paint for a pink barbie pallet

so secondo was walking around lookin’ like hello kitty emeritus and everyone was trying so hard not to laugh

even his ghouls were struggling too

“… secondo—“ “not. another. word.”

┅✦┅

➵ papa terzo

bro’s the fuckin’ definition of fruity

you thought secondo was girly pop?? wait ‘till you see terzo, he’s fucking extravagant

will literally show up in the grocery store lookin’ like a character ripped straight from criminal minds

like— he has to make a show EVERYWHERE he goes. he likes to stand out

terzo is also the type of man to wear skirts and dresses because he knows he’s hot shit and he devours every fit he puts together

he shows off that waist frfr

“… terzo what the fuck—“ “shut up you know i’m sexy and i’m going to show it.”

if you wear skirts or dresses he’ll definitely ask to borrow them

he definitely passed down his fruitiness to copia

and to his ghouls

he scams kids on adopt me and has a good laugh every time because he likes to see people get mad at him since he stole their hella expensive pet from them

primo told him to quit it because what kind of satanic pope scams poor little children on a roblox game?

as stylish as terzo is, he cannot do his hair and makeup to save his life

he’ll usually ask you to do it for him wherever he has to perform or do public events, which is why his face paint is simple compared to secondo and primo

it gives you two bonding time though and it’s cute

he once watched the pinkie pie smile hd video and was traumatized for a few days

like he straight up locked himself in his room and would not come out unless you convinced him to do so

during an after party after a concert ritual, he got so wasted and almost kissed omega

like you had to PRY this man off of the poor ghoul, while omega stood there unaffected (hehe tall buff demon boy)

terzo is the shortest emeritus and none of his brothers will let him live it down

ESPECIALLY copia, since he’s younger than him

terzo almost kicked him in the nuts because of that

but that definitely was a stab to his already massive ego

you reassured him that there’s nothing wrong with his height even though you found some of the jokes his brothers made funny

live laugh love terzo

┅✦┅

➵ papa copia

copia doesn’t know what he’s doing half of the time

like he’s just given a mic and he just wings a performance while the ghouls on stage are fucking around and going absolutely feral

out of all the papas, copia legitimately treats his ghouls like his own kids

he feels like he’s getting more grey hairs every time he has to stop swiss from fucking his own guitar, or sodo and phantom from fighting about cheese sticks

you sometimes help copia do ghoul-sitting and it’s just chaos. you’re literally their second parent

copia and you = parent duo for the era iv ghouls

he unironically owns a lot of funko pops

and he keeps the one of himself on a special pedestal in a glass case for safe keeping

though secondo almost once knocked over the case and he was three seconds away from smiting a bitch

you once were looking for copia because you wanted to ask him something and you found him in a ritual room

except the ritual was that he surrounded himself with a bunch of rat plushies and he was on his knees in front of a picture of a rat with a tiny crown

you were so confused, and he refuses to acknowledge what that was

“…. copia i—“ “you didn’t see anything.”

he fucking washes himself with dish soap and laundry detergent

this man is going around smelling like dawn dish soap and it’s so weird

it’s not that it even smells bad??? it just smells so interesting and strong you swear you’re in a fever dream

copia is an avid mitski fan

definitely cried his eyes out like a little bitch when he first listened to “the land is inhospitable and so are we” because he couldn’t get over how sad “my love mine all mine was”

radiates theater kid energy

but like— the kind of theater kid that is just passionate about theater and is very giddy when people ask about it

when he started his first meeting as papa he got so nervous that he straight up started the meeting with the word “mushroom”

like it’s so random ??? but it made the ghouls and you giggle so it somewhat worked out ??

copia is a little silly

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#ghost bc #ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus x reader #papa x reader #papa primo #papa secondo #papa terzo #papa copia #copia x reader #terzo x reader #primo x reader #secondo x reader #crack fic #crack headcanons #ghost bc crack #the band ghost #ghost x reader #ghost bc x reader

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moon-in-the-gutter · 21 days

Text

Aesthetics: The Papas

+ Angst & Devotion ; Terzo +

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writingjourney · 1 year

Note

Papa(i cant decide what number 1-4) : angry at his lover, because she avoids him..

Reader in her bedroom: p-please love...kill me i have a fever

https://themidult.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/painting-woman-ill-sick-fluey-unwell2-800x500.jpg

(sorry for the link im too shy to send this ask as me, but i think its kinda funny)

ghosting | papa x gn!reader

I could not decide on a Papa either, so I kept it as neutral as possible and (I hope) you can all imagine the Papa of your choice :) and anon, you need not be shy, I am so grateful for your ask <3

summary: your papa thinks you're avoiding him but once he finally finds you, he realises that he got it all wrong.

content: 2.5k words, sick care, some suggestive remarks, fluff mostly

masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦

Papa scoffs into his afternoon coffee, nearly spilling the hot liquid all over his papal robes. Still nothing. He’s staring at his phone, the screen cracked from when it slipped out of his pocket while he fucked you on his desk two days ago. And yet he can clearly make out the two blue hooks indicating that you’ve read his message from this morning.

What he also sees is that there is still no reply. Your silence, your absence, the uncertainty – it drives him mad. He is so used to having your undivided attention, seeing your name pop up on his screen with a frequency that keeps him from getting any work done as of late. Not your name, though, no. He saved you under “amore mio” a long time ago. Not that you’re aware of it just yet, but his feelings for you have long since surpassed mere lust and friendliness.

His mind constantly wanders to you. Knowing your schedule by heart, it is easy to imagine what you’re doing, what may have you so distracted. Right now, you should be helping in the gardens, sweaty and panting from the exertions in the warm afternoon sun. He knows how pretty you look like that, even more so when you’re sprawled out underneath him as he gets lost in the soft curves of your body. He yearns to lick the salty sweat off your heaving chest, to hear your whimpers as his lips leave not a single inch of your skin untouched.

Alas, he is stuck in his office, brooding over paperwork.

He’s trying hard to concentrate on the words in front of him, not to stare at his screen all day like a depraved, starving man. Impatient, he even set the phone to vibrate but despite knowing he’d get a notification if you texted him, he taps the screen every two minutes to check. Just to make sure he doesn’t miss it.

Oh how he’s longing for even the most delicate touch, a simple kiss on his cheek as you tell him to take it easy today, your hand squeezing his across the table. You used to do that, visit him in his office at least two times a day. Not always innocent. Actually, very rarely innocent. He can almost hear the echo of you screaming his name for half the abbey to hear. And yet, you have not been anywhere near these four desecrated walls in almost two days. Not since the last time you were intimate with him.

Why won’t you reply? A flash of doubt and a pang of anger. Could you be getting tired of him? Did he come on too strong? If that were the case, you should tell him. He’s a busy man, you of all people know that, and yet here you are practically ghosting him, as the younger Siblings call it. By now it’s almost dinner time, you must have had a chance to at least type in a yes or no. Papa knows if he can’t see you tonight he is going to lose his mind. He needs the confirmation or he’ll be nervous and distracted for the rest of his day.

Generous as he is, Papa gives you another hour, finishing up the dreadful paperwork before he has a quick dinner of reheated pasta from the day prior. It tastes like nothing to him and the emptiness of his quarters only adds to his foul mood. His eyes are still trained on his phone, the battery still half full, unused with the lack of texting. The only time his screen lights up this evening it’s to remind him that his screen time has gone up by eighty percent over the past week. It seems like that’s an issue you’re solving for him right now.

Papa knows he cannot go another night without seeing you. He needs to confront you, ask if you really lost interest or if you just need more space. Whatever it is, having clarity will be easier to bear than silence.

Entering the dorms is always risky business. People gossip, someone is going to see where he’s knocking, and while everyone knows the two of you are… something, he’s not keen on everyone speculating about why you’re suddenly on cooldown.

But when he knocks, nothing happens. He repeats the motion, rapping his knuckles against the wood three times, louder now. Nothing. He hears music, some sort of electronic beats, the tunes wafting over from another dorm room. A party, surely. Yours however remains eerily quiet. In a last attempt to find out if you’re even home, he tries the door.

It is unlocked, so you must be home. For a moment he considers leaving again but then a painful thought hits him: If you’re home, not opening up… it means you’re avoiding him. Clearly.

What crime did he commit to deserve your ignorance? His anger propels him to enter, despite knowing he’s invading your privacy. But he cannot go back to his quarters without confronting you, not when he’s already in such pain. He’s feeling the anticipatory grief over losing you and it’s all because he let his guard down way too fast, leaning into your kindness, your loving nature. He always had a feeling that this was too good to be true, that despite thinking this time would be different, he’d end up in pain. Everyone just wants the sex, the fun, not the commitment that being with a Papa, maybe even loving a Papa, meant.

Fiddling with the doorknob, he feels awful for even thinking these things. You never gave him reason to doubt you, but it is just so easy to slip back into his old insecurities. Certain that he’s just seeing ghosts, Papa pushes the door open silently.

Upon entering the small antechamber that leads to your bedroom, he hears you moaning. He hears the rustling of sheets, the mattress creaking. A loud fuck.

Papa stops dead in his tracks, nearly toppling over as a wave of nausea hits him. For a second, his worst fears and his deepest insecurities melt into one big gooey ball of panic. He wants to be sure that what you have is special, but you never openly decided to be exclusive, that you wouldn’t see other people. He’s been meaning to ask, to tell you how he feels… too late, it seems.

But no. He soldiers on. If anyone else dares to touch you, they will receive all of his demonic, unholy wrath. He has a whole company of ghouls who would love to get a taste of human flesh again, if need be. Papa opens the door to your bedroom, anxious but driven, ready to face whatever lies behind. And he does find you in bed like he expected, only… you’re alone.

You don’t even look up. Are you sleeping? The room is stuffy, curtains closed and all he hears is your whimpering.

“Hello?” he asks quietly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“P-papa?”

Your voice is barely audible. His anger turns into concern as he hurries to your side, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Immediately you reach for his hand in an attempt to squeeze, but it seems like you’re too weak to clench your muscles.

“Kill me, Papa. Release me from this torment,” you whine. “Please.”

“Tesoro, what is going on?”

You groan in reply, a sound only made more horrifying by the soreness of your throat. You sound like a dying animal and if he’s honest, you kind of smell like one too. He wonders how long you’ve been in this position.

“I am dying,” you whisper.

“What happened? Are you injured?”

He’s scanning your body but most of it is covered. Before he can pull away the duvet, you try to squeeze his hand yet again, this time with more vigor.

“S-sick,” you choke out. “The flu.”

“The flu?”

Papa ignores the bad conscience that’s settling in his mind and gives into his worry. He jumps up, opening the curtains and the window to let in some fresh air. You hiss like you’ve been burned, despite the sun already setting. Disregarding your complaints, Papa finds a thermometer and pain killers on your bedside table.

“We need to check if you have a fever, tesorino, can you open your pretty mouth for me?”

You giggle at his words. “I’m too sick for that, Papa.”

“You clearly have a fever if you think I’m going to laugh about this right now,” he states, removing his gloves and throwing them aside. His scowl is not in earnest, he’s not annoyed, of course, but he needs you to know your health is paramount.

“You’re so dramatic,” you whisper but you let him slot the thermometer between your lips anyway.

“I am dramatic? Who’s been locked inside their room like they have the plague without replying to my texts?”

Papa presses the backs of his hands to your hot cheeks, acting like a mom who doesn’t trust the thermometer. You’re burning up, worrying him even more. Your skin is ashen, hair tousled, and he can see you shaking slightly.

At his words, your brow furrows. “I texted back,” you say, words muffled by the device in your mouth.

“You did not, amore. I have been wondering what I did to upset you so,” Papa admits. “I thought you were avoiding me. Ghosting me, as they say.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and as soon as Papa pulls out the thermometer, forehead scrunching up as he reads the 38.9°C, you start babbling.

“I was not, Papa. I would never. I was so sad I could not see you.” You swallow, groaning as the pain in your scratchy throat hits you. “Can you check my phone? I dropped it.”

Papa finds it under your bed. He lets you unlock it and you’re right, you did reply, only you never hit sent. I am sick in bed, Papa. I miss you too, but I would not want you to catch the flu. ♥︎

“I would never avoid you on you purpose,” you whisper, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

He bends down to kiss your feverish forehead, feeling the heat against his lips. “I know that now, amore, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I ever thought such a thing.”

“Amore?” you ask, grinning through a thick layer of haze. “That’s new, Papa.”

He can practically feel his cheeks turning rosy under his paint. “You know I like you, gioia mia, that is not new.”

“But amore is not just liking, right? It’s–”

“You have a fever, dolce. I need you to take the ibuprofen. Where do you keep your glasses?”

You pout at his interruption and with one last look at your puckered lips, he jumps up, avoiding not only your question but also the intense urge to kiss you. You’re in no condition to have a deep conversation right now. He searches the cupboards in your tiny kitchenette until he finds a glass he can fill with water. By the looks of it, you have not eaten all day, it’s far too clean.

“I don’t know if I can swallow,” you whine upon his return.

“We both know you’re very good at swallowing, amore. Open up.”

You frown without any real intensity and it’s an adorable sight, even in your messy, unkempt state. “I thought we weren’t joking about this.”

“It is allowed when I do it,” Papa says, practically shoving the pill into your mouth. “Drink, amore. You need liquids.”

You manage to swallow and the water feels like honey but only for a moment before the pain returns and your throat protests wildly. Even so, your mind still clings to his words.

“Papa,” you whine, reaching for his hand as soon as he’s set down the glass.

His mismatched eyes flicker to yours, still worried. “Yes?”

“You never answered.”

“We should talk about this tomorrow, sì? When you feel better.” At your sad expression he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “I will go find some soup for you now, some other medication.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

“I will come back, dolce, you don’t make that pretty head worry too much, eh?”

You whimper dramatically. “But what if I am dead by then?”

Papa sighs but it’s followed by deep chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “You win, amore, I will text one of the ghouls.”

As soon as the text is sent, Papa closes the window again and starts to undress. From your position on the bed you’re watching him like a hawk, pulling a fuzzy blanket over your mouth to hide your grin. He can’t help but find it endearing and suddenly he feels even worse for assuming the worst today. Once he’s in his briefs and undershirt, he crawls into bed behind you, pulling you close. You’re a little sweaty, not exactly smelling fresh, but he doesn’t mind. Feeling your warmth, having you tucked against him, it’s all he really needs.

And as his heart does a flip, racing thanks to your proximity, he gently cups your cheek. “Do you think you can give me a kiss, amore?”

“But you’ll get sick,” you whisper, the protest dying as soon as he tilts your chin up.

His lips graze yours, softly pressing in more and more until you melt against him. Even your lips are warmer than usual and he keeps it chaste, breaking away to look into your eyes again.

“Papas don’t get sick, eh?” He gives a tender kiss to your forehead, gently running his fingers through your hair before they settle on your back. “Now, you wanted an answer.”

Your look is pleading and it’s like your shining eyes are trying to lure the words right out of him. He wonders how he ever worried you may not feel the same when it’s written all over your face. His nerves start showing then, fidgety fingers drawing tiny patterns on your back, and he can feel your hands pressing into his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you,” he finally says. “You are my amore, my love. Tieni il mio cuore in mano. Please, I want to ask you to be mine.”

“I love you, too.” A big grin spreads out on your face. You lean in to kiss him again, softly moving your lips against his, and you stay impossibly close as you whisper. “And I am yours, forever, if you are mine.”

Papa smiles against your mouth and for a moment he forgets that you’re sick and kisses you harder. When he breaks away, you’re breathless, coughing softly, but he can tell by the happy look on your face that it was worth it.

“I am yours, amore,” he says. “I am yours forever, if Satan allows me.”

You settle against his solid chest, warm cheek pressed to the skin just above the neckline of his shirt. After today, your Papa vows to take better care of you, to trust you fully and cast any doubts aside as soon as they arise. And so he wraps his arms around you even tighter, whispering soft praises into your hair until you’re finally asleep again, the only sound in the room your soft and even breathing.

non vedo l’ora di baciarti – I can’t wait to kiss you

tieni il mio cuore in mano – you hold my heart in your hand

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molly-ghuleh · 8 months

Text

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 1

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: You are a translator for the Ministry. You receive a letter summoning you to the Abbey for a project involving an ancient diary with a mysterious author, but you find yourself wishing you were back home. That is, until you meet the charming Papa Emeritus the Fourth.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Hi all!! This is the first long-form fic I've ever written and decided to publish, so I hope you all enjoy!! The first chapter is mostly setup and scene building, so not a lot of interaction with our beloved Copia. But there will be more, I promise!!

