#papa emeritus smut

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 17th

Threesome or Moresome, Papa Emeritus III & Ghouls x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: Gang bang; public gang bang; predator prey; role play; game; fear play; fingering; tag-teaming; exhibitionism; fellatio; minor degradation; cunnilingus; hand jobs; mild cucking; piv sex; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; bukkake; anal sex; spit as lube; objectification; titfucking; pussy slapping; face fucking; double penetration; spanking; praise kink; creampie; recommended listening: RUNRUNRUN by Dutch Melrose.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dense forest, your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum. The cold sweat on your brow mingled with the dirt and leaves that clung to your skin as you darted between towering trees, their branches clawing at your clothes. Behind you, a group of relentless men pursued, their heavy footsteps and urgent shouts echoing through the darkening woods. Each step you took, each breath you drew, was a desperate attempt to outpace the ominous figures closing in on you, their motives unknown and their intentions menacing. The ominous symphony of rustling leaves and the pounding of your own feet merged into a haunting cacophony, as the chilling realization set in that there was no escape from this relentless pursuit.

Moonlight filtered through the thick canopy above, casting eerie, fragmented patterns on the forest floor, which you navigated with all the stealth and agility you could muster. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins seemed to blur the boundary between exhaustion and determination. The harsh, urgent voices of your pursuers grew closer, their presence an ever-encroaching nightmare. Your mind raced, desperately searching for a way to shake them off, to find refuge in the vast labyrinth of the woods. Every twist and turn, every broken twig beneath your feet, betrayed your position to those relentless hunters. You needed a plan, a moment’s respite, anything to gain the upper hand in this deadly game of chase.

In the midst of this heart-pounding pursuit, your eyes darted frantically, scanning the surroundings for a glimmer of hope. That’s when you spotted it—a massive fallen log, its rotting underbelly a sanctuary from the prying eyes of your relentless pursuers. With your breath held, you sprinted toward the log, the thundering footsteps of the men growing ever closer. As you reached it, you slid beneath the decaying wood, your body trembling with fear and exhaustion. The earthy scent of damp soil and decay enveloped you, and you pressed your hands to your mouth to stifle any sound. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched the shadows of the men draw near, their voices now mere whispers in the distance. Time stood still beneath that log, as you clung to the hope that your concealment would be enough to thwart their relentless hunt.

As you lay hidden beneath the fallen log, the darkness around you seemed to stretch into eternity, and every rustle of leaves or snapping twig sent a jolt of terror through your body. It was as if the world had come to a standstill, and the only thing that mattered was remaining unnoticed.

Then, the dreadful moment arrived. A twig cracked nearby, much too close for comfort, and your heart leaped into your throat. You strained to keep your breathing silent and shallow, your eyes locked on the opening where you had crawled in. A pair of boots appeared in your line of sight, inches away from the log. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead as the boots hesitated for a moment, and then a masked face came into view, peering beneath the log.

Your eyes met, his gaze piercing through the shadows, and in that dreadful instant, the world seemed to freeze. His eyes widened in realization, and before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping for your ankle. Panic surged through you, and you yanked your leg away with all the strength you could muster, scrambling to retreat deeper beneath the log, your heart pounding louder than ever.

“Papa! I found her!” He yelled, his voice giving him away. Omega. He reached forward to grasp at your ankle and in desperation you kicked at him. But this gave him the right opportunity to clutch onto you.

Despite your desperate attempts to pull away, Omega’s grip tightened like a vice around your ankle. Adrenaline surged through you as he yanked you out from your hiding place with a sudden, brutal force. You cried out in pain and shock as you tumbled onto the forest floor, your limbs tangled and your heart racing.

Surrounding you were the remainder of Terzo’s Ghouls who had pursued you, their faces hidden behind their masks, but their eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and menace. You had been outmaneuvered, cornered like prey in a deadly game. As you gasped for breath, Omega loomed over you, his expression devoid of mercy. In that harrowing moment, the realization washed over you that escape was no longer an option, and you had been ensnared in their sinister clutches.

With a strength you couldn’t hope to match, Omega swiftly moved to restrain you. He pinned you to the forest floor, his knee pressed firmly against your chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. His rough hands immobilized your arms, binding them tightly behind your back with a set of cold, unforgiving cuffs. Panic and desperation surged through you, but resistance was futile.

You struggled against his grip, gasping for air and pleading for mercy, but his eyes remained impassive, a look of determination. His comrades formed a menacing circle around you, their eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and malice. In that heart-wrenching moment, the realization of your vulnerability and the sinister intent of these men weighed upon you like an inescapable nightmare, casting a shadow over the once serene forest that had become the backdrop to this chilling ordeal.

As you lay there, pinned to the forest floor by the man who had captured you, the tense silence was shattered by the arrival of another figure, the apparent leader of this sinister group, Papa Emeritus III. He stepped forward from the shadows, his face concealed by a twisted grin that sent shivers down your spine. His voice carried an eerie authority as he addressed his comrades, “Well done, gentlemen. It seems our little game has come to a fruitful end.” He looked at Omega and widened his eyes a little. “Perhaps you should let her breathe, no? We wouldn’t want the game to meet a tragic finish.”

Omega relaxed his grip significantly, allowing you to take shallow breaths as the leader continued to survey the scene, seemingly only just realising how into the game he’d been. His dark, calculating eyes locked onto yours, and he chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound that filled you with dread. “You’ve been quite the elusive prey, haven’t you?” He said, his tone oozing with satisfaction. “But now, tesoro, you’re in our hands, and you will do exactly as we say.”

Your heart sank as the gravity of your situation became painfully clear. You had fallen into the clutches of a malevolent force, and Terzo’s sinister pleasure at your capture left no doubt that the ordeal had only just begun.

Terzo’s sinister grin turned into a shit-eating one, the kind of smug look you want to slap off his face. “You see, tesoro,” he taunted, “you’ve lost the bet. Alpha!”

“Yes, Papa?” Alpha said,stepping forward at his master’s acknowledgment.

“What exactly was it that she wagered?”

Alpha’s eyes from behind his mask crinkled as though he were smiling. “She bet that she could outrun us and we couldn’t catch her. If she won, we would have to help her redecorate her room. But if we won… well, you give the orders, Papa.”

“Of course, thank you, my friend. you said if we catch her we fuck her, yes?”

“Yes, Papa!” The Ghouls said. Some chuckled quietly to themselves.

Your mind reeled as you tried to process this revelation. It had all been a silly game, a twisted challenge that you had accepted without fully understanding the stakes, or rather, in your hubris believing that you could outrun six men whose livelihoods revolved around fitness. The gravity of your predicament now became even more surreal; you had unwittingly placed your safety on the line, and your defeat meant you were at their mercy.

The other men exchanged knowing glances, their expressions shifting from triumph to amusement. They had not only captured you but had also won the twisted game they had orchestrated. The forest, once a place of serenity and refuge, had become the backdrop for your ill-fated bet, and the consequences were far more dire than you could have ever imagined.

“Of course, tesoro, if you don’t want to continue then by all means speak now. We will let this go with only minor public humiliation.” He crouched down so he was closer to your head which was still on the ground. “But if you wish to continue, you should realise that every person here will be inside you at some point tonight, sì?”

Terzo was giving you an out and there was that small, very intimidated voice inside of you telling you to take it. Six men. You were surrounded by six men. All of which were a varying degree of horny, and were prepared to fuck the life out of you in the middle of the Ministry’s forest. But there was a crazy part of you that just so happened to be winning your internal struggle that wanted you to go on with your bargain. You lost, fair was fair, and the thought of the very same men who had hunted you down like an animal taking turns on you was enough for your entire body to light up in anticipation.

“What say you, tesoro?” Terzo prompted.

You were silent for a moment. “I lost… time to face the consequences.”

Terzo’s face lit up with excitement even though he tried to keep his cool about it. He raised his hands and stood up, taking a few steps back. “Omega caught her, I think it’s only fair he should be the first to have a turn.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Omega responded. He flipped you onto your back and knelt down in between your legs drinking in the sight of your body. Omega was a big lad, nice and chunky - a little smaller than the average rugby player. Your habit, in your struggle, had rose up and allowed him a glimpse of your thighs and panties which had all the Ghouls groaning when they saw you. As one of Terzo’s favourite Siblings, you tended to be off-limits to most members of the Clergy - though it was more of an unspoken rule than an actual enforced law. But the Ghouls were certainly never allowed to touch you in a sexual manner. But they wanted to. Oh, did they really want to.

Omega ran his hands up and down your exposed thighs, feeling the way your body moved at his touch and appreciating this once in a lifetime opportunity. But with four of his brothers and his Papa watching, he knew he wouldn’t be able to savour this moment for much longer. And thus, he began to undress you - maneuvering you into whatever position he needed to in order to completely rid you of your clothes, shoes and all. He hooked his hands underneath your panties and pulled them down - the final item of clothing now removed and leaving you as naked as the day you were born in the middle of the forest.

He used his spit to lube up his fingers and set to work on your core, gently rubbing this thumb over your clit to get you relaxed enough to take his other fingers. At this point you were only letting out little whimpers of pleasure given that his fingers felt good, but they weren’t really hitting the spot just yet. This was the warm-up, not the sprint portion of the night, and you could tell that he was trying to take care of you. That was until he deemed you wet enough to take his middle finger inside of you.

“Tap up, Omega.” You heard Terzo say from somewhere in the distance. “It drives her crazy when you do.”

Omega nodded and obeyed, and immediately you released a loud moan that seemed to echo through the trees. You didn’t know how far away it reached, but you hoped it wasn’t loud enough for passers by to come looking and discover the scene. It didn’t take long of Omega stretching your cunt out before he was able to add another finger and increase the pleasure you were feeling. Your hands immediately flew to your breasts, your own fingers working at your sensitive nipples as your hips bucked to take more of the pleasure Omega was giving you. You looked over at the other Ghouls, each one also at various stages of arousal. Gale and Moss were rubbing their hard cocks through their pants, their eyes trained on your body and the way it was moving at both your hands and Omega’s. Alpha and Stream had, by this point, pulled their dicks out entirely and were brazenly stroking themselves at the sight of you. You looked at Terzo who was leaning up against the log you had been pulled out from underneath, his arms folded and his cock hard in his pants but completely untouched. His mismatched eyes were dark with lust and also focussed entirely on the scene in front of him. Terzo was the only one out of all of them here who knew your body like the back of his hand. He should after all the time he’d spent buried deep inside you.

“Alpha,” Terzo’s voice sounded, “she needs something in her mouth. Feed her your cock.”

Alpha, “Yes, Papa.”

Omega’s twin bounded over and knelt at your head, his hard cock now fully in your face. He was long and thin - he wasn’t going to make your jaw ache but he was going to make you gag on him. A little bigger than average. You lifted your head up and started working on his length, focussing on his sensitive and uncut head first before even attempting to battle the rest of him. There was also something so degradingly hot about everyone talking about you as though you weren’t there. How all of the questions about you and your body were directed to Papa rather than you, simply because you, like the Ghouls, belonged to Terzo and thus, he had spent more time with you than anyone else.

It was as you were beginning to suck on Alpha’s balls you heard the zipper come down on Omega’s trousers. He spat once onto his cock and rubbed it around before placing himself at your entrance. “Are you ready, Sister?”

You nodded.

Omega was a little smaller than his brother, and you were actually quite grateful for it. Omega was perfectly average sized, just right for the first cock of the night that’s for sure. You thought he was going to just dive right into you, but in reality, he merely didn’t want to exhaust you too soon. He began slowly, easing himself in and out at a speed that was almost teasing, as if he were trying to drive you crazy. Though, when he picked up the pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours practically drowned out the sound of the other four groaning at the sight of you getting fucked on the forest floor. Omega couldn’t help himself once he noticed how incredible you felt. The rest of the Ghouls had all shifted somewhat closer to each you for a better look, but you hadn’t noticed to begin with.

“How does she feel, boys?” Terzo asked.

“She’s got such a tight pussy, Papa.” Omega commented.

“Her throat opens up so well for me.” Alpha added, punctuating his sentence with a loud groan. “I can’t wait anymore.” You overheard Alpha utter. “Open up, Sister. I can no longer handle this.”

While Omega pushed his cock deeper into your cunt with his aggressive pace, Alpha slipped his length into your mouth. When Omega fucked into you very hard and laughed at the squeak you let out, which was then followed by a moan. Alpha felt it; your moan made him feel it vibrate around him. “There she is.” His hand tangled in your exposed hair as he pushed himself deeper into your throat.

“She fucking loves this, doesn’t she?” Omega commented.

“Of course she does,” said Terzo. “She can be a bit of a whore when she wants to be.”

When you squeezed Omega, he let out an especially loud moan from between your legs. “Fucking hell, Sister. You feel so good.” He continued thrusting, his pace picking up a lot more. This time there was less control and precision. “She’s gonna make me cum. I’m so close.”

Terzo looked at you and moved a little closer so he could watch. “You want his cum, tesoro?”

You moaned around Alpha in affirmation.

“Omega, pull out and cum somewhere else.”

“But-”

“Only I get to cum inside her.”

After one particularly harsh thrust, Omega pulled himself out of you and came on your pubic mound, his timing not good enough to hit anywhere else. You felt the drips of his seed pour onto your skin as he kept rubbing the head of his cock, trying to brand you as much as he could before the next Ghoul came to play.

Given that his cock was already out, Stream was the next one. But instead of going straight for your cunt, he straddled your stomach. “Someone else can come and take this pussy,” he said reaching behind him and giving it a smack, “I want these beauties.”

Terzo gestured to another one of the Ghouls, “Moss, get your ass over here.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Moss was the calmest of all of Terzo’s Ghouls, and usually the most respectful. Which absolutely played out that night. He knelt down in between your legs and again lubed his finger with his spit. “Papa, may I make her cum?” So fucking polite.

Terzo chuckled a little. “Of course.” He replied, tapping Moss’ shoulder.

Moss immediately got to work, using two of his hands to finger you. His left thumb played with your clit as three of his fingers worked your g-spot and refused to let up their pace.

Alpha was now pushing his cock further into your throat, being a little rougher with his thrusts. Terzo’s white gloved hand came to yours and gave it a little squeeze, his eyes looking at you quizzically as if to ask if it was too much. It wasn’t. The idea of all these men using you for their own pleasure should have made you sick at the thought, but the objectification you were feeling only added to your arousal. And so, Alpha just taking what he wanted had you clenching around Moss’ fingers.

Stream, at this point, had pushed your breasts together and started thrusting between them, occasionally spitting in the valley between them to lube your skin up and make the slide more comfortable for him. His thrusts were a lot rougher than Omega’s, and you knew most of that was down to the fact he had been playing with himself as you were being used by the first two Ghouls. “How’s that mouth feeling, Alpha?” Stream asked, watching his cock as it was engulfed in your tits.

“Fucking sinful. She takes it so good. It was like she was made for it.”

“Papa’s gonna kill me for saying this, but I been thinking about these tits for so fucking long. Always wanted to do this.”

Moss, “She just tightened around my fingers.”

Stream, “No shit? I guess she likes hearing about what a tempting Jezebel she is, hm?”

You moaned which earned a similar one from Alpha. “Oh yes she fucking does, listen to those whines. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Pull out!” Papa instructed.

Like Omega, Alpha didn’t pull out as fast as he would have liked. So instead of his cum landing at a more comfortable place on your body, it ended up spilling all over your face, but primarily on your lips, effectively sealing them shut. If you were to open them, Alpha’s cum would just start pouring in. Papa hit the back of his head and gestured vaguely to your face, basically telling him to move his shit before it causes a problem. And so, instead of using his hands, Alpha rubbed his softening and sensitive cock to smear himself around your face and away from your mouth and nose. This meant a lot of it slipped down your cheeks and into your hair, already matted with leaves and soil from the forest floor.

As soon as Alpha walked away, your mouth opened and let out the loudest whine. Hips bucking and a knot tightening in your stomach, you only managed to let out a, “Oh fuck!” before you were cumming around Moss’ fingers. Your hips bucked more violently at the orgasm that was ripping through you, and when you made eye contact with Moss, you saw his eyes light up. He did that. He made you cum. Omega didn’t bother he only stretched you out to make it hurt less, neither did Alpha or Stream even make an attempt for you. That was all Moss’ work. And if you could see his face, you were sure he looked like the cat that got the cream.

The sight of your cum-covered face contorting into an orgasm forced Stream to tip over the edge afterward, his cum now shooting out over your neck and spilling off your skin and into your hair, joining Alpha’s. “Fucking hell!” Stream moaned as his thrusts got weaker and weaker until they stopped altogether. He climbed off you and tucked himself back into his jeans, giving Omega a high five when he’d joined the twins watching the scene play out without them.

“Are you okay, tesoro? Do you want to stop?” Terzo asked, on his knees next to you and holding your hand.

“‘m fine, Papa. It feels so good.” Your voice was very husky and strained as you spoke, Alpha’s cock having done a number on you when he used your throat.

Terzo kissed your hand. “Use the safe word when you need to, amore mio. I’ll kill them if I have to.”

You laughed at his protectiveness but knew it wouldn’t be necessary. The intimate moment you were sharing with your lover was broken by the timid voice of Gale coming over to take his turn. “Papa… may I take her ass? I don’t want to hurt her throat any more than it already is.” His posture was nervous - not because he was typically afraid of Terzo, just because he was a naturally nervous guy. Never wanted to burden or kick up a fuss.

Terzo looked at you, and at your slight nod he gave Gale and Moss permission to do what they needed to as long as they were gentle. Moss lay on his back beside you and beckoned you to straddle him to grant Gale easy access to your ass. Moss took this opportunity to play with your clit once more, circling and swirling his fingers around you to distract you from Gale’s fingers prodding at your second hole. He also used his spit as lube, but made sure he was really taking his time with you because he knew just how painful it would be if he didn’t.

Your second orgasm hit you when Moss’ fingers were moving quickly in tight circles around your clit and Gale was three fingers deep in your ass. The sensation wasn’t one you were used to, as you and Terzo never really did anal that much. But being so full in one hole and empty in the other felt oddly pleasant.

When you were ready, Moss lined his cock up with your entrance and pushed at your hips, sinking you down onto him and taking him completely. Moss was thick - really thick - but a little too short to hit that sweet spot at the back of your pussy. The drag of him against your walls was exquisite though, and every time he bounced you off his hips you could feel him gently brush against your heavily abused g-spot.

Gale entered you next, his cock moving much slower than Moss’ did just to make sure that you were comfortable. Gale, much like the twins, was average sized - or rather, just right. Not so big he hurt you, but not so small you couldn’t feel him. And the added thickness of Moss meant that every part of you was stimulated wonderfully.

The two Ghouls set a pretty even pace to begin with ensuring that you were always full with at least one of them. Every time Moss pulled out, Gale pushed in and vice versa. Eventually,

“Oh, Azmodeus!” You heard Gale grunt from behind you after a particularly sharp thrust. “Sister, your ass hole feels so tight!”

Moss, “Her cunt, too. I won’t last much longer if she keeps squeezing like this!”

“Spank her.” You heard Terzo say from above you.

You felt Gale’s hand come down on you harshly, making you tense and clench around Moss’ cock. “Fuck!”

“She gets tighter, doesn’t she?”

“So much!” He shuddered at the sensation.

Gale, laughing, did it again, this time harder. You clenched again and watched Moss fall apart beneath you. Gale took your ass, while Moss played with your cunt, once again touching your clit and as they felt you tighten, they refused go gentle with you. You found yourself screaming the more merciless they became. That rhythm they built before got faster, and so much rougher, causing your cries to amplify and echo between each of the trees. It felt so incredible to be fucked like that. Two cocks at the same time, rubbing against each other while they were inside you and hitting every single spot so good. You loved the feeling of it.

Terzo’s eyes were blown out to the point where he looked completely crazy. He crouched down to the side of you, at first watching your holes get obliterated by his two Ghouls, but then to the look of pleasure on your face. You reached out to him, your hand holding onto the base of his neck and top of his shoulder as you were railed, your eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips. He got the hint, and leaned forward crashing his lips to yours and giving you the intimacy that you were clearly desperate for. His tongue entered your mouth, and his hand ran all over the parts of your body that he could reach. When he pulled away, he spoke. “Tell me, tesoro, how does it feel?”

“So good, Papa! I - sh-shit - I feel like I’m about to burst.” The moans you were making were absolutely pornographic, but they were real noises being ripped from you. It drove Terzo absolutely insane to hear. A small part of him loved watching his Ghouls use you for their pleasure, he loved hearing what they were doing and he loved that you were feeling so good because of it. He loved that he was also the one calling the shots, ordering them to do things but saving parts of yourself for him.

“You like it when other men fuck you, hm?”

“I do! B-but Papa’s cock is the best!”

“That’s my good girl. Will you cum for us, tesoro?”

“Yes, Papa!”

Moss’ fingers, for the third time that night, tipped you over the edge. Your holes had the both of them trapped in a vice grip as you collapsed onto Moss’ clothed chest. Once you let them both go, they pulled out of you and lay you back on your back, knelt over you, and jerked themselves off until their cum added to the rest of the dried stains on your body. both men moved away to allow Terzo space to get down to your level. He lifted your chin up and made you look at him. You were so fucked out, Terzo didn’t know whether to feel sorry for you or fuck you until you passed out.

He whispered, “Can you take any more, tesoro?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He kissed you hard, positioning himself between your legs and taking his cock out of his trousers without breaking the kiss. Eventually, he lined himself up and entered you, his body draping over yours and keeping your faces as close as possible. Terzo was not only blessed by Satan in his name, but also in his anatomy. Terzo sported as much thickness as was proportionate, and always stretched you to your limits as though he were made for you. He would always hit the right spots inside you, and have you seeing stars every time you came on his cock. He continued to kiss you, dote on you, a gloved hand moving down to play with your clit as he snapped his hips, those fucking hips that knew how to love you right. He slammed himself into you, over and over again, trying to be gentle at first but the images of his Ghouls taking turns on you turning him into a horny and feral monster.

“Is this enough for you, slut?” He asked. “Having the sixth cock inside you. You sated enough?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“Look at you. You’re an absolute fucking mess. You’re filthy. I like my whores filthy, though.”

“Oh fuck!” You exclaimed. Your voice was hoarse from screaming all night. You couldn’t keep it in. Even when you had cocks in your mouth you couldn’t stop the noise from coming out. “Feels so good!”

“How are you still so tight after taking all those cocks? Fucking hell, ___. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

Terzo wasn’t a stranger to praising you in bed. Though he enjoyed degrading you, he also knew when it was too much. And right now you had been a good girl for him, for all of them, and you deserved the praise. You felt so good around him. He loved your cunt so much. It’s why you were his favourite, you aligned so perfectly in taste and sensation. He loved wrecking you until you were nothing but a shell of what you were when you entered his room, and you loved being the victim of his frustrations and desires. And even though he was fucking in front of his subordinates, this was still the best sex he’d ever had with you. He was moaning and grunting louder than he ever had before, whispering sweet nothings in your ear in both Italian and English, and his fingers expertly working you, making sure you came before he did.

“Oh God, amore mio. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum. Shit. Oh fuck!”

Terzo was sure he’d never cum that hard and that much in his life. So much of it spilled out onto the floor when he’d finally pulled out of you. Terzo was breathless, but he was nowhere near as exhausted as you.

You stayed there, weak and unable to move, you could barely keep your eyes open. All you could think about was how amazing that felt. But Terzo would be damned if he let you pass out, butt naked on the cold, dirty floor of the Ministry’s forest.

You don’t remember how you wound up in Terzo’s bed - you don’t even remember it being the next morning. But there you were, swaddled in his deep red, velvet sheets with his hairy and naked arm draped over you. There was not a part of your body that wasn’t sore - and also thoroughly cleaned. The cum and the majority of the dirt had been cleaned off you, no doubt Terzo did that when he’d got his Ghouls to bring you inside - or at least, you assumed as much. If you were awake for any of it, none of it was coming to mind.

Waking up next to Terzo was always an intimate affair. He loved waking up to your kisses all over his face, but this morning he was awake before you, giving you a lazy and sleepy smile. “How are you feeling now, tesoro?”

“Sore, but I’ll survive.”

He placed a kiss to your temple. “You need to rest, little one. Come, snuggle into me as you like to do. Sleep some more.”

“Anything you say, Papa.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons! 💋🫂

Day 13 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**RATED PG-13, borderline NSFW**

My headcanons of making out and cuddling with the Papas

Primo

Talks very sweetly; lots of cute but old-fashioned pet names

Lets you rest your head on his chest

Doesn’t use tongue unless you initiate

Big spoon, holds you gently

Serene for the most part, but abruptly interrupted by his coughing fits ):

Always falls asleep before you, usually mid-kiss or mid-cuddle

Secondo

Holds your head very firmly in his hands while kissing you

Slips in tongue

Plants kisses on your neck

Takes control but wants to be on the bottom while cuddling so you’re laying on his chest otherwise he’s big spoon

Holds you protectively, rubs your back soothingly and runs his hands through your hair

Gives massages

Terzo

Sticks his tongue down your throat and goes straight to your pants but complies when you ask just for kisses and cuddles

Presses his body against yours

You can always feel his erection through his pants, purposefully on his part

Kisses like he hasn’t seen you in years

His phone keeps going off

He doesn’t care if he’s big or little spoon

Leaves hickeys and bite marks

Cardinal Copia

Nervous and sweaty

His mustache tickles your face

You can always feel his erection through his pants, accidentally on his part

Usually one of his rats will crawl on you if you stay still too long while cuddling

Wraps all his limbs around you while snuggling as if he’s afraid you’ll fall off the bed or escape

Likes to be little spoon

Popia

Starts with a sweet little peck on your cheek

Usually ends with his hands around your waist and feeling you up, but it’s a slow build up to that

Holds your chin in his hand and kisses your nose

Tells you what his every next move is so you know what to expect

Tells you about his day/asks you about yours

Adjusts his position if he senses you are uncomfy or smushed

Nihil (for shits and giggles)

Sneezes and sharts himself

You run away because it smells

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band smut #papa emeritus x reader #ghost band fanfic #copia is my husband #papa emeritus iv #terzo #copia emeritus #kinktober 2023 #papa emeritus smut #papa emertius #terzo x reader #primo x reader #secondo smut #terzo fanfiction #secondo x reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader

[molly-ghuleh]

Ungrumpify Your Papa: Papa Emeritus II x afab!reader

Summary: It's your first holiday season with Secondo and you're determined to make him less of a grump.

Words: 6.9k (nice)

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI!!, reader is AFAB but there are no gendered words/pronouns, smut, fluff, lingerie, light dom!Secondo, teasing, brief mentions of overstimulation, holiday feelings, discussions of religion

AO3

A/N: Happy day 2 of the XXXMas at the Ministry series! Check out day 1 with Primo by @copias-sewer-rat in the links below, and stay tuned for day 3 with Terzo by @ghulehunknown and day 4 with Copia by @bupia (who also put together these incredible graphics)!!

Day 1 (Dec 20th): Naughty Presents (AO3)

Day 2 (Dec 21st): Ungrumpify Your Papa (you are here!)