Warnings: none for now but there will be some in later chapters.

AO3 Link

Prologue

“Will you help me move this box?” the Brother of Sin says.

Wordlessly, the Sister of Sin stops what she’s doing and maneuvers through the crowded, dusty basement room to help the Brother. The two crouch down, bracing their hands against the box of books. It leaves behind a path carved into the layers of dust as it slides across the wooden floor.

Once the box is pushed a few feet out of the way, the Sister lets go and, losing her balance, falls to her hands and knees from the crouching position. She cries out in surprise when her hand sinks through the floorboards as one of the slats gives way. The hole is only a few inches deep and filled with dirt and cobwebs, but the Sister’s hand falls onto something softer than wood.

She lifts her hand to find that there’s a small leather-bound volume hidden face-down in the small crevice. The Sister can hardly imagine how long it has been there, with how thick the grime lies on the back cover.

This room of the Abbey’s basement had been long forgotten, until Sister Imperator tasked these Siblings of Sin to clear out the room to make way for new storage. They had half expected to find a ruby-encrusted sarcophagus in the room, with how ancient and opulent the Abbey is. So far the only things of interest they have found are books—it seems that the only items stored in the room are books.

The Sister gently removes the book from the hole in the floor and replaces the wooden slat. Even through her gloves she can tell that it is close to disintegrating. The distinct orange of rotten leather lines the edges of its binding and a few corners of pages fall to the ground.

“What’s that?” The Brother asks.

The Sister carefully turns the volume over so that she can read the front cover. It, too, is covered in dust, so she gently brushes it with her hand in order to read the embossed leather cover. Having been face-down in the crevice, the gold leaf illuminating the embossment is preserved and it shines in the low light of the basement.

“It says…” the Sister squints to read the small letters, “...Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth? Who’s Elizabeth?”

The Sister turns over the book once more. “I don’t know, just… Elizabeth.”

Chapter 1

The ride from the airport to the Abbey is a long one. The car you had been picked up in took you through the city and the suburbs, to the rural outskirts of civilization where the coniferous trees block much of the sunlight. The winding roads, dotted in late-afternoon sunbeams, feel endless as the car climbs into the hills. It’s been a silent ride, and rather awkward (at least, you feel that it’s been awkward) because the helmeted ghoul who drives the sleek black sedan has not said a word.

You knew that the Abbey has ghouls. A few abbeys do, as they are big enough to warrant summoning help, but your home chapter is not. This is the first time you’ve met one.

You wonder if they’re all so stoic, or if the driver simply doesn’t have anything to say. He isn’t impolite, but you wish he would say something, anything to make the drive a little more bearable. You want to ask him about the Abbey–what the Siblings are like, what Papa is like. How many Siblings live there full time? How big is the library? You’ve heard that the ghost of a former Papa haunts the corridors, is that true? Hundreds of questions brew in your mind, but the ghoul remains silent and you’re left feeling like an unwelcome guest in a strange country.

You already miss home.

The Marseille abbey, your home for the better part of your adult life, is a medieval stone structure built on a hilltop south of the Marseille city proper. The ornate, stained-glass windows of its chapel face west over the Mediterranean so that the sunset streams into the room during Black Mass. The walls are old and drafty, and keep faded tapestries in a constant state of fluttering. The linens line the walls of the refectory in between tall, narrow windows which also overlook the sea. If it were not for the inverted crosses and scenes of the unjust fall of Lucifer, one might think the atmosphere in the chapel—and the rest of the small abbey—is almost holy.

The windows in the Sibling dormitories are small and south-facing, with deep stone sills and wood frames that have somehow managed to survive the ages (although they hardly open without a fight.) Your own dormitory windowsill is lined with personal prayer books. Each has about a hundred loose papers sticking out. They are your translation practice, your way of staying versed in every language you know, because you know the prayers by heart at this point. The papers are experiments: which language makes the prayer sound better, sound prettier? Which language makes the most sense? Which language makes the prayers the shortest, the longest?

No matter which language you use, to you the prayers sound the most beautiful in your mother tongue. That is how you’d memorized them, after all. Yet… you wish there had been room in your single suitcase to take your prayer books with you.

“We’re almost there,” the ghoul says, snapping you out of your homesick reverie. His voice is deep and softer than you’d expected. There’s no spurt of hellfire from his mouth as you’d half-thought there would be, and no low rumble in his words that might signify he’s more beast than man. The ghoul, despite his bug-eyed mask, seems shockingly human.

He steers the car through tall wrought-iron gates which seem to open automatically. You can see the tall peak of the Abbey’s bell tower peeking through the trees, and suddenly the reality that you’re very, very far from home hits you.

You unfold the crinkled envelope in your hands and reread the letter for the hundredth time that day.

Dear Sister,

I hope this letter finds you well.

We at the Abbey have recently uncovered a very important document which we require your expertise to translate. However, this document is extremely fragile and cannot be transported in the post. Papa Emeritus IV and the rest of the Clergy request your presence at the Abbey as soon as possible.

We expect this project to take several months. Enclosed is a one-way ticket for you to travel to the airport closest to us, from which a car will transport you to the Abbey. We will discuss plans for your return to Marseille when you are nearing the end of your work here.

We anxiously await your arrival.

Sincerely,

Sister Imperator

The letter itself is quite presumptuous. Sister Imperator had assumed you were not busy, and assumed that you would be able to drop everything and travel halfway across the world for a months-long project. And then to use Papa’s name to exaggerate the importance of this mysterious document which she hadn’t even disclosed the nature of?

Well… you can’t exactly say no to the woman who practically runs the Ministry’s affairs.

The car takes a bend in the Abbey’s endless driveway and emerges into a clearing. Sitting far back on a sprawling lawn is a massive, imposing stone structure. The rows of trimmed hedges and flower bushes do little to soften the gothic hardness of it. Two pointed bell towers loom over the steep roof of what must be the chapel, with stained glass windows stretching up at least two storeys. The central image is of Baphomet, in his iconographic pose. The setting sun glints off of his golden halo. Sweet Satan, you think, your eyes tracking the window as the car rounds the drive. Baphomet alone must be taller than the entire height of Marseille.

The ghoul pulls the car to a stop in front of the wide steps leading up to wooden double doors. A woman stands there, her hands clasped in front of her and her back straight, like the matron of this grand palace. You suppose she is–the severity of her expression alone leads you to believe that it’s Sister Imperator who waits for you.

You step out into the chilly air and shut the car door behind yourself. The ghoul already has your suitcase in hand and gestures for you to walk up the stairs before him. You wish he’d let you carry your own suitcase, if only to give your hands something to do, but you are far too stunned to ask. Climbing the shallow stone steps feels like stepping into another world. A world in which you feel far too plain to exist.

“Sister,” The woman greets with a smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which squint at you beneath slightly furrowed, well-groomed brows. She strikes you as someone who is all business, all the time. “How was your journey?”

You return her smile as best you can. She speaks to you like you don’t understand English. “It went well, your dark eminence.”

She seems a little surprised that you respond so fluently, but she quickly fixes her face into another warm grin. “I am glad to hear it,” she says. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m sure you must understand that this document is very important, and quite fragile. We would not risk losing it in the post.” “Of course,” you nod. “If I may ask, Sister Imperator, what is this document? You did not disclose it in your letter.” You gesture to the envelope safely stored in your jacket pocket.

Sister Imperator turns to step inside the slightly ajar wooden door and you assume she wants you to follow. The ghoul accompanies you over the threshold, but at the wave of a hand from Sister Imperator, he turns down a narrow corridor with your suitcase and disappears around a corner.

You are still a bit too overwhelmed to thank him. Instead, you look at the woman beside you. “The ghoul will bring your luggage to a room we have prepared for your stay,” she explains at your silent question.

She continues down the main hall, deeper into the Abbey. Your footsteps echo through the atrium, bouncing up to the high, painted ceilings and off the stone walls. There are a few wooden benches pushed back against the wall, with pots of surprisingly lush houseplants on either side. Framed oil paintings line the walls: some depicting biblical scenes, some of landscapes, and a few large, dignified portraits. You can tell by the distinct Papal paints in each portrait that the subject is a Papa, and you wonder which one depicts Papa Emeritus IV. You’ve never seen an image of His Unholiness before.

After a few moments of silence, Sister Imperator speaks again. “We found the document last month, in one of the storage rooms in the Abbey’s basement.” She likes to use the royal ‘we’ a lot, you think.

She continues. “One of our archivists believes that it is at least five hundred years old. It is very fragile, you see, and so we ask that you handle it with the utmost care as you work with it. We would prefer it if you used gloves. And frankly, Sister, I believe that you would want to. The leather is fairly rotten.” You stay silent as you follow slightly behind her. You’ve worked with old, rotten books before. The pages nearly crumble apart in your hands and the leather splits easily, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“We believe it is a journal—a diary, rather, of someone very important in the Ministry’s history.” You find it strange that she doesn’t immediately disclose whose diary it might be. “Who, if I may ask?” “Elizabeth.” Sister Imperator’s voice is clipped as she answers you. She gives no further explanation. Just Elizabeth.

There are millions of women named Elizabeth in the world. It is very likely that there is more than one important Elizabeth in the Ministry’s history as well. It’s a fairly common name, especially five hundred years ago (if the archivist is correct). For all you know, this document could be some random Sister’s sexual logbook, and documenting her sinful indulgences was her way of praying to the Lord Below.

You break out of your ponderance over possibilities when Sister Imperator turns a corner to walk down another, slightly narrower (but still wide) corridor. She speaks again. “The book is to be kept in a lockbox at all times when you are not working with it. Under no circumstances is it to be removed from the Abbey library without my express permission, or the permission of Papa. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sister,” you answer hastily. Her tone of voice as she lays down the law makes you feel as though you’ve already made a mistake.

“Now. The reason we need you, Sister, is because none of our own archivists or translators can figure out what language the journal is written in.”

This piques your interest, and also slightly flatters you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

She releases a long-suffering sigh. “The writing is jumbled. It is a mess of letters and sometimes numbers, with no spaces whatsoever.”

The possibilities immediately start to stack in your mind. Latin from the Roman era tended not to use spaces, a practice called ‘scriptio continua’. Ancient Greek also did this… but wouldn’t the in-house translators be able to read it?

“I cannot explain it well enough,” Sister Imperator says. “You will have to see, Sister.”

The two of you come to another set of large double doors. Sister Imperator pushes one open and steps inside, holding it open for you. You slip past her into a huge, bright room, filled with hundreds and hundreds of bookshelves. Immediately you are hit with the scent of old books and parchment paper, and the gentle sounds of turning pages. To your left sits an ornate wooden desk with one Sibling standing behind it. They are sorting books onto a three-tiered cart, presumably to put them away in the correct order. You accidentally make eye contact, but they smile politely and you respond in kind with a little wave.

You avert your gaze upward towards the open second floor, which wraps around the large atrium and is protected by a dark oak bannister. A few Siblings linger on the catwalk, carrying books or making their way towards the wide staircase that opens to your right. The bottom floor of the atrium houses several wooden tables where another smattering of Siblings sit. Most other tables are empty save for an abandoned book or two.

The late evening glow shines down into the room from a large, circular skylight in the middle of the ceiling. There are desk lamps and overhead lights scattered about but none have been turned on yet.

It reminds you of the University library.

“Come,” Sister Imperator says after allowing you to gaze around the massive library for a moment. “The lockbox is in the restricted section. You will receive your own key while you are here but you are required to return it, directly to myself or the Head Librarian, before you leave.”

She leads you up the carpeted staircase and deep into the bowels of the second floor. Towards the back corner, where the shelves are labeled ‘Fiction - Romance’, there is a wooden door tucked against the wall. A sign beneath its small glass window reads ‘RESTRICTED’. Sister Imperator fishes a rather noisy set of keys from her pocket and finds the correct one to unlock the door. She pushes it open with a squeak that feels loud in the quiet of the library. When both of you are in the room and the door is shut behind you, she removes an identical key from her keyring and hands it to you. “Your copy,” she says. “Do not lose it.”

The room isn’t cramped, but it is small compared to the atrium. A few single-person desks sit along the back wall, while the walls on either side of you are lined with glass boxes. Each box is shaped similarly to a narrow cubby, and houses a single book. Printed labels on the front face of each box display a box number and the name of the volume stored inside.

“Your key allows you to access any of these boxes,” Sister Imperator explains to you, “but I do not expect you to require any of them, except for the diary you’ll be working with. It is kept in box number seven, which is here,” she points to a box about halfway up the rightmost column of cubbies. Using her key (still attached to the incredibly jingly keyring), she gently unlocks the box and it glides out like a drawer.

You step beside her to look down into the glass drawer. The diary is wrapped in white linen, but you can see the faint brown color of the leather through the cloth. “The archivist requests that you keep the white cloth under the book at all times,” Sister Imperator says. She reaches down into the box and gently retrieves the diary, careful not to jostle the cloth too much. “It will protect the leather from further decay.” You don’t need her to explain how preservation works, but you appreciate it anyway. It saves you from having to ask, or endure another awkward silence.

She places the book down on a nearby table and slowly unwraps the cloth. Already you can see small flecks of brown and orange sticking to it where the leather has rotted, but it seems to be fairly well preserved in light of its age. On the front cover in small, embossed gold letters is the name Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth,” you say, understanding.

“Elizabeth,” Sister Imperator replies. “That is the only word we have managed to decipher. Hopefully you will be able to help us with the rest.”

You nod. “I believe I can.”

She wraps the cloth loosely around the book once more, and returns it to its box. “I do not expect you to start tonight, Sister. We will give you time to settle, and have something to eat. But from tomorrow morning until you are done, this is your sole responsibility. Do you understand?”

Her sudden, almost intimidating tone surprises you. You bite the inside of your cheek–a nasty habit you’ve had since you were a child. “I understand, your Dark Eminence,” you say with another nod.

Her face softens, as does her stare. “Please, just Sister is fine,” she says. You follow her again as she begins to lead you out of the Restricted room. “I believe the dinner hour is to start soon. I will show you to your dormitory, and then leave you to get settled.”

She brings you back through the library and the main hall towards where you’d seen the ghoul disappear with your luggage. The dormitory hall is a long, narrow corridor with windows on one side and doors on the other. Each door is marked with a number and a nameplate, and in between each door are wall sconces lit by incandescent bulbs. Halfway down the hall there is an opening to a stairwell which, you assume, leads up to the second floor of the dormitories. You walk past many, many doors, some of which have two nameplates, until you reach the very end of the hall where there are unmarked doors. Sister finds her keyring again and unlocks one, then removes the key and hands it to you.

“These rooms here are the guest quarters. They are typically not suited for long-term stays but we have prepared yours to have everything you will need. If you need anything, ask Sibling Superior and they will make sure that you receive it.”

Sister Imperator turns to leave, but then turns around. “You know, Sister,” she says, with a curious look. “For someone of your expertise, I thought you would have been… older.” You can’t tell if it’s praise or suspicion in her voice. “Yes, well,” you stall. How are you supposed to explain that language just comes naturally to you and that it’s not your fault you’re not old and wrinkly? “I suppose once you learn one language, all the rest come easy. Especially romance languages.”

“Hm,” Sister Imperator hums, sizing you up for a moment. “Find me at the end of the week and we will talk about your progress. I’m sure you will know your way around by then.”