Day 3 (Dec 22nd): Mistletoe'd (AO3)

Day 4 (Dec 23rd): Treasure Hunt (AO3)

Secondo is very particular about how he curates his living quarters. His taste is distinct and refined, but not to the point of tackiness. It’s obvious that he’d spent a non-trivial amount of time picking out his furniture after he became Papa, and even more time reorganizing his space to ensure you felt welcome after he’d asked you to move in with him. Every book, every pillow, every little trinket or decoration or memory has a dedicated place somewhere, and each piece is treasured and respected like it has belonged there for all of eternity. 

So, you weren’t surprised when Secondo grumbled when you pulled out a red and gold plaid throw blanket for the holidays, but he’s gracious enough to allow it to live on the couch (so long as it is neatly folded after every use, of course). And you had to stifle your laugh when he’d come home to find a little mistletoe hanging from the threshold of his bedroom and had jumped nearly ten feet in the air thinking it was a spider. 

He came to terms with the mistletoe, though, after realizing that every time he jumped when seeing it from his periphery, you’d come over and kiss him and remind him it was only temporary. He didn’t tell you that he’d let you keep the mistletoe up all year round if it gave him an excuse to kiss you more. 

The tree you want, though… that’s another battle. 

“Please?” You ask sweetly, snuggling with him under the aforementioned red and gold blanket. 

“No, amore,” Secondo says. 

You’re tracing gentle patterns into his bare chest and can feel his heartbeat under your fingertips. You watch as the soft, dark hair dusting his skin catches on your finger. “Explain to me your reasoning.” 

Secondo chuckles—a low, deep sound that you can feel more than hear. “Must I explain myself past the fact that I simply do not want a tree?” 

“But why?” You ask him. You lift yourself up onto an elbow and look down at him. The two of you had built a little nest of sorts in front of the fireplace in his sitting room. It’s the first night that the two of you, as well as the entire Abbey, are absolved from duties in a week-long observance of the solstice and Yule, and you had decided to spend it together, alone, and very naked. 

Secondo sighs but there’s still a little smile on his face. He can’t help but adore you and your insistence. It seems to him that you’re determined to uproot his entire life. He would gladly shed his roots and the soil of comfort and routine they grow in if it meant seeing you happy, but where is the fun in that? He enjoys making you ask for what you want. He enjoys seeing you work for it. And, in some (most) instances, he enjoys pushing you until you resort to begging.

“Because,” Secondo begins, drawing you back down to lay your head on his warm chest, “there is no room for one. And we have nothing to put on it.” 

You laugh. “This room alone is bigger than my old Sibling quarters. There’s plenty of space.” 

“It could catch on fire.” 

“Secondo, you don’t put a tree directly in front of the fireplace.” 

“Well. Suppose there is an ember—“ 

“And,” you playfully cut him off. “We can find things to decorate it with. Warm lights, those red, wooden beads for a garland, little glass ornaments… It can be classy. We can make it match your taste.” 

Your lover is silent for a moment, considering. “There would be pine needles everywhere.” 

You laugh again. His tone of voice tells you that you’re close to cracking him. Oh, you’re well aware of the games he plays with you and take full part in them. The push and pull, the give and take of him letting you believe you’re in control and then showing you that this was his plan all along… even with something as mundane as a holiday tree, your heart speeds up and your face heats just slightly. 

You’re still tired from the evening’s activities, after all. 

“We can get a fake one,” you offer. “Small, too. Nothing unmanageable. And I’ll string the lights on it because it’s a pain in the ass.” 

Secondo traces lines back and forth over your shoulder, tickling your skin. “You speak like the decision is already made, amore.”

“You haven’t given me a good enough reason to back down yet.”

He chuckles again. “Sto solo scherzando. Will it make you happy?” 

You prop yourself up again and press a kiss to his lips. “It will,” you say softly. “But I don’t need a tree to make me happy. If you really don’t want one, we won’t have one.” 

“You said it yourself,” Secondo says against your mouth, “that it is temporary. I will survive.” 

You feel his mouth curl into a small smile against your own when you kiss him again. You’re sure yours must feel the same. 

~~~

You and Secondo stroll leisurely through the rows of trees. The display is pretty, and nostalgic—it’s been staged to look like a small grove of real trees, with the stands cleverly hidden by piles of snow at the bases. Some of the trees are fully decorated, and some have only lights, but most are completely bare to emulate a tree farm. Somehow the staff had managed to make the display smell like pine and a hint of cinnamon, and if you close your eyes and listen to the winter breeze and the jingling of bells on the storefront door, it feels like a real tree farm. 

“You know,” you say to Secondo as you stop in front of a tree with fake snow on it, “you never told me why you didn’t want a tree.” 

Secondo regards the tree for a moment and, seeing how easily the fake snow flakes off of the limbs with just a slight breeze, gently tugs you towards the next one. “It is not necessarily the tree that I am opposed to,” he says. “But the commercialization of what is supposed to be a holiday.” 

You’re silent for a moment as you think about his words. He does have a point. There are a fair few seasonal decorations that you find to be unbearably tacky, but the ones you do enjoy carry a warm nostalgia. “I see,” you muse. “For a while after I converted, it was hard to rationalize the holiday because it’s so ingrained in our culture to be a Jesus thing.” 

“Esattamente,” Secondo nods. “Even though most of it is taken straight from Pagan traditions.” 

You stop in front of a plain tree, not any taller than Secondo, with simple, warm white lights. “That helped me rationalize it,” you tell him. “To know that modern Christmas is an amalgam of different things, and that there’s no right way to celebrate it. It doesn’t make us bad Satanists because we have a tree, or bake cookies, or wrap gifts. There doesn’t have to be any religious undertone.” 

“You are right,” Secondo says after a brief silence. “What is that term… when people use a word incorrectly enough times that the meaning changes.” 

“Colloquialism?” you offer. 

“SÌ. Christmas has become a colloquialism. Yule, Solstice, Saturnalia, Christmas, whatever you wish to call it.” 

“Is that why you never celebrated?” 

Secondo looks at you, and he nearly loses his breath. The sun is going down so the sky is a deep blue, leaving your face to be illuminated only by the warm white lights of the tree in front of you. You look so cozy in your hat and scarf and coat. And you’re trying to understand him, understand why he is not a ‘holiday’ person. How he adores you. 

“To a degree,” he says, looking away because he’s dangerously close to swooping you into his arms and kissing you silly. “The holiday has lost all its meaning beyond materialism. That is the way it seems. Why should I need a holiday to tell me when to gift things to the people who matter?” 

“You don’t, I suppose,” you shrug. “But it’s not completely about that. It’s the thought, the warmth, the togetherness. This time of year is when people want to feel cozy and comfortable and happy. To surround themselves with the people and things they love. It’s cold, and dark, and the holiday allows us to indulge in the things we might feel guilty about at any other time of year.” 

Secondo listens to your voice, and he understands. “I feel a bit like Scrooge,” he says softly. And he does—a bitter old man, learning the true meaning of Christmas… or something.

“Which ghost am I?” You ask, laughing. 

“You are Tiny Tim,” he replies without having to think. “Not a ghost, but I think the wisest character in the whole story.” 

“Satan bless us,” you say in your best impression of a small child. “Every one.” 

In the end, Secondo chooses the tree you’d been standing in front of. He tells you that it was because he likes that it’s small and simple (which is true), but he’d seen how your eyes reflected the small bulbs and decided he couldn’t let that evening be the last time he sees that. 

You also purchase simple glass bulbs, a modest tree skirt, and a silver garland to match Secondo’s green and silver color scheme in his chambers. When you arrive back at the Abbey excited to decorate, however, you remember that you’d forgotten to choose a topper. While he has his back turned to pour the two of you some hot chocolate, you sneak to the closet which houses his papal robes, and when he turns around, he finds his mitre situated crookedly atop the tree and your smug face pretending you don’t know how it got there. 

“It is lopsided,” Secondo hums, handing you your mug. 

“It has character,” you counter. You hide your smile behind the steaming hot chocolate. 

Secondo smiles, too. 

~~~

After the tree debacle, you wonder how far into the holiday spirit you can drag Secondo. You aren’t determined to make him the embodiment of Santa Claus, but you hope to ease his grumpiness. And honestly, it isn’t just the holiday that you want him to enjoy, it’s the whole season. Winter is cold and dark and oftentimes miserable, yes, but it doesn’t have to be. Not when you have someone to come home to after years of spending it alone. 

So you suggest cookies. Because I love sugar cookies, you explain when Secondo asks. And Copia has a sweet tooth. And we need something to bring to dinner with your family. 

Not at all because watching Secondo in the kitchen gets you going like nothing else. 

You sit at the small table in his kitchen, watching him move. He’d shooed you out of the way after scolding you for suggesting you use a premade mixture of Betty Crocker sugar cookies, insisting that if you must make cookies, you will at least do it right. But how can you stay away from him when he looks like that? 

He’s wearing his apron (which is, in and of itself, an incredible turn-on). The sleeves of his button-up shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his muscular forearms. And his hands, oh, his hands, are bare and flexing, kneading the dough as he mixes flour in pinch by pinch. The veins in his arms are highlighted in the overhead kitchen lights. His shoulders stretch and move, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight against his back again and again. 

Sweet Satan, give me strength, you think. And Satan, ever the purveyor of sin and temptation, strips all the strength from your mind and whispers in your ear to go to him. 

So you do. You quietly slip out of your chair and approach Secondo, taking in his perfect form. His broad shoulders, the slight pooch to his sides, his ass which is hugged so perfectly in his trousers, his hands kneading the dough ball like they knead the flesh of your thighs, your chest, your belly, your rear. Your hands slip around his middle and you press yourself against his back. You feel him pause. 

“Amore,” Secondo says softly and you’re not exactly convinced that he’s chiding you. “You are a terrible distraction. Come faccio a cuocere questi biscotti con te che mi tenta?” 

You trace your hands up his stomach to his chest, relishing in his warmth. There’s probably flour on your hands and forearms and all over his apron, but you don’t care. “Can you blame me? You know very well what watching you in the kitchen does.” 

“SÌ, I do, my dove,” Secondo hums. His hands are still now. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of your palms brushing up and down his body. Yes, he knows quite well what he’s doing to you. He’d be a liar if he said his insistence to bake the cookies from scratch was entirely innocent. But he supposes you know that. “Tell me, amore. If I were to turn around and lift you up onto this counter and spread your legs, what would I find, hm?”

Instead of answering him, you trail your hands back down from his chest, over his tummy, and down to the crux between his legs and pelvis, resting your palms there and squeezing lightly. You can already feel the stretching fabric of his trousers and know that if he turned around to make good on his promise, you would find him hard and aching. He heaves a trembling breath at your movements. It’s likely that he will punish you for this later, but is it really a punishment if it’s what you desire most? 

It’s not often that Secondo allows you to take control like this. Even if it’s just a small movement, a little caress of his arousal, he’s quick to pull your hands away and make sure you find your pleasure first. But slowly, his hands begin to work into the dough once more, and he makes no further comment. Your own hands find the button of his trousers and tug it open. 

“Amore,” Secondo hums in warning when your fingers brush along the length of him over the fabric of his pants.

In a stroke of confidence (and maybe a touch of curiosity as to what might happen if you poke the sleeping bear), you reach down his front to grasp him over his briefs. It’s only for a moment before you’re withdrawing your hand and fumbling his button closed again. You press a kiss between his shoulder blades and step away. “Sorry, love. Cookies take precedence.” 

Then, you’re pressed against the kitchen table, your wrists pinned beside your head as Secondo looms over you and presses his hips to your own. His breath is hot and his voice is low in your ear as he speaks. “You know very well that I would ravish you right now,” he growls, rutting his hips forward to spread your thighs even further. You can feel just how honest he’s being and you sigh with the contact. “If it were not for this dinner… this cena maledetta…”

There’s flour all over your clothes from his apron pressing against your front. The tip of his nose traces a path up from the sensitive skin below your ear, across your cheekbone, to rest against yours. His lips brush your own as he speaks. “Do not think I do not know what you are doing.” 

“I know you know,” you say, your voice sultry. You arch your back up off the tabletop and press your chest into his. “That’s why I do it.”

“Sei una tentazione,” Secondo whispers. “Perché devi essere così allettante quando non posso averti?”

Your jaw slacks open when he presses his hips even harder against yours. He takes the opportunity to lean in and nip at your lower lip, tracing his tongue along it and tugging. “One day,” you gasp when he pulls away, “I will understand when you say such filthy things to me in Italian.” 

“You tell me that not knowing is a thrill.”

“Oh, it is. But sometimes I wish I could understand what depraved things you’ll do.” 

“Let me put it plainly, then,” Secondo says. He takes the shell of your ear between his teeth and squeezes your wrists just a bit tighter. Your thighs lift as he presses himself against you completely. “We are going to make these cookies. We are going to Terzo’s dinner party. And we are going to stay for however long is acceptable before I take you back here and punish you for teasing me.”

“Yes, Papa.”

~~~

Oh, you hate him. 

Not for last night when he’d punished you, no. You very much do not hate him for that. You’d gone to bed with trembling legs after he had to help you to the shower. He compared you to a newborn deer but held you steady as you wobbled, and then gave you one last orgasm in the warm water before the two of you retired to bed. 

Rather, you hate him because he’d been waiting for a reason to punish you last night. He’d been searching for an excuse to make you fall off the edge of the world, more than a few times over, because he’d planned to take you and your wobbly legs surprise ice skating the next morning and thought it would be funny to watch you scramble.

“I hate you,” you grumble as you cling to his hand with a vice-like grip. “I hate you and your stupid memory.” 

Secondo laughs quietly and supports your weight. You almost lose balance when he leans down to speak lowly in your ear, but he keeps you upright. “I did not hear you saying that last night when I remembered where to touch to make you–”

“Alright, alright,” you interrupt, your face heating. “But last night I didn’t think I had to tell you to take it easy so I could stand upright today.”

“That is the fun of it, amore. Seeing you wobble, knowing I did this.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “How is your ass? Sore?” 

“From you spanking it or from falling on it four times?” You ask. 

“Either way,” Secondo stands up straight again, “I suppose the answer is the same.”

You huff. “I used to be able to do spins as a kid,” you tell him. “And now I can barely stand on skates because of you and your fingers and your tongue and your little Secondino.”

“He is not very little though, is he?” Secondo asks, and you could smack him if he wasn’t completely right. You’re wobbly because he’s not little in the slightest.

You’re grateful, though. You’d mentioned how you used to go ice skating as a child, and how you haven’t in a very long time. In previous relationships, that was that. You would mention something you miss, or an activity you used to love, and that would be the end of it. But with Secondo, dear, attentive, lovely, grumpy Secondo, it’s different. You feel heard for the first time in your life. And that might be terribly cheesy, but it’s true. He does more for you than the absolute bare minimum you’d grown to expect from partners and you feel positively spoiled. If you can give him even half of the happiness he gives you, you’re happy. You would give him the world and the sun and the moon if you could. 

Secondo notices your silence and squeezes your hand, warm and cozy in the gloves Terzo had gifted you at his dinner last night. “Where did you go, dove?” 

“Sorry,” you shake yourself from your reverie and blink away the sudden tears of gratitude and affection. “I just love you. Thank you for taking me skating.”

“You’re welcome. Anch’io ti amo.”

Eventually you find your sea legs and show him the (very basic) spins you know how to do. You manage not to fall on your ass a fifth time. And then you begin to seethe because, of course, Secondo is perfectly balanced and graceful and can skate like he was born on the ice. Your poised Papa is always so composed and you feel like, as he’d said, a newborn deer perpetually falling. 

You hate him, but that doesn’t stop the heat from building in your lower belly. Again.

~~~

The next day is the Ministry’s observed holiday. Most of the Abbey’s residents choose to spend it honoring the Olde One in sin with loved ones—eating, drinking, laughing, fucking. You and Secondo are no different, having celebrated the holiday with family and friends at Terzo’s dinner two days prior. 

That was the intention of hosting a dinner two days before the holiday. So that one might be able to honor Satan and the unholy observance without having to worry about family coming. 

You are absolutely not complaining. You spend the morning sleeping in, held in Secondo’s strong, warm embrace. When you wake, there’s no rush to get out of bed. He apologizes for your sore (and slightly fall-bruised) ass by rubbing and kneading it with gentle hands, pressing kisses down your spine with no sense of urgency or implication of more. You want there to be more, but you have something planned for later. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to wait for later to arrive. 

In the weeks leading up to the holiday, he’d told you not to worry about finding a gift for him. He said that you are enough, that spending time with you and just seeing you is enough of a gift. That you’d somehow managed to soothe the harshness in his soul. In his Secondo way of saying those things, which is less sappy. But you know that the sap was there, so you found a gift for him anyway.

The gift, of course, is something practical and utilitarian. Fit for Secondo’s taste but not something he already has. Something you know for a fact he’ll enjoy. 

That’s the list of things you’d written in your head when debating whether or not to buy the expensive, green satin lingerie with silver buckles. And of course, you needed a robe to hide it with so he can unwrap his gift. 

Although neither of you want to get up from the cozy cocoon of bedsheets you’re tangled in, your stomach begins to growl for breakfast. 

“Hungry?” Secondo asks from where his face is nestled against your neck. 

“Very,” you say, and make no move to get up. Neither does he. 

Your stomach growls again. 

“Hush,” Secondo says softly. “I am comfortable.”

After the third growl, you laugh, and Secondo pushes himself off of you to sit upright. “Coffee?” 

“Please,” you nod. 

When Secondo stands to walk into the kitchen, shirtless and practically glowing in the morning sun coming through the windows, you decide that later can come whenever you like. He can spend all day and night unwrapping his gift over and over and over if he wishes to. You can’t bear to wait. 

You slip away with the box containing your robe and underthings and lock yourself in the bathroom. It takes you a few tries to align the straps correctly so you can slip your head and arms through where they’re supposed to go, but the lower portion is more straightforward. The set is simple once it’s situated correctly. There’s a strip of fabric leading up the middle of your chest and around your neck, clasped at the front with a silver buckle, not entirely unlike a collar. The thin straps accentuate your chest and shoulders while still leaving most of your skin exposed for Secondo to leave marks on. The bottoms are strappy as well, with an attached garter belt secured with two silver buckles matching the one on your neck. Observing yourself in the mirror, you feel powerful. You know exactly what this will do to Secondo, and do for him. You feel powerful in the knowledge that you are about to allow him to overpower you. 

You only hope the lingerie doesn’t get ripped in the process. 

You slip the robe over your shoulders and close it, offering only a peek of the fabric around your neck, and fix your bedhead before exiting the bathroom. You stride into the kitchen like absolutely nothing has changed and find Secondo, gathering ingredients for breakfast and still shirtless. If you hadn’t changed into the set you’re wearing already then you would turn tail and do it now. 

But, you steel yourself and enter the kitchen, making a beeline for your favorite mug which he’d filled with coffee. “Thank you, love,” you say softly. You lean against the counter and take a sip. It’s delicious but you couldn’t care less about the coffee right now. 

“Amore,” Secondo says lowly once he catches a glimpse of your new robe and the fabric peeking out underneath. “What is this?”

He raises his finger to trace along the strip of fabric running down your chest until it disappears under the robe. “You said not to get anything for you,” you tell him, trying to act like the simple touch isn’t burning your skin. “But, did you really expect me not to?”

“Sathanas, you are sent to me by the Devil himself,” Secondo groans. He takes your mug of coffee from you and places it on the counter. “How must I wait until we have eaten when you…” 

You gently take his other hand and intertwine your fingers. It’s not often that Secondo has no words. Your heart pounds in your chest and you’re sure he can feel it beneath his fingertips. “Don’t wait, then,” you say. 

Slowly, Secondo traces his hand down your chest, over your sternum and towards your navel where your robe is tied closed. He pulls on the end and the robe falls open, revealing the set of lingerie adorning your skin. You feel his hot, shaky breath fan across your face as he takes in the sight of you. As if in reverence, he gently pushes the robe off your shoulders. It falls at your heels and you’re left bare in front of him, skin hot yet somehow covered in goosebumps. “Sathanas,” he curses again, thanking his maker for you. 

Secondo places his hands on your waist and draws you towards him. Your own hands rise to his chest and you find that his heart is beating just as quickly as yours. Your lips meet somewhere in the middle, warm and desperate and passionate. He kisses you like it’s the last time, but also like you’re made of glass. Like he wants to ravage you and worship you at the same time but can’t decide. His tongue licks into your mouth, tracing your bottom lip. He tastes like coffee and Secondo. 

You nearly stumble when he begins to push you but you quickly understand his mission. His hands guide you out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom, walking you backwards while his lips never leave your own. “Sathanas,” he groans a third time. He can’t think of anything but you, the feel of you, the taste of you, the sight of you. The only word from his mouth is a prayer at your altar. 

Secondo guides you until the backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he lifts you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator taunting his prey. Your thighs part on instinct to welcome his body between them. The cool air of the room reaches your aching arousal and you realize that you’re already embarrassingly wet. 

His hands slide up and down your sides, to your hips, the tops of your thighs. He traces his fingers over the fabric of the garter belt, snapping the strap against your skin and smirking at the sound. “You are sin,” he growls as he leans down to latch his lips to your neck. “I need you.” 

“Take me,” you moan, and your voice comes out more desperate than you intend for it to, but you’re past the point of caring. You want him to know that you need him, too. “Please, Papa. I’m yours.”

Secondo’s mouth trails down your chest, leaving wet kisses and little marks as you’d predicted (and hoped). He finds the hard peak of your nipple through the thin satin and lathes his tongue over it, eliciting another moan from your lips. “Say it again for me, amore. Tell me who you belong to.” 

“You, Papa,” you breathe as his teeth gently bite down on your covered nipple. “I belong to you. Only you.” 

“Guisto. You are mine and mine alone.” 

His mouth moves to your other nipple and, as if to accentuate his statement, he gives it a harder nip. You gasp at the sensation and arch your back into his mouth. “Papa…”

“Hm?” Secondo hums, and the vibrations make you moan once more. “What is it, tesoro?”

You know very well that he knows what you want, but you also know that he wants to hear you say it. “Please, your mouth,” you gasp. Your hands clutch at his shoulders and give an almost imperceptible push downwards. “I want your mouth, Papa, please.”

Secondo licks a path down your midsection. “Già così disperato per me,” he mumbles against the skin just above the garter belt. His lips blaze a path along the strip of fabric, and for the first time you wish it was gone. You’ve had your fill, he’s seen it all, and seen you in it. It can go away now. But, he takes mercy on you, and kisses his way to your pubic mound, also covered by the cursed fabric. 

“Oh, amore, you are already dripping for me. I wonder if I can make you cum without taking these off, sì? They are already ruined, what is a little more?”

Secondo places a light kiss over your wetness through the fabric and your hips twitch upwards. Immediately his hands wrap around your thighs and grasp your hips, stilling you. “None of that,” he chides you, and repeats the kiss. You bite your lip to stifle your noises. That earns you a light slap on the outside of your thigh, and you gasp. “None of that either. I want to hear you.”

He licks a broad stripe up the entire length of your slit, humming as he does. Your hips twitch again but they can’t move in his firm grip. Your hands grip the bedsheets as you gasp. “Papa!”

You’re already so worked up that you feel your orgasm beginning to build in your lower belly. His tongue traces slow circles around your clit, sometimes dipping to press at your entrance but never straying for long. The fabric is practically plastered to the form of your core, but it’s not quite enough. It’s thin but it dampens the sensations of his mouth against your flesh just enough for your orgasm to elude you. 

“P-Papa, please,” you pant. Your hand finds the back of his head to press him harder to you, but it’s still not enough. “Please, I need more. I’m so close, please…”

“Look at me, dove,” Secondo commands, and you obey. His cheeks are flushed and you can just barely see the shine of your wetness on the tip of his nose. “Look at me as I help you cum.”

He snakes one hand back towards your entrance and lightly presses there, then slowly works his middle finger under the fabric to dip into you. It’s frustratingly shallow, just to the first knuckle, but he knows you’re most sensitive there. His tongue flicks faster on your clit, still covered by the satin yet completely drenched, and you cum. “Papa!” 

Your entrance clenches rhythmically around the tip of his finger. He growls and shoves the crotch of your panties to the side, latching his lips around your clit and sucking just as he pushes his finger deep into you. He finds the spot only he knows exists and you see stars as your first orgasm gives way to another, more powerful climax. You tumble down the side of a mountain of pleasure on his tongue and scream. 

Secondo works you through the intense pleasure until the aftershocks roll pleasantly up and down your limbs, and your hips twitch up from oversensitivity. He pulls away and licks his lips. “Perfezione,” he says softly, crawling back up your body until he can kiss you properly. “Così perfetto per me. Così forte quando mi vieni sulla lingua.” 

You can taste yourself on his tongue. His hands softly stroke up and down your thighs, easing the trembling there. You sling your arms around his shoulders and pull him down so that his chest rests against yours. “Do you like your gift?” you ask when you’ve finally caught your breath again. 

“Sempre,” Secondo hums. “Every time I touch you is a gift, amore.”

You lean up to kiss him again, because you don’t want to sully the heat and passion between you by crying at his sudden tenderness. “Let me make you feel good, too,” you whisper against his mouth. 

When your hands begin to wander downwards, Secondo rises onto his knees and grasps your wrists firmly. The position mirrors the one you’d found yourself in two days prior, after the cookie incident, and your core clenches around nothing. “All I want is to be inside you,” Secondo growls. The tenderness is replaced by a fiery passion behind his eyes, and his grip on your wrists leaves no room for debate on who is in charge now. You’ve ensnared him with your gift, now he gets to unwrap it. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Please, Papa.” 

Secondo hastily pulls his sleep pants off and his cock bounces up against his lower stomach. You wish so desperately that you could touch him, trace the trail of dark hair from his chest all the way down to the base of him, but he still has your hands beside your head. “Stay just like this for me, sì?” he asks, but you know it’s not a question and you nod. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your ruined underwear and tugs. “Up.”

You lift your hips and he slides the soaked fabric down your legs and tosses it aside. Your hands, now unrestrained, itch to touch him. “Can I touch you?” you ask, your voice breathy and desperate. You’re hoping he allows it, because if he really didn’t want you to move, there are cuffs in his bedside table that he could have easily used to hold your arms above your head. 

“Not yet, amore. You are doing so well for me.”

You whine, but stay still. Secondo parts your thighs again and slots himself between them. The tip of his cock brushes against your swollen clit and you gasp, rutting your hips upward to seek more. But he doesn’t enter you, not yet. You know what he’s waiting for. 

“Please, Papa,” you say, canting your hips upward once more to accentuate your words. “I want to feel you, please.” 

“Bene,” Secondo hums. “Così buono per me.”

Secondo positions the head of his cock at your entrance, and pushes in slowly. Your back bows off the mattress and you sigh. “Oh, thank you, thank you…”

Inch by thick, delicious inch, Secondo enters you until your hips press together and you can feel the tip of him nudging at your cervix. When he’s fully inside you, he pauses, giving you time to breathe and adjust to his size. You hold his gaze as he strokes your thighs, soothing you, urging you to relax around him. “You may touch me,” he says. 

You bring your hands to the skin below his navel to trace along the strip of hair. Usually you like to kiss your way down, leaving little love bites along his happy trail, but both of you had been so desperate for this closeness that you couldn’t prolong the process. His muscles jump and twitch under your light touches. Slowly, you slide your palms up to rest on the sides of his neck and draw him down to kiss you. The shift in angle makes his cock move inside you and he brushes against the spot his middle finger had found just minutes ago, making you clench around him. He groans into your mouth at the sensation. 

“Are we going ice skating again tomorrow?” You ask. 

Secondo huffs a laugh. “No, amore. I plan to make your legs wobble without having to worry about a sore ass.”

You laugh with him and kiss him once more, then roll your hips against his. “Good.” 

He grips you by the hips and begins to thrust shallowly in and out of you. The drag of his cock is divine inside you, and yes, your legs will very much be wobbling tomorrow because you intend to spend all day like this and it is barely breakfast. Your head falls down against the mattress and exposes your neck, yet devoid of marks, to Secondo. And who is he to pass up an opportunity like that?

His lips descend on your pulse point just as he increases his pace. This angle again makes his cock brush against the tender spot on your inner walls and it rips a moan from your throat. 

“Sì, amore, let me hear you. Let me hear how I make you feel.” 

“Ah, it’s so—so good, Papa, you feel so good inside me—”

Secondo increases his speed again. His teeth gently dig into the skin of your neck and you clench around him, making him growl into your ear. “My little devil,” he rasps. “Who do you belong to? Tell me again.”

“You, Papa! I’m yours!” 

“Yes—ah, yes, you are mine. Only mine. Only I can take you like this, capisci? O-only I can make you feel this pleasure.” 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you register that Secondo is being particularly vocal this time. His eyes never stray from yours, but his hands are everywhere—your hips, your thighs, your stomach, your chest. His fingers briefly dip into your mouth and you willingly accept them, lathing your tongue over them and tasting the remnants of your juices on his skin. His hips snap against your own, over and over and over, increasing in pace until you bounce back and forth on his cock in time with his thrusts. 

With the fingers now covered in your saliva, Secondo brings his fingers directly to your oversensitive clit. Your hands clench onto any part of him you can reach, your fingernails scratching his skin and leaving red trails raised in their wake. You aren’t sure if you’re screaming or completely silent with the overwhelming pleasure. But your eyes feel magnetized to his own, like if you were to look away, the spell would break and the pleasure that’s building between you would dissipate entirely. 

“P-Papa,” You gasp, breathless. “I–I’m—”

“Sì, amore mio. Cum around my cock. Cum for me.” 

His desperate, almost animalistic command, paired with his fingers abusing your clit and his cock splitting you open so perfectly, send you hurtling over the edge of your climax and your vision goes white. Your entire being, your entire consciousness is centered between your legs and wherever he touches. The rest of you falls away into bliss as Secondo thrusts into you through your orgasm. 

You’re still riding the tidal waves of pleasure when Secondo finds his own release, spilling inside you and slowing his thrusts until eventually he stills against you. As your awareness fades back in and your orgasm ebbs away, you realize that your legs are trembling, but so are his. Your chests heave together as you catch your breath. You relish in the warm weight of him on top of you and inside of you, tracing your fingertips up and down his spine. 

When he manages to steady himself enough to hold his weight on his arms, Secondo pushes himself up just enough so he can plant soft, tender kisses against your lips. “Amore mio,” he mumbles reverently, “Sei la luce della mia vita.” 

“I love you,” you respond just as softly. Though you don’t (yet) understand what he said, you can feel the weight of his words in your heart. He isn’t the type to deliver flowery speeches or long-winded declarations of love, but you know he feels it for you, as you do for him. The two of you don’t need words. It shines through the string lights on the tree in the living room. It wafts through the air on the scent of freshly baked sugar cookies. It follows you in the sound of skates sliding in tandem atop the frozen lake, and in the pleasured cries echoing in the walls of the bedroom. 

Your stomach growls, and you feel the rumble of Secondo’s laugh deep in your chest.

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

Translations:

Amore - love

Sto solo scherzando - I'm only joking

Esattamente - exactly

Come faccio a cuocere questi biscotti con te che mi tenta? - How am I supposed to bake these cookies with you tempting me?

cena maledetta - cursed dinner

Sei una tentazione...Perché devi essere così allettante quando non posso averti? - You are a temptation...why must you be so tempting when I cannot have you?

Anch’io ti amo - I love you too

Giusto - Right

Tesoro - treasure, sweetheart

Già così disperato per me - Always so desperate for me

Perfezione - Perfection

Così perfetto per me. Così forte quando mi vieni sulla lingua - So perfect for me. So loud when you cum on my tongue

Sempre - always

Così buono per me - So good for me

Capisci - Understood

Sei la luce della mia vita - You are the light of my life

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

Taglist (from my Camellia fic, I hope that's okay!): @bonelessghoul @gbatesx @the-did-i-ask @leah-halliwell92 @archive-obsess @rosacrose @sodoswitchimage @portaltothevoid @lightbluuestars @thesoundresoundsecho @stephnthangss @enchantedbunny @jackson5611-blog @copiasprincipessa @kadedoesthings @justheretoreadleavemealone @tiedyedghoulette @honimello @deetz-ghuleh @da-rulah @nijiru

#xxxmasattheministry #merryghostmas #merryghostmas2023 #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus ii #secondo #secondo emeritus #papa secondo #secondo smut #secondo x reader #papa emeritus smut #papa secondo x reader #secondo x afab!reader #ghost band smut

[canarycolemine]

The Cardinale

Pairing: Cardinal Terzo x Female Reader

Summary: Cardinal Terzo is one arragont motherfucker.

AO3 Link

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only. hate sex. lots of it. cardinal is a little cheeky piece of shit. WC 4.4k.

Heavily inspired by @mardyart's depiction of Cardi T. Such a phenomenal artist!

Cocky, arrogant, headstrong.

The third Emeritus brother, destined to become Papa one day, nepotism to the highest degree. His suave, angular face and his overly confident charms - how he assumes every Sister will fall into his bed.

How I despise him. How I hope to never fall under his gaze, never be subjected to his attention.

Imagine my rage when Sister Superior informed me that I, her star pupil, will be responsible for tutoring the bastard in English.

He was “reassigned” to the country-side Abbey after displaying what I can only imagine was simply inappropriate behavior for an upper clergy member. The man believes that he can seduce and bed any living thing! Perhaps it’s not a matter of belief, but a goal, rather. At his current pace, he will have had most of the Sisters in his bed before the year is up!

Watching him saunter through the halls, smoking his little cigarettes - inside! I always made a concerted effort to cough as I walked past, head held high. He would simply perish, it seems, if he did not attempt to woo a woman a day. Kissing their hands, wearing his stupid white gloves, and winking that shining white eye.

I love my Sisters, but please, have some self-respect.

Quite frankly, I’ve always been appalled by his behavior. He has never led an entire black mass by himself, needing his brothers to finish the job. There was even one instance where I could have sworn he had a sister hidden under the pulpit from where he stood, evidently having communion. No, Cardinal Terzo only ever wanted to lead the rituals - the demon and ghoul summonings (he needs new things to fuck), the mystic elements (anything he can light on fire), and of course, orgies. (duh!).

It was early fall when Sister Superior invited me to her office. I was promised tea; secretly, I had hoped she would invite me to teach a seminar or two over the semester. My lecture series on the invocation of Lilith and Samuel could rival even the Dark One’s knowledge, himself!

But, no.

“The Cardinal is in desperate need of more restraint, and he could benefit from a more rigorous understanding of the English language. He prefers to speak in his mother tongue, and truthfully, it is not accommodating to international chapters.” Superior started, my ears perked at the mention of my personal enemy. I brought the steaming cup to my mouth. “I could think of none other to teach him all of these skills rather than you, Sister.”

I could hardly register the hind notes of the tea before it went straight through my nose, burning the whole way up! I coughed and sputtered the hot liquid at the shock of my assignment.

Still catching my breath, “My apologies, Sister, but… why me?”

“Give yourself credit, Sister. You are a star pupil!” A shine in her eyes, a smirk in her mouth let me know two things - she meant what she said and there was another reason, too.

My eyes narrowed, seeking the answers in her eyes.

“And you’re the only student that the Cardinal has not gotten to know… intimately.” Her lips pursed, looking towards the ground.

“Sister Superior…” I started, not above begging.

“Sister, I will make it worth your while. I will make sure you have your lecture series as a mandatory presentation for all first-year novicates.” A smile crossed my face, but dropped; still, the deal was unsatisfactory.

I sat up a little straighter, now making a dare. “And, no kitchen duty for the entirety of his lessons.” I hated the kitchens. Everything I’ve ever made was burnt to a crispr, so I’ve always been delegated to cleaning the dishes - the worst thing in the world.

She nodded, “That can be arranged.”

I smiled, relaxing a little, but how it only lasted so long. Resigned to my fate, I was excused to prepare for my lesson with the Cardinal this Tuesday.

A pause from my duties was provided in anticipation - he needed to be assessed for his English skills - grammar, vocabulary and pronunciation. From my understanding, he had a functional grasp on the language. But I did not really know.

Truth be told, I have never spoken even a word to the Cardinal - always avoiding him, always souring my face when his eyes gazed at me. I wanted to be wholly unappealing to the man. For the most part, he had taken the hint and left me alone. Although, I could have sworn he said something in Italian as I walked past, something like “how I want to be the stick up her…” I didn’t inquire further.

By Lucifer’s grace, I had successfully avoided him. Until the sunset on the second day of the week, when our paths collide.

I arrived at our designated location - one of the older classrooms, repurposed for private studying, long abandoned by the day. Thirty minutes early to the beginning of the lesson, how I tidied our space, laid the materials out and cleaned the chalkboard.

The hanging wall clock, the ever present heartbeat, kept steady. It was almost unnerving, as if keeping me in tempo with the eventual encounter with the asshole. The old bell tower clock rang out 6 times.

And the aforementioned asshole was not here. The door was unlocked, the sun firmly setting. My lips tightened to a pout. I will give him five minutes - no more.

Electing to sit in one of the old desks I rearranged, I pulled out a trusty book, as I had anticipated his tardiness.

Some twenty odd pages in, and I had lost track of time entirely - forgotten the reason I was in this dusty room. The bastard didn’t even show up, easily thirty minutes late! Quite frankly, it was embarrassing that I managed to stay this long. But now, I elected to start the process of cleaning my things.

In the morning, I planned to tell Sister Superior that I will simply not take the Cardinal as a student, he had no respect for my time. Future Papa or not, not enough breaths on this Earth could be spared for a man with little regard for others.

I managed to talk myself through this script as I cleaned up my belongings, nearly whispering her retorts back. But I would not be deterred! Lost in the monologue, I heard a hoard of boys giggling, getting closer to the door.

No, no. It could not be.

The door opened, the raven haired cardinal stumbled in - his pack of brothers falling behind him. Laughing at some lewd joke, no doubt. He turned to look at me, suddenly stiffening his posture. The smug smile falling from his face. He offered some excuse to the men behind him, closing the door to the two of us. He leaned against the old door frame, creaking under his weight. As if that would make him look cooler. The black cassock he preferred was immaculately ironed - surely not by his own hands. Maybe he was screwing the laundry girls.

I tried hard to keep my gaze away from him. My rage and my pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Scusa sorella, I, eh, lost the time.” He offered with a shrug of his shoulders. His voice was rich with his mother tongue.

“Well, Cardinal, I won’t keep you long, then. Our lesson is canceled.” I coldly retorted.

“Che cosa?”

“Canceled, cardinal.” I spat back, lifting my book and walking towards him. “You were late.”

“But I am here now, no?” That white eye twinkled - a charm that assuredly got him into many sisters’ beds.

“And I have been here, Cardinal. For thirty minutes past our scheduled time. Either your watch is broken or you have so little regard for others that time is no object to you?” I said, every syllable articulated, glaring at him.

His eyebrow quirked, a challenge, he supposed. A grin crossed his face, a chuckle that died in his throat.

“It really is you, eh sister?”

“What?” I shot back, whatever could he mean by that?

“You - you,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one to his lips, lighting it, and puffing the smoke away from us, “I thought my school would be with you. You are the sister that always walks with a stick up her ass.”

I made a pointed effort to cough at his smoke.

“Some of us have priorities besides fucking an entire congregation, Cardinal.”

“Am I really so evil, Sorella?” he feigned offense, the cigarette affecting his enunciation. Removing from his lips, another puff. “To celebrate our eh, how do you say, istinti?”

“Instincts.” I corrected.

“Ah, si, instincts. That is why we are here, no? Our Lord calls us to do just that.”

“You’ve got quite the head start on the sin of lust, Cardinal, I don’t think you could ever live long enough to dedicate your life to such… dedicated studies of the other sins.”

“It is my favorite.” His white gloves took the cigarette from his mouth, curling it between his fingers, before dropping it to the ground to extinguish the flame. His shoes shined brilliantly, even I could admit, but as I gazed at his shoes, I swore he winked at me through the reflection of his face.

“You really shouldn’t smoke, you know.”

“It is not good for me, this I know.” “I couldn’t care about what happens to you, the flame isn’t good for these old buildings. You’d burn down the whole abbey.”

“You say you don’t care about me sister.” He moved past me, further into the room, settling in one of the old teachers' desks. He kicked those expensive shoes onto the desk, relaxing back into the chair. “But I do not think that is so true.”

I faced him fully, still standing near the door. “I promise you, I do not.”

“Hm,” he chuckled, bringing his gloved hand to his mouth, running the fabric gently against his lower, unpainted lip. “No.” He said so sternly.

“What?”

“What?” he mocked me, a voice that was far too high pitched to be an imitation of me.

I let out an exasperated sigh, to which he laughed.

“Fuck you.” I went for my bag, still at the old desk.

“Do you want to know how I know this?” He said, staring at my rage.

“I doubt you ever shut up, so it doesn’t really matter what I want.”

“Sorella,” he sat up in the chair, his feet meeting the ground and his hands coming together on the desk. “We have not spoken any words to each other. But you hate me so much?”

I huffed. “You have no respect for anyone but yourself!” I could feel an all too familiar lump in my throat.

“How do you know this?” His patience now wearing thin, I could hear it.

“You walk around the abbey like you own the place. I get it, I know you’re the future Papa, but God damn it, you are so arrogant. You’ve never had to work for anything in your life! You think you can just fuck anyone and anything that walks through these doors. You’ve had everything handed to you by a silver spoon, and I hate it.”

My eyes watered, I couldn’t look at him. Whether from my rage or some secret hopes I had, I could feel the emotion.

“I’ve worked so fucking hard to get where I am, and I will never be anything close to you, just because you’re, fucking, you! And now, I have to waste my time teaching you English because you can’t stay focused for more than five seconds!”

My fist met the school table. His face leaned into his hands, thinking too carefully about the situation. His eyebrow quirked.

“... You are jealous of me, then?” He hid a smirk behind his hands.

I glared at him, how I wish my stare could kill.

“Fuck. You.”

“That does not sound like a no.” No effort in hiding his smirk now.

“Since when does ‘no’ matter to you?” I baited.

He feigned offense, yet again, bringing his hand to his chest. “Sorella, I am offended! I can promise you all of my sexual encounters have been enthusiastic by all parties. I would not dare to violate another!”

“What a well constructed sentence, Cardinal. It seems like you have no need for any help with the English language.”

“Ah, she has gotten me off of the topic…”

“All I had to do was talk about sex, so it wasn’t too hard, was it now?”

“No, no, no, we were talking about you, si! About how you are so jealous of me.” He ran that stupid fucking gloved hand through his hair, slicked with grease.

“Even now, you cannot say you are not jealous of me. Admit it.”

I paused. “So what?”

He clapped his hands, catching me apparently.

“She is! She is very jealous of my status and my future. But, I think she is jealous of not only me, no?” His tone shifted, in a direction I was not comfortable with.

“What?”

“She is also very jealous of all of the people that I get to fuck.” He punctuated the syllables far too clearly.

I huffed again, rolling my eyes. “There it is again. She does not say ‘no!’”

I hated how well he was reading me.

“Why do you even care? You fuck everything with a pulse, so why do you care?”

Fuck. I was not selling this very well. His gaze told me everything. The raised eyebrow, the smug pull of his painted lips.

He tilted his head, as if to study me further. I could feel myself recoil.

“You have done too much assuming, Sorella. About me, about yourself.”

He stood from the chair and stalked towards me. Instinctively, I crept back from him, nearing the wall for safety.

“You think I do not care about anyone but me, and that is not true. You think I abuse my future position, but that is not true either. And you think I fuck anything with a pulse.” He reached me, cornering me against the wall.

“And that,” he brought his finger to my chin, forcing my eyes to his, “is not true. I only fuck the pretty ones.”

Here is where I could be offended, he never fucked me. I thought that I was fairly pretty, so damn, that kinda hurt my feelings.

Sensing the monologue, “And you are a pretty one.” His painted lips gently touched mine.

God damn it. I hated how good that felt.

“So you see, sister, I knew you thought all of this.” His other hand reached for my waist, exploring the dip of my body. “I saw the way you scowled at me, pretending to hate me. It was all jealousy. But there is something about the way you hated me that pulled me so, so close. I needed to have you.”

“But how to get to you?” His hands reached for mine, holding them in place, behind my back.

“Who better to teach me restraint?” he purred.

“I act like an asshole for a while, speak in Italian with my friends. I get the attention of the Sister Superior, who will certainly demand I be subdued by studies.” His painted lips traveled a path along my jaw to my ear. “And who here have I not fucked?”

His teeth grazed my earlobe. “I could deceive the world for you.”

I bit my lip. His gaze returned to mine.

“Pretty good, no?”

“Pretending you’re stupid was a very believable act, apparently.” I mustered out, flustered as I was.

“Don’t deceive me now, Sorella.” His lips met mine again, pressing his forehead to mine. “There is one thing I need to hear you say.” His words left his mouth easily, but he was not unaffected. Just as flustered as I.

I huffed, pausing for only a moment.

“Si.”

His lips crashed to mine, with a fire that was barely restrained before. He released my hands from behind my back; his hands traveled to my hips, lifting me. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

We traveled through the room, locked in the heated kiss, when he sat me on the teacher’s desk.

“On the teacher’s desk?” I giggled, taking in the chosen location.

“It’s always been a fantasy.” He laughed back, then resumed his fury on my neck.

His large hands reached for my habit, pulling it off in a fell swoop. Evident of his experience, it hardly hurt. He pulled away from me, just gazing at me for a moment.

“Pretty one.” As if he didn’t know he said it.

Fuck.

I lead the charge back to his mouth, my hands now locking into his raven locks. The diligent work of unbuttoning that goddamn stupid black cassock. I gave it my best shot. My hands kept slipping on the buttons, struggling to unhook them. He chuckled from our kiss, removing my hands from him.

“Having trouble, darling? It’s always difficult.” His gloved hands made the show unbuttoning each cotton button - traveling down in body in quite the show.

Once to the bottom, he stepped out of the garment and removed his crisp white undershirt. I was out of my body, unaware of how I looked as I looked at him. Each new sight of his skin lit a fire in me. He was as slender as I thought he would be, well defined, certainly. A healthy patch of hair on his chest - he was certainly Italian.

A glance to his eyes knew how I enjoyed his spectacle.

Cocky, arrogant, and headstrong was the Cardinale.

“Your turn.”

He came back to my neck, teasing the delicate flesh. The first moan slipped from my lips as he sucked the skin purple.

“Good girl.” He purred. He lifted my habit from my legs, over my head, leaving me in my undergarments. Pausing his efforts to take in my form. A glance in his eyes - like my body was a feast for his soul. Another look at my undergarments, “Matching?” in reference to the black bra and panties I was sporting.

Guilty.

He leaned closer to me, resting an arm on the table. Teasingly, looking into me.

“Women match when they are planning to be fucked.” My eyes turned from his, embarrassing me again. His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “Was there someone else, Sorella?”

I opened my mouth, but the words failed me.

“No.” He answered for me, feigning sympathy. “There wasn’t, was there?”

My mouth hung open, but I couldn’t admit it.

“Say it, then.”

Bastard.

“Say it, pretty one, I do not have all night.” His voice nearly sang.

The fire his was stroking in me burned, “I need you to fuck me.” I whined, my eyes nearly starting to water.

His hand, holding my gaze, went to my shoulder, forcing me to lay on the old, creaking desk. Quickly, he made work removing my bra. Adoringly, he stared at the exposed skin.

Wordlessly, he painted my breasts with his lips. As his lips latched around my nipple, I whimpered, already so sensitive. His other hand toyed with the opposite breast, kneading the flesh. As his teeth grazed the delicate flesh, he nearly pinched the opposite.

Another gasp escaped.

“She likes it when it hurts?”

Obviously. I fucking hated him so much.

He mirrored his actions on the opposite breasts before trailing his kisses further down my torso. Nipping at the skin, kissing it, dragging his tongue.

He left a particularly gentle kiss below my navel, as he gazed back at me. Wordlessly asking.

I nodded.

He hooked his hands to the elastic of the lacy panties, dragging them off of my legs in a well-practiced motion.

“Spread your legs.” I obliged, as he pulled the teacher’s chair to sit in between my legs.

His gaze never left my core, which he could see how he affected me. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders, granting a better view. Biting the fingers of his gloves, removing them. Gently working the muscle of my inner thighs, unconsciously creeping higher.

Reaching my core, his uncovered hands spread me open further to him. He gazed reverently.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” He stroked my slit delicately, I shivered and whined at the feeling. “Such a pretty girl.”

He brought his face close, kissing my mound and licking the slit all the way up. He left gentle kisses onto my already sensitive clit, dying for attention. He latched his lips around the bud, suckling softly.

As his tongue flicked my clit, I bucked my hips into his mouth, firming my grip in his hair.

He unlatched to drag his tongue, flattened, up and down my core. His tongue prodded at my entrance, lapping at my slick. His fingers moved towards my center, replacing his mouth, pressing into me.

One finger - pumping slowly into me - adjusting the feeling. Adding another one, stretching slightly. His eyes studied my face for discomfort. Once I adjusted, his divine mouth returned to my clit, alternating between kissing and suckling. His fingers curled into me, searching. When they found the spongy tissue inside, the moans fell easily. Begging him. He teased the spot, expertly. Pressing into it with each pump, as he sucked on my clit.

“Cardinal-” I started. “I’m getting - close” I managed to get out.

I could feel a smile on his lips as he continued, speeding his actions.

The band in my stomach was burning, stretching, white hot. At the precipice, as my cries started to build.

When suddenly he stopped. Sitting back, removing his mouth and fingers from me.

I shuddered at the loss of sensation, being so close. I sat up slightly to look at him.

The fucker was wiping my slick from his chin, licking his fingers clean.

Apparently, my face told him how close I was, how it was moments away.

“I wanted to feel it on my cock, darling.” His eyebrow raised. “Plus, it feels better when you ruin it a little bit.”

A fight was breaking in my head, an internal debate I was having with him.

His belt jingled, his pants being slid down and discarded. Left in pristine white boxers, which he lowered. His cock sprang free, dripping with his precum.

“I could have came just from tasting you, you know?” as he began languidly stroking himself, using himself to lubricate the movements. “All of your little sounds, they sounded so sweet. And you were oh so close, weren’t you?”

His teasing was back, his hand sped up, only to build himself up more. I whined.

“Just think. Even an hour ago, you were cursing my name, wanting me dead. Look at you now - begging for my cock.”

He pressed his cock into my core, rubbing the reddened head onto my clit. A guttural noise fell from me. An animalistic cry.

“She was so jealous of me, too. And now all she wants to be is fucked by me. Maybe she’ll die if she doesn’t get it, what do you think?”

“Please, Terzo.” “Oh, using my name now? What happened to ‘asshole?’” His voice cracked, unaffected by his own need.

“Please fuck me.” I cried out, a tear falling from my eye.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Tumbling out.

On command, he aligned himself and pressed into my dripping heat. Feeling every inch of my warmth, he shuddered and groaned.

“So, so good” he whispered.

He filled me exquisitely, pressing in carefully, allowing me to adjust. My nails marked his back, savoring every inch.

His hips finally met mine, I swore I could feel him in my stomach. He let out a breath, unsteadied from restraint.

“Don’t have that restraint now, Cardinal.” I teased. “Move.”

A low groan from him, as his hips rolled, moving back. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow if I don't.”

“Try your worst.”

He slammed forward again, now setting a punishing pace. Feeling the drag of his cock on my walls, I whined. His hands tilted my hips further up, angling to my sweet spot. I gasped at the pressure. It was returning - the precipice. He couldn’t rob me a second time.

“Perhaps, sorella, it is you who needs a lesson, eh?” He nearly coughed through, maintaining his pace. “I could teach you something.”

His hand moved towards we were joined, circling my clit. It was becoming too much - the sweet pressure of him inside and now his devious fingers.

His fingers moved quickly on my clit, building the fire again. My moans telling him it all. As if in perfect rhythm, his pistoning hips and circling fingers.

“Let’s countdown, darling. In Italian.”

His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze. He nodded, as if to reassert his power. “It goes…dieci, nove…”

The fire was reaching a breaking point, I knew what he was doing now. His fingers still moved with a steady speed.

“Otto, sette, sei…”

“...Terzo…” I whined.

“Cinque, quattro, tre…”

“I’m gonna…”

“Due, uno.”

The waves of pleasure crashed down on me, my legs shaking. My vision blurry, white hot. His hips stuttered, as I felt him swell inside, riding out my pleasure. Milking him for all he had. The course of our cries rang in the old room. His fingers didn’t stop until I whined with oversensitivity, his spend leaking from me.

He stayed inside, pressing his full weight onto me.

We held each other in an embrace, coming down from divinity. Our breaths in sync, slowing down.

My breath nearly returned to me as I came to, laughing with what air I had.

“What’s so funny?” His smirk shined with a warmth I had not seen before.

“A countdown to my orgasm. Cheeky.”

He laughed. “It worked, eh?”

“Don’t be too full of yourself.”

“I cannot, you are full of me.”

“Ew! Don’t say it like that, dumbass.”

“There is the girl that hates me. I missed her.” He gazed at me, smiling more softly now, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. Holding my face in his hand, so gently. He placed the last soft his to my lips.

“And I’ll never stop hating you, Cardinal.”

“So be it, but it has worked out well for me so far, huh?”

Bastard.

#my writing #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #sister of sin #ghost band fanfic #Cardinal Terzo #terzo x reader #ghost band smut #papa emeritus smut #this is unholy #my apologies

[bupia]

30, 33, 35, 36 Papa Copia 🥹

ORGASM DENIAL

"It's not scary at all. Let me show you." "I won't hurt you." "No need to worry." "I got you."

There's a smut under the cute, +18 only, please.

(AFAB!Reader: This is my first attempt to write a Copia begging and needy for some release, I hope you all like it! dirty talk; Italian swearing; swearing; teasing; masturbation; oral sex, afab!r-m; thigh fuck)

Available on AO3

Day 22 | Day 24

"I... I don't know if I can do it..." Copia said nervously, his eyes filled with doubt.

"What? What do you mean? Of course you can do it!" you replied, your fingers gently adjusting the mitra on his head.

"But what if I fail?" he said, his hand reaching out to stop you, his grip on your wrist trembling.

You looked into his eyes with a soft smile. "What possibly could go wrong?" you asked, reassuringly. "Copia, you... you know you are perfect for this, you know you can do this."

He hesitated for a moment, uncertainty still lingering in his gaze. "No... I actually... don't..."

"Then trust me, please trust me... You will be amazing out there," you whispered, your voice filled with belief and love.