It seems her well of kindness has run dry.

~~~

If the loud ringing of the bell didn’t tell you that the dinner hour had started, then the steadily rising sounds of a crowd did. You can hear the murmurs of conversation even through your closed door. A few Siblings emerge from the dormitory next to yours, their chatting and laughing growing quieter as they walk down the corridor towards the refectory. The old wood floorboards creak above you from the movement of Siblings who occupy the second floor. All around you there is an excited bustle, and yet you don’t feel like joining it.

You have never liked crowds. Especially crowds of strangers. And these strangers all seem to know each other, if the echoes of loud conversations tell you anything.

But your stomach does rumble, and you feel rather weak from a day of travel, so you decide that it’s best to eat something before you go to bed. Once the corridor seems clear again, you quietly slip out your door (patting your pocket to make sure you remembered your key) and make your way to the refectory. Sister Imperator hadn’t shown it to you but you can make an educated guess as to where it is.

When you emerge into the main hall, you see a few Siblings occupying the wood benches that had been previously empty. They all hold trays or to-go boxes on their laps. Some speak animatedly, enthralling their friends with stories from their eventful day, while others sit quietly beside each other and eat. You think that it might be nice to sit somewhere to eat so that you feel a bit more connected to the Abbey, but all of the benches are occupied. The ever-growing roar from the refectory does not seem too appealing, either.

The large room is across the main hall from the library. When you turn the corner you see that it’s not as grand as the atrium, and that it only occupies one level. There are sheer curtains hung over the windows, which allow the sunlight to illuminate the room but keeps it from growing too warm. Siblings, Clergy members, and ghouls alike sit at long wooden tables not unlike those of your home Abbey. But these tables alone are longer than the entire length of the Marseille refectory, and once again you’re reminded that you’re quite far from home.

No, you can’t eat here. Not tonight.

There is a long counter stretching nearly wall-to-wall to the left of the door, where a dwindling line of Siblings make their dinner selections. Whatever meal the kitchens had prepared smells delicious but you find that you don’t have the appetite for it. However, close to where you stand in the doorway and nestled in the space between the wall and the counter, are a few baskets of fruit arranged on a small table. The baskets are nearly empty, with the only indication of their contents being the small pops of color peeking through gaps in the woven pattern.

Despite not wanting a hot meal, you are hungry, and so you enter the refectory and move towards the baskets. You opt for two good-sized oranges–although the bananas do look perfectly ripe–and turn to leave as quickly as you came. Your eyes briefly sweep over the crowd and land on a long table, perpendicular to all the others, situated on a platform at the opposite end of the refectory. The platform isn’t tall, but it is just enough to raise the table’s occupants slightly above the Siblings. The table is entirely composed of men, save for Sister Imperator, who seems to be talking to an older man with Papal paints and long blonde hair–is that Papa?

You look at the others occupying the table, and find that no less than three are also wearing Papal paints.

Marseille is a tiny Abbey. At any given time, only about ten Siblings reside there at once. And so there is no need for an upper Clergyman to be stationed there. Instead, the Chapter is run by Bishop Beaumont, who (until now) is the highest ranking member of the Satanic Ministry you have ever met, let alone seen.

So, to be faced with not one, but four Papas, all in the same room, makes your heart thump with nerves. You recognize them all from the portraits in the main hall, but in person they are all so much more… just more. And yet you still don’t know who is who.

Of course, you know that all four of the most recent reigning Papas are brothers, the order of which was determined by age. The man who Sister Imperator is talking to must be Papa Emeritus I, or Papa Primo, as you’ve heard him called by Bishop Beaumont. The other three look relatively close in age, and so you truly have no idea which man currently holds the helm and steers the ship.

You realize you’re staring when you make eye contact with one of the Papas. You nearly gasp in surprise, as if you shouldn’t even be on the same plane of existence as him… and yet your eyes met. Of course one of them would have caught you eventually, you think. You were practically ogling them from across the room.

Hastily, you turn and make your way back out of the refectory and into the main hall. Your eyes fall on the nearest portrait. The Papal paints of the subject match the ones of the man you’d just been caught staring at. You blush as if his portrait could think, and had just caught you a second time. Your eyes flick down to the gold plate affixed to the frame, and read the words.

PAPA EMERITUS IV.

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warnersister · 2 years

Text

Papa’s Wife

Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Papa Emeritus III x Reader Smut

Warnings: forced marriage, unwanted marriage, smut, praise kink, unprotected sex, consensual smut, etc.

It was forced. Not arranged. No. Don’t get that confused. It was a forced marriage. A forced marriage to join the two most powerful churches of the anti-Christ together. A forced marriage between you and Papa Emertius III.

The two of you first found out at a ‘family dinner’. Satan knows why they called it that, after all it was practically just a meeting with food you daren’t touch after learning what the ghouls feast on. Papa Nihil took a gulp of oxygen before turning to your father, “Quade,” Your father hummed. “I believe it is time.” “Si, Nihil. I agree.” He replied, and you looked between the two with questioning eyes, your mother just offered an almost animalistic grin, before the inevitable followed.

“Emeritus, (Y/n),” She began. “You are to be wed.” You dropped the cutlery in your clutch and it clattered harshly onto your empty plate. “Excuse me?” You coughed. “Do not interrupt me, child.” She seethed. “You are to join the two churches in a marital conjoining of law.” Her voice was cold, and harsh.

You had been planning on leaving the church for years. And now you were well and truly trapped. Never mind, you were fucked. “You can’t make us.” Emeritus spoke up, voice shaking slightly as Nihil gave him a side-glance. “We can and we will. On the night of October 31st you are to join in holy matrimony.” She concluded, a sickening look of contempt settled over her features.

“That’s a week today.” You stated, voice rising. “Do not raise your voice at me girl. You will do as I say.” Your mother hissed. “Mama-” “Enough!” She slammed her left fist against the table, causing Emeritus and yourself to jump anxiously. “This is to happen under the watchful eye for the anti-Christ and you are not to disobey me!”

You inhaled sharply before raising from your seated form, chair screeching on the floor as you sent it backwards. You hurried out of the room, not knowing where to go as this was the church of Nihil, not your own.

A cellar. That was where you found yourself. The tears on your cheeks were hot, your mind buzzing with a mixture of angered emotions. You heard the door creak from the corner you were bundled in, but you couldn’t care to look. Why should you? Your life was being sold to a breathing corpse and his family.

“Amor,” You hear the voice of the person you least wanted to see at that moment. “Fuck off Emeritus.” His tone soon changed. “I don’t want this shit as much as you don’t, but at least I have the decency to be civil.” He stated, voice icy. “Civil? I wanted out of my family. Not to be sold into yours.” You told him, looking up to meet his stare. “We are slaves to Lucifer. We have been sold. (Y/n) you cannot run from a fate that has already captured you. Grow up and understand that.” He spat. You just shook you head and dropped it to your knees.

Emeritus approached you and held out an envelope. You raised an eyebrow. “If I am to be married, my bride is to wear the best dress money can buy.” Suddenly he was unable to make his gaze meet your own. “I can buy my own dress.” Realising you would not take his money, he just dropped it by your feet. “Black is a good colour.” He began walking to the door. “There is no point running from it, believe me, I have tried.” The door shut behind him.

The next week passed disturbingly fast, and somehow you found yourself at the steps of Nihil’s Church, clutching a bouquet consisting of black petunias, roses, tulips, and dahlias. The black dress you were adorning trailed behind you, dragging against the cold stone floor. The lace of the bodes dug into your skin and your hair was pulled back uncomfortably tight. Nothing about this day was a fairytale, only the horrors of a nightmare.

To a foreign eye the way your father’s arm was gripping your own was wholesome and heartwarming. But he was merely holding you that tight as to not allow you to flee. He was more anxious than you, him eager to hand you over and seal the fate of the church of the Anti-Christ.

The doors opened and the audience stand, a very limited number of which you recognised. You only looked at your feet and you walked the dull-lit isle. “Stand up straight, girl.” You heard your mother whisper, harshly. You automatically corrected your posture, only looking at your supposed groom when you reached the altar.

Emeritus wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone at that moment but himself, but oh lord, you were gorgeous. The black lace. The long trailing vail. The black flowers. Everything about you was breathtaking. He felt like he had died and gone to hell.

You kneeled on the black velvet cushion beside Emeritus, inhaling slowly and slowly accepting the knowledge of what you were about to do. You hardly heard the voice of the vicar as the ceremony droned out, only to feel your heart drop out of your chest when silence followed the question of objection.

You reluctantly held out your hand as the small blade created a cut in your palm, and you couldn’t help but revel in the pain for a moment, enjoying the feeling of slipping away. Even if only temporary. A slice was made into your companion’s and they were forced together, and you had to stifle a hiss of pain at the sensation of your blood mixing.

The rings were exchanged and the vicar grinned. “You may now kiss your bride.” Neither of you moved, but when Papa Nihil intentionally cleared his throat, Emeritus gently gripped your chin and turned it towards his. “I am sorry.” He left a light and lingering kiss to your lips, but that was enough for the chapel room, as an eruption of applause followed.

That was it. It was done. You were wed and you were stuck. You were now the wife of Papa Emeritus III.

The reception was a complete oxymoron of your mood. It was joyous and even your mother cracked a smile, they were happy and had done their job. You were a pawn. Their pawn. You were miserable and the mascara patterning your skin showed that. You sat on the steps with your head in your hands, bouquet disregarded beside you.

You heard someone exit though the door behind you, and then they perched alongside you on the icy cobblestone. You looked towards your estranged associate. It was Emeritus. Your husband. He said nothing, only sipping on a glass of expensive champagne and allowing his bow tie to fall loose along with the top few buttons of his once-crisp white shirt.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” He told you, eyes not moving from the moon hanging high above the pair of you. You just hummed, turning your head to look at him. “We were supposed to fall in love. You denied like Romeo and Juliet. We were supposed to be forbidden. We were not supposed to be forced, mi amor.” He admitted. You had already accepted it at this point, all optimism being left in the pool of blood sitting back in the Chapel. So all you could do was listen.

“I always loved you.” He said. “I used to comb my hair back when my father said your family was visiting. I even picked you some flowers but I never made it past the doorway. I was scared.” He finally looked you in the eye. “I am still a scared little boy, (Y/n).” He swallowed thickly. “But now I am a scared little boy with a wife.” He just shook his head with a cold chuckle. “You were supposed to love me, not hate me.” You watched a single tear fall from his eye.

You said nothing, not a word in response. But you put your arms around your husband and pulled him into an embrace, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He returned it tightly, inhaling the sweet scent from the mixture of shampoo and perfume. You pulled back and wiped the tear from under his eye and steadily kissed where it once was.

That night he became the Papa of the church. And yourself his wife. He opened the door to the two of yours room and not a word was spoken. You slept in the bed and he laid his head down on the large sofa. You both cried yourselves to sleep that night. Somehow your thoughts were silent, nothing was on your mind. And that confused you. But you knew one thing for certain, you were okay being his wife.

The next morning you walked around as if the other was not there. He made his breakfast and you made yours. He went about his day with his ghouls and you went about yours wandering the gardens. And it stayed that way for a while. Actually for approximately four months.

It was late February, almost March. That day you woke and did something almost outlandish. You made yourself breakfast, and then your husbands. You don’t know why you did it. It was not intentional. And you had not done this previously. But you just did it, automatically. You made him breakfast.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, walking into the kitchen and towards the cabinet for his cereal, not expecting a reply. “Good morning.” You responded softly, holding out his bowl to him. He looked between yourself and the contents of the bowl for a minute or two, before taking it from your grasp and putting his hand on the back of your head, pulling you forward to kiss your hair with gratitude. Thank you, Cara Mia.” He said and for once you gave him a genuine smile, before a silence took over the household once again. But for the first time is was a comforting silence, not a thick or harsh one.

You each got dressed simultaneously and you sat at the vanity, grumbling over the small clasp on your necklace that was refusing to cooperate. He held out his hand and you looked at him through the mirror. “May I?” You passed him the delicate jewellery and held your hair up in your hand as to not get it in his way, and he seemingly effortlessly joined the chain around your neck.

“Thank you.” His eyes met your own in the reflection as you expressed your appreciation, and he reciprocated earlier’s smile. “You are welcome.” He grabbed his song sheets after a moment of looking at each other, and headed for the door. Although, suddenly stopping abruptly. “Would you like to join us? The ghouls would not object to your presence in practise.” He asked, thoughtfully and you turned to him - not even second guessing your answer for a moment. “Yes, I would love to.”

Now, it wasn’t the first time that he had offered you a seat in their rehearsal room, but it was the first time you had accepted. You slipped on your shoes, and followed him out of the door, slipping your arm into his when her held it out for you.

You knew most of their songs off by heart. Not by ear, but by reading. You had taken the time to learn all of the scripted lyrics of your husband’s band, whether you meant it in a loving way or not. You kept to yourself in the corner, picking at the petals of a forget-me-not flower that you had plucked on the way here.

“Is she just going to sit there making a mess?” One ghoul growled, motioning vaguely to the pail petals now haphazardly decorating the floor. You think he was called Dewdrop, at least that’s what Emeritus had informed you. “Are you just going to stand there playing out of tune notes?” You retaliated, sarcastically cocking your head sideward. “Oh you think you could play better than me?” He snarled. “Oh you think you can play?” You reacted and he took a few steps towards you. “Watch your mouth, after all it seems like you’d make a decent meal.” He warned, but before you could strike back, a deafening shout was hollered from across the room.

“HEY!” Emertius’ voice was loud and laced with a horrid venom. He took large and fast strides towards the ghoul, backing him up against a wall. “Watch how you talk with my wife. The scared ghoul could only cower and nod furiously, trail tucked with a cowardice between his legs. “Yes papa.” His once cruel and demanding tone now weak and shaking.

Then your husband turned to you, taking your face into his hands with a light and delicate grasp. “Are you okay, Mia Caro?” He asked, a small and regretful pout at his lips, you only wrapped your hands around his hand nodded. “I am fine.” “What do you say to her?” He asked, head turning back to Dew. “I am sorry.” “And?” “And I will never talk with you in that way again.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, not even with a mask to hide behind. “I forgive you.” And the practise went on, a newly found feeling dwelling in the darkest pits of your stomach after the events of that situation. A feeling that was unrecognisable and foreign, but understandable and welcome.

That night Emeritus walked over to tell you goodnight, but you patted against the spot beside you in the intentionally shared bed. He looked at you with a questioning gaze. “Can you sleep here tonight?” You asked, suddenly nervous for his response. “Please?” He smiled gently, climbing in next to you and turning off the light. It was silent and still for a long while, before his hand brushed against yours. You both pulled back but then you did something even you didn’t expect from yourself, you turned onto your side and placed your head against his shoulder.

Instead of pulling away, he immediately wrapped both arms around you and hugged you close, lips against your forehead and lingering there for a long while. “Emeritus?” You began, voice small and quiet. “Yes, my love?” That was the first one he had addressed you in those terms in English. “I am also a scared little girl.” You referee back fo his confession on your wedding day and you heard him inhale sharply through the darkness. “But I think I am also grown up enough to admit that I have always loved you too. And I am happy to be your wife. Even under these circumstances.” He took your face in his hand and kissed your lips gently, smiling with bliss covering his features.

The next day was the beginning of his first tour as the new frontman of Ghost. His first rituals under the public eye. The brothers and sisters of the clergy gathered around the bus as they were waved off, but The Papa ignored his desperate disciples and focussed all of his attention on you. Your face was cradled in his hands, his bags disregarded by his feet. “I love you.” He told you, caressing your cheekbones with his thumb. “I love you too.” You kissed him forcefully on the lips, knowing that would be the first and last time you had to do that in months. “Be safe.” You instructed in a protective and warning tone and he just laughed wholeheartedly. “I will, mia dolcezza.” And he was gone. Gone to preach to the world the word of the Anti-Christ. Gone from your grasp for another night.

The following day you decided to write to him, a wholesome, innocent little letter describing your feelings and the love you had recently discovered was lying dormant in your heart for him. He returned it with as much love and adoration, and they only accumulated from there.

But the virtue and decency was lost a while after your writings began, and were replaced by that of sin, and many that should remain closed behind the confinements of a lover’s bedroom door.

You were both excitingly anxious and nervously reluctant to send that letter. For it described what you desired your husband to do to you, the things that were disregarded and abandoned from the consumption of your wedding night. And with it, a few small Polaroids of which the contents shall not be spoken through words.

The crude images and sheer lace sent Papa Emeritus III wild. He wasn’t necessarily expecting that message but he was more than great full for it and to return it, a sudden flood of want and need rushing through his cold blood and thumbing through the confinement’s of his underwear. He needed his wife. And he needed you now. And so in return, you got what you gave, a set of small photographs that now sat buried beneath your underwear in a drawer, the sight of his dick now enough to send you into a crazed and dazed frenzy, also - some nights spent by yourself, pleasuring yourself through unspeakable things.

So when the time came for them to return, you stood anxiously along with the brothers and sisters of the church, awaiting your beloveds return. Only snapping out of your distant and wild thoughts when the cheers and eruption of clapping filled your ears, the bus was here.

Papa was first of the bus, and his eyes scoured the crowd, before they focused on you. You both smiled wildly and he shoved through the hoard of followers and straight into your arms. He picked you up and span your around, kissing you with as much force of what should have been at the altar. “I have missed you so much, my love.” You told him. “I have missed you more, magnifico.” He put you down and leaned close to your ear. “You are a naughty girl, sending those Polaroids.” A jolt of electricity powered through your legs and straight to your core. “Did you not enjoy them, darling?” You asked, peering up at him with innocence shining through your doe-eyes.

“You do not want to know what I did with those images.” He growled. “Oh I think the results are sat in my drawer upstairs.” You responded, a small smirk playing on your lips. “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now, mi amor.” He hissed, discreetly grinding his quickly growing erection into your front. “Do it to me, papa. I want you to make love to me.” You stood on the tips of your toes to whisper into his ear. “I need you to ruin me.”

That’s how you found yourself beneath your husband. He had carried you bridal-style back to your shared abode, and carefully dropped you onto your bed, lips hungrily travelling over all the skin he could get to. “Are you sure, amor?” “Please, yes.” You whimpered our, finding yours and his clothes thrown across the room into multiple careless piles.

He appreciated every inch of your body, licking and sucking and marking his territory like a wild animal, only stopping at your underwear to regain consent. “Papa please do something.” You pleased. “What do you want me to do, Mia Caro?” He teased. “Your mouth.” You groaned. “What do you want me to do with my mouth, come on sweetness, use your words.” You cried out. “I want your mouth between my legs.” “There we go, I can do that.” And before long he was kissing a trail down your thighs and quickly then licking and sucking on your sensitive clit, tongue diving into your hole every so often. “Perhaps my mouth was not necessary,” He dragged two fingers against your slit in a teasing manor as you moaned loudly. “You are already dripping, after all.” He hummed against you, sending vibrations pulsing through your body.

He plunged two fingers into you and you cried loudly, an overwhelming sensation filling you as your stomach tightened. “Papa I’m going to, I-” He smiled and nodded. “Yes my love, let go.” And the cord snapped, allowing you to come undone all over his fingers. “Good girl.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and your eyes widened, concerned that he would be unable to fit. “Are you ready, mi amor?” You nodded; letting your head fall backwards into the comfort of the fluffed-up pillows. He slipped inside until he bottomed out, the only noise for a prolonged-moment was the sound of the two of yours mixed heavy breathing, as he allowed you time to adjust.

Emeritus threaded your fingers through his own and raised them both above your head to support his weight. “Move, please.” You requested, and he began rocking back and forth. Once neat hair, now gradually becoming dishevelled and falling around to frame his face. He growled anomalistically, but did not quicken his space. Instead, dragging it out to bask in the long-awaited pleasure and allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you up.

That pleasurable feeling returned once more, and he kissed your lips to help you through it. You moaned into his mouth as you came, forcing him to cum also, straight after you. He remained buried inside of you for a moment, head in your neck, before he pulled out and rested beside you, pulling your body into his and the covers over the two of you.

“I love you, my gorgeous wife.”

“I love you too, my husband.”

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nameless-ghoul-trash · 8 months

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Papa emeritus IV X Ghoul!Mom!F!Reader (Part 1)

Ghouls age different than humans. (Y/N) was a perfect example of this fact. Through her many years in the abbey, she was unchanging, compared to her human counterparts. Keeping almost the same unearthly grace and beauty she had the day they were summoned. She has seen so many faces come and go as she remained to same in appearance.

The quintessence ghoul had been around the abbey for as long as anyone could remember. Summoned nearly 7 generations of Papa's ago, by Papa Nihals grandfather. Before even the ghost project ghouls.

Due to this (Y/N) grew to hold humans, and even ghouls, at arms length. Leaving her private life her own. She was also known to rarely take lovers, if any at all. Tired of grieving the losses of companions throughout her time as a part of the ministry. This never stopped her from being kind, though. She took care of everyone around her. Making sure everyone is fed, clean, happy, and healthy. She had earned the nickname "Ma" and "Mama Ghoul" because of her motherly nature. Little does anyone know she is just that, a mom. A mom who misses her kit.

2.7k words

Lightly proof read.

Warning: sodo being a softy?, Cussing

Part 2

You looked around the common area, making a mental checklist of the tasks that needed to be done. Placing your headphones in, you quickly got to work cleaning the areas. You were charged with keeping the ghoul dens clean, tidy, and stocked. It was just one of the many chores you completed daily. While most of the ghouls were out doing their own things, you would care for the dens. Ensuring everyone had a nice place to come to by the end of the day. The dens span over the east wing of the abbey. The different eras of the ghost project having their own spaces and one large den for the rest of the ghouls in the abbey. That's where your room was. You were currently in the den for the Imprea era ghouls. This one being made up of 12 bed rooms, only 8 of which were occupied, a common area, and a small but comfortable kitchen. It is the last ghoul den that needed done for the day.

You make your way around gathering the different "nesting" materials laying in various areas of the room. Folding the blankets, you hang all of them one by one on the blanket ladders. You fallow by placing the pillows in their respective spots and putting the random articles of clothing stung about in the hamper. Wiping down and dusting the needed surfaces, you finish by vacuuming and taking out the trash. Doing a once over of the space, you deem it good enough. Pulling out your headphones, you look over to the clock on the wall. Quarter till noon. Almost lunch time. Turning off all the lights, you make your out into the hall. You would be back later that night. It was your turn to clean up after supper.

Making your way to the dining hall in the larger ghouls den, you grab a light lunch and make your way toward the emptiest table available. You prefer to eat in the ghouls den over the regular dining hall, like most ghouls. Avoiding the crowds and loudness that comes with dining with all the siblings of sin. You avoided them whenever possible. Hearing heavy footsteps approaching, you turn slightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a very unpleased looking Sodo making his way towards you. His tail thrashed behind him violently. Reaching the table, he pulls out his chair and throws himself in it, arms crossed, looking straight ahead. If his body language didn't signale that he was pissed, the heat rolling off his body in waves sure did. Blinking at him, you note the ghoulettes, swiss and rain take a seat further down to long table beside Sodo. You also take notice of the absence of two other ghouls that were typically with the group. Turning your attention back to Sodo, you search for an explanation. "Hey, what wrong?" You asked Sodo softy. He looked over to you and seemed ready to explode. "They pulled Aether from the upcoming tour. Ma, the fuck are we supposed to do?" His out burst startled you slightly but you were quick to recover. Sodo retracted into himself trying not to let grief and anger over take him. Casting a glance at the others they seem to be in a similar states of distress. Grabbing onto Sodo, you drug him into a standing position with little to no protest. Nodding for the others to fallow you, you leave your lunch abandoned on the table. Leading them all to you room to avoid unwanted attention. "Where is Aether and Mountain?" You asked, opening your door to let everyone in. "Aether is still with Copia and Sister Imperator. Mountain is probably in the garden. He split off after we left practice." Swiss answered. The taller ghoul did not come to you in search of comfort as often as the others did. You never pushed him to either. He would when he needed it.

Sitting down on the ground in a circle, you had Cumulus to your left and Sodo to your right. Opening the arms, you let him lean into you. You had always had a soft spot for him. He reminded you of your kit in ways. High energy and a quick tongue. Then again, Rain and him shared similar traits to. You had not seen him in so long.

"Okay, tell me what happened." You throw out. Everyone started talking at once, overlapping each others words. "Hey! Okay, one at a time!" You called out. "We were in practice. Everything was fine, but Sister Imperator came in and announced the need for a band meeting." Rain answered first, Cirrus picking up where he left off. "Going on about pulling Aether and summoning a replacement. Blah, blah, blah. We don't need a replacement! Aether is just fine!" She throws her hands up, tail thuding on the floor. "Did Papa know? Was he part of the decision?" You pushed. "I don't think so. He was pretty upset, too." It was Cumulus' turn to answer. The thought pained you a little. You had met Copia in his early twenties, but only getting to learn who he was as a person when he had become Cardinal. He was awkward but had always been kind and did not ask for a lot. He never treated you any different than he did any human. Occasionally, you would run into each other in the garden or in the halls, and he would always take the time to exchange pleantries or take a short walk with you. He had also asked to help if you were working on chores every now and then. You had become quite fond of him. None of that changed even after he became Papa, though you did see him less and less.

"He was trying to talk to Imperator with Aether when we were dismissed." Sodo mumbles into your shoulder. "They can't take Aeth away. I don't understand." Looking down at the fire ghoul, you rubbed his back in a comforting manner. Using some of your quintessence for added affect. "Was it explained why they are replacing him?" You asked. It didn't make much sense to you why they would. Aether is one of Copia's longest standing ghouls. He was also fiercely loyal. They all were. To there Papa and to each other. Everyone stayed quiet for a moments, the tension that had slowly been dissipating started to rise once more. "Sister Imperators' only reasoning was something about the need for someone new. Possibly someone younger." Swiss's words made your blood turned to ice, tail twitching and ears flattening back. You had heard something similar said by Sister Imperator some time ago. It ended with a certain Papa you had considered a close friend dead.

Aether was one of the older one in the group, yes, but they had just introduced Aurora to the band in place of Sunshine for this tour. "I'm going to go talk to Papa. See if I can't figure out more of what's going on." You let a pouting Sodo sit up, getting to your feet. "You guys are free to lounge around in here if you want. I'll be back later." You quickly made her exit, closing the door softly.

------

Sodo looked at the ghouls around him. Ripping his mask off, he flops back with a groan. "This is turning out to be a shit day. And to top it off (Y/N)'s upset now, too." Sodo sounded defeated. Sodo had an attachment to the older ghoul. She had always had a way of calming him and getting him to talk. Always being there to help. Burn a hole in his clothes? No problem, she'll add patches. Have a headache? She'll offer to rub your neck and temples. He had always been able to rely on her. So had all the others. "We should probably go find Mountain and see if Aether is out of the meeting yet." Rain suggested. Everyone grumbles their agreements. Collectively, they stood and made their way to the door, Sodo slipping his mask back on.

------

You had checked the practice room first in hopes of finding Copia. No such luck. You now found your at his office door. Taking a second to breath, you reins in your thoughts. You knew getting attached to anyone would get you in unwanted situations again, but the group had weaseled their way into the spaces of your heart.

With a sigh, you knocked on the door and waited a second for a reply. After hearing a muffled "Enter," you let yourself in. Moving into the office, it smelt heavily of burning incense. Looking around the room, you take in the different details. From the couch to your right to the little trinkets that litter one of his bookshelves on the left. (E/C) eyes finally settled on Copia at his desk. "Oh! Fiore! Please, sit! What brings you here?" He scrambled to clean up his desk and make himself presentable. "I am far from a fragile little flower, Papa." You giggled, taking a seat in the chair placed in front of his desk, tail curling up towards your thigh. Soft eyes take him in. He looks like he'd been crying. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and his papal makeup smeared beyond saving. "Not all flowers are, cara, some are deadly and have a bite to them. And please! Call me Copia." He graces you with a soft smile. "Now what brings a bel fiore, such as yourself, to me today?" Sigh softy, you lock eyes with Copia. "Your ghouls came to me about today. What's going on? They are all angry and upset." Copia's faces falls and a sadness seeps deep into his eyes. Slumping back into his chair, he takes a deep breath. "I am assuming you are talking about the Aether situation?" You nod. "Sister is using it as a form of punishment for me. I am not meeting her expectations. This is her way of telling me, "Get your act together."" He says the last part in a mocking manner. A look of shock crosses your face. "I hope she realizes that you are not the only one that she is punishing with this. The entire band will feel this. It will affect them all on an almost catastrophic level! Aether is an important part of the band." A look of desperation falls over his face. "(Y/N), fiore, I am well aware. Ma cosa devo fare? I tried. She would not budge. I realize what is at stake here, but there is only so much I can do!" They both go silent for a couple of moments. Realization settled in the pit the pit of your stomach. He truly had no control over her decisions. Copia rans his gloved hands over his face, smearing the papal paint more. "Is she sending him back to the pit?" You whispered the question.

You half yearned to go back, but afraid of what you would do if the time ever came. You had been in the abbey so long. You would leave so much behind, but what about what you had left in the pit. You were giving up something either way. "Lucifer, no! That is something I would never allow! This could just be temporary. I will figure something out. Sister plans to summon the new ghoul next friday." 9 days from now. You studied him. He looked truly exhausted. "You're going to have to go talk to them." Copia let out a defeated sigh, "I know." "They are devastated." "I know. I know." "So what are you going to do?" He sat in thought at the question. He was good with the ghouls. They were his family, but this was uncharted territory for them all. "Will you help me talk to them?" He seems unsure of himself at his own question. When you didn't answer immediately, he started to ramble, neck and ears turning red. "You don't have to if you don't want to! I just figured the ghouls hold you in a high regard and that -" "I'll help." You cut him off, offering a small smile. "When do you want to do it?" Copia visibly relaxed. He was honestly slightly surprised that you agreed. "After supper tonight? After they have eaten?" Copia suggested. You nodded. "That'll work. I have supper clean up for their den tonight."

Copia smiled at you. "Molto bene! Then it is set! Meet at the den around 6:30?" "That works." Setting his hands on his desk, he is a little more cheerful.

"Now that we have a plan, tell me, il mio fiore, how have you been? Our little chats have grown to be few and far between. I think about you sometimes, though!" His word brings a small blush to your face. "I have been alright, I suppose. Just busy. How have you been, Copia?"

"I have been very busy myself. With all my duties as Papa and now the in coming tour. It's has been quite a lot to handle, but we make due. Sister is not always pleased I have found." Copia quiets at the end. "I will get everything under control, though. I just have to, emmm, figure it all out." He says with what seems to be almost a fained confidence. Like he was trying to convince himself more than you. "You can ask for help, Copia. With all your duties and paperwork." You flick one of the many piles of paper on his desk. "You know that, right? You truly are not alone in this. I'm sure most of us would be willing to step in and help if you just ask." Copia stilled, as if what you said surprised him. "I could never ask anyone to take on my work. Especially on top of everything you all already do." You giggle softly at him. He is so stubborn. "Copia, I'm sure it would be fine. Hell, I'll help you get caught up every night after my chores if you need. You have a lot on your plate right now and have to prepare to welcome a new ghoul into your circle soon. That's not going to be an easy feat. I bet you could get it done in no time if you let people help." Copia took in every word.

The man had always liked you. He had developed a small crush on you in his younger years. He never could quite get over it, but he never acted on it too much, either. The occasional flirty compliment or a small effort to go out of his way to make conversation, but nothing past that. "I suppose you are right. I appreciate the offer, fiore. Truly, but you have much on your plate as well. I will take your advice and look into getting help." You laughed gently. Moving to stand up, you offered a small smile. "I hope you do. I have chores the need finished, so unfortunately, I'm going to cut our time short. Thank you for your time. I'll see you at 6:30." Copia makes his way around the desk and over to the door. "Yes, thank you for coming to me. I will see you then." He opens the door for you. Stopping at in the frame, you look back to him. "Oh, and one more thing." He waits a moment. "They regard you just as high. Don't ever doubt your ghouls." With that, you take your leave. Closing the door, Copia strides back to his desk. Taking a seat, he let out a long breath. He has a lot to think about.

Bel - lovely

Fiore - flower

Cara - dear

Ma cosa devo fare - but what am i to do?

Molto bene - very good

Il mio fiore - my flower

Hello friends! I decided to turn this into a multi part series. I hope you enjoy part 1! I appreciate any feedback as this I my first fic. I am also accepting requests. Thank you for your read!

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fromthepinnacle2thepit · 4 months

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𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 - 𝒚𝒖𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

pairings: copia x reader

summary: its yule! one of the biggest celebrations in the ministry. drinking, dancing, worshiping the unholy father. but of course, something else seems to be on your mind…a certain papa. maybe he has you on his mind too?

rating: mildly spicy, VERY MILDLY, otherwise pure fluff and comfort

author note: ITALIAN TRANSLATIONS ARE AT THE BOTTOM BTW!!