Copia removed his hands from your wrist and took a deep breath before moving to a nearby mirror to examine himself. With just 30 minutes to go before his first Black Mass as the new Papa Emeritus, his nerves were understandable. You believed in his abilities, and you knew he would be amazing, but he couldn't see it himself. The weight of being the new Papa Emeritus brought immense pressure, and it was clear that he was struggling with the expectations.

You approached him from behind, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking at his reflection in the mirror. "You've got this, Copia. You're going to impress everyone out there, just like you've always done. You were born for this."

Copia met your eyes in the mirror. "I hope you're right, amore," he murmured, his voice filled with vulnerability.

You leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then another. And another. Copia couldn't help but giggle at your affectionate kisses. He turned his face towards you, his lips meeting yours in a series of soft, sweet kisses. Slowly, he pivoted his body to face you more fully, cupping your cheek with his hand and deepening the kiss, your lips locking in a tender and reassuring embrace. Your hands found their way to his waist, pulling him closer to you. As you leaned in, your hands shifted to his shoulders, your arms resting on them. Copia's free hand settled on your lower back, pressing your bodies together. The embrace grew firmer, and you could feel the reassuring warmth of his touch.

"Mmm... Amore..." he softly whined against your lips, his voice filled with longing.

You slowly withdrew from the kiss, your eyes locking onto his face. That's when you noticed the black paint on his lips had smudged and turned into a grayish mess. Panic welled up inside you, and you scanned the room in search of a solution.

"W-What? What's the matter, amore?" he asked, turning toward a nearby mirror. "Ah!" He let out a scream of surprise, and you quickly covered his mouth with your hand.

"Shh, don't scream!" you giggled. "We're at the back of the Chapel; they can hear you."

Copia nodded, and you removed your hand from his mouth.

"I can fix it, don't worry," you assured him, a playful smile on your lips. "Find a place to sit."

He obediently took a seat, his eyes remaining fixed on you as you retrieved a cloth. With gentle and focused attention, you began the task of cleaning the smudged paint from his lips, the tenderness of your touch calming his jitters. However, you couldn't hold back a chuckle when you saw the area of his lips completely devoid of paint.

"What? What's so funny?" he asked, curious.

"Nothing..."

"Are you laughing at me, amore?"

"I would never, your Eminence," you teased, your voice dripping with playful affection.

Copia's hands found their way to your hips, and he gently pulled you onto his lap, settling you comfortably there.

"At least like this, I can kiss you without worrying..." he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You smiled and looked at him, a knowing smirk on his lips. Tilting your head, you closed the distance, capturing his lips in another passionate kiss, his arms holding you close. You took a deep breath, sliding your hips on top of him, drawing yourself nearer. Your arms encircled his neck, and Copia groaned as he felt the subtle friction. A sly smile graced your lips in response to his reaction, and the kiss between you deepened.

The passion intensified as your tongues met and engaged in a sensuous dance. Copia's hands held your hips securely, his grinding movements adding to the growing intensity of your embrace. You pressed your body tightly against his, ensuring the perfect alignment of your figures. A low growl escaped Copia's lips, and you could feel the undeniable evidence of his desire pressing against your core.

You immediately pulled back, a sense of urgency overriding the passionate desire that had ignited between you. It wasn't the right time or place for such intimacy.

"Amore..." Copia called for you, his voice low and filled with longing.

"No, we don't have time for that. Let me fix your paint," you said, determined to refocus on the task at hand. You walked toward one of the tables where his makeup supplies were.

Copia's voice was pleading as he approached you. "No..."

He caught up to you, standing close behind. "Per favore... for your Papa, it would mean so much to him..."

"Copia, you're going on there in just 20 minutes, and we can't do it here," you replied, trying to maintain control of the situation.

But then you felt his hand on your hips from behind, his body pressing against yours. He began to rub himself against your backside, his longing palpable.

"Per favore..." he whispered, his desire evident.

"Copia..." you breathed, feeling how hard he was, the temptation growing stronger, even in the face of time constraints.

"Per favore, amore... help me cum... That would definitely help me to calm down..." Copia pleaded, his voice thick with desire.

You chuckled and turned to face him. "Cum would help you calm down? Since when?"

"Since forever... Per favore... It'll be quick, we can be quick..."

"Oh, can we?" you teased, your voice playful.

"Sì, sì," he replied, his hands sliding up your thighs, gently lifting your habit. "I can be quick, I promise."

You chuckled, taking his hands to stop him. "From our past experiences, I don't think 'quick' is in our vocabulary, Copia."

"Amore mio...!" he exclaimed in frustration.

You chuckled and playfully scolded him, "Stop being a crybaby. Return to your chair and let me fix your lips, okay?"

Copia huffed but pressed himself against you, still seeking the desired friction. "What if I don't want to?"

"Then you'll go out there looking like a Papa Panda," you teased, managing to extricate yourself from his grasp. "Chair!" you pointed to the seat he had occupied before.

Copia grumbled but complied, taking his place in the chair as you prepared to correct his makeup, both of you still longing for the moments that could not be in that rushed context. Unfortunately. But, to be fair, you two could do something in 20 minutes or less.

"Thank you," you said, your tone affectionate. "You're a very good Papa."

You heard Copia's soft whine in response to your words, a mix of frustration and desire still lingering in the air.

"You want it that badly, Copia?" you asked, pouting slightly as you regarded him.

"Sì, so much..." he replied, his voice filled with longing. He pulled his robe aside, revealing the noticeable bulge in his lap. "Look, amore, look at what you do to me... It's not scary at all. Let me show you what you did to me."

You turned your gaze to the evident bulge in his pants, trying to maintain a composed expression and not reveal how much it affected you too.

"I can see it," you said, your tone calm and deliberate.

Copia's gasp was filled with desire as he reached for the bulge in his pants. "And you... don't want it...?"

You took a deep breath, maintaining your resolve. "We don't have time for that now, Papa," you said, your voice gently teasing.

"But amore, would you really let me stay stressed in these pants?" Copia asked, his tone indignant.

You couldn't help but laugh out loud, quickly placing a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. "Stop!" you exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "Be a good Papa for me, and stop with that."

Copia sighed deeply but continued to tease himself, his fingers brushing over the bulge in his pants. He traced it with his hand, gripping it firmly, and his pleasure was evident in his expression. He was attempting to tempt you, but it was clearly a game for both of you. With a sly grin, you moved in his direction, swiftly sitting on his lap and making sure to press against the bulge. Copia let out a surprised squeak and threw his head back with a soft groan. Your lips hovered close to his ear, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Will you be a good Papa for me, Copia?" you whispered, your voice sultry and teasing.

"Sì, sì..." Copia whispered, his voice filled with desire. "No need to worry."

"Good boy..." you purred, planting a kiss on his neck. "Now look at me, or I can't fix it."

Copia turned his face toward you, his eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the appreciation in his gaze for being called a good boy. A wicked smile played on your lips as you began to sensually move your hips on his lap, granting him the friction he so desperately desired. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a pleasured sigh.

"Amore... you are..."

"I am...?" you prompted, your voice teasing.

"Nothing..."

"Good Papa," you chuckled, your fingers gently guiding his chin to face you. "Look into my eyes..." you whispered.

Copia locked his gaze with yours, his breath hitching as you continued to grind your hips against his lap, drawing closer to him. He moaned, and you quickly placed your hand over his mouth.

"Copia... Behave... I'm just adjusting my position so I can see the details better."

"Mi... Mi dispiace..." he breathed, his apology filled with longing.

You planted a gentle kiss on Copia's forehead before resuming your task of redoing his makeup. You started with the contours of the white parts, carefully applying the pigments. It was a bit challenging since Copia had started to sweat, which didn't help the paint adhere properly. With your thumb, you wiped away the beads of sweat from his philtrum, brushing it slightly on his upper lip.

Copia parted his lips, allowing your finger to slip inside his mouth, and he began to suck on it sensually, his eyes locked onto yours with a seductive glint. You couldn't help but chuckle at Copia's frustration as you removed your finger from inside his mouth. However, the playful moment took a more sensual turn as his hands found their way to your hips.

He began to move his hips in sync with yours, causing you both to sigh in pleasure. The mounting arousal between you was undeniable, and Copia's desperation was evident as he started to grind his hips faster against yours. Soft groans of pleasure escaped his lips, filling the air with desire and anticipation.

"Per favore... touch me..." Copia begged, his voice laced with desperation and longing.

In the heated and intimate atmosphere, you both lost yourselves in the moment. Your hands explored each other's bodies, seeking out every inch of skin. Copia's hand moved lower, trailing down to your ass, his fingers caressing the curves of your cheeks.

"Touch me... I need you to touch me..." he implored, his desire evident in his voice and touch.

You shook your head and swiftly rose from his lap, leaving Copia to sigh as the source of his momentary enjoyment vanished. You then turned away from him and made your way to the table to retrieve another component of his makeup. Suddenly, you felt his body pressing against yours, his hands finding their way to your hips, coaxing them closer as he pressed himself against you.

"Or let me touch you..."

"I believe you're already touching me, Papa," you replied.

"But I need more," he admitted. "I need so much more..."

"Do you, Copia? What is it that you desire?" you inquired.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice low and intense. "On the table," he rubbed himself against your backside as he groaned", "without your habit," and again, "completely mine..."

His words quickened your heartbeat, and an uncontrollable desire surged within you. You yearned for him to take you in that very moment, yet you resisted the temptation. Instead, you spun around to confront him, with a plan in mind.

You discreetly reached under your habit, slipped off your underwear, and held it in your hand before tossing it in his direction. As you brushed your hips against the table's edge, you confidently seated yourself on it, positioning your legs apart, invitingly.

"Is this what you desire, my Papa?" you inquired, tilting your head to the side, a provocative look in your eyes.

"Sì," he moaned, his voice heavy with desire.

"Do you wish to touch me here?" you inquired, your tone teasing.

With deliberate slowness, you reached for your wetness that had been building up ever since Copia's declaration of his desire, parting the folds to reveal yourself. Copia emitted a guttural growl as his eyes feasted on your exposed flesh. Your fingers sensually caressed your clit, and his gaze locked onto your eyes, filled with unbridled lust. Copia licked his lips, his eyes transfixed on your movements. His breathing became labored, and his face reddened as he neared the orgasm.

In a hurried frenzy, he discarded his mitra, casting it to the floor, and swiftly shed his robes. Desperation in his eyes, he advanced toward you, his hands already working to undo his pants. You observed intently as his hands skillfully liberated his desire, his unwavering gaze locked onto yours. A sensual moan escaped your lips as his member was unveiled, and you could feel yourself growing even wetter, the vivid imagery of him entering you fueling your desire.

"Copia," you whispered, rising from the table.

You walked towards him, your eyes never leaving his. You reached him first, and took hold of his shaft, stroking it slowly. He moaned at your touch and you bit your lower lip.

"Will you ever be a good Papa for me?" you inquired, your fingers from your free hand tracing a tantalizing path along his chest.

"Never..." he responded, his hands finding their way to your hips, pulling you closer, the hunger in his eyes intensifying.

"Never?" you repeated as you slowly sank to your knees. "I didn't like that answer, Papa," you stated, your gaze locked onto his, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

You leaned forward, your tongue teasing the tip of his throbbing length. His sharp gasp echoed in the room as you enveloped him with your warm, wet mouth, savoring the taste of his precum. Gradually, you took him deeper, relishing the sensations, until you felt his body tense.

"Easy... Easy..." he begged, his voice strained with desire.

You withdrew him from your mouth, meeting his intense gaze. "I thought you wanted some release."

"I... I do... But I like to savor the moment..." he confessed, his eyes smoldering with longing. "I like to feel you..."

Returning your attention to his length, you resumed your tantalizing ministrations. His breath came in rapid succession, punctuated by sharp gasps, as you began to suck him once more. Your skilled tongue swirled around his shaft, ensuring not a single inch was left untouched, each movement designed to stoke his escalating pleasure.

"Oh... Cazzo..." he moaned, his voice growing louder. "What a delicious mouth you have, amore... Just not better than your pussy..."

He seized your head, and his unspoken request was clear. You began to take all of him, causing him to clench your hair and cry out in ecstasy. Your gaze met his, and you mustered a smile through the intensity of the moment. His legs quivered, and he gripped your hair even tighter, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasant view.

"That's it..." he breathed, his voice filled with desire. "Don't stop."

You continued to suck him, your eagerness to savor every inch of him evident. He placed both of his hands on your head, guiding you down further. However, you pulled back, a playful smile dancing in your eyes as you stood up.

"W...What...?" he panted, his need evident. "Did I hurt you, amore? Mi dispiace, I won't hurt you, per favore... more."

You took a step closer to him, holding his member in your hand. Placing it between your thighs, you allowed it to nestle between your folds. Copia whimpered and quickly clutched your waist, unable to contain his longing. You lifted your habit high enough to grant him a tantalizing view of where your bodies met. Copia's gaze fell to the erotic tableau, and he growled in response, his desire intensifying.

"Do you want to fuck me, Papa?" you whispered.

"I want, amore," he confessed.

You smiled and then carefully lowered yourself onto him, guiding his length between your softness, letting it glide over your sensitive clit. Soft moans escaped your lips, and his eyes briefly closed as he relished the sensation. You wrapped one arm around his neck, drawing him closer, and he responded by encircling your waist, keeping you in a close, intimate embrace.

"You are so wet..." he whispered, his lips tantalizingly close to yours. "So eagerly anticipating my touch, sì?"

"Always..." you replied, your voice filled with longing.

You let out a soft moan, your hand moving to caress his hair, your fingers gliding through the strands. As desire overcame you, you started to rock your hips, a rhythmic motion that slid him between your thighs. His fingers clenched around your waist, and his teeth were gritted, the intensity of the moment consuming both of you.

"Mmmm... Papa..." you purred, your gaze locked onto his with a mix of desire and longing.

You quickened your movements, grinding your hips against his length, feeling him grow even harder with each passionate encounter. You were dripping with desire, and you squeezed every inch of his member, milking it for all its worth. The overwhelming sensations proved too much for him, and he began thrusting faster, releasing loud, primal groans of pleasure. You drew him closer to you, your hips moving with increasing urgency, grinding your sensitive core against his pulsating length. The sensation sent shivers through your body, and in response, he held onto you even more tightly.

"I got you..." he whispered, his voice filled with love and desire.

"Always so attentive..." you whispered in response.

He nuzzled his face into your neck, gently nipping at your skin. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine. As his bite grew firmer, you cried out, your nails digging into his back. When he released his bite, a mix of pain and pleasure escaped your lips in a sensuous cry. The twitching of his length between your thighs only intensified your arousal, driving you to new heights of desire.

"Amore..." he murmured.

"Yes, Copia?" you replied, gazing deeply into his eyes.

"I need to fuck you... I can't resist the urge to be inside you."

Copia gently lifted your leg, resting it on his hip, and sought your consent with his intense gaze. You nodded in agreement, and a moan escaped your lips as you felt him slowly enter you, filling you completely. Your eyes closed as his length stretched your inner walls, an overwhelming sensation of connection enveloping you.

"Cazzo..." he moaned, closing his eyes. "Your pussy is unquestionably superior to anything else..."

You bit your lip, attempting to stifle a moan, savoring the incredible sensation of having him inside you. It was undeniably one of the most exquisite feelings he always offered you. However, you reluctantly pulled away from him, your eyes darting to the wall clock, a reminder that time was of the essence.

"It's time to go, Papa," you stated, releasing your habit.

"No, amore mio, no, per favore... no," he pleaded.

"Did you forget what you told me?" you asked.

"What?" he replied, confused.

You sighed, pretending to be coy. "You said you would never be a good Papa for me... That's a shame."

"Amore mio, per favore, I need to cum..."

"You will cum if you promise me that you'll be a good Papa," you assured, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I... I promise..." he stammered.

"So after the black mass, find me in your chambers. I'll be waiting for you there, so wet, so heated, so ready... And you'll fuck me until I scream your name."

"You can be sure I'm going to fuck you until every wicked thought in that devious mind of yours vanishes," he declared.

You shivered as his intense gaze fixated on you during his words. He proceeded to retrieve his mitra at the floor while trying to tuck himself back into his pants. Then, he donned his robe and replaced his mitra on his head. Walking back to you, he planted a kiss on your cheek, marking you with his dark lips.

"Ti amo," he whispered.

"I love you too," you replied, your affection for him evident in your response. "Now go, they are waiting for you."

Seeing him nod, you watched as he made his way to the door and entered the chapel. Eagerly, you swiftly headed for another entrance, preparing to join the congregation through the main door, your anticipation building for what awaited after the black mass.

#kinktober #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost the band #papa emeritus 4 #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iv #smut #copia #cardinal copia #copia smut #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus iv smut #popia #papa copia #popia copia #copia x reader #cardinal copia smut #cardinal copia x reader #papa iv

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 10. toys

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “festive little fantasies”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ your gift for copia surely got him excited….

pairing: papa copia x afab!reader

a/n: day 10!!!! i wrote this at a restaurant lmao

cw: nsfw content. vibrator. oral sex (f receiving). cunnilingus. edging.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“… color me surprised, dolcezza. you sure know how to get a man going.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

“merry christmas, darling!”

“… what exactly are you beholding?”

your cheerful, beaming smile turned into a more deadpanned look as you heard a certain papa give you his usual sarcastic quip.

“it’s a present..?” you state in a rather sassy tone, holding the beautifully wrapped present out in your palms for him to see. “y’know, the shit you get on christmas?”

copia eyes the gift in your hands, and he just chuckles. “i know, amore. i’m just messing with you.”

your blank stare quickly morphed back into your excited, playful grin, and handed the box to copia, which he gladly took. it was a rather neatly wrapped gift. a medium sized box wrapped in glittery, red paper with cute snowflake patterns printed all over it. of course, you couldn’t forget the deep green laced bow on top of it, adding holiday charm to the present.

copia gave one of his usual half smiles and tapped the bow on top of the gift, the bow springing a little from the contact. “you surely outdid yourself on the wrapping with this one.”

“yeah, i did. i know i’m great, thank you very much.” you spoke while putting your hands on your hip and flicking your hair dramatically, taking pride in your excellent work.

copia rolled his eyes at you.

“you’re so dramatic sometimes.” he rebuked playfully, and you huffed while keeping your arms crossed.

“well i’m soooo sorry you can’t handle me and my glamorous personality.”

“you sure? i can definitely handle you well in bed—“

“just shut up and open the gift.”

copia laughed heartily, before sitting down in the edge of the bed and unwrapping the present carefully, the paper tears creating satisfying sounds. copia was slowly unraveling the box of its colorful wrapping, and he lifted the lid off of the box to expose… the prize.

his eyes widened a bit as he looked at the intriguing shape of the gift, the mere sight of it coloring his cheeks a hue of scarlet red. however, copia let out a soft, hearty chuckle, before smirking and pulling out the object you had nearly wrapped for him, cradling it with two hands to show it off to you.

“really?” he asked with an authoritative tone, but he was mostly joking. “you got me something that’ll help yourself.”

“heyyy it can help you too!” you exclaimed with a giggle. “help me, help you. mi casa es tu casa.”

“not sure if that’s the right analogy, darling. but whatever floats your boat.”

the gift you had gotten copia was rather… extravagant and sexual. a vibrator, to put it bluntly. however, it was one of the nicer and more high quality ones instead of the shitty porno vibrators you find at the back of a dusty attic. the color was rather beautiful too, a seductive deep shade of red with intricate, satanic-esque black designs that made it look like it was the toy of the devil himself. but the most striking thing about the vibrator, was copia’s name ingrained in beautiful calligraphy handwriting at the base of the toy.

copia looked at you, and you just gave him a mischievous, almost evil looking grin. what crafty little scamp you were.

“custom made just for you, babe.” you smirked, moving to sit next to copia and tapping your fingers on his shoulder in a ‘walking’ motion.

“… color me surprised, dolcezza. you sure know how to get a man going.”

“do you like it?”

“fuck. like is an understatement.”

copia’s gloved fingers gently grasped your chin and tilted your head upwards to make you look at him.

“you have no idea how badly i want to use this bad boy on you.” copia practically pants out, lust lacing his voice.

you groan and whisper in his ear. “then what are we waiting for?”

it didn’t take long before the two of you started to make out furiously. clothed came off in a heated frenzy as you both found yourselves tangled up in the bed, with nothing but your underwear on. copia just panted heavily as he separated his mouth from yours, a glimmering trail of saliva connecting to your guys’ mouths.

copia let out a grunt and buried his head between your legs. using his teeth, he caught the delicate fabric of your panties between them, before using his teeth to pull up your panties, flicking it off of your legs. he cursed at the sight of your dripping wet pussy.

“you look so appetizing.” copia breathed out. you were about to speak, but was quickly cut off with a loud moan when copia started to lap at your clit hungrily.

“oh fuuuck..” you cursed lowly, moaning and spreading your legs a little more as you felt copia eating you out like it’s his last meal, prepping you for the main event.

his tongue worked skillfully around the snensirive bundle of nerves, dripping his saliva all over your slickness and fucking you with his tongue real good. heavenly and airy moans escaped your lips, gripping onto copia’s hair like your life depended on it as you bucked your hips into his face, desperate to feel more of that pleasure.

copia grinned into your glittering cunt and delved his tongue deeper into your folds, moaning at the sweet taste of your nectar. “lucifer, you taste so good.”

after eating you out for a decent amount of time, copia drew his tongue away from your puffy cunt, before he reached his hand to the vibrator that was sitting on the quilt of your sheets. he shimmied himself behind you, that way your back was against his chest and his arm was wrapped around your middle. you moaned and teasingly ground your ass against his dick, making him let out a sharp gasp.

“you little tease.” copia jeered, and you just grinned.

“can’t help it.” you spoke.

copia just sighed and click the vibrator on, feeling it buzz in his hands for a bit. he then grinned before bringing it down between your legs, letting the head of it press against your already stimulated pussy. the pleasurable vibrations only made your legs jolt with pleasure, and you cried out in pure euphoria.

“a-ahh!”

“shhh… that’s it baby.. relax…”

he massaged the sex toy all over your aching red folds, watching you squirm in his grasp as you felt an intense amount of pleasure from the vibrator. copia got more bold and turned up the intensity of the vibrations slowly, before it was at max. you cried out loudly, feeling incredibly overwhelmed by pleasure, the vibrator making your puffy cunt flutter around the head of it, and making it super wet.

“you’re doing so good..” copia praised, his lips nibbling at your earlobe while he massaged the vibrator into your pussy. the feeling of pleasure was so intense.

you were close.

“f-fuck! copia! i need to cum!” you shrieked, voice high pitched and blissed out from how good you felt.

your orgasm was dangerously close, that edge of pleasure you needed to reach to feel fulfilled. you were getting closer.. and closer.. and closer…

… until the pleasure stopped.

looking behind you to see that copia turned off the vibrator, you whined in protest. copia didn’t say a word until he turned on the vibrator again and shoved the toy inside of you, making you shriek with pleasured-pain.

“i’m not going to let you cum until i say so. for now, just sit there like a good little fuck doll and let me play with your pussy.”

you just whimpered mindlessly, too focused on the vibrator fucking you to fully comprehend his words.

“alright then.. now.. take it, cara.”

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

#holiday hoes event #ghost bc #papa copia x reader #papa copia #copia smut #copia x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost smut #ghost bc smut #ghost bc x reader #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader #smutty drabble #christmas #christmas prompts

[lyla-cc]

#band ghost #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #papa copia #copia #ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #papa emeritus smut #popia copia

[writingjourney]

Friday Nights at the Cinema Club | Vampire!Primo x gn!Reader

Summary: The handsome old gentleman who attends the late night showings is certainly the best part about your small town weekend job. But as the gentle attraction between you slowly begins to bloom, you realise that there’s more to him than meets the eye – and promptly find yourself chased into the woods by an unexpected monster.

Content: 14k words, vampire!primo, gn!reader, horror, violence, being hunted, harassment, men being assholes, smut (18+ MDNI, biting, blood kink/blood drinking, oral sex r!receiving, penetration, coming inside, unprotected sex)

This was originally intended to fill the “hunted” prompt for the @petrifyingpapas challenge. I am a little late but I hope you enjoy it anyway and give Primo his chance to shine! ♡

Masterlist – Ao3 link – Part 2 | Secondo's story

“This life of earth, whatever my attire, Would pain me in its wonted fashion. Too old am I to play with passion; Too young, to be without desire.”

― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Part 1

Now

He’s been following you for weeks.

Primo just can’t stop himself, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s overstepping. As he watches the hurried pace you set, carrying you home in the early hours of a cool spring morning, he smells your distress like an overly strong perfume. Jacket tightly wrapped around your tense shoulders, your steps quicken whenever you leave the safe light of a streetlamp. You’re always nervous walking home alone, even more so since the incident at work. 

This is the very thought that calms his conscience – his concern is rightful, necessary even. He has to protect you because you have no one else who will. Not that you cannot protect yourself, he knows you can, you hold your own quite nicely, but why take any unnecessary risks? Four eyes see more than two, especially if two of those have preternatural vision.

Suddenly you stop, glancing around with searching eyes. “Hello?”

Primo stops as well. It’s impossible that you heard him, he didn’t make any sounds that a human ear could process. Your eyes dart in a different direction and he’s on alert immediately. A few rapid beats of your heart pass. You seem to decide that you’re alright because you continue on your journey even if your legs move that extra bit quicker, walking as fast as possible without actually running.

No, Primo knows you don’t need him. You never ask him to walk you home and when he offers, you politely decline every single time. You don’t need him. You don’t need him how he needs you, and yet it feels good to imagine that you do. That anyone does. The thought he will not entertain, however, is that his motive is a selfish one. He’s been lonely for so long that he pours all that he has into this… whatever this is. And why should he not? In all the centuries that passed since he was cast upon this earth you’re the most wonderful thing he ever had the pleasure to behold and his time with you is so tragically limited, no matter what happens. 

“Fuck,” he hears you mutter then, effectively distracting him. Again, you stop very suddenly, glancing vaguely into the direction he’s hiding in but without any real focus. “Who the fuck is there?”

Primo doesn’t sense anyone else. Possibly, you just heard a strange noise which wouldn’t be the first time since the incident. You’ve been on edge ever since and understandably so. Of course you don’t know that there is no danger of the same thing ever repeating. Which doesn’t mean you’re safe from other perils. Primo dares to stalk closer, foolishly so, because he’s too close now and you must have spotted his movements in the dark because you start to run like your life depended on it.

To his utter terror, you don’t follow your usual route home but take the shortcut through the woods. With breakneck speed, you run along the mud path that meanders through thick pine trees and mossy hills. Primo has no issue keeping up with you of course but he worries about protruding roots and sharp stones you may not see with your human eyes. 

His fear is misdirected. He’s so distracted, watching your every step, that he doesn’t notice the odd smell at first, the second strong, comparatively slow heartbeat amongst all the quiet and rapid ones of the forest animals. But this is no rabbit, no deer, no boar. When he finally notices the presence of the strange entity, the spike of panic is clouding every other rational thought.