Snow fell around the ministry, and the world was dark. It was as if the rooms inside the ministry had taken all the light from the world and stored it inside it’s deep unholy walls, filled with sin and the children of the dark.

But tonight? Tonight was a night of celebration. The world outside was a void, only filled with the noise of music and laughter from inside. Snow fell around the trees, covering it in a blanket of white and quiet. Lights from the stain glass windows left a kaleidoscope of colors upon the frosted and snowy earth. Footprints from the Siblings and those who traveled for the celebration marked and trampled some of the newly-fallen snow. In summary, the world outside was currently a wasteland of cold barren trees, but inside was a world of joy.

It was Yule.

A night where many came together, where Siblings danced and thrived under the eyes of the Dark One. A night of blissful sin and devotion, of love. And of celebrating the earth, the returning of the light and the cycle of the land.

Currently for you though, it had begun as a night of distress. You had paced around your room, searching for some kind of clothing to where. It was…irritating. For a night that’s meant to be so full of happiness, it seemed to bring much misfortune to your wardrobe. Eventually, you were able to put your complaining to a ceasing as your eyes laid upon a perfect thing to wear. Something you had purchased a long while back, that had slipped your mind and your field of vision by disappearing into the back of your closet. You thought it was very fitting for the theme of tonight and for the general spirit of things. And you looked..well let’s just say you were very satisfied with how it made you look. You had completed every other aspect of your look for the night, and decided to head on down to join the merriment.

You opened the door of the room that was your haven, and stepped out into the hallway of the ministry. A wall of what you could only describe as Yule hit you. Noise flooded your ears, filling them with the sounds of dancing, laughter, talking. Of course some shrieks of joy, singing, and running was mixed in. You inhaled and you felt the warm air which was filled of the smells of food and incense. And then of course, your eyes took in the rest. Decorations had been sprinkled all over the walls and you were sure that the center of all the festivities was absolutely drenched in them. You smiled to yourself as you began to watch, appreciating how festive they managed to make things look while still maintaining a dark-ish look, a gesture to the general beliefs in the Abbey.

As you walked through the halls, you saw strings of tinsel covering paintings, a ornament hanging off of one of the fingers of a statue of Lilith, and a upside-down star on top of a tree covered in dark red lights. As you came closer and closer to the giant room that held the main party, you were able to identify it as Frankincense. Candles flickered on the walls as you walked through the hallways, making things dimly light but still bringing you comfort. And it wasn’t too dark, as you could still see Siblings running in each and every direction as they prepared for the ongoing celebration. You were happy you were finally able to settle and go revel in the spirit of things. Well, not really settle, knowing the rowdiness of everyone from the Ghouls to even the Clergy on holidays.

As you were thinking, you had lost track of the time, and were surprised to see that you were already in the great big room that held so much excitement. The rest of the building had simply passed before your eyes before you could realize it.

Songs played on a speaker, and Siblings danced wildly. Though some danced slowly and rather…sensually. You chuckled to yourself as you walked over to a group of Siblings you’d grown fond of. Your eyes scanned over the crowd of members of the Abbey, and some of the Clergy. You watched, amused, as Dew chased Swiss by the food table. You wondered why but decided to stay out of it, though you were always entertained by their rambunctious behavior. Phantom seemed to be sneaking around with a few of the Ghoulettes, while other Ghoulettes were dancing. You saw Sister Imperator standing by the long table in the front, meant for the higher members of the clergy. Such as herself, the Cardinals, and of course…Papa. She seemed to look over the room as well, and you followed her gaze. A few small fires (all safe and meant purely for decoration) were scattered through the room, like little fire-pits. You hoped none of them had been started by Ghouls. Dark red ribbons flowed upon the walls, some green and black joining them. Other dark and gothic- and somehow Yuletide- decorations joined them. The entire room looked perfect. You looked back to Sister Imperator and watched as she turned to another member of the clergy, looking frazzled and concerned. You walked a little closer to her table, pretending to be watching what was now a wrestle between Dew and Swiss, and heard her say something along the lines of “Papa” and “where-?”

Ah. So that’s what it was. Papa. You couldn’t blame him for being late, all with Sister’s impossibly demanding schedule. You were friends with Papa. With Copia. You wished the two of you could talk more, but with the extremity of Sister’s demands, there wasn’t much time. So, you found a way. The first time you truly met was in a walk around the Abbey. Well, outside the abbey. You had been walking around with a book, the whether had been chilly and you were ready to head inside and take shelter deep within the comfort of the library. But the sudden warmth you had felt was not from the solace of inside the Ministry, but instead, Papa himself. You had talked to Copia a few times before he became Papa. You’d helped him when he’d dropped his books once, when you’d found one of his lost rats, when you’d randomly asked him how he was once or twice. He’d always been so sweet, so endearingly awkward. But when he bumped into you outside that one day, it felt as if for the first time, he truly saw you. His nose had been in a book as well, and that’s how the accident had come to happen.

“Le mie scuse, sorella! Stai bene?- Uh- Are you alright?” he had said, his face scrunched up in concern as he picked up his book, and yours as well.

“Yes Papa, thank you, I’m so sorry for the accident. Are you ok?” you asked quickly, unsure whether to smile or put on a face of worry.

“Sì, sì, grazie! No need to apologize, I’m- um, molto bene. All okie dokie.” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at that. It was amusing that the Papa of the entire Dark Church, the leader of all the followers of the Dark One, used the saying “okie dokie”. You couldn’t help but quickly be enamored with his more than awkward charm.

You two had discovered you were both about to head to the library, and decided to accompany each other. You two had smiled as you entered the library, and he had quickly needed to disappear into a separate realm of literature and unholy works, while you had found a nice cozy corner. Since then, you two had found each other often in the library. Sooner than later, you two had begun to sit with each other. Not always talking, but sometimes just sitting them and enjoying each other’s presence. While you had spent time reading, lost in your own worlds, you quickly discovered that less of that time in your mind was lost in the worlds of the books, but more-so lost in your thoughts of him. How his mismatched eyes flitted over words, taking in all types of languages and symbols you couldn’t dream of knowing how to understand, how sometimes he sighed and tapped one of his fingers against the wooden table you two frequented when he was frustrated with some part of the scripture he was reading. How soft his gaze could be, and other times how hard. You took time remembering how when he was a cardinal, how the swish of his cassocks sounded in the hallways. Before you knew it, you were enraptured with him. With how he was as a whole, and in all the little moments when you could see all the different fragments of who he was.

Once, as you two had been sitting at your shared table, as you were looking over the words on the book that had barely held you attention until then, you wondered what he would think of what you read. You thought about all the different pieces of literature you had read in the past while you two had been doing this, and realized a number of little parts that instantly brought him to mind.

The next day, you hadn’t gone to the library at your shared usual time. But instead, you had given a book to the librarian (who had been watching the two of you and decided you were bound to fall in love) and had asked the librarian to give the book to Copia when he came in. She happily agreed and thanked you for coming in so often, and you were on your way.

He had come in, and had been confused as to where you were. He had been handed the book by the librarian, who gave him a smile. And suddenly a tradition was made. You two left books for each other all the time. Genres varied, and notes were left between the pages. You had come to know each other quite well, but you only wished it could be closer. Not just physically, but you longed for him. His presence. All those things you admired while he was reading and so so much more.

As you realized you’d been staring at Sister Imperator while thinking about Copia, you shook yourself out of your thoughts and went to get a drink. You wondered where he was. There were few windows in the huge room that weren’t decorated with stained glass, but through the few clear ones, you could see a heavy snow. It gave you a strange feeling, snow. A feeling of significance. Like loneliness mixed with an intimate comfort. You only wished that a certain Papa was here to share the feeling with you, here in the candlelight room full of both darkness and pure warmth. He always knew how to make you feel better, how to make you feel like suddenly the only people in the world who truly mattered in the moment was you two. He made you feel like your entire existence was burning with passion.

Suddenly, something caught your eye. It was moving in a part of the dark hallway outside the great big room. Seemingly hiding. You got curious and though you hoped you wouldn’t miss Copia’s grand entrance, though you doubted he was the type to really make one. You started moving towards the shape, pausing to survey the room one last time, as if Copia could suddenly pop out of the shadows- not that it would be uncharacteristic for his role in the Ministry. But as you settled upon the conclusion that he was simply not there yet, you decided to head to odd shape in the hallway. Your senses felt stripped of the delight of the party as you stepped back out into the dimly halls which felt as if you’d just been in them, even though by now, it had been a while since you’d been in them. You peered into the darkness ahead of you, not being able to tell if there were any shadows if it was simply the movement of light from the candles which lined the walls. However, as you grew closer you could see that there was in fact a shadow, and it was moving. It wavered for a moment, and you tried walking slower, so whoever it was wouldn’t be able to hear your footsteps and flee the privacy of the hallway. Though the shadow started moving away and you sped up, so did the shadow and it disappeared from sight. At last, you rounded the corner with one last burst of speed and saw..

…Copia?

Yep, it wasn’t just a trick of the eyes. Your unholy Papa was right there in front of you, standing in the hallway, hiding from the annual Yule party.

“Papa?” you called out, and he froze. His back was to you, and he was tense. Though, a second after you said it, he seemed to relax a little bit, as if hesitant to fully let himself relax. But as he turned around and saw you, his entire posture seemed to melt. His eyes softened and suddenly he looked so calm and natural in the candlelight. It flickered prettily across his face, illuminating his eyes so mesmerizingly, and shining off parts of his outfit. He looked like the flame of a candle himself, he had a quiet air of excitement and gracefulness. A slight smile took over his face as you two stood facing each other in the hallway. It had been a while since you’d had a rendezvous in the library or an exchange of a book, with all the holiday preparations and ceremonies.

“Sorella,” he said “You…sono ipnotizzato.”

You didn’t know what that meant, of course, so you simply smiled. “Yes, hello, Copia.”

He took a few steps towards you, but waited. So you took some.

“Mi dispiace, ero...I was hiding from the party. Not uh, not the most noble thing, eh?” he said,

“It’s quite understandable really,” you replied, and he gave a breath, a kind of sigh, and a emotion not unlike relief spread across his face.

“È così? Well, yes, I suppose so, sorella. What are you doing? Out here, I mean.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way his Italian accent weaved throughout his words, and how Italian words spilled through more often than not. You found it enchanting. He was enchanting.

“In a way, I was looking for you. I mean, I was wondering where you were, and then I saw a shadow down this hall and decided to go figure out what was going on and here we are really!” you responded cheerfully. You couldn’t ignore the way it felt like your senses were on fire right now, it felt like every breath couldn’t come fast enough and it took all of your might not to practically implode with glee.

“That does make sense. Sì, vedo.” he said and you saw his eyes drift back down the hallway which was behind you, leading into the room of the party. You turned and looked back at it too. It looked so much more inviting now that your beloved Copia was here. Suddenly you had an idea. You took his hand, and decided to put all your doubts aside for a moment.

“Come with me. Back to the party, I mean. We can go together, it’ll be nicer to have you there, and we can hide from Sister Imperator together. And…it would be nice to spend some time with you. I’ve missed you. Plus I’m sure I’d make much better company than Sister Imperator would make if you were to go in there and get swept away by her.” you suggested, with a chuckle at the thought of Sister Imperator and all her flustered pestering.

“Well,” Copia said, and was lost in thought for a moment as he looked at you, then back at the party, then back down the hallway he was heading originally. “Ok, sorella. I would..er, well, yes I would like to go. With you.”

With those words, you lit up inside, a thrill going through you. Apparently, you lit up externally as well, as suddenly you felt a large smile on your face, and Copia chuckled, sharing the smile. You had let go of his hand, but you held it out again, ready to ask another question.

“Well then, Papa! Or, Copia, shall we?” and you let you hand hang out in front of you. He looked at it for a moment, and slowly, but a hand covered in a leather glove, into yours.

“Yes, sorella.” he said, looking from where your hands joined, up to your eyes. Your face lit up again, and you turned back towards the greatly lit room at the end of the hallway. With your hand in his, you begun walking towards it.

“Per te, gentile sorella. Sempre e solo per te.” he said, following you. His eyes reflected candlelight as you led him through the hallway. You only heard a little bit of his Italian words, and you didn’t understand them, but you didn’t recognize their significance. What you were focused on at the moment was the feeling of his hand in yours and the thought that you might get to spend the rest of this wonderful evening with him.

After a moment of reveling in the delight your senses took in being around him, you two were finally in the midst of the Yule celebration. Now that Copia was here, it felt as though your eyes allowed you to take in more, to experience more. You smiled as you looked over the room, trying to find a place where you and Copia could relax, away from the prying eyes of Sister Imperator. Yet your eyes stopped when they reached an ice statue you hadn’t noticed before. It was…a rat? You turned to Copia, your eyebrows raised and a smirk forming on your face. Copia looked at your face and it’s meaning registered in his mind, so he followed your gaze and a wave of realization washed over him when he understood.

“Ah! Si, the ice rat! A uh, nice touch, si? My idea, of course.” he said, and his childlike excitement sent a wave of comforting warmth through you. Oh Copia, dear sweet Copia.

You decided to lead him to the dance floor, where people were still dancing in all types of ways and styles.

You held out your hand to Copia again but he shook his head.

“No, sorella, I couldn’t. Non lo so..I don’t know how.” he quickly stated.

“That’s ok! Follow my lead!” you said, and before he could reply, you pulled him in. Into your arms, and into the mob of dancers. You couldn’t see it, but he both looked at you with immense focus, as he was trying to concentrate on what on earth to do. Yet the look of concentration wasn’t alone, it was accompanied by a look of awe. He thought you looked so beautiful.. if only you could know.

You two whirled along. You knew some people were watching, as you were dancing with Papa for Lucifer’s sake. You knew that on other nights, the feeling of all their eyes would’ve made you uncomfortable. But this time, you could barely recognize the fact that they were even on you in the first place. You were more focused on the unholy man you were absolutely enamored with. You smiled as he slowly began to get the hang of the dance. Within an instant, your feeling of happiness was overpowered by the feeling of pure thrill that was caused by the feeling of his fingers tightening comfortably against your waist, and his gloved hand meeting yours as the music carried on. He gazed at you with a look that captivated you. A smile, an intense one, but it wasn’t a smirk. You hoped for a moment, you prayed to the Fallen One, that maybe, just maybe, it was love. Out of nervousness, you began to talk.

“You know, I would’ve thought you’d have loved tonight! I was surprised when I saw you in that hallway!” you said, trying to speak louder than the music. After you said your thoughts though, you began to understand and realize more of why he might’ve preferred the quiet. You wouldn’t have minded the quiet either. As long as it was with him.

“Oh! Huh, ehehe, why do you think that, sorella?” He says, chuckling at the way the world is spinning around you two, at the joy of the moment.

“Well, because all of the partying!” you say, but quickly you realize how mistaken that statement is, and how you meant something so different.

“Huh? Cosa intendi?” he asked, very very confused, hoping you didn’t misunderstand his personality, his flirting as something different. Though he realized- to his dismay- you had not realized his flirting. It was funny though, because he had not realized yours.

“I’m sorry, that came out very wrong. I just meant that it seems like the kind of holiday celebration you’d appreciate. The closeness, the gift giving, the pretty dark decorations, snow. Oh! And the worship.” you all say, and he loves watching you talk. You watch his face as you say the words too, trying to soak up every single detail of how he processes your words.

“Oh..si, the worship, eh?” He says, quite awkwardly. Worship. Devotion. Giving your all, wishing for the all of another thing. What he felt for you.

You gave him a confused look, “Yes Pa- Copia. Worship.”

“Cara mia, the only thing I’m worshipping tonight is you.”

Your eyes grew wide with that statement, huge. You took in the man in front of you, and you felt your heart soar- did you hear him right? The music was so loud, you couldn’t tell. But the way he was looking at you, dear Satanas. You’d give yourself up at the alter if it meant feeling his soul collide with yours. A loud noise startled you, and the music shut off. The culprit of this interruption? Ah. Of course. Sister Imperator. She stood behind the very long table in the middle of it, facing everyone. She was the face of independence and organization. Oh no, she had a microphone. You felt Copia’s body way lightly next to yours and you realized your hands were still intertwined from the dancing. The thought that the two of you were still touching was seared into your mind. It burned your very existence. Should you pull away? You felt one of your fingers twitch and cursed yourself mentally. He looked over at you and you saw his eyes were also wide. Sister Imperator lifted the microphone to her mouth and the entire room held it’s breath.

“Siblings, Ghouls, Clergy, and others! Welcome to our annual Yule festivities! We thank each and every one of you for attending and giving devotion to the Dark One with us..”

Sister Imperator’s speech went on, but Copia was too focused on you to truly listen to it. Did you hear what he had said about worshipping you? Wait..no. His face burned red as he realized you might’ve taken it in a..different way. A sexual way. That you might’ve thought he wanted you that way. Did he want you that way? Well he knew the answer to that, but did you know the answer to that? Oh Lucifer. He cursed himself for how clumsy he was with his words. He felt himself grow warmer as he thought of how you might think of him now. But he hadn’t meant it in a sexual way. Well, he could mean it that way. If you wanted to- but still it was very early for that- but. All of his thoughts were a mess and jumbled together. He just meant he wanted to appreciate all of you. Give you his all, his devotion, his love. And maybe, have you return that? Though the more he thought about it, the more he realized how unlikely it was. And the sinking feeling he had begun to feel grew more until it took over his every emotion. He reluctantly let go of your hand, and you looked over at him, with a sad face. Wait, a sad face. He was so confused, highs and lows surrounded every thought in his head.

After a minute of blocking out Sister Imperator’s speech, and thinking, he decided that this was Yule, the celebration of the returning of the light, and of the Dark One. That he must have hope.

Little did he know, you were thinking the exact same thing.

You two longed for each other. Must unbeknownst to you both. And soon enough, you both had tuned back in to the speech, as you both processed it was nearing it’s end.

“May this holiday of Yule bring you many joys and connections with our Unholy Father! Nema. Let the festivities continue!” Sister Imperator said. Just as she lowered the microphone from her mouth, and was scanning across the room, her hawk-like eyes finally landed on you two.

“You.” you both saw her mouth from across the room, and your eyes grew wide. You turned to Copia and saw as his eyes widened as well, and he tensed immediately. Suddenly his eyes began to move and you looked back over, to follow them. Sister Imperator had begun to move across the room, and was heading towards you two. And she certainly did NOT look like a ray of sunshine at the moment.

You grabbed Copia’s arm and tugged on his sleeve.

“Copia, go, go!” you said, and begun to pull him along with you. You both raced out of the room, your hearts beating heart, and people parting to watch you two. You entered the hallway and heard Sister Imperator yell something behind you two, but all you could do was laugh. And laugh hard. Suddenly Copia began too. And you kept running, hearing the clacking of her heels on the stone floor a ways behind you two. In all the excitement, you hadn’t noticed that Copia had moved from your grip, and put his gloved hand in yours. You raced through the hallway, making it echo with laughter and your footsteps, running past random Siblings, the occasional pair of people who had abandoned the party to make out in the hallway, you both ran past statues and paintings, through more hallways and past many doors. Before you knew it the sound of Sister Imperator following you two had faded away but either you didn’t notice or you didn’t care. Copia didn’t seem to acknowledge either of those, he was laughing too. Suddenly, you two came to a pair of huge doors. You both slammed into one, and it opened.

A wave of cold hit you, along with a large amount of beautiful snowflakes. You stumbled into the snowy outside world, still laughing. And Copia stumbled with you, always willing to follow. You gazed around as you laughed, then suddenly turned to Copia.

“Come on!” you said, and began to pull Copia along again. He followed and you both raced in the snow, almost tripping, but feeling too free and happy to care. You stopped when you both reached a calm area. The sounds of the party were barely audible. You were by a small cemetery that was on the grounds, surrounded by trees. But you were still close to the Abbey, it was all so connected. You slowed and caught your breath. You looked over at Copia, who to your surprise, was looking at you. He looked happy and free, more carefree than you’d ever seen him. He looked hopeful, and at the same time- hungry.

Much to your surprise, he began moving towards you, the snow falling around you both made it seem all the more important and beautiful. He reached you, and for a split second, it seemed as if your souls really were colliding. Not on the alter as you’d imagined earlier, but here. In the cold snow, in a world of your own with him.

His lips quickly connected with yours as he decided to collide with you in a different way. He wanted you, in any way you would give yourself, he would take any and all of you. His hands came up to your face, as if to cradle it, cherishing every single mark on your skin, admiring how every snowflake looked upon you. He seemed to worship you. As he’d said. You felt worshipped.

This was what he had meant. He moved his lips against yours and he reveled in the way that your body was against him, making him feel warm despite the frozen world around you two. Like you had thought earlier, right now, you were surrounded by a world full of darkness and at the same time, the most comforting warmth. With his arms around you, and a unspoken promise of worship, you felt that feeling the snow had given you before. A feeling of loneliness and significance, an intimate comfort. But this time it wasn’t loneliness, it was love. It was the feeling of having the world all to yourself, with the one person that truly mattered.

So the snow fell around you two, as the world seemed to excuse itself from your minds for a while. Leaving you two to bask in the cold air of winter, on the night of Yule, and simply, wonderfully, and wholly, worship each other.

Authors note: hello! i hope you guys enjoyed this! i plan on making more copia fics very soon! take care of yourself!!

i’d like to give credit to: @gggoldfinch for all their hard work and their amazing fic: Cemetary Gates!! Some themes in this were greatly inspired by their work, and their fic is by far the best Copia x reader I have ever read!

the grucifix artwork is done by the one and only: @gothdaddyissues

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Italian Translations:

Le mie scuse, sorella! Stai bene? - My apologies, sister! Are you ok?

Sì, sì, grazie - Yes, yes, thank you

Molto bene - Very good

Sorella - Sister

Sono ipnotizzato - I’m hypnotized

Mi dispiace, ero - I’m sorry, I was…

È così? - Is that so?

Si, vedo - Yes, I see.

Per te, gentile sorella. Sempre e solo per te. - For you, kind sister. Always and only for you.

Non io so… - I don’t know…

Cosa intendi? - What do you mean?

Cara mia - my dear

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elythdoodlz · 1 year

Text

It’s papa!!! Plz enjoy!!

#band ghost #ghost art #ghost papa #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus fanart #papa x reader #papa terzo #papa emeritus iii #ghost fanart #phantomime

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copias-fluffy-asscheeks · 6 months

Text

Proposal In The Pumpkins

PapaIVxReader

2000 words | No warnings

He was nervous. Oh, so nervous. His hands trembled as he fidgeted with the gloves that adorned them. The entire day had been filled with mutters to himself, deep breaths and shuddered sighs, even an anxiety attack in a dingy broom closet.

He’d laid beside you as you slept, looking at you for most of the night, the hearts forming in his eyes and he was sure if you woke up you’d even see ones floating around his head. You were so pretty, so beautiful, and he wanted to enjoy this night especially; just in case it was the last he shared with you in his bed.

Today was the big day.

The day he’d looked forward to for months, the day he’d feared as well as dreamed off every night he’d fall asleep next to you. And now, as his time arrived, painfully slowly, he wondered if he would even manage. The longest three minutes of his life, he noted, checking the slow ticking clock for the 20th time this past minute. Another ‘last’ checkover in the mirror, scanning his paints, the rat bitten trousers he knew you loved on him and his frilly black dress shirt tucked neatly tucked in them. He’d had his dress shoes cleaned especially for this, he even wore new gloves.

Copia straightened his back, smoothing his palms over the nonexistent wrinkles in his shirt and running a hand over his hair to smooth back strands the air had ruffled when he’d paced around for a good couple of minutes. He wasn’t too scared you’d say no… Well, that's what he’d like to believe, anyway. Deep down though he knew that was the source of his fears. He could almost hear your voice ringing in his head; ‘’I- No.‘’ It was a terrible mixture of shock, awkwardness and disgust. Disgusted with him, disgusted with the idea he thought he had a chance.

What if you did say no? What would his life be without you?

He pushed it down, his chest heaving with a deep breath.

You weren’t like that, he knew. You were polite, no. That wasn’t correct. You were lovely, perfect even. In his eyes you were. You were the one who supported him through his times as cardinal, his facial surgery, his ascension to papa, the fuckload of paperwork that only ever seemed to grow. You were there, and you were here now.

And he loved you.

He loved you more than anything in this world. More than performing, more than the whole ministry, more than his religion, more than life itself. He’d drop anything and everything if it meant spending forever with you, both here, in life, and in whatever you’d face together afterward.

Copia pushed the door to the hall open, shooting a glance around to check for any siblings; usually, not many walked the hall near the papal chamber, but he just wanted to be sure, an interaction about work in the possibly final moments of happiness and light in his life was the last thing he needed.

The door to the front steps of the Abbey came into view soon, and as he pushed open the heavy doors he let out a sigh of relief to see you weren’t waiting for him yet - even if he was at least fifteen minutes early. He fixed his gloves, reaching into his pocket to fish out his phone, checking frantically for any text that you might cancel, that you might-

A pair of hands snaked onto his broad shoulders from behind him and he jerked, his phone plummeting to the ground when he stiffened. Relaxation was almost immediate as soon as he heard your endearing giggle, the same giggle that never failed to bring a stupid blush to his face, even now, even though he’s heard it countless times. ‘’Scared ya?’’ You hummed, moving your way to stand in front of him. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and nuzzling the tip of your nose to his. ’’Dolcezza! You’re early.’’

‘’So are you.’’ You beamed, pecking a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the tip of his nose. He wore the biggest, silliest grin ever, his worries quickly forgotten with you around. ‘’Well, I couldn’t wait. I have been looking forward to this evening all day, Tesoro.’’ He explained, his eyes closing and his body melting into your kisses.’’nervous or something?’’ you teased, raising your hands to smooth again over his shoulders before running one through his thick, soft hair. He squinted a playful challenge at you.‘’Not at all. Shall we head off, then?’’ You nodded, and Copia offered you his arm to walk you toward his car. He had specifically not wanted a ghoul to drive you both; he wanted this to be special, something separate from the ministry. He wasn’t Papa with you, he was Copia, just Copia; the love of your life and your best friend.

Placing your hand in the crook of his arm, you gave him a small grin. ‘’Lead the way, good sir.’’

He walked you to his car, parked somewhere further down the large parking lot, sharing words about the day you’d had. His hand came to cover yours folded in his elbow. Quickly enough the white LeSabre came into view, and as soon as you reached it Copia pranced with you to the passenger side to hold the door for you with an over dramatic bow, lifting his head to flash you that winning smile of his. There were a couple of siblings nearby, along with a ghoul who must have driven them into town. They shot you both glances, giggling at their papas theatrics.

Your door shut and Copia pranced around to the drivers side of the car, hopping in and starting it up. He rummaged through his glove box for a brief moment to find a nice CD to play, and settled on some old Italian love songs. He was humming along by the time the car hit the main road; you always loved how he looked so attentive when he drove, checking his mirrors, eyes wide yet so calm, a couple of stray strands of hair flailing around with the wind.

You both settled on a comfortable silence after a while of driving till his hand came to rest on your thigh, thumb tracing over the material that covered it. His hand moved up and down, caressing the flesh there. The CD played a steady tune still, and, one hand on the wheel, Copia looked over to you. You could see the hearts dancing in his eyes as his adoring gaze swept over your seemingly perfect features, your nose, your beautiful eyes, your soft lips.. He had to pry his gaze away from you with quite a lot of effort to look back at the road, a dumb little grin pulled at his lips. ‘’Almost there, Amore.’’ He hummed, giving the plush of your thigh a gentle squeeze, followed by some endearing little pats. He slowly moved his hand back to the wheel, eyes switching in favor of glancing at you every now and again. He had to focus or he might crash the car.

He parked the car into a small lot at the side of an empty road, the place you had settled for your date; a small pumpkin patch. Copia knew you loved October. The rain, the sun finally setting a bit later, the pretty orange hued leaves where they slowly drifted to cover the grounds, and most of all Halloween. You loved seeing the kids in the ministry dress up as ghouls and get their faces painted like their papas, you loved the nice atmosphere and of course the scary movies. Fall was your favorite season, and he wanted to make this as special for you as he could.

The sky was mostly dark and cloudy, but there were a few narrow holes that allowed the sun to shine through, giving the dark clouds pretty shades of yellow and orange. His fingers trailed down your arm to find your hand, twining your fingers together and leading you into the patch, watching you as you giggled and picked up little pumpkins, declaring you’d name this one some name he couldn’t remember, saying that one could look cute on his desk for company. He just trailed next to you like a lost puppy, mindlessly agreeing with what you were saying.

His heart was pounding as you walked and walked you unknowingly let him to the place he’d planned this all to happen.

Surely enough, as you walked the broad path you came to a little clearing, a neat line of carved pumpkins to the left of you. You were amazed for a moment by a large pumpkin in the complete opposite direction until you spotted the row of four, nearly identical ones that looked to be carved with much care. The carving wasn’t perfect, but you could see someone tried their absolute best. It was only when you read what was carved, one word per pumpkin, that you let out a giggle. How cute!

You heard shuffling behind you, and you turned to face Copia. You looked straight over his head, confused until your eyes flicked downward. What was he doing down there? It clicked as soon as you saw him opening a small, black box, his eyes nervously flicking all over your face. You looked back over your shoulder at the message written out over the pumpkins.

Will You Marry Me?

You looked back at Copia, back at the message, then back to Copia. A hand covered your mouth, tears pricking at your eyes as you looked at the small Silver ring and the little Diamond fancily secured in the middle. All you could do was nod your head yes frantically, and he took the ring out of the box, still down on one knee, and slid it onto your finger gently. You met his eyes just as he was getting up, glistening with his own tears, too, and you wrapped your arms around him. Maybe a little too hard.. You both tumbled to the ground, Copia landing with a painful ‘’Uff!’’ on his back, you following suit right on top of him. It wasn’t the most comfortable position to lay in, especially on the hardened dirt but you didn’t care. Your hair curtained around your face, arms wrapped around his waist and your legs between his. He looked at you, doe eyed and dazed from his fall and the mere situation playing out right now. You surged forward and kissed him, urgent but slow and it took him a moment to regain control over his body. He propped himself up heavily on his elbows to support the both of you, one hand moving your hair out of your face and cupping your cheek as he moved his lips against yours. His chest felt warm and there were butterflies fluttering around in his belly like he was some lovesick fool. Perhaps he was.

Finally breaking the kiss for air, you rested your forehead to his, the biggest beaming smile playing at both your and his kiss-swollen lips. ‘’Well?’’ he squeaked, still lost for air.

‘’Absolutely yes, Copia. Yes, yes, yes!’’ you giggled, sitting up and straddling his hips so he could sit up too. Once he straightened he kissed you again, and you looped your arms around his shoulders. He deepened the kiss, his tongue urgently prodding at you for entrance, his hands caressing wherever he could.

‘’Ti amo, Cara mia.’’ he mumbled against your lips before pulling back farther. ‘’I always thought Fiancé sounded better than girlfriend, anyway.’’ He pecked the corner of your mouth again before shooting you a wink. ‘’Or should I say Fearancé..’’

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes at his stupid pun, lightly smacking his chest. ‘’Shut up and kiss me again, idiot.’’

A/N: I loved this request! Working on the other ones I got sent in as we speak, they'll be shorter but I'll try to get them finished in the coming days.

Crediting: @ramblingoak for the great title & @delullu for the amazing 'Fearance' pun!

Taglist: @sweatandwoe @copias-girl @papasmicstand @lightbluuestars @random-bl-fan @dearlymrme @thew0man

(Want to be added or removed from/to the taglist? Send an ask or dm!)

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a-fools-circus · 8 months

Text

A Gift for Papa

Papa IV/Reader

Desc: During a time when you're unable to see each other, you decide to make a tape for Papa to watch when he misses you. Word Count: 2686 Tags/Warnings: reader has female anatomy, masturbation, dildo/sex toy, sex tape, established relationship, orgasm delay (self-inflicted), Google Translate Italian Minors DNI

you can also read on ao3 here!

Although he had entered his room with plans to relax for the evening, Copia freezes in his tracks as he spots his camera lying on top of his bed. Next to it lies a VHS tape, and while the actual tape is unmarked, a sticky note is stuck to the front. He immediately recognizes the handwriting on it as your own. Copia slides the piece of paper between his gloved fingers, reading the short note:

A little gift to make up for my absence. I miss you! ♡

Copia smiles at the note; so cute and undoubtedly you . His mind runs rampant as he wonders what could possibly be on the tape. Trying to picture what you —ever the creative soul—could have come up with seems nearly impossible.

A mixture of impatience and curiosity drives him to slide the tape into the VCR. Copia settles on the edge of his bed as the television turns on. His fingers tap against his knee in anticipation, his nerves heightened with intrigue.

The tape begins to play, and he's immediately greeted with the sight of you in your room. Your arms are raised, your face slightly off-screen as you fumble with the camera. Copia can't help but smile. He knows he'd do the same—technology is complicated, right?

He recognizes the plush expanse of your bed as you back up until you're in frame. You sigh as you sit on the mattress, taking a moment to ensure the camera before you is steady. You smile and wave at the camera. Copia can practically feel his heart swell.

'Hi Papa!' Your excited greeting emanates from the television. Copia leans forward to turn up the volume, not wanting to miss a single syllable that comes from your lips.

Your hands fold in your lap, portraying an image of innocence that he knows is just a façade. ' Uhm…I hope this isn't…weird or anything. And I hope you're not mad at me for stealing your camera.'