He is after you – and he’s fast.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Four weeks ago

The man has been attending the late night showings for weeks now, every Friday and Saturday. Every week, he shows up exactly fifteen minutes before the screening starts, even though there are practically no waiting times in the small club cinema you’re working at. His attire was what drew your attention to him that first night, even before you’d seen his face, and his choice of clothing seems deliberate. Most evenings, he wears simple black slacks over expensive-looking Italian leather brogues. Tonight, he combined them with a loose white shirt with frills and an open collar that peeks out of a burgundy tailcoat with black lapels and gold embroideries. It looks old-fashioned but not out of place in the similarly dated establishment.

As he approaches you behind the counter, you’re struck yet again, despite being familiar with his almost ethereal looks by now. He must be close to eighty but his deep wrinkles only add to his effortless beauty. His most notable feature, however, is the skull paint adorning his stern face with two uncanny, mismatched eyes – one iris in green and one impossibly white. With his face framed by long blond hair spilling over his shoulders, silky and curled at the ends, he looks like a man who knows exactly how to present himself. An air of easy sophistication surrounds him as he takes deliberate steps in your direction. You’re not surprised that he shows up on weekends when your boss screens his beloved classics. At least that’s what he calls any movie that came out before the year 2000.

“So, Dracula today, yes?” It’s not a question as much as a statement, dripping with distaste. “And the 1992 one at that.”

“Do you not enjoy vampires, sir?” you ask, taking the money for his ticket. Every single bill looks pristine, like it’s been freshly printed, and again, he won’t accept the change you hold out to him, waving off with a gentle smile. Buy yourself a drink on my behalf, tesoro, he’d said once, and you aren’t questioning him anymore, you just pocket the money since there is no one you could split it with.

He regards you with interest. “I enjoy them, sì, though I never found their portrayal in cinema quite believable.”

You chuckle. “Well, perhaps that is because they’re not real.”

“Perhaps, yes,” he says unfazed. “Or perhaps it is the clichés, no?”

“I really like the movie,” you admit. “Though I wish she would just get with the vampire. I certainly wouldn’t hesitate.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow. “Davvero?”

His thick Italian accent makes you blush on any given day, even more so when he speaks plain Italian. There is something about the timbre of his voice that changes, like gold melting in the heat of a forge, the syllables fused together with a flick of his tongue.

“Mhm,” is all you can answer.

“Will you watch it as well, little flower?” he asks and you smile at the nickname he chose for you weeks ago when he caught you arranging a bouquet in the foyer.

“Oh, no, I’m not allowed to leave the register unattended. Or… well, watch movies while I’m supposed to work.”

“I see.” He smiles again, the black lines over his lips shifting so that he looks almost gentle, the severity of the paint watered down by the kindness in his eyes. “That is a pity.”

Is he flirting with you? You can’t tell. Surely, he is just being nice, a polite older gentleman. Would you want him to be flirting with you, though? No, of course not. You couldn’t even flirt back. Your boss might fire you if he found out that you even so much as looked at him the wrong way.

“Can I offer you a snack or a drink, sir?” you ask, remembering your actual job.

“You know, I will take a whisky today,” he says. “If you have it.”

“Of course we do, sir, you can choose your seat and I will serve it in a second.”

The stranger heads off towards the screening room with its soft, polished leather armchairs and moody lighting, jazz tunes wafting from the speakers. You look after him, his long hair gently swaying with every step, and the door to the backroom springs open. It’s your boss, Max, a man in his mid-forties, so unremarkable with his shaggy black hair and his blatant misogyny that he could be any man you ever met. Only that he practically owns you by way of paying for your every bill while you finish your degree. Jobs in small towns are hard to come by, decent men even harder.

“Go serve our customer, come on,” he urges. “I heard him ask for something”

“The register…”

“I take it. Move your pretty ass over, perhaps wiggle a bit when you do, the old pervert is going to love it.” 

You make to leave without wiggling, heading towards the small serving station in the hallway. “Oh, hey,” Max calls after you. “I need you to clean up tonight. Cleaning lady called in sick. Feeling faint or whatever, broke down in the supermarket if you can believe it. They say she’s anemic, that’s their excuse for everything women have these days.”

“Okay,” you reply, hoping he chokes on his tongue one of these days. “Of course, Max. I’ll clean up. No problem.”

“Be a good little thing, don’t forget to check under the seats, always tons of junk down there after the evening showings.”

You nod and try not to run into the screening room and away from him. By now, all anger towards him has been numbed by the sheer amount of obnoxious remarks but you’re never sure if he’s above trying to actually touch you one day. So far, he’s all bark and no bite, but with men like him you never know. Being the only employee who works the night shifts doesn’t help but there is just not enough demand to bring in the others.

You find the stranger in one of the top rows, comfortably seated in what is your favourite spot as well. A smile creeps onto your face. “Here is your whiskey, sir.”

The man peers up at you in what looks like ingenuine surprise, his white eye showing a glimmer of sympathy. He must have heard you and Max but is clearly trying not to show it. You wonder how – you can’t even hear Max outside right now over the jazz music. 

“Grazie mille,” he says as he takes the glass from you.

“Of course, sir. Enjoy your movie.”

“Thank you, fiore.” He smiles, always such a kind smile. “You are a wonderful host.”

You can’t help but smile back, looking at him for just a little longer than is appropriate. But Max must have started the film because the lights dim suddenly until it’s fully dark and you hurry back outside right as the title music starts playing.

Your stranger is the only guest tonight.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now 

You run. You run so fast that your lungs are burning in the cold night air. There is no palpable explanation for why you feel so panicked. For most of your way home you’ve felt almost paranoid in your constant fear of being followed. You felt like someone was watching you right from the start but when you came close to the woods your instincts just told you to run. By now, your legs carry you almost automatically despite the fatigue in your limbs. There is a tiny voice in your head that tells you you’re in danger. Big danger.

Halfway through the forest, the track gets steeper. Less feet have trampled it flat as the usual walking path ends and you struggle to keep up your pace. Unsettling noises grow louder to your right – panting, hurried steps, moans and whimpers. Two seconds later you suddenly hear an echoing growl that puts any wolf to shame. Your head whips around but before you can make out anything in the pitch dark your foot gets caught on a root. The impact is suffocating. Your lungs empty out and you think you’re choking on nothing. Only after a long moment in which you struggle for breath do you feel the sharp pain in your arm where it hit a rock, warm blood seeping into your sleeve until its wet and sticky.

Meanwhile, the steps hurry closer and even in the full moon light it’s hard to tell where you are right now. But then you see the trees swaying at the edge of the path and all you know is that you need to keep going. Everything hurts but you manage to get to your feet. As the world sways around you, you leave the safety of the trail in favour of the cover of the trees, their canopy shielding you from the moonlight and hopefully any following eyes.

But of course the creature chasing you doesn’t rely on their vision to find you. Before you walk another mile you can hear rapid footsteps and panting breaths behind you. Too scared to look around and risk another fall, you just run and jump and run even faster. The woods grow thicker, harder to navigate. You try to fish for your phone but when you finally pull it out, it slips from your grasp. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you mutter but you keep running. You can’t stop. 

A familiar boulder appears somewhere in your peripheral vision and you wonder if you’re running in circles. You’re so lost. Even if the creature doesn’t get you, you’re doomed. But the thought is distant as a branch strikes you in the face like a whip. You run but more fallen branches block your path and as you try to jump, you get caught. 

A shriek tears from your throat, so loud and drawn-out that your voice gives out before it ends. The steps are so close now that you know you’re going to get caught any second now. Cowering, trying to get as small as possible, you slowly shift around, ready to beg for mercy. An enormous shadow sprints towards you and suddenly, a bright streak of moonlight falls through the trees. You cry out again as your eyes take in the sight: Spit-coated fangs, claws, thick rough fur on what you can only describe as a giant made of muscles and the horrors of the night. Its facial features look familiar, shaggy hair falling into its cruel eyes. Whatever it is has no merciful bone in its body, that much you can tell. This is your death, you realise. This is it. 

But before you feel the fangs sink into your skin or the claws tear you open, the monster loses balance. All you can see is a vague human-like figure pushing it aside into the shadows with a strength that is impossible to comprehend, two tall silhouettes wrestling for a moment before the huge hairy creature lets out a bone-chilling scream. The giant body slumps in on itself, lifeless, silent. You breathe in gasps, swallowing air that does nothing to calm you down. You fall over, sobbing silently in short-lived relief.

The monster is dead. But you’re not alone.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Three weeks ago

“So, are you a big movie fan?” the stranger had asked you today when you served him his whiskey. He always orders something now, almost like knowing you serve him permanently changed his ’no thank you’-attitude. Whenever you bring him his order he asks you questions and you end up chatting with him for longer than you should.

“Oh, I like them, yes, but the reason I work here, if that’s why you’re asking, is that it’s one of the few jobs I can do on weekends that pays extra for night shifts.”

“So do you have a day job as well?” he asks, taking his first sip. He’s wearing all black today, black leather gloves, a black shirt and black tailcoat. The only pop of colour is a red rose that he has tugged into a buttonhole of his open jacket.

“Finishing off my degree,” you explain. “I don’t think I’ll work here after that.”

His brow furrows in surprise. “No?”

You chuckle. “No, it doesn’t pay that well. It doesn’t pay well at all, actually.”

“I see.” He turns the tumbler in his hand, the amber liquid twirling inside. “I have to say I am glad. I do not think he treats you well.”

You glance towards the door but Max seems to be busy behind the counter still. “He’s… okay.”

The stranger huffs out a laugh. “No, è un stronzo.”

The smirk that tugs at your lips is hard to shake off, especially with the way he rolls the R in the word. “Yeah, he is. But I have to pay rent and get groceries, so...”

“I understand.” Another sip, slow, barely coating his lips. “Fiore, I do wonder… what is it that you truly burn for? What would you do if no restrictive invention like money mattered?”

You take a deep breath and then you start to tell him about your real interests, your passions. He listens with the avid attention of someone who genuinely cares, who doesn’t just ask out of mere politeness. It’s addicting, the way his intense eyes are glued to your lips, how his whole body is angled into your direction. You get so lost in his gaze, in your explanation, that you forget yourself for a moment.

“Eh!” Max suddenly calls out from the doorway and you jump at the sound of his voice. “Come over for a second, will you?”

You reluctantly leave the stranger in his armchair with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Enjoy your movie, sir.”

“I will,” he says. “Thank you, fiorellino.”

Max watches you with a scowl, roughly pulling you aside as soon as you’re within reach. “Do I pay you for chitchat?”

“No, Max, I’m sorry. I just…”

“You just what?” he snaps, clenching his jaw. “Flirting with the old men won’t get you higher tips, it only screams pathetic whore. You think he can still get it up?”

You stay silent, waiting for him to calm down enough to notice the impropriety of his words and actions. The urge to kick him is so hard to fight that you have to actively push your feet harder into the ground. Your fists ache with how hard you’re clenching them.

Eventually he simmers down, smoothing out his shirt as he clears his throat. “Anyway, you need to clean up again today. The cleaner still hasn’t shown up.”

“What happened?” you ask.

He shrugs but it’s an ingenuine, uncaring gesture. “Apparently she ran away or something. She’s been missing for a while.”

Missing? Wasn’t she anemic? Before you can ask any more questions he leaves you standing right there to start the movie. You head back to the register even though you know no other guests are going to be coming in tonight. For the whole duration of the movie, all you do is wait, scrolling on your phone from where you’re hiding it underneath the desk. No local news site is able to tell you anything about the missing cleaner other than the fact that she just left over night exactly a week ago and hasn’t been found ever since.

“Oh, did we miss the movie?”

You look up to see two men strolling into the lobby. They sway slightly, probably drunk, and smoke despite the big no-smoking sign at the entrance that’s impossible to miss. They look familiar in how unremarkable they appear, one is blond, the other one dark-haired, jeans and crumpled t-shirts betraying their status even though they move with the confident audacity only mediocre white men have.

“Yes, I’m sorry. The movie is almost over,” you say. “By the way, you’re not allowed to smoke in here, sir.”

“Are you off soon, then, sweetheart?” the blond one asks, taking another drag of his cigarette

“No, I have to clean up.”

“Ah, cleaning up… whatever, can’t be that dirty in there, huh?” He grins. “Unless… we make it dirty.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, a feisty one!” the dark-haired man says. “That’s how you treat your customers?”

“You haven’t bought anything.”

They whistle almost in unison, though their tunes are slightly off-key. This is not the first time this happens, it’s not even the first time these exact men show up here and try to harass you.

“Come on, maybe you can show us where you keep the liquor?” the blond man asks. “Have a drink with us?”

“I don’t think so, sir. If you don’t want to buy anything, I have to ask you to leave.” You try to stay polite, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Please.”

He chuckles, tries to round the counter to touch you but there is a sudden shift in atmosphere. It’s almost like all of the warmth is sucked from the room, like the charged air of a thunderstorm is crackling inside its walls. The men seem to feel it too because they suddenly stop in their movements, giving each other nervous glances.

“You were asked to leave, signori, no?”

You look up to find your stranger entering the lobby. The movie must have ended because the lights are on again and he looks so menacing that even you feel a chill running down your spine. His white eye glimmers dangerously, the other one shimmering almost red now but it could be a trick of lighting. They’re narrowed, the skull paint and severity of his features giving him the air of a predator. When the blond man takes another step into your direction, out of spite or stupidity you’re not quite sure, the stranger is on him in a second. You’re surprised by how agile he appears in his age, wondering briefly if he just looks older than he is or if you’re just prejudiced. But the man backs away immediately, joining his buddy by the door. A second later Max enters as well from the backroom, looking mildly irritated but unbothered by the weird atmosphere as he slams the door shut.

“Any issues here?” he asks, taking in the two loiterers. 

The men slowly backtrack, holding up their arms in pretend innocence. While the dark-haired one slips out the door, the blond man lingers. “No issue, no. Just had a question about your schedule.”

Max gives a dismissive wave of his hand and when the man is finally gone, he turns to you. “Were you rude to our customers?”

“They weren’t customers,” you say defensively, angry that he’d even assume something like that. “They were drunks.”

“Hmpf.” He gives the stranger another glance, still unimpressed, then grabs his bag from under the counter. “I’m off now. See you tomorrow. And hey, don’t forget to clean and lock up.”

“Yeah, see you,” you say, trying to swallow the lump of anger in your throat.

As soon as Max is gone, the stranger’s whole demeanour changes. His expression softens and he reaches out, his hand hovering right by your arm. 

“You are alright, little flower?” he asks.

You nod but it’s hard to fight off the tears. Situations like that make you feel helpless and you hate it. Being at the mercy of these men is frustrating, especially with a boss who just lets it slide instead of protecting his employees. You could have handled the situation, you tell yourself, you’ve had to handle so many similar ones before, but it just feels so incredibly good that someone cares.

“I think so,” you finally choke out. “I just… This is not uncommon and I’m so fed up.”

“I understand,” he says. “Did these men bother you before?”

“Yeah, but other people as well. Even Max treats me like a piece of meat just because I’m young.”

There is a hidden anger in his face, a barely noticeable clench of his jaw, his brow slightly pulled together. You’re not scared anymore, though. The menacing energy he exudes is directed at something else, not you, and you can’t bring yourself to wonder how he manages to command a room like that.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” he asks.

You nod and he reaches out, running a gloved hand up and down your arm in silent comfort. You take a step closer and he lifts his other hand as well, gently cradling your cheek. When a fat tear of anger falls from your eye he catches it, telling you it’s okay if you need to let it out. But you don’t cry, you don’t want to feel weak or fall into his arms like a sobbing child. Nevertheless, his comfort feels like a gentle hug, calming you so easily.

For a moment, he lets you breathe in the same air, a leather-clad thumb swiping over your cheekbone with a calming steadiness. You smile at him and he smiles back, so softly that not even the skull paint can hide the gentleness of his features.

“I have to clean up now,” you say. “Thank you for being here.”

He simply nods, slowly pulling away from you. Only when he’s gone and you smell a faint flowery scent do you notice that he’s tugged the rose from his jacket into your hair. You press it to your chest, right above your fluttering heart, and pray that he never stops coming back.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Their blood tastes like shit. 

Not literally but it’s by far the worst he’s had in a while, certainly worse than that of the cleaning lady he’s been feeding on last month. Admittedly, he did not consider that losing her would prompt your boss to just make you work longer. At the time she was just an easy victim on his way home, sweet young blood that was easy to obtain, the blue veins shining through her pale skin like they were begging to be used. But as he cleans his jaw with a handkerchief, Primo thinks that perhaps he can linger after the movies now. Any more time with you, however long, is of immeasurable value to him.

A groan. Primo looks down at the man, the blond stronzo who tried to touch you. He feels no sympathy, no reluctance. Full moon rolls around in three weeks and if they happen to die before then… well, bad luck for his partner. Though he can’t say he’s very tempted to drink from them again with all the junk in their blood – cheap alcohol, so much nicotine and other poisons. Perhaps he should just end it now, they’re at his mercy in any case. But no, they deserve to be punished for what they did and he knows bleeding out is not a very painful death.

Primo is not a cruel man, he likes to think. The nature of his being prompts him to act cruelly sometimes for self-preservation but unlike some of his fellows he finds no enjoyment in the kill. Not anymore, not after his initial lust for blood was quenched centuries ago. Nevertheless, he has to admit that his obsession with you is testing those limits in ways he’s never felt before. For you, he thinks, he could turn into a killer.

A gurgle. The second man is starting to wake up and Primo decides to leave. He placed the wounds in unobtrusive spots, never using both fangs to puncture their skin, too obvious. They’re going to think they’re hungover and move on but he’s going to find them again, slowly drain them until the next full moon is here and they’ll find their demise in a different way.

Primo is not a killer, no, but he chooses the killer’s victims.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

You’re frozen in your spot amongst the thicket, branches and rocks digging into your body, the throbbing pain in your arm slowly spreading out. The sight before you is absurd. A giant dead body, a monster, a… a werewolf? You can’t bring yourself to properly think the word and yet you know that’s what it is. Not that it matters anymore. The smell of death mixes in with the earthy scent of the woods and spreads out in the air around you. The second figure hovers above the body for as long as it takes you to gather your thoughts. Why, you cannot tell. Are they shocked by their actions? Making sure the creature is really dead? There seems to be a hesitation in their every movement as they slowly back away and move into your direction, their frame blurring with the surrounding darkness.

“Stand back,” you yell. “Don’t come closer!”

Your voice is high-pitched, unrecognisable in its trembling state, hoarse from screaming into the emptiness around you. Your fear has your senses heightened and every snap of a twig, every howl of the wind makes you flinch. The being before you now is smaller than the one before, human-shaped if your eyes don’t betray you. The canopy is so thick here, the trees surrounding you so close to one another that you struggle to see anything. And yet you can feel them moving.

“Stop,” you yell again. “Fucking stop!”

A sudden sliver of light catches their face and you can see two glowing eyes, the one that you know as a deep green shimmering red like it did in the lobby of the theatre the night the two men harassed you and the other one is still as white as bone. “It’s okay, fiore mio. You’re safe now,” he says and you immediately recognize the Italian accent, the nickname. “I’m here to help you.” 

You slump in on yourself, not quite relieved but still a little calmer.

It’s him. It’s your stranger.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Two weeks ago

“It’s nothing personal,” Max says. “But I’m losing money here.”

You nod like you understand. You do understand, just not why it has to be now of all times, so close to when you would have been done anyway. A few more months.

“Just not enough people coming in,” he continues. “And the old guy doesn’t pay that much no matter how often you flirt him up.”

Again, all you can do is nod. Your boss wants to cancel the night showings and lay you off. Supposedly, no other shifts are in need of any more people and he can’t keep you on. It’s a cheap excuse, you know it is.

“So, I’m off then,” he says. “You can manage on your own one last time, right?”

You nod at him once again, watching him whistling a merry tune and twirling his keys on a finger on his way out. The tears come only after you hear his car driving off. You have no idea how to find another weekend job for the next few months and the sheer surprise of his decision has your stomach in knots. If he’d at least given you some time to prepare…

“Buonasera, fiore. Can I… uhm…” You look up into the stranger’s eyes, trying to wipe at your tears but it’s too late, his expression has already changed into what you can only assume is pity. “Scusi, is this a bad time? Can I help you, perhaps?”

“I’m so sorry… I just… Ugh, Max wants to cancel the late night screenings,” you explain, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “I guess this is our last night here.”

“Cancel?”

You sniffle, your voice scratchy when you speak next. “Well, as you may have noticed, you’re kind of our only guest.”

The stranger takes your hand, soft leather pulling you from the desk and towards one of the run-down couches in the waiting area. He’s so gentle when he beckons you to his side, never letting go of your hand.

“He wants to fire you, sì?” 

You nod, staring at your intertwined hands against the velvet upholstering of the couch. His thumb draws lazy circles into your skin, his hand so big it almost swallows yours. You want him to swallow you as well, his whole body wrapped around yours, engulfing you with his safety – but you’re not sure that you could ask him for a hug.

“I’m sorry, it’s really not your problem. I mean, you’ll lose your weekend activities but I’m sure you can just get Netflix or something.”

“Netflix?”

You look up with a smile. “Or… I don’t know, buy a DVD.”

The stranger smiles back, squeezing your hand just a little bit tighter. “Now, my little flower, do you really think I am just here for the movies?”

When your eyes meet it’s like you’re sucked into a vacuum. You don’t know whether to focus on his white iris or the burning need that’s visible in his green eye. The decision is taken from you when he leans in and captures your mouth in a kiss. You reciprocate without hesitation and yet he’s holding back, a suppressed moan bubbling in his throat, despite the tenderness of his lips. It’s not enough, not nearly enough. You press against him, opening your lips for him, and then the moan finally spills out as his tongue vibrates against yours. His free hand pushes into your hair and settles at the back of your head, angling your face in whichever way he wants to taste you. His lips feel surprisingly cold just like his cheek as you bring a hand up to touch him. The makeup smears under your fingers, at your jaw, mingling with your spit.

And yet it’s not enough, not until you’re half in his lap, until his hands roam your body with reverent desperation, searching, exploring. The kiss never loses momentum. He sucks in a breath and you push your tongue into his mouth, running it along his upper lip until you can feel his teeth. You frown into the kiss when you feel something pointy, pulling your tongue back, but there is no time to think before he sucks at your bottom lip. A sharp sting as he punctures your flesh with his teeth. He moans as the taste of your blood settles between your joined lips, sucking whatever he can into his mouth. You allow him to drink you in, offering yourself up in a way you haven’t done with anyone else before.

There is a moment in which you think, hope, that it never ends. But then he pulls away and you gasp for air. You stare at him, traces of red blood fuzing into the grey smears around his mouth. He’s a mess, equal to how you feel, but his eyes are focused, his gaze sharp.

“Do you want to see the movie?” you ask, hoping he’ll say no, hoping he’ll just take you away.

But he just chuckles, his hands slowly disappearing from your body until you slump into the soft cushions on the couch.

“Actually, I think I have to leave early tonight,” he says. “I will see you next week, fiore mio. Please, per favore, do not worry about your job, I will set things right.”

You want to ask what he means, if he’s going to talk to Max for you, but before you realise that he’s leaving, before you even finish blinking, he’s already gone. Furrowing your brow, you walk outside and enter a clear moonless night. Your flushed face soaks up the cool air and you look around, searching feverishly, but there is no sign of your stranger. You expect to see him along the sidewalk, perhaps he’s in one of the cars getting ready, but even after a few more minutes none of them roar to life. Nothing disrupts the soft silence of your sleeping small town and you shake your head in wonder as you make your way back inside, the metallic taste of your blood still lingering on your tongue.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Primo is livid, furious in a way that he hasn’t felt in close to a hundred years. You are not part of their deal and yet this feels like a violation of conduct. Making you cry should be a criminal offense and he wants him to pay for it, in what currency Primo is not sure yet. He knows he can’t let his anger win but when he smells the creature from two streets away, even in his human form, he’s ready to sink his teeth into his throat. And of course he finds him in a nearby bar, nursing a beer while he watches football videos on his phone without a care in the world.

“You won’t fire them,” Primo spits out.

Max looks up in pretend confusion. “Huh?”

“You heard me, stronzo.”

“Your little flower?” He pouts, mocking him, then huffs out a laugh. “It’s business, man.”

“The job is important,” Primo says calmly, trying not to get too riled up. “A few more months.”

“Cry me a river. Just do with them what you want, fuck them, suck them dry. Whatever gets your blood pumping, Count Dracula.” A sardonic smirk. “Oh oops, I forgot.”

Primo won’t be provoked, not from the likes of him. “You’ll give them time,” he says calmly. “Or I have to rethink this… agreement.”

Max sighs in annoyance. “Fine. A little longer. And don’t think I haven’t smelled you on those two assholes yet. I only get to feast once a month and I expect the vampire to have better taste, that’s why I agreed to this in the first place.”

“I do have taste,” Primo says. “And we both know that’s not the reason or why are you sitting here all alone, lupetto, eh?”

Max snarls but says nothing to this painful reminder. Primo doesn’t feel bad. Their agreement serves the sole purpose of attracting less attention and would not work if Max wasn’t an outcast. Their solitariness saves them and keeps their peace intact. For now.

Primo leaves with an aching heart, hoping the werewolf stays true to his word. He comes back to the cinema only to see that you got done in the meantime and left. It’s not like he actually planned to continue what you started earlier but he really wants to catch another glimpse of you, see how you’re feeling after what happened.

He finds you two streets away, hurrying home even faster than usual. You’re scared, he can tell immediately as he hears your rapid heartbeat, the blood rushing through your body like a raging river. Since the two men tried to corner you you’ve been especially on edge. He knows it’s because you expect them to try again and he wishes he could tell you that they won’t, that he’s watching over you, that he’s been slowly draining them ever since despite the awful taste of their blood. He can handle it, he can handle anything if it’s for you. 

Only for you. 

Primo relaxes after he sees you closing the door to your apartment and your heartbeat slows down. That’s when he leaves – always. He’s promised himself that he never lingers, that he doesn’t stalk or overstep, only makes sure you get home safely after your shifts. Tonight, it’s harder to leave. He can still taste you on his tongue and what a taste it is. Never before has he savoured blood quite so sweet, quite so rich in aroma, and the violent hunger inside of him tries to keep him by your house for more. 

But the kiss was a mistake to begin with and he’s not sure yet how to proceed because he never expected you to respond quite so enthusiastically to his advances. Of course he could immediately tell that you wanted him, the smell and taste of your excitement so overpowering that it cut off any reasonable thought while it happened. He hasn’t lost control of himself like that in over two hundred years and now he set things in motion that may cost him this precious connection that he has with you if he’s not careful.

For now, however, he allows himself this small pleasure and lets the happy, giddy feeling settle in his hollow chest. If he wasn’t aware that he was a few centuries old he would promptly assume that he’s a lovestruck teenager. And he could get used to it, he realises, because with you he’s quite ready to start this empty life all over again and fill it with everything that he’s been missing.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

“You’re a vampire,” you state, twigs and stones digging into your butt but you feel to weak to stand up.

The stranger approaches you slowly like you’re a wild animal he’s trying to tame, the roles reversed now in your agitation and his calmness. “I am, sì.”

The urge to back away, to run for your life, continues to simmer in your belly but you fight it because you know there is no escape now. You want to trust him but you feel like you’re in a fever dream. It has to be a hallucination, maybe you were drugged at work today, maybe you inhaled the fume of some rare mushroom when you fell.

Your eyes meet the dead creature again. “Is he-”

“Yes, Max is dead.”

“Max?” Your shrill voice betrays your shock. “My boss?”

“Yes.” He sounds oddly calm, not like he just killed a werewolf. “Please, allow me to take you home with me.”

“Home? Your home?”

“Yes, my little flower. I want to look at your scrapes and cuts. Allow me, please.”

You hesitate, even as you see the shape of his outstretched hand, the same black leather gloves now ripped and torn, revealing slivers of his pale skin.

“I understand you don’t… trust me,” he says. “But I promise, I will explain everything to you in as much detail as you want and then you can decide for yourself. I just want to make sure you are okay first.”

You swallow, your throat still painfully sore from screaming. “Are you going to… I don’t know, drink from me? Eat me?”

“I will not eat you. And I will not drink from you either,” he says. “All I want is to look after you.”

You suck in a deep breath, ready to collapse on the forest floor. He could lure you into a trap, he could have been plotting this for weeks now, and yet you still feel the butterflies in your belly stirring at the sound of his voice, your body aching to be with his, even now in its weak state. Reluctantly, you place your mud-smeared hand in his and when he lifts you up with ease, his arms wrap around you tightly. You have no strength to lift your arms but you let him hug you anyway, slumping against his frame.

And perhaps you’ve lost your mind. Perhaps you should use the opportunity to kick him, to fight, but instead you start to sob into his shoulder. The world you thought you knew comes crashing down around you and he holds you through it, whispering that it’s going to be alright.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

One week ago

You can’t stop thinking about him.

The week passes slowly but you do get a text message from Max telling you he’s extending your employment for as long as it takes you to find a new job. You have no idea how your stranger convinced him but you never wanted to get back to work so urgently before – to thank him, to ask if there is a chance that you could see him outside of this place. 

Any thought you can spare is spent thinking back to your kiss, extending it in your mind for hours and hours, exploring the fantasy alone in your bed at night with your hand between your legs. You ignore any of the worries that this intimate moment conjured up. So what if the stranger has a bit of a blood kink and conveniently sharp teeth? You certainly don’t mind doing it again. He can bite you wherever he wants, you realise, and you’d gladly let him suck on the wound.

He’s back Friday night and you can’t help but feel relieved that he’s not ghosting you after his sudden disappearance last week. Maybe it’s because of your intense crush on him but you swear he looks more beautiful tonight than ever before. His long blond hair is shiny and smooth as it falls into his face, the paint more pristine than usual. He’s wearing his usual black slacks but today he paired it with a deep red shirt under a black tailcoat with a red pattern of embroidered roses. His tall, slender frame leans against the counter as he regards you with a smile.

“So, what am I watching tonight?” he asks.

“Hitchcock,” you say. “The Birds. Max is a big fan.”

“Hm, I haven’t watched that one since it premiered,” he says and then he removes his gloves. You watch as he slides his now bare hand over the counter until it touches yours. 

“Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t born yet back then.”

“No, fiore.” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand. His skin is cold and pale and wrinkly, the lines and bumps revealing a map of his life that you can’t wait to explore. His long fingers slide under yours, surprisingly sharp black nails raking over your palm until he holds you comfortably. They look almost manicured, his hand dwarfing yours as he closes it. “You’re such a young thing and yet our souls have found such a deep connection, no?”

You gaze into his mismatched eyes, a fondness in them that makes your heart beat faster. As if he can feel it, the corners of his painted mouth curl upwards into a smirk until you can see the crow’s feet under his eyes deepen despite the dark paint. 

“Yes,” you finally say. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to–”

You’re interrupted by the door to the backroom opening. You jump, pulling your hand from his as you see Max casting you a curious glance. He’s been in a bad mood all evening so you’re not taking any risks tonight.

You cough. “Ugh, here’s your ticket, sir. Enjoy the movie.”

The stranger doesn’t seem offended by your reaction. Instead he smiles at you, accepting the ticket from your shaky hand. “Grazie, fiore. I will let you know if I enjoyed it.”

As he leaves for the screening room he doesn’t even look at Max. You remain frozen behind the counter, watching his elegant form with a rapidly beating heart. Mindlessly clenching the hand he just held in his, you desperately hope you get to ask your question later.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The werewolf won’t leave earlier tonight. As he lets the movie run in the background, only vaguely paying attention, Primo listens for any signs. It looks like he has to sit it out today, though, even as his patience slowly wears thin. One more week until full moon, so Max must be getting antsy, and Primo made sure to keep the prey alive despite his protests in the bar. Every time he feeds from them, he is tempted to bite into an artery instead of a vein, watch them bleed out, not even drinking their blood. But having Max go hungry will piss him off and since he is already aware of you, Primo can’t risk not providing him with any easier targets.

After the movie concludes, Primo lingers but he doesn’t spot you in the foyer. When Max finally heads out he sees no reason not to look for you and conveniently, the only place you could be at is especially private.

The backroom houses a tiny kitchenette and two desks for computers with displays that are already black. You’re standing in front of the open door of a supply closet to gather your cleaning materials when he approaches soundlessly.

“Don’t be scared,” he says from a safe distance. “It is just me, fiore.”

You spin around, your beautiful face lighting up at the sight of him. “Oh, hello.”

“I owe you the money for the ticket,” he says. “You never gave me a chance to pay.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry… It’s not… I’m not embarrassed or anything, it’s just that Max…”

“Oh, it is quite alright, fiore mio, I know.”

A grateful smile. You don’t flinch when he steps in front of you, taking your hand in his to press a soft kiss to your palm. How lovely you are, Primo thinks, a pure, honest sort of beauty that he doesn’t deserve but wants with every fibre of his ancient being. He could show you a whole new world of pleasure and he knows it’s always the quiet ones who are so proficient in the art of sin. 

“I was hoping I would have some more time with you,” you say and he perks up.

“Were you?”

“The kiss…” A hint of red dusting your cheeks as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “I really enjoyed it.”

Primo can’t help but smile. “Me too, my little flower. Perhaps we should try it again?”

He can hear your heartbeat quickening at his words, can feel your skin heating up with the rush of your blood. Even now he is surprised by the evidence of your returned affections, struck by how perfect you are for him, your trust just another sign of hope that you can find it in you to love him back if he allows you to.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he says and then he effortlessly pulls you into his arms. To his surprise, you kiss him first, standing on your tiptoes and melting into his body. Your mouth is insistent, soft and sweet and so eager for him. Primo’s hands explore the shape of your body, memorising your curves for eternity. Impatient now, he pulls you over to the kitchenette that consists of nothing but a mirror over a sink with a few cupboards housing a coffee machine and snacks. There is enough space for what he’s planning to do, though, and he grabs you tightly before he removes his tongue from your mouth.

He can’t see his own image in the old silvered mirror as he hoists you up but he can see the dips of his fingers in your ass as it hits the counter. You hold onto his shoulders as he kisses down your jaw and chin. He skips your neck, skips the temptation, and drags his mouth down your chest instead, ripping the button of your shirt open as he goes. No complaint leaves your lips, only soft gasps and tiny whimpers. Primo pauses to pull at his gloves and then at your pants and then at your underwear, impatient, urgent, until he can finally feel your hot skin burning against his fingertips. Goosebumps form where his cold hands touch you and you shiver against his palms.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please.”

He knows what you’re begging for and under different circumstances he might make you beg  until your voice gives out but with the smell of your arousal in his nose there is really no way he can hold back now. His hands on your hips pull you to the edge of the counter and he kneels between your thighs, placing two open-mouthed kisses that leave blotchy grey marks. Your eyes are half-lidded, hazy with lust as he gazes up at you and that’s enough to break his resolve. As he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot, sucking gently, your head lolls back in pleasure. You’re so hot, so sensitive, reacting to even the softest of stimulations, and it’s addicting in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

You cling to the edge of the counter as his mouth works on you with violent passion, urging you higher and higher with his lips and his tongue, carefully avoiding his teeth. The taste of your arousal is so intoxicating that he can’t stop himself from moaning and he can feel a shudder tearing through your body. Primo increases his pace and you move your hips as well, following his rhythm and chasing your pleasure without shame.

You cum with a scream. Your hand digs into his hair, tugging, holding on with surprising force and it’s the most delicious pain he’s ever felt. He runs his fingers through your cum, licking them clean with a soft hum as he tastes you once again. But he needs more, he needs so much more–

“Do you want to come home with me?” you ask breathlessly as he gets up from his knees, the pain in his joints distracting him momentarily. “Spend the rest of the night?”

He looks at you in surprise but then a soft smile forms on his face. You’re so eager, so fearless. “You should be careful who you invite into your home,” he says. “You may find yourself hosting guests other’s would not deem welcome.”

You huff out a laugh. “What, like the devil?”

A chuckle and he presses a kiss to your forehead, longing to feel your warm skin on his cool lips again. “I wish I could, fiorellino, but I’m afraid my schedule is a little different from yours.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we have to do this another time,” he explains, despite the painful tightness in his pants. “Preferably, I want to invite you to dinner. I don’t like that we did this in here, it is not very… classy. Maybe next Saturday?”

“Oh, okay sure,” you say, a hint of confusion crossing your face. “Of course.”

He stands to his full height, his frame towering above yours and it takes him every ounce of self-control not to just take you right here. You’re pliant, needy for him in ways he’s only ever dreamed of, and while it tempts him to no end he suddenly becomes painfully aware of his responsibility. He needs to get your full consent before he gives in to a possible relationship with you. But right now is not the moment to tell you what he is.

“This… this is not you turning me down, right?” you ask with wide, hopeful eyes.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Oh no, tesorino, this is just the start of what I want to do with you and now that I got a taste, I don’t think I will ever get enough.”

You smile, the bliss of your high still evident on your face, and he rubs your thighs in small circles for a moment, the softness of your skin a gentle reminder of how fragile you are. Primo leans in to kiss you and fights a grin when you lick into his mouth to taste yourself. Maybe not so fragile, he thinks, maybe your hunger matches his after all.

“I will see you next Saturday, fiore mio,” he says. “I’ll be here to pick you up and we can dine at my home.”

You nod tiredly and he feels bad for leaving you like this after what just transpired. He can smell your cum on his fingers even as he waits for you to finish work and probably will for the next few days. But Primo needs to collect his thoughts. This is the start of something big, something messy, and now that he tampered with the forces there is no going back. The regret that comes with it is excruciating. He can invite you to dinner, treat you like you’re the stars in the night sky, make love to you until you both pass out in exhausted bliss – but it won’t change what he is. And what he is might scare you off. The thought pains him but he tries to cling to the small shimmering light of hope inside his heart that perhaps you can accept him.

Until he figures out the logistics of having you over for dinner without giving you the scare of a lifetime, he decides to keep away from you. The temptation is too strong now, his need, his hunger, a quickly expanding black-hole inside of him that might eat you alive if he’s not careful. 

His resolve is strong, he tells himself, and it remains strong all week. Well, that is until he sees you running into the woods a mere day before your date, chased by a starving werewolf.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

He lives in the old castle at the edge of town.

It really shouldn’t come as a surprise but as he carries you through candle-lit hallways and multiple small chambers, old is the last thing that comes to your mind. Everything looks well-kept, orderly, the old-fashioned style of his attire translating to the interior as well. You never stay in any room for too long, the castle so big that you have to climb several staircases until you reach another long hallway. Several men in black hooded robes that look like monk’s habits pass you on your way. They don’t turn into your direction as you pass, some of them carry books, some carry laundry.

“Who are these men?” you ask.

“They’re my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?”

“Mhm.”

You don’t ask any further questions but cling to your stranger’s neck even though there is no need to. You’re safe in his arms, his strength limitless, and he does not seem tired even as you finally enter a chamber that appears to be his bedroom. Big arched windows make up one whole wall of the room and a double glass door that seems to lead to a balcony. The only light source is the full moon outside, casting milky white rays through the old windows. A huge wooden bed with silky white sheets dominates the room from the centre, most of the old hardwood flooring covered by a burgundy rug with a floral pattern, two chests of drawers lining the opposite wall as well as a desk covered in what seems to be his correspondence.

“You’re safe here, my flower,” he says as he sets you down on the bed. “I promise.”

You sit, watch him as he kneels down beside you. His face is nothing but kind, so full of concern and affection, but you can’t help but feel out of place. Knowing what he is now, while it doesn’t change the core of your feelings, still circles in your mind and you have to fight your disbelief.

“You still hesitate?” he asks.

“Are you reading my mind?”

“No, fiore, I do no such thing.” He takes your hand, covering it with his broad ones. “I would not abuse your trust, even if I could. And we have trust, no?”

“I feel like I can trust you,” you admit, tears of overwhelm pricking your eyes. “But I don’t really know anything about you. I don’t even know your name.”

“Primo.”

You exhale and let the word roll off your tongue. “Primo.”

He smiles at the sound of it, a soft, recognising smile, as if he hasn’t been called by that name in a long time. “All I ask is that you let me look after you right now, sì? I will explain and we can talk in depth later, amore.”

“Amore?”

His brow softens, giving his smile a sad quality. “My affections for you have not changed. Though I do fear that yours might have.”

You shake your head at him but before you can say anything profound, two of the black hooded ghouls enter the room. Another one joins right after, rolling a big copper bathtub inside, and you don’t even question their magic when they lift their arms and the tub fills with water. One of the other ghouls lifts his hands as well and suddenly the water starts to steam. The third ghoul places a piece of soap and a washcloth on a nearby stool, then hangs a soft-looking cotton bathrobe over the edge before they all leave without uttering a single word.

Primo helps you out of your shirt and you gasp when you see the blood covering your forearm. The bleeding has stopped but the scrape is still burning, the pain a distant throb. When he sees it, his gaze hardens but he just leads you to stand without any commentary, helping you undress, radiating tension and concern.

“It is okay that I am here?” he asks when he sees you unbutton your pants.

You nod in reply. After everything that happened you can’t say that you feel very embarrassed being naked in front of him and you feel safer in his presence, safer when he helps you. 

The water is scalding and you have to take a moment to get used to it before you can fully let the heat ease the tension you hadn’t even noticed before. Primo pulls up a chair, sitting right by your head, and picks up the cloth. You watch his brow furrow in concentration when he cleans your cuts and scrapes and his eyes meet yours a few times throughout, gazing at you with barely hidden hope. You want to tell him that your feelings are the same, if not stronger, but you can’t find it in you to disturb the silence with anything other than the occasional hiss when he touches a painful spot. It feels too fresh still, too many uncertainties plaguing your mind.

Once you’re clean and the water has cooled significantly, Primo helps you out and immediately wraps the soft cotton robe around you. As you sit back down on the bed, he walks over to his desk and fetches a small brown leather bag. Inside, you find multiple small vials in different colours and an antiseptic that looks just like any modern ones. He uses a cotton pad to clean out your wound before he grabs one of the small bottles, holding it out for you to see.

“Let me apply this to your cut,” he says. “It’s a tonic, it will help you heal.”

You roll up your sleeve to grant him access. “So, are you a healer of some sort?”

“Well, I am more of a pharmacist.” He chuckles and lets a small amount of the white liquid drop onto your arm. “Not a doctor.”

“It feels good,” you admit, the cool tincture sticks to your wound, easing the pain.

Primo smiles and wraps a bandage around your arm, tight but not too tight, like he’s done it a hundred times before. You can’t help but stare at him, his eyes and his whole face so beautiful and mesmerising, barely hiding his emotions in the depths of his features. When he catches your gaze, he tugs his hair behind his ear like he’s flustered and you spot a small cut above his left brow.

“He got you as well,” you say, grabbing a new cotton pad and reaching out for his face.

“It’s nothing, it will be gone within the hour,” he replies but he still lets you clean the scratch with careful dabs. “I suppose that I am not as powerful as I need to be to truly protect you.”

“What do you mean? You seemed very powerful to me earlier.”

“I am not ugh… how do you say? In my best years.”

You furrow your brow. “I always thought vampires stayed young forever.”

“Well, you see, I was turned well into my old age. I am not as strong and agile as someone who is born with it or turned earlier in their life,” he explains. “Usually, vampires do not like old blood, they prefer the young and healthy. But mine was… very hungry and very cruel.”

You lean over and press a kiss to his shoulder. “Is it painful to talk about this?”

“No, fiore mio, this was many centuries ago.” He regards you with caution, letting his eyes roam your body for a moment. “Do you feel better?”

“I do.” You reach out for his hand again, fiddling with his long, spindly fingers. “So are we… I mean, do you want me to stay here?”

“Yes, I do.” 

“But we won’t…”

“No, I will not touch you intimately again before we speak,” he says, squeezing your fingers. “But perhaps you need some rest before we do. You can sleep in my bed, amore. The sheets are fresh.”

The exhaustion is too strong to fight for much longer, he’s right in that, and you crawl under the sheets, careful not to strain your arm. The silky material feels cool and soft against your skin but you keep the robe on for some warmth. Primo sits by your side, watching you with the fascination of a scientist observing the bacteria in his petri dish. You wonder when he last spent time with a human like this, if he was ever intimate with a human before, but that is a question for another time.

Instead you smile at him. “Do you want to join me? Or do vampires not rest?”

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I would really like you to hold me,” you admit.

He visibly fights off a happy smile as he rounds the bed, shedding his clothes until he’s only in his pants and his white frilly shirt. Hesitating at the edge of the bed he pulls off the shirt as well and you can’t help but stare as he reveals his pale chest to you, speckled with light grey hair that runs all the way down to his waistband. He’s slender, bony around his ribs but with muscular shoulders and a soft belly, his slightly saggy skin the only real sign of his body’s physical age. You wonder how long he has now looked exactly like that. Centuries he’d said but that is a surreal thought you don’t quite grasp.

When he finally joins you in bed, you sink into his embrace, feeling his cool skin against your cheek as you rest your head on his chest. It’s odd, the quiet, the lack of a heartbeat, but with his fingers running along your spine, his nails scratching softly against your skin, you’re lulled to sleep in no time.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

You wake up in cold sweat – and alone. The bed is empty but you immediately spot Primo with a glance through the wide arched windows. He’s right outside the now open double doors you saw earlier, wearing a heavy, dark red robe, his blond hair softly swaying in the wind. You rise from the silken sheets and grab his wide shirt that lies as a puddle on the floor. The frills cover your hands when you slip it on and it’s long enough to cover you, his smell still clinging to the fabric and tickling your nose as you breathe in the fresh night air. 

The doors don’t lead to a balcony like you initially assumed but to a small garden, surrounded by the castle walls and illuminated by the full moon. You have no idea how long you slept but it seems to be the middle of the night. You don’t take the time to fully admire the garden, instead wrapping your arms around Primo and burying your face in his back.

“Oh fiore, did I wake you?” he asks, covering your hands with his.

“No,” you whisper. “I’m not tired anymore.”

“Come here.”

He wraps you up in his robe, pressing you tightly to his chest. You feel his lips ghosting over your forehead, then he presses them more firmly to your temple. His skin feels smooth and you turn your head enough to take in the surrounding area.

“What were you admiring?” you ask, your eyes caught on a plant that’s blooming despite the lack of daylight, long white blossoms opening themselves towards the night sky.

“Datura,” Primo explains. “They call it the devil’s trumpet. Highly poisonous. Many night-blooming plants are but of course they offer more to see to me than others.”

You smile. “The rose you gave me, was it from your garden as well?”

“Yes.”

He hugs you tighter and the pressure on your arm brings back enough pain to make you hiss in surprise. Primo tenses and you look up, only to find him staring at you with his brows drawn together. His anger isn’t directed at you and yet you feel a hint of anxiety. You know you won’t like the conversation you’re stearing towards.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “You’re hurt because of me.”

You raise a hand to his cheek. “No, no, it’s not. He attacked me.”

“But he attacked you because of my carelessness,” Primo says, leaning into your touch but avoiding your gaze. “I marked you. When we first kissed, I bit your lip and marked you.”

“Marked me for what?”

He swallows as his eyes finally meet yours. “We had an agreement.”

“An agreement? To… to kill people?”

“No, I don’t do the killing,” Primo says. “It is not my style. I am too old for carnage, amore. Or at least I thought I was.”

You furrow your brow, his explanation not helping you understand what he means. “So what is the whole deal with Max?”

“He was a werewolf,” Primo explains. “We ugh… we had this pact, I want to say. My victims, I don’t kill them, I just drink what I need and he… he gets the rest. He can smell me on them, so he knows who to target once he turns and loses most of his rational thinking. When I bit your lip, I must have marked you without my intent.”

You feel your blood rushing through your body now. “So what, he kills your victims?”

“He eats them, sì.”

“So the guys who…” You swallow hard, balling your hands to fists against his chest. “The guys who harassed me who never came back, the cleaner who disappeared… did you…”

“I never said I am innocent. But I did not kill them.” He takes your hand, softly uncurls your fingers before he looks at you with so much sadness that your heart shatters in your chest. “I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore now. I know it is a lifestyle you have to condemn but it is the only way I survive.”

You feel tears welling in your eyes, uncertain whether you can accept the man you love harming other people like this. Of course it keeps him alive but handing them over to be killed is not very different from actually killing them. There has to be a different way, a way without murder.

“If we… if we were together… could you just drink from me instead?” you ask. “No more innocent people?”

“Have you ever donated blood, fiore? They will not let you give it too often, half a litre every three months.” He pauses, smiling sadly as he squeezes your hand. “That is to say… you do not produce blood fast enough. I would either starve or kill you.”

“But you could drink from me? And perhaps a bit from someone else and no one has to die?”

He nods. “I can but you might not like it, you might regret agreeing to this.”

“Try me.”

Primo furrows his brow. “Try you?”

“Show me what it’s like. How does it work? You bite my neck and suck?”

He shakes his head. “I will puncture your vein and drink until the bleeding stops.”

“You won’t suck?”

“Not when it’s you. I will just drink what spills out,” he explains. “Sucking would make the wound very bad, it would hurt you more, even though it is faster and gives me more of you.”

“It’s… it’s okay if you want to suck,” you say. “I want you to do it to satisfy you.”

“No, not this time, but thank you, amore.” A deep sigh as he relents to your request. “Va bene, but if we try this we have to go inside.”

Primo calls one of the ghouls as you settle back in bed and tells him to get you some fruit and a sweet drink for later. You’re buzzing, partly with anxiety but partly with sheer excitement. You remember the intense pleasure you felt when he bit your lip and wonder if this is going to be a similar experience.

As soon as the ghoul is gone again, Primo settles in bed behind you, ridding you of your robe and pulling you between his legs as soon as you are naked. You hold onto his thighs, the fabric of his black slacks rough against your palms.

“I will stop if you tell me to,” he whispers against your ear. “We go easy, I will not drink too much, yes?”

“Yes.” 

You sink against his solid chest, unclenching your muscles. His fingers run along your neck, brushing any stray hairs aside and gently positioning your head how he wants it. A moment passes before you feel his lips trailing over the exposed skin, pressing soft kisses to the tendon at your neck that make you shiver.

“Relax,” he mumbles. “No sudden movements, amore.”

You try your best to follow. Primo positions his mouth so very carefully that you almost anticipate the bite. His fangs poke at your skin and he gently increases the pressure until you can feel them puncturing it. The pain is not unexpected but you’re still surprised by the impact, moaning softly. His hands grab at your thighs, a deep groan leaving his throat that vibrates against your skin. You can hardly feel the blood leaving you with how tightly his mouth is attached to the violated skin. At some point, you can feel his tongue swiping along the curve and his grip tightens, long fingers digging into your flesh.

The more he drinks, the more he’s stirring behind you and then he’s suddenly rutting against you in his chase for more friction. You can feel his hard cock against your lower back and you can’t help but grind back against him. Primo stops to moan, his hands roaming your form all the way over your hips and up to your chest. His cold fingers feel heavenly against your heated skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly. “Drinking from your… from your love can be a very intense, intimate feeling.”

You hum in agreement and his tongue laps at your neck again, leaving a wet trail all the way from your shoulder to your ear before he attaches his mouth to the wound. He doesn’t drink for long before his hips buck again. Subconsciously, you follow the movements, gripping his thighs so tightly that your fingertips dig into the firm muscles.

“Can you feel it, fiore? Can you feel how our bodies long to become one?”

You only whimper in reply, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as a sick sort of pleasure tears through you, a throbbing need settling in your core.

“I want you,” he says, his voice resonating deep inside of you. “I want you, my love. Will you let me have you?”

“Please,” you whine.

His mouth leaves you altogether. The bleedings has mostly stopped, his spit and your blood cooling against your skin in the still brisk air. Primo slips out from beneath you, urgently pushing the red robe off his shoulders and his pants from his legs before his weight pushes you into the mattress. He settles between your legs, his now bare cock digging into your thigh, and you moan when his bare skin touches yours. He feels warmer now, not hot but definitely more… alive. 

“You are the most wonderful thing I have ever seen,” he says and it’s beautifully grotesque, those pretty words leaving such a feral creature after he just drank from you, his face still showing the evidence of his attack. 

Your heart clenches with unspoken love for him.

You lift your hand to his jaw, dark red blood dripping from his open mouth and onto your chest. He’s breathing heavily with his fangs bared to you, staring at you in wonder as you cradle his cheek and run your thumb over his skin. His eyes close and there is something so heartbreakingly intimate about the way he’s melting into your touch. A predator, a being who spent centuries on this earth, who hurt and fought and killed for you softens at the mere touch of your fingertips. You’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want him in this moment and you already know that you won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to be his.

Primo shifts sideways, moving one of his hands between your legs. He probes at your entrance, slowly stretching you open until he can slide two of his fingers into you, careful not to hurt you with his sharp nails. You can see how hard he’s trying to hold back, every muscle in his face clenching. But he holds your gaze, watching your lips part as he curls his fingers, fucking into you until you’re whimpering with every thrust.

“Primo,” you whine.

He nods like understands your need for more but he doesn’t stop yet. Running your hand over his jaw you collect all the blood and spit around his mouth that you can get and reach down to find his hard cock. He gasps at the contact, more blood spilling from his lips and pooling between your bodies. You pump a few times, spreading the wetness, and he unravels, hips bucking into your hand as he moans.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please don’t hold back.”

His pupils dilate and he removes his fingers from you, gathering more blood from your chest to spread on his cock. He aligns himself and slowly pushes in, watching as he his length disappears inside of you. The stretch is incredible. You keen when he bottoms out, one of your hands fisting his hair and then he finally kisses you. The metallic taste of your blood startles you at first but then you can’t help but want more of it, pushing your tongue into his mouth. Primo won’t indulge you for long before you can feel him losing his restraint, battling for dominance over your mouth. He sucks at your tongue as his hips start to move, slow thrusts at first but he quickly loses patience. 

His mouth slips from yours as he speeds up, leaving a mess of drool, face paint and cooling blood behind. He drives himself into you without holding back, just like you wanted, his gasps and moans filling your ears over the sound of his wet skin meeting yours. You tug at his hair, wrapping your legs tightly around him to get even closer, spreading the blood all over your bodies. Primo nibbles at your jaw, not breaking the skin but running his teeth along the edge before they settle at your neck again.

“I want more,” he growls against your skin. “I need more, amore mio, please. J-just a little bit.”

In reply, you angle your head to expose your neck to him. He immediately latches on, sucking the wound back open. He was right, it hurts more this time and perhaps it’s a figment of your imagination but you can feel your blood rushing out of you in a way that is dizzying, intoxicating. Everything feels more intense now, the deep thrusts, his sharp nails digging into your flesh, the throaty moans in your ear as he drinks.