'I know you've been busy preparing for the tour and all of that. Which, first of all, I hope is going well.' You tilt your head as you speak. Copia notices how your hands fidget in your lap, rubbing together nervously (or maybe in anticipation?). 'But I figured I'd do a little something for you while you're…preoccupied. Y'know, while we're unable to really see each other.'

Another sigh leaves your lips. ‘So…I hope you end up liking it.’ Copia can feel his heartbeat quicken as he anticipates the unfurling of your plan. Your hands move to your back and, while the action is obscured, the faint sound of a zipper makes your movements known. His eyes are glued to the collar of your habit as it begins to loosen, slipping down to reveal your collarbone.

Copia blinks in surprise—bordering on disbelief—as you stand to slip your habit off of your body. You aren’t concerned with speed, taking your time to carefully slip your arms from the sleeves and pull the dress down over your curves. Every inch of skin you reveal sends a wave of heat through his body that pools between his legs. His breath catches in his throat as the fabric falls away.

Almost cursing at the sight, Copia leans back as you crawl back onto your bed with swaying hips. You’re wearing that lingerie that you know he loves because, fuck, it accentuates your curves so well. He watches your hands move over your body as you caress yourself through the thin fabric.

His cock is already practically straining against his pants. He can barely contain himself at the sight of your body, especially when it’s displayed so perfectly for him. And when you grope your chest, Copia’s fingers tingle with the familiar feeling of your supple skin under his touch.

Unable to resist any longer, Copia’s hand finds its way to the front of his pants, pressing gently against his pulsing arousal. A grunt rumbles in his throat at the friction. His eyes are practically glued to your hands as they run over the tantalizing expanse of your skin.

And when your hand daringly slides down the front of your body, a shiver of anticipation courses down Copia’s spine. Caressing the swell of your hip, your hand trails over your thigh, moving so smooth and careful that it’s almost mesmerizing. His heart pounds as your touch inches closer and closer to the irresistible bliss between your legs.

The sigh that spills from your lips as your fingers glide over your clothed heat makes his ears perk up. Copia squeezes his cock through his pants, palming himself in rhythm with your movements. He watches your hips roll and grind against the friction of your hand. You move in a captivating rhythm, so perfectly smooth; it reminds him of all the times you’ve been on top of him, bouncing and grinding on his cock.

You shuffle on your bed, moving to lie down. Copia mirrors your movements as he reclines on his own bed. You grab your thighs firmly to keep your legs spread wide open in front of the camera. It’s nearly impossible to miss the damp patch on your panties that betrays your need. A groan falls from his lips as you prop yourself up on your elbows to stare directly at the camera.

Copia takes in the image of lascivity you display, sighing as a hand runs over the soaked fabric. Your movements suddenly grow more daring as you dip your hand into your panties. The sound that leaves your mouth hits him hard, stirring every desire buried within him. His breath catches in his throat and his cock throbs with the aching need for satisfaction. Your other hand moves to grope your chest, kneading at the supple skin. Copia’s free hand flexes at the sight as he recalls how your body feels under his touch.

As he watches, Copia wishes so desperately that he could fully witness the sight of your arousal. He wants to see how wet you are for him, how swollen and aroused your clit probably is as you swirl your fingers over it. The sounds you make are depraved, amplified for the sake of the camera. Every single one makes his cock throb in his hand.

Your hand moves off of your chest to tug at your panties. Instead of pulling them off, like Copia had expected, you impatiently drag the fabric to the side, just enough to expose your glistening cunt. Your other hand pulls away to grab your thigh and spread your legs apart.

‘Look how wet I am for you, Papa…’

Your voice cuts through the silence. Copia nearly growls at the sight you splay before him. “Sì, cara…so fucking wet for me…” He mutters to himself, so lost in a lustful haze that he doesn’t care that he’s talking to a screen.

One of your hands begins its descent inwards. You move so slow, so calculated, teasing yourself like you know he would tease you. Copia can see the muscles in your thighs tense as your hips move instinctively towards your hand. Seeing your body twitch with need under your own touch drives him wild.

Finally, your fingers come back into contact with your slick folds. You still don’t bother taking your panties off; you’re so impatient—so eager for something, anything to touch you again—that you can’t wait.

It’s exactly what he would do if he had his hands on you.

Copia is just as impatient as you, not bothering to take his gloves or pants off as he frees his cock. The cool air of his room contrasts with his warm and flushed skin. He leans back on his hands, spreading his legs as if displaying himself for you to see through the screen. A groan from you makes him throb, and he can’t resist any longer.

He spits into his gloved hand and wraps it around his aching cock. He grunts at the newfound friction. It’s not nearly as wet or warm as you, but it’ll have to suffice for now. Copia moves his hand in time with yours, mirroring each brush of your fingers and swipe of your hand. He can’t help but notice how effortlessly your hand slides through your slickness. His cock twitches with each jerk of your hips as you rut into your own touch, each thrust making another moan fill the air.

Then, unexpected to him, you dip two fingers inside. The whine that pours from your mouth heightens every single one of his nerves. Copia watches with a fiery intensity as you gently thrust your hand, your head tipping back as more cries rip from your throat. He wishes he could jump through the screen and litter your vulnerable skin with kisses and love bites.

Copia’s hand follows yours, pumping in time with each of your slow thrusts. His eyes focus intently on your cunt, watching how it stretches around your fingers. Your arousal seeps onto the sheets below you with each movement. He yearns to be there and lick every forgotten drop off your skin.

He doesn’t even notice that your other hand moved to grab a dildo until he hears the wet sound of your mouth enveloping it. He doesn’t know where you got it, but right now, he doesn’t care. That’s a question for another time when his cock isn’t throbbing in his hand. His eyes are glued to your hand as you move the toy from your lips to the space between your thighs.

‘It’s not as good as you, Papa…but I’m so desperate . I just need something in me.’

Copia watches, mouth agape and eyes wide, as you run the toy through your slick folds. His hips jerk into his hand at the sight. Removing your hand from your depths, your soaked fingers spread your entrance as you position the dildo. Copia’s hand freezes, gripping the base of his cock firmly as anticipation surges through him.

The sight of you pressing the toy inside is one he’ll never forget; how your eyes roll as your head falls back, how your thighs tense, how wet and depraved all the sounds are. You don’t whine the same way you do when it’s his cock pushing into you, but the sound you make is reminiscent enough to make him moan and curse.

You guide the dildo until it’s completely buried inside you, groaning as the base meets your body. You begin to move the toy, barely pulling and pushing, and Copia attentively resumes his strokes. You move slowly—so, very, achingly slowly—as you pull the dildo all the way out and slide it all the way in. He knows you can take more (his cock is bigger, and he’s fucked you rougher, anyways), and this is all for show. It’s like you’re teasing him, like you knew he’d only stroke himself in time with your movements.

And that’s exactly what he does. His hand moves slowly over the length of his cock, his grip firm to mimic your tightness. He grunts with each downstroke as he imagines himself as the one buried deep inside you.

After a few more tantalizingly slow thrusts, you finally pick up the speed. Your hand moves the toy with a delicious rhythm, drawing out as much pleasure from your body as possible. Copia listens to your moans and cries, reveling in the way you desperately beg your own body for more.

You don’t hesitate to do just that, your hand quickly thrusting the dildo rougher and quicker to satiate your desire. Your muscles tense and your eyes screw shut as the pleasure overtakes your senses. Copia loves watching you like this, so desperate that you can’t tease yourself any longer. Every noise that spills from your lips sends heat pooling between his legs.

His hand matches your speed, stroking his cock with the same desperate fervor you move with. “Yes, tesoro,” he grunts. “Fuck that pretty cunt for Papa.” He knows you can’t hear him, but it doesn’t stop him from encouraging you as if it was his cock stretching and filling you. “Così fottutamente bella…”

Your depraved noises emanate from the television, filling Copia’s room with sounds of sex that could rival a porn flick. He drinks in every little reaction—every sigh and twitching muscle—as it fuels his need for release. He pumps his cock like cumming to the sight of you is the only thing that matters.

Right now, it is.

‘ Fuck, Papa…It feels…so good.’ Your panting voice calls out between gasps and moans. ‘I wish it was you fucking me…I need you in me so badly.’

Copia bites his lip, completely enthralled by the sight on the screen before him. “Cazzo…anch’io, tesoro…” He grunts, barely able to form a complete sentence. All he can do is babble nonsensical praise at the television in front of him. His muscles tense, the warmth pooling in his abdomen daring to spill over.

In a desperate measure to stay aligned with you, Copia stops his movements completely, pulling his hand away from his aching arousal. His cock is flushed and throbbing, beads of precum spilling from the tip, mere seconds away from release. But he doesn’t want to cum yet. He can’t—not until he’s seen you lose yourself in the depths of ecstasy. His hands twitch restlessly on his thighs as he watches you fuck yourself with the dildo. He’s so hard, so close to orgasm, that the denial almost hurts.

Unable to restrain himself, Copia’s hands inch closer and his hips instinctively jerk towards his touch. His threatening climax dissipates, but he can tell yours is steadily approaching. Your toes curl as your thighs shake, your whimpers growing more desperate by the second.

He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, pumping slowly before thrusting into his hand. He mirrors your pace as he fucks his hand, moving with the same desperation you do. It takes only a few thrusts before he’s close to the edge again.

‘Please…fuck, I’m gonna cum. I want…I want you to…to see me cum…’

Copia growls at the sound of your plea. “Sì, cara, sì…vieni per me, tesoro…sei così fottutamente buono per me…”

Almost immediately, as if you could hear him, your body succumbs entirely to the pleasure that flows through you. Copia watches you writhe, your muscles tensing and your hips jerking wildly. The cries that pour from your lips go directly to his cock. His grip tightens as he imagines you clenching around him.

His hips jerk sporadically into his hand, unable to keep a steady rhythm, as he tips over the edge. His own body tenses as his climax washes through him. A guttural moan rips from his throat as drop after drop of his cum lands on his chest. He keeps thrusting into his hand, even after he finishes, because it’s exactly what he’d do if he was buried deep inside you.

You both pant in recovery, heavy breaths filling the air. The wet squelch of the dildo sliding out of your soaking cunt hits his ears. His softening cock twitches at the sound. Copia watches through half-lidded eyes as you shift on the bed, rising from your reclined position to sit up. You look disheveled—sweaty and exhausted—but, damn, if you’ve never looked sexier.

‘I hope you liked your little gift, Papa,’ you coo, blowing a kiss to the camera. Copia can’t help but smile weakly at the gesture. You smile sweetly as you reach out for the camera, effectively ending the tape.

Copia remains on his bed, laying back and allowing his body to recuperate. The image of you cumming around that dildo plays over and over in his mind. He can already feel the blood rush between his legs again at the thought.

Tour rehearsal be damned; the first thing on his mind is to find you as soon as possible and show you how much he appreciates his gift.

#papa iv #papa emeritus iv #papa iv x reader #papa x reader #copia x reader #the band ghost #ghost bc #the band ghost smut #clown's stuff

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eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 5 months

Text

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 5. spanking

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “naughty list”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ how sad… you ended up on the naughty list, looks like papa terzo will have to ingrain some discipline into you

pairing: papa terzo x gn!reader

a/n: back at it again 🙏 this one is kind of ass because i rushed it.

cw: nsfw content. spanking. bratty reader. brat tamer terzo. degradation. terzo is a lil’ condescending. dacryphilia.

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“you want me to keep doing this? spanking you like the brat you are? hah, i bet you do. this is what you actually wanted the entire time, isn’t it?” —❤︎

┅✦┅

there are times where people have to hold their tongues. certain moments that provoke bratty behavior leads to dire consequences, all because one party decided to fuel the fire with their childish antics. pushing other people’s buttons to get a rise out of them and relish their entertaining reactions.

you’re notorious for being a troublesome sibling of sin. you were always getting caught doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing. sneaking in the ghouls’ dens, stealing food from the church’s kitchen, and blatantly disrespecting the higher-ups, including terzo himself.

now, terzo was a patient young man. he’s always been known to be a kind soul, always treating new people delicately and guiding lost souls among the ministry with the utmost of care. but you, oh you were just a brat that loved to push his buttons.

he knew it was all for attention. who would go out of their way to cause this much trouble anyways? he could see it in those mischievous eyes of yours, he was no stranger to that look.

it was like you were begging for someone to discipline that entitled mindset of yours.

what an attention whore.

but he had to put you in your place somehow.

so as an attempted punishment, terzo pulled you aside for a private meeting in his office to discuss that you’d be staying back during the winter season to take care of the ministry, while the rest of your brothers and sisters got to have the entire month off.

of course, you didn’t take it well. your entire vacation was being taken away! which is what led to the current conversation.

“oh come on! you’re not being reasonable here, terzo.” you complained in an exasperated manner, almost slamming your hands on the desk.

terzo groaned out of frustration and rubbed his temple, sitting back in his seat on the other side of his desk. “i’m sorry, but it’s for your own good.”

he looked down at your annoyed look, and he scoffed.

“and it’s papa terzo to you, sibling y/n.” he corrected, his tone clearly aggravated.

you only glared at terzo’s stern face, having no regards for his authority over you, or for the very fact that he basically had the power to revoke you of your sibling of sin status for your intolerable behavior.

it wasn’t your fault that everyone in the ministry were such snowflakes! rules, rules, rules, nothing but rules. you found them pointless. you came to this place thinking you would have a great, fun time, spreading the word of Him, and making a difference. and yet, you were stuck with such menial tasks that left a bland taste in your mouth. besides, your antics clearly added more life to your mundane routine. now you were actually getting the attention of the other siblings, nuns and even the great papa emeritus the iii himself. it was honestly quite nice. you’ve grown to really like it, being the center of attention. of course, you’d never outwardly admit that, you’d get shunned for weeks on end. especially by papa.

after all, you found it entertaining. you could get such a rise out of the calm and collected papa if you just try hard enough, and your annoying habits were definitely working.

because clearly terzo wasn’t finding it funny if he was taking your vacation away.

but of course, the argument you and terzo had escalated into something more intense and the heated tension between the two of you was almost tangible.

“y/n.” terzo started out, dropping the use of ‘sibling’ to highlight his seriousness. “your attitude has been nothing but a thorn in my side. this punishment is for your own good. be happy i’m being tame on you.”

his voice was strained. you could tell terzo was doing his best not to snap at you and do something really bad. the way he was clenching his fists through his gloved fingers was honestly kind of hot.

suddenly you got an idea.

“awh what? is the big bad papa too much of a coward to properly punish me himself? so he has to go easy on me?” you mocked with a high-pitched voice, a cruel impression on your superior.

terzo’s eye twitched as he listened to your voice, but he didn’t say anything further.

you smirked and stood up from your seat. “you can’t just get up and forcefully discipline me yourself? make me me how to behave? or are you too prim and proper for that kind of roughhousing?”

your words clearly indicated something more provocative, and terzo was definitely getting a rise out of it. he just sat in his seat, his eyes glaring daggers into your chest, but you were unfazed.

“y/n.” he warned. he didn’t know of what, but terzo knew he was about to do something big to you.

“come on now, terzo. do something.” you egged on, only serving to fuel his rage.

“y/n, i’m serious.” terzo stated firmly. “stop.”

you weren’t heeding the warnings at all. you could tell terzo was about to do something.

“what? too much of a coward to actually force me down and obey you?”

“stop.”

“come on, is this the best you’ve got? not so papa emeritus of you now, isn’t it?”

“you don’t wanna do this.”

“do what? speak my observations? i’m only stating what i see; a coward.”

that does it. terzo shot up from his seat and slammed his fists on the desk, making you jolt slightly and look at him with wide eyes.

“that’s it. get your fucking ass over here.”

before you knew it, terzo quickly made his way over to your side of the desk, before forcing your head down on the surface of his desk. he restrained your wrists by clasping them together and pinning your hands on the desk. you let out an audible, loud gasp.

terzo forced a knee between your legs and loomed over you from behind, keeping you bent over his desk. he growled into your ear, his voice clearly agitated while you were frozen with shock.

“now listen here you fucking brat. i’ve been doing my best to be lenient with your bratty behavior, but you are pushing my buttons to the absolute limit. so this time, i’m not fucking holding back.” his voice was dripping with venom, clearly meaning his words.

your eyes widened, but you quickly turned your head back to try and glare up at terzo, mirroring his expression. however, you were satisfied with this. you finally got what you wanted.

“now we’re talking.” you smirked, grin still as cocky as ever.

“shut the fuck up.” terzo scoffed, your behavior clearly ticking him off. “by the time i’m done with you, you’re voice will be so rasped from screaming my name that you won’t be able to talk for a week.”

now that’s a thought you liked.

with a haste desperation for putting you in your place, terzo’s fingers fumbled over the button of your pants harshly. he yanked down your pants quickly, snapping off a button.

“hey—!” you gasped out. “careful! these are new, asshole!”

“do i look like i give a shit?”

terzo’s free hand came down to smack your ass hard, which was still being delicately protected by the thin fabric of your underwear. you gasped loudly, and terzo’s hand gripped your asscheek firmly.

“i could give less of a fuck about your pants. so stop bitching and behave like a good little whore.”

you didn’t know what compelled you to listen, but you bit your tongue this once and let out a soft whine of protest. terzo clicked his tongue, and you could hear him chuckle, amused by your antics.

his hand fully brought down your underwear, letting the clothing pool around your ankles as it dropped to the floor. terzo cursed in Italian as he saw your bare ass exposed to the world.

“fuck, look at that.” terzo marveled, his hand running over the smooth skin. “looks so nice, i almost feel bad for ruining this perfect ass with my handprints.”

he removed one of his gloves with his teeth. “oh well, too bad then.”

he smacked your ass again, this time harder. you couldn’t resist the choked up moan that escaped your lips. terzo did it again, and again, and again. he wasn’t stopping, and he was drinking up your juicy reactions.

your ass was stinging and red from his spankings, and it seemed that he wasn’t done.

“look at this pretty little ass, completely covered in my red handprints.” terzo cooed mockingly, kneading the flesh with such roughness that it had you squirming underneath him.

“f-fuck you.” you managed out.

“no thanks. we’re not there yet.” terzo chided.

he smacked your ass again.

“you want me to keep doing this? spanking you like the brat you are? hah, i bet you do. this is what you actually wanted the entire time, isn’t it?”

and again.

“for me to discipline your bratty ass, and put you in your place. you just love the attention.”

“t-terzo!”

and again.

“sounds like you wanted my attention all along. what? you didn’t know any other way to get it? so you had to act like a fucking bitch just for this to happen?”

again. again. again. the spankings didn’t stop, and each one only got harder than the last. you moaned with each one, taking each slap until you couldn’t feel pain in your ass anymore.

“hahh.. look at you, a little mess all for me to see, and just from spankings too.” terzo mockingly cooed.

you couldn’t resist the tears coming out of your face from the pain and terzo’s words. he was being so cruel, crueler than you’ve ever been. but it was so fucking hot.

terzo just kept on whispering dirty things into your ear, most of them putting you down for being an attention seeker and a whore.

after a long while, he stopped, and you slumped heavily against the desk. you were shaking and there were even some dried tears that ran down your face.

“aww. were you upset by me? finally getting a taste of your own medicine now, eh?” terzo scoffed out.

his fingers traced shapes in your ass, and you whined from the contact. yep. terzo has definitely put you in your place now, and you were completely at his mercy.

terzo grinned down at you, and pushed his knee further between your legs to further humiliate you, even though you two were the only ones in the room.

but it felt like everyone was watching.

“now, ride my thigh like the attention whore you are. show me how much you want this.”

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#holiday hoes event #ghost bc #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa x reader #papa terzo x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus smut #terzo x reader #terzo smut #smutty headcanons #smutty drabble #christmas #christmas prompts #holiday prompts

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darkhairedmenrule · 8 months

Note

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO its tony

man

would you be oh so kind as to make an

papa's x gn reader with fluff :)))))))))))

pretty please with gay men on top

Comfort time with the Papas

These are just little comfort headcanons that I came up with, this should be gn! reader because I don't mention any pronouns. I hope you like them Tony <3 All of these are romantic but if anyone wants a platonic or spicy version let me know. Please be gentle, this is my first Ghost fic. Enjoy!

Primo- With Primo, I imagine you two often peacefully coexist in his garden. Whether it be that he is teaching you how to garden and the differences in all of his plants, or you already know about gardening and he trusts you to help. These early mornings or evenings allow you both to just spend time together without having to fill the silence. You always make sure that he actually takes breaks and doesn't push himself too far. You guys only work for maybe an hour or so, nothing strenuous, and after you walk back to your shared rooms hand in hand. After you guys clean up, sharing sweet kisses or hugs depending on what you are comfortable with, he asks you if you want a drink. If you are a tea person, he makes you an absolutely lovely cup of tea ( from leaves that he grew himself, we love a girlboss). If you aren't a tea person he will make you anything that you want, even learn how to make your favorite drink. With your drinks, you cuddle either in bed with a good book or watch a movie that you both like. All in all, you both enjoy a sweet calm evening after your long often hectic days. He always is generous with his affection, whether that be kisses and cuddling or letting you talk and being there for you physically and emotionally. Primo just wants his darling to be happy and healthy and will do anything to make that happen( even if you have to convince him to get a TV or any new technology in his room). He is simply grateful and honored that he gets to share these sweet moments with you and to let his heart be full of love and affection. Primo is a sweetheart and I just wanna kiss his forehead <3

Secondo- With Secondo, I imagine that he is used to filling his free time with carnal acts of all kinds, which is perfectly fine but we are not focusing on that today. I think that like his older brother, Secondo would crave domestic normalcy and would never pass it up. I imagine you found out about his hobby after he realized that you were interested in more than one night with him. I can see you finding his paintings and asking him if it would be okay if you joined him, and of course, he would want you to join him. He may be more stoic in some aspects than his brothers, but this man has so much affection to give you. Regardless of your skill level, he is going to treasure any and every painting you make with him. I can imagine him either keeping them in your shared room or creating a little gallery that he keeps on his phone( yes he has one but you might have to help him with it sometimes). After you guys have decided to finish painting one evening, you guys clean up and he offers to make you a drink. If you aren't a big fan of alcohol, he has different mocktails, Italian sodas, or anything else you would like. You two would probably cuddle up on the couch or in bed, either enjoying each other's company with a good book, listening to music, or maybe even a movie. Secondo is happy to share the evening with you in any way that you want. He simply just loves to bask in the sweet affection that you two share and remind himself that he deserves this love <3

Terzo- I imagine that quality time with Terzo can be many things. Like his older brother, he enjoys carnal acts, but also just existing together. I imagine that you two would spend some of your free time baking together. Terzo may be clumsy at times but he enjoys baking, especially if he has a personal taste tester. He would love to have you help him or just simply watch him enjoy his process. He loves to fill the time by asking you about your day, what you are excited or upset about, and anything that you would like to talk about. During all of it, he just has a sweet love drunk smile on his face. When whatever he was making is finally ready for you both to eat, he makes sure to give you the first bite, and he wants you to be honest about the taste, texture, and overall experience. He is extremely interested in your thoughts and loves to hear you in general. He always makes sure to take note of your criticism or praise so that if he ever recreates or remakes anything it is the same quality or better. After you two have shared your little treat, he likes to make you a hot chocolate. I know he might not seem like the type, but I know in my heart that he enjoys hot cocoa. Makes it from scratch every time and uses the same recipe that Primo used when he and Secondo were little. Adds any toppings that you like to yours and insist that he made it with love. You both cuddle and enjoy your delicious hot cocoa with either him reading you a book, you reading him one, enjoying some music, or a movie that you enjoy. He adores these evenings where you both can be yourselves, with no expectations or chores to do. You both just get to be close and love each other and know that you are cherished by your beloved Papa <3

Copia- With Copia, I just have to mention his beloved rat babies. If you are in love with Copia I just imagine you spending the little downtime he allows himself to be with his sweet fur babies. You two are just sitting with them all, giving them the love, treats, and attention that each little cutie deserves. He loves this, he gets to not only decompress and relax with his Amore but he also gets to be with his beloved pets. The rats all have their personalities and love to run around you both, so happy that you are home. If you wear hoodies or =clothing with bigger pockets they love to crawl in and take little naps with their beloved parents because congratulations you are the co-parent to these little rats. After they have their food, cuddles, zoomies, and a few snacks they go back into their cage to rest and cuddle with each other. With your kids all in bed, you both get ready for bed yourselves. You either help Copia with his Papal paints if he hasn't already taken them off or maybe take a quick shower together or separately. Either way, when you both are ready to relax for the evening you grab some of Copia's beloved Juice boxes and relax in bed. Whether your evening ends with playing some video games, watching him play or you both playing, watching a movie, or just cuddling in bed before you sleep, Copia reminds you just how much he adores you. This is where he can let himself be Copia, not just Papa and he is so grateful that you see the real him. He loves to spend his evenings with his favorite person, all cuddled up and cozy in bed, knowing that he is loved and adored.<3

#Copia x reader #Secondo x reader #Primo x reader #Terzo x reader #Comfort #Primo x gn reader #Secondo x gn reader #Terzo x gn reader #Copia x gn reader #Cardinal Copia x reader #Papa Emeritus i x reader #Papa Emeritus ii x reader #Papa Emeritus iii x reader #Papa Emeritus iv x reader #x gn reader #the band ghost #papa x reader #Darkhairedmenrule fics #my fic

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bolliancat · 5 months

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Hihihihi 🤭 I'm back! And I forgot the beginning I use before the fanfic-

Well...

Copia X F!Reader

W: Little bit of angst (almost everything, but in my mind it's just a bit), happy ending, marrying without feelings

(Bcs why not?)

Wedding

You look beautiful in white.

He thought.

But you look prettier in black.

He sighed, watching as you entered the chapel, ready to your marriage.

With another person.

How he wished it was him waiting to put a ring on your finger and call you his.

How he wished he hadn't been so numb to his feelings. He knew he loved you, but never admitted that. And now, you're marrying.

The worst of all?

He is going to unite you and your partner.

He almost argued with you about it, almost on the verge of tears for just thinking about being where he is now: behind your partner, seeing you in all your beauty walking towards him.

Oh, how he wished that you were walking towards him.

So close, but so far.

He sighed again, feeling tears in his eyes. You were his dearest friend, you called him love and he called you amore, but he knew it was only friendship between you two. Or, he made himself believe that for years.

What a fool he was. He dreamed about you, about coming home to you, about calling you the mother of his rats and being honest about it. Or, if you wanted real children, seeing you pregnant with his child.

Seeing you now pushed that dream deep down on his heart, hidden by seven keys.

He would be the best man for you. He would make you feel so happy, so cherished, so loved...

Who he was trying to fool? He pushed you away when he became Papa, being so blind to who was close to him and who loved him, breaking your heart while he slept with other people who only wanted a night with him.

You wanted him all, not just a good fuck.

He fought against a sob. You had told him that, and he punched himself mentally for every single tear that ran down your cheeks. You had told him that you loved him the night after you accepted your partner's proposal. The night that made your feelings for him die, he was sure. The night when he was so angry with you for accepting their proposal that he told you so many hurtful things.

The night when he found out he loved you.

You forgave him for that night, but he never told you his feelings. You weren't his, and, after today, would never be.

He had to look away. You were half the way walking towards your partner, smiling that perfect smile of yours.

But he looked at you again. That wasn't the perfect smile he loved.

That was false.

—

You had to put on with your best smile.

Your love would be in front of you in a few minutes.

Watching you marrying another.

Being the one to marry you to another.

You had to fight back tears. You couldn't cry now. It was your wedding, you were only able to cry because of happiness.

Everything felt so sad. The usual bright colors you used to see every day became neutral after that day.

The day when you accepted their proposal. And, after that, was welcomed with angry words from the man you loved the most.

Why he was angry because you were living your life? Moving on?

He had pushed you away when other people started to desire him on their bed. To desire the Papa on their bed.

You entered the chapel, your eyes immediately falling on him. He was watching you. You couldn't read his expression beneath the paint, but he looked like he wanted to cry.

You wanted to cry.

You wanted him to put that ring on your finger. To be his. And him to be yours.

But he wasn't the Cardinal for who you fell. He wasn't yours. He didn't loved you.

You smiled in greeting at your guests, not even looking at those people that your partner invited. You barely know them. You barely know the person you were marrying.

Then, your eyes met his. He looked confused, looking from your eyes to your lips, where your best fake smile was.

He know you well enough.

He can see that you're not happy, you know it. You can read his eyes now, so close to him, as your partner kiss your hand.

"You look beautiful, my love." They said, smiling at you.

You could see how Copia's eyes burned holes on their head.

She is not your love.

He thought, looking at the two of you. You weren't happy. You don't like your dress, he could tell. You always told him you wanted to marry in black. It was your partner's choice, then. They were just an arrogant rich person who, somehow, made you accept to marry them.

You would never marry someone for their money.

You looked at him. Then, he realized he spent too much time looking at you. He should've started this wedding when you two stopped talking.

He stood there, in silence.

He didn't care. He couldn't make you marry someone you don't love. He could feel all the eyes on him, but his were only on yours.

She doesn't love you, too, his mind said. A punch on the stomach. Who was he to stop you from moving on?

No. Even if you don't love him, he will not do it.

You stared at him, muttering his name in confusion.

"I can't," he murmured, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"What?" Your partner asked, incredulous. Copia ignored him.

"Don't marry them." He whispered, almost begging you.

"Copia-"

"Please," he sighed. Fuck it, "marry me instead."

Your eyes widened. What did he..? In the middle of your marriage? In front of your partner? After all the tears he made you cry!?

You weren't having it.

You stepped closer to him, your index finger pointing accusatory to his chest, your eyes burning with a mix of sadness and rage.

"How dare you!? After all you did? All you said?" You snapped. "It's my wedding! Why are you doing this now?"

His gaze dropped to the floor, ashamed. A single tear finally fell from his green eye, his shoulders falling.

"I-I know, I-..." he muttered. All his confidence that he earned with becoming Papa was gone. He felt like the old Cardinal again.

You sighed, shaking your head as a tear ran down your cheek. "Please, don't make this even harder."

He looked up at you, fighting the urge to wipe away your tear like he always did when he found you crying in your quarters.

"Amore-"

"Don't. Copia, don't call me like that." You cut him short, another tear falling.

"Please, I..." he murmured, looking into your eyes. Then, the next words fell out like it was natural, as if he always told you them, "I love you."

You looked at him, shocked. Everyone on the chapel did, but he didn't cared. All he care about now is you.

All the pain he caused you seemed less heavy with those three words. Suddenly, the colors were back.

You sobbed, letting the tears fall freely. Those three words did wonders, but not magic. The pain was still there.

"Copia, I-"

"What is happening here!?" Your partner asked, looking at you both in rage.

Then, Sister Imperator stepped between the three of you, - of course she was at the wedding, she had a higher rank at the Ministry, being on her to monitor everything - letting you with Copia while she faced your partner.

"They need to talk. You will wait here." She said sternly.

You looked at her and then Copia, seeing him with a small smile on his face, his hand outstretched towards you.

You took it, letting him lead you towards a door on his left.

The place where Papa get ready, you thought. He led you into the small room, closing the door with his eyes fixed on you.

"I love you, amore mio." He whispered, wiping away your tears that you didn't even felt that were falling.

"Then why?" You asked, sobbing. "Why did you pushed me away?" You leaned your head on his hand that lingered against your cheek.

"I am a fool," he whispered, looking into your eyes as if to make you see the truth and believe him.

You nodded, "Yes, you are."

He sighed, looking down at his feet, ashamed of himself. "I never had all that attention, all those people wanting me-" he raised his hand, shaking his head, "wanting the Papa."

You looked away, eyes filled with pain, not able to look at him. "I never wanted the Papa."

"I know. Now I know." He murmured, holding your chin and turning your face towards him, "I was blind to that, and I regret it."

"You don't know how much that hurt-"

"I know! If I could go back in time, I would do everything different!" He said, louder this time, pacing back and forth in front of you. "I never thought you loved me! Never thought you'd return that love, so when they started to want me - the Papa - I thought it would be a way to forget what I felt for you. What I thought I could never have from you."

You stared at him in shock, your mind not wanting to believe his words but your heart being too stubborn and melting with them.

"And after all this time you had to choose my wedding day to tell me this?"

He shutted his eyes closed tightly, clenching his jaw. "I can't see you marrying another."

"How selfish." You said, chuckling sadly. He looked at you, confused. You smiled, just the corner of your lips raising slightly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm still loving you." You confessed.

He smiled, eyes wide in disbelief and relief, happy tears shining on them. He was quick to wrap his arms around your waist, taking in all details of your face before kissing you like he wanted to for a long time. And he did. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Then, the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you made you pull away quickly just to see Imperator there, smiling knowingly while holding a beautiful black wedding dress. You laughed, looking over at Copia in disbelief, finding him looking at you with an ear-to-ear smile.

"Convinced!" You lightly punched his arm before pulling him to another kiss.

Now, your wedding would be perfect, as you always dreamed.

—

My native language isn't English, so I'm sorry if it's too bad to read 😭

Anyway, I hope you liked it

Kisses

#copia x reader #ghost band #cardinal copia #ghost bc #the band ghost #papa x reader #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #the ghost band #copia #popia x reader #papa emeritus iv x female reader #papa emeritus iv x reader

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