You clench around him and the orgasm hits you without warning. You cry out in pleasure, raking your nails down his back as you ride out your high with a few rolls of your hips. Primo falters, his hips stuttering into yours as he approaches his own release. His mouth leaves your neck with a pop and he pants desperately. You’re overcome with emotion when you hear his needy sounds, when you feel him twitching inside of you, so close to letting go. The last few drops of your warm blood run down your clavicle as the wound slowly closes, stopping right at your heart.

“I love you,” you breathe. “I love you, Primo.”

He shudders, his cock jumping wildly inside of you before he freezes, spilling his seed with a deep, drawn-out groan. You hold him through his high, stroking his hair and back. He gives two more slow pumps, drawing out your pleasure until he collapses on top of you.

“I love you, fiore,” he mumbles, then he props himself up on his elbow, staring into your eyes. “I love you.”

A surprisingly gentle kiss. A hand caressing your wet cheeks. Primo rolls you onto your sides and you can feel your mingled cum, blood and sweat glueing your bodies together. It’s messy and sticky but you’re not ready to let him go either. His gaze falls to your bruised neck and he frowns, grazing the skin with his thumb until you groan in pain.

Primo shakes his head in displeasure. “I am sorry, amore. I made it worse.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I wanted it, my love, and I have no regrets.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “You want all this, fiore? You want this old man?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, your lungs burning and your head still dizzy, but there is not a hint of doubt in your mind. “I want you and all that comes with it. I’m not scared, Primo.”

“No, you’re quite fearless,” he agrees with a smile. “We will have to take care of your wound, clean up this mess, sì? But maybe we can wait a few more minutes, I am quite exhausted.”

You hum in agreement and pull him closer. He doesn’t object as his head comes to rest on your chest this time. The blood loss seems to register now because your vision starts to swim, and so you close your eyes for a moment to let the wave of dizziness pass. Your thoughts are jumbled, so many questions, so many things to consider.

“Primo?” you ask after a moment.

He hums. “Yes, fiore mio?”

“Will you ever turn me?” 

A scoff, bitter and sharp, like it’s the absurdest thing he’s ever heard. “No, amore, I will do no such thing.”

“But if I wanted you to?”

“No.”

You open your eyes to find him looking up at you and lift a hand to smooth out the stern crease on his brow. “We’ll have to talk about this.”

“No,” he says again, then buries his face in your neck with a deep hum, wrapping his arms around you tightly. A moment passes. Then another one and he seems to mull the thought over in his head. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“We will talk about it but not soon. We have many years to come before this ever matters.”

You’re satisfied with that for now, giggle when he presses a plethora of bloody kisses all over your neck and chest, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. You know he’s trying to distract you and it works. Your feelings for him flutter to live inside of you like a colony of bats and you breathe a kiss to his soft blond hair. As he falls asleep, he slowly exhales with his lips against your windpipe. You close your eyes and savour the feeling of his body wrapped around yours, thinking that if you’re lucky, this is a moment you’re going to remember for all of eternity.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed vampire primo – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Read now Part 2: Friday Nights at the Vinothek | Vampire!Secondo x gn!reader

Masterlist – My Ao3

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[purplelupins]

Agnellino

|Ghost|

Terzo/Papa Emeritus III x Fem!reader

Summery: You hoped the church wouldn’t find out about your little lie upon joining them…but evidently your papa is smarter than you think.

Warnings: nsfw, power imbalance, light body worship (f receiving), fingering, low-key manipulation…Terzo being a horny man.

Notes: this is a commission for @ethanhoewke and I do NOT speak Italian so if anything is wrong here it’s not my fault. I took creative liberty and called the church “Satanae Ecclesiae”.

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Nighttime was when you felt most vulnerable.

You were selfconsious when the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

It wasn’t that you were just shy, however. It was that you felt out of place…overly observed and scrutinized.

Stared at.

Picked apart.

It didn’t matter that you wore the same habit as every other Sister of Sin or that you recited your nightly prayers in any incorrect manner- in fact you recited them better than most.

It was that you were a latest addition to the flock.

You were new.

And new was interesting.

The edges of the grucifix clutched in your hand nearly began to draw blood from how tightly you grasped it. Your eyes grew glassy with tears that wouldn’t fall as you refused to blink; the sight before you too extraordinary to miss.

Rituals were in and of themselves a sight to behold, regardless of the papa delivering it, but since you had joined the Satanae Ecclesiae when you did, you had the sublime pleasure of being guided by Papa Emeritus III…or Terzo as he insisted most everyone call him. He was dramatic and perverted and commanding- a fair contrast, you had been told, to his predecessors. There were very few reserved or modest bones in his body.

As the man stood upon his pulpit and spoke down to you and your fellow brothers and sisters, his words seemed to muffle in your ears, though you still absorbed them. It was as if he was communicating to you on another plane of being. Like a sixth sense. You wondered if that was how your fellow children of sin felt, or if you were alone in your rapture.

“…bow your heads now my children, and let your eyes fall to the stone beneath your feet, for it is what lay beneath them that will be your forever home once you are freed from your life here. You are cursed and damned, may Satan devour your souls…Nema.” His voice echoed in the large stone hall, and following his words, you all bowed your heads, and the soft murmur of “Nema.” rippled around you.

You finally sucked in a deep breath that you had been meaning to for an hour, but simply hadn’t been able to lest you make a noise in the silent room. The last thing you wanted were more eyes on you. You had made a point of remaining as anonymous as possible ever since you had been initiated during your first ritual.

That night, you had been told to stand before the pulpit, and accept the ceremonial welcoming from your papa, just as everyone else had. However, as soon as he had knelt down to you, and extended his hand with a flick of his wrist for you to take, your mind had gone blank. Your papa had taken your hand, and pulled you to the edge of the pulpit where he leaned over to you, drawing you in as close as you could before your ribs ached from being pressed against the wood. Those mismatched eyes of his had bored into your soul and mind. You didn’t even remember reciting your vows, but evidently you had done well as the next thing you had known you were being pulled in for hugs and kisses to your cheeks from various children of sin.

They had welcomed you into their home with open arms, and you hadn’t looked back. But since then, you had indeed been the talk of the compound.

The sisters nearest to you began to shuffle out, or talk amongst themselves.

It seemed, however, that you had forgotten to lower your gaze from your papa; unfortunately for you, once you did in fact realize your error, it was too late. Papa continued to gaze across the crowd and seeing as you were one of the only faces turned up to him, he caught your stare quickly. You felt as if you had been gripped by his eyes alone; he gazed into your very soul like he knew it was fresh…young…not yet entirely sinful.

He smirked.

Actually smirked.

You felt a shiver run down your spine- you couldn’t look away. It was…it was almost as if he could tell you were still untouched.

But how could he know?

You had told them otherwise…it wasn’t as if he could find out. Your heart began to race at the idea of him knowing that you had lied…

The seats around you began to empty, and you took the movement around you as your escape. It made your chest ache to look away, but the longer you waited the harder it would have been.

The sound of shoes on the stone floors reverberated around the halls, as did the chatter- both lively gossip and sleepy grumbles. As you went to turn down your wing to reach your room, a hand gripped your shoulder and halted you.

“Pardon me sister.”

You turned and saw one of the senior sisters standing before you, a straight stare on her face. You wondered how they showed such little emotion sometimes…you knew that they were indeed capable of a great deal of feeling- you had seen them laugh and smile many times…but there came times where they looked like statues.

“Good evening, sister…can I help?” You replied, hands clasped neatly in front of you.

Your elder nodded.

“His Unholiness has requested your presence imminently.” She said, gesturing behind her, back through the dark corridors.

You felt all blood drain from your face.

Had you done something wrong? Cursed hell below…did he take offence to your staring? We’re not completing your daily duties correctly? Was there something wrong with your initiation-

You froze.

He knew.

When you had joined the welcoming arms of Satanae Ecclesiae, they had asked you whether or not you had been…taken. “Fucked” they had said to be precise. You had nearly choked, and to save your embarrassment, you had managed a “Yes.” Regardless of the lie.

That “Yes” had been one of the biggest lies that you had ever told. Hell, you barely even knew how to touch yourself let along be touched by someone.

“Sister y/n?” The elder asked.

You snapped out of your daze and stared back at her dumbly.

“I asked if you needed me to show you the way to his chambers.” She must have asked a few times to sound that cross.

You quickly shook your head. You knew where he was- you had walked past his door many a time, often blushing from the noises you would hear from behind the door- sometimes his voice, sometimes not. It was understood that Papa took care of his children, and he had his favourites. Said favoured brothers and sisters would…receive special attention from him. Not that you had gotten any sort of attention, and while you grew jealous from the stories you heard, you knew you wouldn’t know what to do even if you…if he…

You blushed.

You wouldn’t even know what to do if they found out your little secret…and now here you were. In that exact situation.

“I-I know where I’m going.” You whispered.

It seemed you stayed rooted to the spot a moment too long as the sister gave you an expectant look.

“Oh! Thank you. I’ll- Thank you sister. Goodnight.” You lowered your head and moved past her as a sign of respect, and scurried off. As soon as you were back in the main hall that split the compound into its various wings, you felt a cold sweat break out on your skin, and a tremor in your hands.

Only a few brothers and sisters passed by you, sending you simple greetings as their eyes devoured you. Then as their voices and footsteps faded away, all you were left with were the constant echoes of the souls who refused to leave the church- even after passing from this world to the next, decades or centuries ago; those who lurked in the shadows and sang to those who would listen…tempting them to join them in the afterlife.

Their mournful voices were addicting, and while it scared some, you found an odd comfort in them- even found yourself speaking to them. They kept you company as you began down the corridor leading to the Emeritus wing. Just as it’s name suggested, every Papa -past and present- lived there. The stones were a beautiful onyx, and gold torches lined the walls, as did various tapestries. It was considered an honour to walk down that hall, and should be treated as an act of worship.

The further you went, the less you could hear as your mind spun. If it weren’t for sheer muscle memory, you would have missed the door to Papa’s chambers. Indeed, due to your youth and desire to please,you had been entrusted with the job of second messenger between Papa II and Sister Imperator- a result of which had you frequenting that very wing daily.

You had grown fairly comfortable after the first two months, though the butterflies never seemed to fully settle when you passed that particular door that led to the current papas chambers.

You stood outside the imposing, ornate door, and your arms felt too heavy to lift and knock on the wood. Your brow was scrunched in thought and worry as you wondered what life might hold for you if they did indeed remove you from the church…where would you go? What would you do?

Your head swam helplessly, and once you finally found your strength to knock, there was a gentle “Enter.” before your knuckles could even touch the wood.

Somehow him being aware of your presence before even hearing or seeing you terrified you more.

If he did know your secret…would you be cast out? Would you be deemed too pure?

Not wanting to keep him longer than you had, you turned the knob, and pushed on the door. The soft glow emanating from hundreds of red, melting candles enveloped you immediately, and you took a moment to gaze around the lush room. A stark contrast to your simple chamber. There were plush carpets, and beautifully woven tapestries on the walls, along with magnificent paintings. Bookshelves stuffed, and vases of black roses.

“Good evening, young sister, you found you way easily I see.”

You slowly looked to your right where a large desk sat infront of a circular window. Well, it wasn’t the desk that you were staring at- it was the man sat at it. Papa Emeritus III, still donning his painted face, tousled hair and white gloves. His black jacket was nowhere to be seen, and his white vest was unbuttoned to show his shirt beneath it- the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had his feet propped up on the top of the desk, and you noticed how much his shoes shined.

He spoke to you, idiot.

“Yes, Papa…Thank you. I was told you required my presence, your unholiness…is there someth-“

“Terzo.” He said simply, a slight roll to his “R”.

You blinked and forgot anything you were saying. “I’m sorry?” You asked, taking a few steps inside as the door closed.

“You and I are alone, little one. You will call me Terzo, yes?” He removed his feet from his desk and leaned forward onto his elbows, giving you his complete, undivided attention. His gaze was even heavier with no crowd to disappear into.

You could already feel a blush creep up from under your habit. “Yes Pa- Terzo.” You managed. You would be lying if you said this was your first time murmuring husband name; although most of the time it was you alone with your thoughts in your chambers when you said it…you nightgown bunched up around your hips and your hand between your thighs-

He smiled, and you nearly buckled at the sight of it. “Good! Now come. Sit. You and I have somethings to discuss.”

You nodded and quickly made you way to the chair in front of the desk, but just as you were about to take a seat, you heard him tut you.

“Ah, ah…” he patted his lap and held his hand out for you, “Here will do.”

For the third time that night, you were rooted to your spot. Immobile. Your eyes flicked to his lap, and the way his legs spread. You would have backed away if it weren’t for his calm face and steady gaze inviting you closer. It was as if his energy alone or some invisible force was beckoning you to him.

You wordlessly walked around the desk, and slowly lowered yourself to perch on his thigh. You would be lying if you said it didn’t feel nice.

“There’s a good girl…now, I hate doing these sorts of things…far too dull for me, but evidently it needs to be done…” he half murmured to himself, running his hand through his hair. You absentmindedly wondered what he used in it. But as soon as the meaning of his words registered in your head, you could feel tears start to well in your eyes, and a sob build in your throat.

This was it.

They were going to send you away, “Are you going t-to punish me?” You whimpered.

Terzo snapped his gaze to you and barked out a laugh; upon seeing your expression however, he schooled his face and thought for a moment. For the right words to comfort you. “I wouldn’t say that, no…I certainly hope you don’t see it as punishment.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and his breath fanned across your face.

You looked away from him, gripping the skirt of your habit, “But you’re going to send me away aren’t you?”

He was silent for a long minute. You assumed it was him thinking of a way to soften the blow, but then he gently turned your face to his, and he spoke so softly. “La mia dolce ragazza…what are you speaking of?” He asked.

You slowly rose your eyes up to meet his. What you were met with was a patient confusion, and you were reminded of the father figure position he held to you and your fellow children of sin.

“I lied.” You whispered, trying to ignore how close he was.

Terzo continued to stare until he blinked and looked away with a nod.

He sighed. “You lied to us…yes.” He nodded again as if to confirm your statement, but somehow the purse of his lips was lacking the seriousness you had expected for such a statement.

A feather-light touch to your hip made you jump. His hand came to settle there, respectfully but still somewhere that could be considered taboo . Then everything hit you all at once. You were in Papa’s chambers…sat in his lap, with his hand on your hip and his breath against your cheek and you could smell him so clearly…Satan he smelled good-

“But…” he sighed, “You know I like to think I am a fair papa…” he looked at you again, and this time his arm came to rest around your waist, cradling you. “Would you like to stay?” He asked.

Your eyes went wide. “Very much.”

“Yes?” He asked, his hand creeping back down to your hip; his grip a little less gentlemanly. Terzo’s touch, however, was so gentle you didn’t even notice him hiking your dress up; even as the cool air snaked up your ankles and calves.

“Please.” You breathed, hoping he’d see how badly you wished to stay.

Terzo’s chest began to rise and fall quicker.

“I think we are both very well aware that something needs to change, hm?” His hand was now under your skirt, at the soft crease between your thigh and your hip, gloved thumb stroking your skin.

It was then, that you finally realised that you were no longer the picture of sinful modesty.

“P-papa-?” You whispered, suddenly hyper aware of how he had been dragging you closer to him on his lap. Indeed, when you had originally taken your seat on him, you had begun on his knee, and he now had you firmly tucked into his hip- your rear against his groin.

Tsk. He clicked his tongue.

Your eyes widened at your mistake, “Ter-Terzo, forgive me.” You corrected yourself, “I’m…what are you-“ you couldn’t find the right words. You expected yourself to awaken at any moment- that this was all just another one of your dreams where you’d awaken with an ache between your thighs where you wished his head would be.

“You haven’t noticed have you?” He cooed.

There was nothing you could do but stare at him, and Terzo was more than happy to elaborate.

“You think I haven’t been craving to touch you since you lied so clearly that first day? You thought I didn’t notice?” His breath was against your neck, smoothing against your skin, down under your collar.

“I-I don’t-“ you couldn’t think as his hand dipped completely under your skirt and over your navel, just skimming the top of your panties; his hands steady as ever, as if he had no idea what he did to you.

“You don’t? Shame. You got me fucking hard tonight, you know that?…La mia bella ragazza.” His voice lowered into a husky rasp that sent shivers up and down your spine. “I knew you lied. I knew no one had been given the pleasure of having you…I could almost taste you…” his hands wandered even more, the other now pulling your habit to slip it inside and palm your breast, his gloved fingers pinching your nipple. “Will you let me have you, la mia piccola?”

Your breathing came in quick gasps and your chest rose and fell rapidly; every inch of your skin was on fire.

Who were you to say no to your papa?

You nodded, words escaping you.

Terzo clicked his tongue again, “No no no no, mia bella…tell your papa.”

He wanted to hear you. A simple nod would not suffice when he desired the joy of hearing your pathetic little voice telling him you were his to have.

But then he heard that little intake of breath, and before you even spoke he knew you were weakened for him.

“Take-take me papa…” you whispered.

Those words alone were nearly enough to break the great Terzo apart…but somehow he remained whole. Whole and completely unable to restrain himself.

“Satana aiutami…” he purred before his lips were on yours and his hand under your skirt was dipping under your panties. You could taste the makeup he still wore, and wine on his tongue but they only made you dizzier; melting even further into his touch.Something that evidently pleased him greatly.

His hand drew gentle circles around your clit, but after only a moment he pulled away; an involuntary mewl left you.

He chuckled and kissed your hair. You were already so helplessly needy for him.

Then, he nodded to something just past your face, and when you followed his gaze, you were met with his gloved hand, fingers now by your mouth. You looked from him to the glove, and after a moment, you leaned forward and took the tip of the index finger into your mouth and pulled. The fabric came clean off, but you kept it in your mouth.

Terzo’s lips parted and his eyes became heavy as he watched his pristine glove dampen between your lips. You thought he might kiss you again, but instead he ripped the fabric from your mouth and replaced it with two of his fingers, place on the top of your tongue like an offering. He could have just taken what he wanted but instead he watched you intently. Waiting.

You tentatively ran your tongue along them, and watched your papa for any guidance, but all he could offer was a “Sì…that’s it.”

His makeup was smudged around his mouth, and his tongue looked as though it might being to lap at you, but he restrained himself as you began to suckle and lick at his long fingers. Terzo’a chest began to rise and fall quicker and quicker until he was nearly panting at the sight of you. Until it was too much. “Cosa mi stai facendo, ragazzina?” He asked with no desire for an answer.

He ripped his hand from your mouth and covered it with his lips again as his large hands groped at the fabric of your habit; pulling and tugging at it until the skirt was completely up around your hips and you were bare to him. You instinctively wished to cover yourself, but you fought to stay good for him- he wanted you bare and that was what you would be.

“Forgive me, piccola bellezza…Ti prego, lascia che ti tocchi!” He panted against your tongue. Your head was so dizzy you didn’t even care what he was saying…he could have asked to drink your blood and you would have been helpless to say no. So you nodded.

The next thing you felt were his hands on your hips. One running across your stomach then the other dipped down your navel.

“Y-you’re not goi-ng to fu- um- ah!” You could barely form words as his ungloved hand crept to the edge of your panties again and snapped the elastic before rubbing down your mound over your clit to your slit where he dipped his finger over the fabric to toy with you a little more.

“Oh I will fuck you mi amor…but you know my brothers? They have been taunting me…telling me I might never taste you…and I think I will do just that…very unhurriedly…and very thoroughly.” He worked his fingers past the hem of your panties until he found your bare bundle of nerves, and began to stroke it so gently you almost wondered if it was happening at all.

His free hand came up your torso to your neck where he held your head to the side easier; his lips coming back to yours in a slow but biting kiss. His teeth nipped and he sucked at your tongue like it was an offering from Satan himself.Terzo hooked your knees over his, giving complete control over the spread of your thighs to him.

By the time your papa had finished with your clit, your hips were bucking as if you were coursing with electricity with each pet and touch. His hot breath fanned over your cheeks as his concentration began to slip from your mouth down to between your legs.

Terzo eased his finger down from your clit to the slick slit that was begging for his touch. You clenched your thighs automatically at the foreign feeling, but his legs stopped them. “Ah ah…you’re doing so well, mia dolce piccola vergine…so well for your papa.” Terzo’s breathless voice sent a shiver down your spine. His excitement was as evident in his tone as it was against your backside, pressing into you.

He stroked through your wet lips, slightly dipping in before retreating again- enjoying torturing you. And oh your sounds made it all worth it. Whining, whimpering, your needy little pleas; your hands gripping his arms as they held you and caged you.

Again and again he denied you- savouring the fact that he would be the first person to toy with you as such. He hoped he would be the last as well…though with his brothers and that cardinal who loved rats, he knew…it was unlikely he would be able to keep you to himself.

“T-Terzo pl-please- ah….” You cried, tears shining in your eyes as your body pulsed with need. You hadn’t even cum yet and you were nearly limp from arousal. Your thighs twitched with every breath of his on your skin. After so long of wanting exactly this, you were finally there and couldn’t even find the words to express what an array of passionate emotions you were feeling.

Until finally, he relented, and slipped his long finger inside you. There was a moment where all time seemed to stop as his finger filled you. It was thick, and he immediately seemed to find that spot inside you that had you gasping for air. He bullied it with the pad of his finger, over and over again he stroked it, adding a second finger to the sweet torture.

It didn’t take long before you were stalking your head. “N-no please it-it’s too much!” You managed to get out in a rush as a hot coil began to twist and turn in your guts; getting tighter and tighter until you were crying out for mercy, to which you recieved a low, pleased chuckle from the man behind you.

“Are you going to cum?” He cooed.

Your eyes drooped and your lips parted, “I-I don’t- I - ah…I’m n-not su-“ your own high pitched whine interrupted your admission.

He tsked you. “My poor sweet thing…you are going to cum…that’s what it feels like, precious. Just do as I say, yes?” His voice was a purr in your ear. You trusted him. This was your papa…and he would take cared of you.~

You nodded helplessly, knowing you couldn’t do anything but that.

“I’m going to count down for you. You will count with me, yes?” Terzo crooked his fingers inside you and your vision began to go starry.

You nodded again. “Y-ah! Yes!”

“Good…10.” He began.

“10.” You said.

“9…” He began to strike you more deliberately, and you repeated the number; albeit very shakily.

“8.” He murmured, steadily fingering you in and out, not wanting to rush a single moment.

“7.” Trying to remember the number he had just said was difficult, but again you managed to whimper out the number.

“6….you can do it.” His grip around your waist was growing tighter, and you briefly wondered if he might crush you.

“5.” Halfway there and you felt as if you were holding on for dear life. You couldn’t even form words any longer, and thus resorted to tapping your finger five times on his forearm.

“4.” His voice was getting rougher with each second.

“3…” You knew you were close. Your legs began to shake and your moans refused to calm.

“2……” Terzo licked a long stripe up your neck, all the way to your ear.

“1.” You both said one in unison and it was as if he could play your body like an instrument; the next moment your papa was holding you like a lifeline. It was all too much for you mind and body alike, and you had not choice but to come apart in his arms.

“Ahhh there you go…well done.” He praised you, slowing his movements down to stroke you through your orgasm- the first of many. The sheer thought alone had him nearly bouncing with excitement. He would be the one to make you feel so perfectly.

He stilled his hand inside you, your gently little sobs were enough to tell him you were finished and overstimulated.

By the time Terzo was done with you, you had asleep in his bed instead of retiring to your chambers like you were supposed to. Not that Terzo minded, in fact he was considering keeping you there permanently for his own enjoyment.

His sweet little pet.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#ghost #ghost band #terzo emeritus #terzo x reader #papa emertius #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus smut

[theratboyking]

Mine

Pairing: Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus IV/ Reader

word count: 666 (Let's goooooooo)

Summary: The number of times he had taken you in his office, Primo’s garden, hell, even the kitchen one time was becoming too many times to count. It was starting to get out of hand, but the way he always seemed to make your toes curl as he fucked you stupidly always made you forget how annoyed you were getting from it.

Warnings: This is little pure smut, MDI, Not proofread.

AO3 Link

Masterlist

“Who do you belong to?” Copia’s voice was a low growl. His thrust was relentless, only growing with urgency with each passing moment. All you could do was hold on for dear life as he fucked into you. Each thrust hits that sweet spot that only he seemed to know where it was, leaving you breathless.

Moaning, you let your head fall to the side. Thinking about what led you to this– What you thought was nothing more than a friendly interaction between you and a fellow sibling had somehow led to you being dragged out of the room by Copia. You’ve never seen him so possessive before. Something in him changed since he had become Papa. No one can look at you for longer than a few minutes before Copia’s jealousy takes over. Despite your constant reassurance that you only had eyes for him–his days as the shy cardinal that no one but you seemed to give a glace to still haunted him.

The number of times he had taken you in his office, Primo’s garden, hell, even the kitchen one time was becoming too many times to count. It was starting to get out of hand, but the way he always seemed to make your toes curl as he fucked you stupidly always made you forget how annoyed you were getting from it.

You really couldn't say how many times you’ve cummed by now, and you were pretty sure everyone in the Abbey could hear you both, but fuck, you really couldn't bring yourself to care.

Copia refused to allow you to think of anything else but him.“Eyes on me, cara.” He takes his hand and brings your face so your eyes stare back into his. “Tell me, cara, or else I’ll have to stop.”

“You! Fuck, I’m yours!” You finally manage to get out, not wanting him to stop.

“That’s right. You belong to me.” His pace quickens, if that was even possible. Fucking you stupid. “This pussy belongs to me. No one else can make you feel how I make you feel.”

“Yes, you. All you, papa” He thrusts deeper into you, letting out his own breathless moans.

“Mine. Mine. All mine!”

Each word is followed but a thrust of his hips. Punctuating of each word drives his point home. His hands dug into your hips, sure to leave bruises in the morning. You were so lost in bliss and rapidly approaching orgasm that you didn’t care. Your only focus was on him. Always on him.

“Cum for me, amore mia” His hand touched your sensitive clit, rubbing circles. You cried, overstimulated from all the attention he had been so pleased to give you.

It did not take long for you to fall over the edge. Cumming with a shrill cry as white overtakes your vision. Then, all you could see were stars as he continued to thrust into you, chasing his own rapidly approaching releases.

“giusto, sborrami sul cazzo” It was nothing more than a rumble in his chest.

His release was not far behind. His thrusts lost the rhythm he had created but were no less powerful. It only took a few more for him to cum into you with a cry, his face coming to rest on your neck–biting down hard to show everyone just who you belonged to.

You both stay like that for a moment, desperately trying to catch your breath. Copia lifts his head. Bring his lips to yours for a loving kiss, pulling out of you before resting on your other side.

“Hai fatto così bene amore mio” He whispers into your hair. “I’m sorry if I was a bit rough amore mia.” He pulled away to look down at you.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my love.” You bring yourself so that you’re level with him. “I’ll always be your, my sweet Copia.” Bringing him in for a chiseled kiss. Settling in his arms, wanting to be nowhere else.

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

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 5th

Collaring, Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2k

Warnings: Collaring and leashes; established relationship; power play?; dom!Terzo; sub!Reader; piv; vaginal sex; protected sex; clothed man, semi-naked woman; vaginal fingering; masturbation; choking; positive degradation; spanking; cunnilingus; squirting; cumswap (sorry not sorry); nipple play; free use?; body worship;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Terzo was already sat on the bed waiting for you when you entered the room, your frame decorated with black lingerie and harnesses. Terzo, after a long day at the Ministry filled with meetings and stressful actions, was still fully clothed in his suit, albeit missing the jacket. His legs were open as they often were when beginning a scene like this - he liked this posture because it made him feel powerful. In his right hand was a thick, black, leather collar, with a circular ring screwed into the middle of it. He fully intended to put you in that tonight.

“Come here, tesoro.” He requested softly. His voice was deep and smooth as it usually was in the bedroom, and it had you melting. You obeyed him and bent slightly at the knees, allowing him from his seated position to clasp the thick collar around your neck. Following a chaste kiss to your red lips, he then clipped a silver, metal leash to the collar. “On your knees for me.”

You placed yourself in front of him as gracefully as you could, your eyes never breaking the contact with his. You knew better than to make any movements or decisions. Papa was in charge now. Papa would tell you what to do.

“Touch yourself.”

Your hand immediately went down to your clothed clit and began to rub over the black cotton that covered it, teasing yourself for Terzo’s enjoyment. You immediately began bucking your hips in time with your movements chasing as much pleasure as you could from the muted touch. Your noises were soft but genuine, the pleasure was great but not enough to have you screaming. Terzo’s hand grasped onto the other end of the collar tightly, though his eyes were transfixed by your hand, obsessed with the way that it was moving and giving you the pleasure that he asked for.

“Does your hand feel good, tesoro?” Terzo asked, very much affected by your little show.

“Yes, Papa. Fuck! Not as good as yours, though. I l-love the way your fingers feel on me… inside of me.”

“Hmm.”

Your other hand moved from your thigh up to your breast, grasping it and playing with it to put on the extra show for Papa. Your fingers found the erect nipple poking through the delicate lace of the bra and began pinching and playing with it, giving Terzo an extra moan of satisfaction. All the while the pupils of his mismatched eyes were blown out, and staring at you with nothing but lust and adoration. You were pleasing him, you could see by the very prominent bulge under his trousers.

“Papa!” Whimpering his title was a sure fire way of getting him riled up. He wanted to seem powerful today, he wanted to remind himself of his position. Seeing you on your knees at his mercy was a sure fire way of doing that.

As the pleasure became too much you stopped your ministrations on your breast and instead clutched onto the loose chain of the leash, and your hand moved faster and faster over your clit, still trapped under the fabric of your panties. Meanwhile, your hole was clenching around nothing, screaming out for your fingers to fill it. But Papa hadn’t told you to move your panties, or even put your fingers inside you. So your hips continued to buck against the air desperately searching for the friction you craved.

Terzo loosened the leash (though it wasn’t particularly tight to begin with) and wrapped it a little around his hand. That same hand came to caress your cheek, the cold metal of the leash contrasting with the warmth of his touch. His thumb found its way into your mouth, and he watched with carnal interest as you began to suck on it, gliding over its length like you did with his cock. He exhaled deeply and mindlessly spoke, “Just like that.” At this point, his voice was hoarse and gravelly, but that word was so quiet you almost missed it. But you didn’t - and your fingers began to work over your clit even faster as you sucked his thumb.

He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and you gave the tip one final lick before he took his hand away altogether. “Will you cum for Papa, tesoro? Will you show Papa how good you feel being watched by him as you pleasure yourself, hm?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Are you close?”

“Mm-hmm.”

You continued to work yourself into a frenzy, rubbing quickly over your clit and applying more pressure. You looked at Terzo whose eyes were glued to your vulva, obsessively watching you work yourself over. At no point did he touch himself. He just watched. And that was the thought that drove you over the edge, and made you cum for him, stilling as your orgasm washed over you and had moans spilling from your lips.

“Che brava ragazza per tuo Papa. On the bed, tesoro. Ass in the air.”

You crawled across the floor then climbed into position, getting yourself ready for him as he had asked. You arched your back and placed your head onto the bed, allowing the roundness of your ass to really pop, and this earned you an appreciative smack to one of your cheeks.

He hummed admiringly. “My beautiful bitch.”

Another smack. This time, the hit was followed by him groping your offended cheek and pushing them upwards, in turn spreading your labia apart and over the gusset of your panties. “So wet for Papa. What a gift for me, eh? I was blessed by the Dark One, no?” With his hands still pulling your body apart, he dove into your cunt, licking the wet fabric of your panties and playing with your sensitive clit. The gusset was already soaked with the wetness of your previous release, but now it was just drenched. Terzo wasn’t much of a fan of this, and quickly moved your panties to the side, giving him full access to your sodden folds.

His tongue came down on your folds again, but this time there was nothing to dampen the sensation, causing you to cry out in sensitivity. As soon as his tongue was on you, however, it disappeared but soon replaced by two fingers poking at your entrance, sliding in with no resistance and immediately getting to work. Because of your position, his thick fingers curved downwards in order to hit that spot inside you that had you screaming. “Una ragazza di facili costumi, sì? Letting Papa do whatever he wants to you. Are you this much of a slut for my brothers? Or am I the only one who gets the privilege?”

“J-just you, Papa. I spread my legs only for you. Oh fuck, Papa, just like that, please don’t stop!”

“Do my fingers feel that good, tesoro? Good enough to have you wailing like that? Merda! Listen to yourself.” He began to finger you harder in order to make his point, the squelch of your heat getting louder with his roughness. “Acqua empia direct from Sathanas himself.” He bent down to lick and suck at your clit again. “More delicious than any wine.” The way his fingers were moving inside of you and how hard he sucked on your clit, you could feel yourself tipping over the edge. Without moving much, he spoke again. “Cum, tesoro. Bless me.”

After his instruction, you came for a second time biting into the sheets on the bed; your cum squirting from your body and onto his face. You could hear him slurping everything up as though he were drinking from a water fountain, moaning at your taste. He left you briefly to lie in front of you, propping himself up on his elbow. He lifted your head to meet him and kissed you deeply, transferring the cum he collected into your mouth. There was so much of it, it spilled down both of your chins and wiped away what remained of the paint around his mouth. When he pulled away from you, sinfully pink and swollen lips peeked out from behind the dramatic makeup, and had you gasping for air.

“Now it is Papa’s turn, sì?”

He stood and rummaged through his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. He handed it to you for you to open, and while you removed it from its packaging, he unbuckled and unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from its confines. “Get Papa ready, per favore.”

You placed the rolled condom in your mouth and moved towards his dick, using your lips to unroll it onto him all the way down to the base. He hissed at the feeling. “Puttana.”

He knelt behind you, still fully clothed and ready to go. His hands gripped your hips, gave you one, hard spank, and thrust all the way to the hilt, not waiting for your cunt to adjust to his size. “Take it all.”

He immediately got to work, his hips snapping against yours quickly and hitting that spot right at the back of your pussy making you scream out each time. “Fuck, Papa!” You called. “Use me for your pleasure!”

Terzo always felt so good inside you, he was so thick and long and stretched you out so well. Usually by the time he was done with you, you were an aching, shaky mess on the bed, unable to breathe or even think.

You arched your back for him again, and moved your hips to meet his thrusts, making your ass jiggle more than it usually would. A string of Italian expletives fell from his mouth, each one telling you how much of a whore you were for him and how Hellish your pussy felt.

“A filthy succubus sent from Sathanas to tempt me into sin.”

His hand moved to your side to pick up the leash that lay forgotten on the bed, and he tugged it hard enough to make you rise onto your hands. He tugged once more, a little tighter this time to restrict your airways and make it difficult for you to breathe. He would periodically loosen his grip to let you gasp for air before he tugged it again and choked you.

Your own hand came down to play with your clit one more time.

“Always so tight for me, tesoro.” He watched the cream from your pussy gather at the base of his cock. “Always so wet and pliant.” Release. “I wish you could know how divine you feel. How this cunt gives me new life.” Tug. “I could conquer the world with you hanging off my dick. Fucking shit! Così stretto.” Release. “Perhaps I’ve been worshiping the wrong god all along.” Tug. His thrusting became faster and more erratic. The one hand that remained on your hip held on even tighter than before, like he was too scared to let go or you might disappear and leave him unsatisfied. Release.

“Papa! You - fuck! - You’re gonna make me cum!”

Tug. “Tell me, tesoro! Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“No one could compare, Papa!” Release. “No one could ever make me cum as hard as you. I’m yours! I’m always yours. Fuck, Papa, I’m so close. Please!”

“Cum on my cock, tesoro. Give Papa your pleasure!”

Your cunt tightened around him to an almost suffocating level. It was so difficult for him to move inside you as you hit your third orgasm of the night, choking underneath the collar he put around your neck. More of your sweet nectar spilled out from your cunt and drenched his pants in it, soaking the sheets underneath you. This caused Terzo to thrust one final time inside you before emptying his load into the condom, the very same thing he cursed when he realised he wouldn’t get to see his seed drip out of you the way he wanted to.

When he was spent, he collapsed onto the bed next to you, breathing hard. His lips found yours again and pulled you in for a desperate kiss, tongues rubbing together with need. That was when he finally removed the collar from your neck and replaced it with his hand. The collar was thrown to the floor in disregard and made a loud clunking sound as it made contact with the wood. Terzo didn’t care, he just pulled you into him and held you, his lips still kissing at yours claiming the intimacy you both needed. He was yours, and you were his. And that was how it was to remain.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

#mel writes #kinktober 2023 #ghost kinktober #the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #ghost the band #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii smut #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader smut #terzo #terzo smut #terzo x reader #terzo x reader smut #papa emeritus #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus x reader smut #papa terzo #papa terzo smut #papa terzo x reader #papa terzo x reader smut

[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons - 💋💑

Day 15 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**WARNING - NSFW**

Also available on AO3!

My headcanons of ~lovemaking~ with the Papas

Primo

Perfectly content to lay on his back and watch you ride, too old and tired to do anything wild and crazy

Had lots of wild sexventures in his youth and is happy to have missionary or cowgirl sex for the rest of his days

Refers to the act as “making love” for general sex, or “fornication” for a quickie

Always conscious about wearing a condom

Lots of kissing and cute pet names

Rarely, if ever, says he loves you but treats you so sweetly you know he does

Switch but mostly a pleasure dom

Won’t stop until you cum

Surprisingly gentle touch

Painfully aware of the size of his member and makes sure to ease into you and makes sure you’re very wet and ready for him

Secondo

Prefers to let you ride him but he controls the motions and speed from the bottom

Also loves spooning you so he can reach around to your front

Has a good read on facial expressions and can generally tell what you’re in the mood for and pays attention to your body language during sex

Comes prepared with toys, lube, condoms, dilators, and other accouterments

Loves to play with your nipples

Leaves you one of his button down shirts to wear afterwards

Indulges in a cigar or cigarette, or a glass of whiskey, in bed with you after

Almost always a dom and will play it rough when you want it

Easily makes you cum multiple times

Wants to service and be serviced by his sub

Loves facefucking you

Terzo

Romantic gestures- lights lot of candles, spreads rose petals on the floor and bed, dims the lights, draws you a bubble bath, sends you roses or a lunch delivery at work

Seduces you all day through texts which include “So what are you wearing? 😼” and “Wanna fuck?”

Has an extensive toy collection

He calls the act fucking but definitely adjusts to the mood/vibe depending on whether you want it slow or fast

Desperate to get you off multiple times

Won’t let himself cum until you have at least once before him

Studies your body’s reactions so he knows when you’re about to have an orgasm

Gets turned on by turning you on

LOTS of foreplay and lots of lube

Consistently asks if you’re comfortable

Likes to switch positions a lot

LOVES doggystyle because it makes him feel bigger

Is relieved when you say you’re on birth control but has condoms in his room and office just in case

Loves cumming inside you but also loves to spill his seed on your chest and see how much you milked him

Switch, but can easily adapt to whatever works in his partner dynamic

Cardinal Copia

Finishes quickly and is a little ashamed about it but is assured when you tell him it’s okay and you know he’s just so turned on by you that he couldn’t help it

Sniffs your underwear you left in his room the night before to get hard again and anticipate the next time

Nearly cums his pants just during the makeout session pre-sex

Carries a condom in his wallet

Wants you to undress him

Surprised and overjoyed if he makes you cum but often confuses your moans as orgasms even if you haven’t yet

Keeps asking “Is this okay?”

Acts like a Casanova IRL but when it’s just the two of you he gets a little shy

Not sure how to incorporate toys but is willing to try

Popia

He absolutely calls it “making love”

Has clear distinctions between just fucking and lovemaking

Absolutely loves facing one another on your sides, one leg hooked over your hip to press you up and down on his cock, so he can look you in the eyes and kiss your face

Loves missionary too

Almost more excited for foreplay and the chance to see you naked than (penetrative) sex

Whispers “I love you, I love you” while kissing your face

Switch; wants to fuck you and also get fucked

Proud if he can get you off multiple times in one session

Can sense if something is wrong or you’re uncomfortable and will stop immediately

Lowkey begging you to peg/top him since you started dating. He’s never tried it but wants you to dominate him

Enjoys cumming inside you because he’s never felt closer to another human than in that intimate moment. The first time he said he loved you was when he came inside you for the first time

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band smut #papa emeritus x reader #ghost band fanfic #copia is my husband #kinktober 2023 #terzo #copia emeritus #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus i x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus smut #the band ghost fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #terzhoe

[sinclqir]

Cardinal Copia Imagine

first greetings

—————————————

cardinal copia x female reader

warnings (nsfw)

masturbation

word count: idk

you walk down the lavish halls of the ministry, admiring the beautiful work around. as you walk you don’t see a the figure coming at you, walking very quickly. the two of you collide. “mia dispiace!” the figure says. you look up and see a timid man in a crimson cassock. “sorry, i didn’t see you.” you reply to the man. “i havent seen you around, what is your name?” he clasps his hands together, waiting for you answer.

“i’m y/n.” he nods quickly and reaches out for a handshake, reaching a little too far with his hand and accidentally grazes your breast. his hand recoils and his face turns as red as his cassock. “m-mia dispiace! i was going for a h-handshake…” he averts his eyes to the ground, almost dying from embarrassment. “it’s fine.” you reply and reach your own hand out for a handshake. as if he couldn’t feel more embarrassed, he reaches out again with the wrong hand. you giggle at his actions. “what’s your name?” his eyes widen for a moment before he reply’s with, “cardinal copia.”

“well nice to meet you cardinal copia.” you smile warmly. he enjoys the way his name comes out to your mouth. no, no you just met her! ,he thought. he felt butterflies in his belly whenever you talked. he felt stupid that he can’t even act normal when an attractive woman has small talk with him. no wonder why you’re still a virgin at the ripe age of 52, he was lost in his thoughts as you spoke. “cardinal?” you asked.

“si?” he looked up at your y/e/c eyes. “did you hear me?” you smile at him with a slight puzzled look. “oh…what did you say?” his face redden even more, the color tinting his ears as well. “i asked if you’re doing okay, you’re extremely red. are you sick?” he blushes harder, not helping his case. “no, no i’m fine. sto proprio bene.” he awkwardly itches the back of his neck. “well i have to meet with Sister, it was very nice meeting you. i hope i see you around more often copia.” the way his name lingers on your tongue drove him crazy. you reached and rubbed his shoulder slightly with your hand before leaving, sending pleasure through his body. his body shudders. he felt his pants tightening and body tense up at the slight touch. he scurried to his room.

once he enters his room he walks over to his mirror. “really? you really can’t handle a graze on your arm?” he scold himself, but feels his cock twitch in his pants. “cazzo.” he says through gritted teeth. his hand slowly trails to his hard on and he palms himself slowly through his pants. his breath quickens. he starts unbuttoning his cassock. it’s falls to the floor, his hand returns to its original place. “ah~” he whimpers slightly. he walks to the edge of his bed and continues. he feels a wet patch through his pants, precum practically leaking from his tip like a faucet. it’s noticeable through his white, tight suit. sweat beads at the top of his head as his face contorts in pleasure. “y/n…” he whines out your name.

he feels himself growing closer to his orgasm, but before he can cum, a knock is heard at his door. “sei fottutamente serio in questo momento?” he says through gritted teeth as he walks up to his door, annoyed his alone time had gotten cut just before his release. he opens his door and to his surprise, it’s you. the same person who he was imagining was pleasuring him. his face reddens quickly, eyes widen. “i heard you call out my name. is everything okay?” you ask sincerely, worried he is in distress. his hand flys to cover his throbbing erection. “si…si im fine…i’m okay…”he replies shyly. you cant help but think he’s cute whenever he looks down at the ground. “well, sister wanted me to give these to you, be careful , they’re quite heavy.”

“grazie..” he goes to grab the large binder but his hands fly back down to cover his large bulge. “uhm…could you put them on the table for me? per favore?”

“of course! where do you want me to set them?” he tells you to set them on the table. you start walking into his room, looking at the beautiful setting around you. it’s decorated with dark red and gold accents, being a mostly black room. you don’t notice his cassock lying on the ground as you trip on it. the binder goes flying and as do you. but before you reach the ground, he grabs your waist and pulls you close to him. your back is flushed against his front. you feel something poking your ass, eyes widening, realizing that it’s him.

he feels your body tense up, feeling like an absolute pervert at this moment. he lets go of you quickly, hand going back down to hide his dick. it’s throbs harder than ever now that it touched you in such a lewd way. his precum comes more heavily.

you try to be rational, assuming that the hard thing that pressed against your backside was just something in his pocket. you turn around to face him and take in his state. hands over his crotch area, face beet red, sweat dripping from his hairline. you look down at his pants, noticing how incredibly tight they were. there is definitely not anything his pocket, you would’ve seen it in his tight ahh pants.

you both stare at each other, not knowing what to say. “you must be huge.” your hand flys to your mouth. why the fuck did i just say that!?

his eyes bulge out of his head. “q-que?” he grips his crotch harder at your sudden boldness. you decide to keep up with the confidence, “you heard me.” voice wavering slightly, testing the waters.

is this really happening right now, or is my imagination extremely realistic? he’s asks himself. “move your hands.” he’s taken aback at the demand. you hold your ground, walking up to him slowly. “i don’t like repeating myself copia.” the two of you are face to face. he looks down at you and complies. you look down in between the two of you, taking in his erection. the precum in his pants shows prominently. his mouth opens slightly, breath fanning your face. “what were you doing before i knocked on your door?”

“i…i was just reading! si..si reading…” his voice is shaking slightly.

“don’t lie to me.” you hook your finger under his chin and make him look into your eyes. “were you pleasuring yourself?”

he nods.

“what were you thinking of?” you ask knowingly.

“you…” he says quietly. “hmm? i cant hear you.”

“you…i was thinking of you.”

“such a pervert… thinking of a woman half your age that you barely just met.” you say in a lower voice.

his eyes water in embarrassment. before he could say anything else, your hand slowly starts trailing down his chest. his breath hitches.

you meet his aching cock and squeeze slightly, his knees lock, “y/n….” he whimpers. you smirk at him, loving the way he reacts to your touch. you lean forward to his ear. “goodnight mi cardinale~” you give him one last squeeze and walk towards the door.

he stands still in his place as you leave. what just happened? he asks himself. before more thoughts could invade his head , his cock twitches in his pants. he decides to continue what he started.

he slides down his pants and boxers, and his cock springs free. he wraps his hand around his shaft and strokes himself, squeezing his tip every time he reaches the head. his pace goes quicker, thrusting his hips into his hand. “y/n…oh cazzo~!” he fucks his hand and cums quickly, sticky strings of semen coating his hand.

he can’t wait to see you tomorrow, wondering what you would do next. would you pretend it never happen or would you tease him about the situation. he hoped it was the second option, secretly living for the way you degraded him.

—————————————

this is my first imagine i’ve written, no criticism, my ego can’t handle it, i’m just playing, but i’m serious

hope u enjoy, lmk if you want a part two

#cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus smut #cardinal copia smut #papa emeritus fanfiction #papa emeritus the fourth #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv #ghost band #the band ghost #imagine

[ivyroseposin]

A Helping Hand (A Cardinal Copia One Shot)

Cardinal Copia and Reader

Summary: There's nothing between Cardinal and his white suit or how much the white suit shows.

Just before the show Cardinal and his love get a little distracted and he needs a bit of hand to get rid of a problem before the show starts in ten.

Smutty

Words: 1,747

“Cardinals on in twenty” A guy ran thru the hallway balancing a load of stuff in his hands. I stared back at him watching as he zoomed past people almost dropping his stuff a comedy act if you really thought about it. 

As the time got closer to stage time the more busier and loud the hallways became. With people rushing around to get stuff done or ghouls jumping around trying to tie their boots because for some reason they can't sit and tie they instead multitask horribly. “Have you seen Copia” I passed Cirrus who was doing some voice training. “Last time I saw him he was in the dressing room fixing his hair” She rolled her eyes with a chuckle. I laughed shaking my head imagining him in the mirror just trying his best to get his hair the way he wants. “Well I will see you on stage well on the side of it anyways and do remember to tie your shoes” I pointed to both boots that were untied and dragging on the floor. “Crap” She mumbled to herself. 

I loved these days well the days when they performed and I didn't have to do any stressing work for the clergy. It was a bonus that I could listen to music and have a good time plus I liked the music so it was another bonus. 

“Remind Cardinal it's white suit today,” A sister said passing by.”Of course the fan favorite” I replied. The one where everything was on display. Don't get me wrong I was not complaining but I did know how much he sometimes hated to wear it. As he worded it. “Everything is in the wrong place” over and over again. 

“DARLING” I heard a yell while I passed a room. “Huh,” I said looking up to see the dressing room worded on the door. “Copia” I cheered walking into the room. There he stood sitting in the seat staring up at me. “White suit huh,” I asked closing the door behind me. “It's a good day to wear the suit” he winked. “Cocky” I whispered watching as he spun his chair around to face the mirror. “How's the hair,” I asked walking behind his seat. “A mess” He grumbled smoothing it down with his hand. I leaned down my lips near his ear. “It looks fine it always looks fine” We made eye contact in the mirror his ears becoming a light pink. 

“Why must you look at me like that” He whispered our eye contact not breaking. “No idea what you are talking about” I stood up turning away from him hiding the obviously stupid blush forming on my face. Copia and I relationship was weird we did things that couples did but we were not a couple.  Some would call it friends with benefits. 

“Are you ready for my show love?” He asked standing up from his seat. “Of course and I get to have free drinks and watch you dry hump the air it's going to be a wonderful evening” I explained leaning back on the couch. “I do it pretty good eh” He winked walking next to me. “You do I, I mean I hear the roars of the fans every time” and I mean every time I swear I would see some fans drooling their eyes peeled to copia. “Hello,” Swiss knocked on the door and before he waited for an answer he pushed the door open nearly falling to the ground. 

“We are on in ten minutes,” He said shooting finger guns as he backed. “What they said you have twenty minutes” I stared up at the clock to see time only went by a few minutes.

“The suit looks good?” Copia asked standing in front of me. The suit almost melted into his body and god was it hot. “Uh huh,” I breathed staring down at the ground. “Am I flustering you” He stepped closer. He raised his hand to under my chin raising my head. “Huh,” I asked looking up at him. “One day you should look into some better pants you know pants where you can wear underwear” I added in causing him to chuckle. “Why could I if I get this reaction, especially from you” He inched closer. I could smell the strong mint lingering. “No, you have ten minutes to show you need to get ready” I slightly pushed on his chest to push him away but he didn't budge. “We have time to fix your fluster” He kissed my neck gently his free hand on the hem of my shorts. His body was close and I could feel his hard growing on my thigh. “I will be fine you have a show to do” I slightly nudged him again. He didn't budge his lips falling to my collar bone sucking on my skin. “Oh god,” a moan escaped my lips. I could feel the smile forming on his face as he left a mark on my skin. 

“You just fall for me” He sang leaving slopping kisses up my neck. “Some days” I answered another moan escaping my lips. He was right all he was doing was kissing me and I was a moaning wet mess. 

“After the show” I whispered my hands running down his suit. He pulled back staring at my eyes and then at my lips his eyes darkening. “How can I go on stage with this huh” He stared down at his hard. His pants do nothing to hide it. A laugh escape my lips staring up at him as he licked his lips inching closer once again. “Showtime SOON BABYY” Rain yelled through the halls. I took a deep breath staring at the opened door that swissed opened. “Hm,” I said escaping his grasp and heading to the door. “The rest will be after’ I explained as I closed the door locking it. 

“We can do a lot now” He grabbed ahold of my hand pulling me in. Our lips collided. Our kiss deepened as he pushed me back against the couch pulling up my oversized shirt his hand caressing my chest as he licked my lips wanting more. “What fun will it be to do all now” I pushed him away. “Torture” he growled. “Shh,” I kissed the side of his lips. My hand slid down to the zipper of his pants slowly unzipping his pants his hard throbbing at the touch. 

“So unfair” He barely got out. He inched closer to my neck leaving kisses as his hard cock sprung out of his pants. “Flustered are we” I repeated his words. There was one thing Copia loved to do with me and that was to tease especially when I so badly wanted him but today it was the other way around. “Do you think of me on stage?” I asked taking full grasp of his cock and stroking it slowly a quiet gasp leaving his lips. “Do you think about me when you pleasure yourself” I stroked again rubbing my thumb over his tip. “Oh god love” He moaned his hips buckling into mine. “Not an answer” I stroked his tip my thumb rubbing over and over again. 

“Yes, all the time” He answered the small whimpers following his answer. “On stage...I think of you” He groaned leaving slobbery kisses on my neck. His cock throbbed as I fastened the strokes rubbing over his tip. Every time his hips would buckle into mine. I could feel the wet pudding from me. 

“Fuck” He moaned throwing his head back. “They all see everything but I am the one who gets to pleasure you” I whispered “To kiss you” I kissed his neck. “To make you cum” I stroked his tip his cock only throbbing more in my hands. “Oh hell oh god” He groaned soon there were no words but loud groans that escape his lips. I regretted not doing more now and knowing that I would have to wait for an entire show to have him in me. For us to become moaning messes. 

My strokes slowed down and my hand remained on his tip some cum spilling out and landing on my thumb. He watched as I brought my thumb to my lips licking the cum off. “I want you” He growled. His lips were once again back to mine the kiss more aggressive than before. 

“After the show” I answered breaking the kiss. I licked my fingers wet grasping his hard making him flinch with a whimper. I stroked his cock slowly his head flying back as groans followed. By now he was thrusting into my hand wanting more. “God” He moaned his head falling to the crock of my neck. “You are only mine” I whispered into his ear. “Only yours” He growled thrusting his hips again. 

 “Oh I’m gonna cum” He moaned pulling back from my neck and smashing his lips into mine. We kissed moans escaping both of our lips as the kiss got rougher wanting to devour each other. “I can't last no longer love” He whimpered. 

I kissed his lips once more before I got down on my knees still stroking his cock. “Cum” I said licking the tip of his cock earning another buckle of his hips. He grabbed ahold of his cock sliding it into my mouth his free hand grabbing ahold of my hair. “You will destroy me” He groaned slamming his cock to the back of my throat and thrusting as his cock throbbed. My eyes watered still never used to the size.I bobbled my head up and down his large length as loud groans escape his lips. “Oh god” He groaned loudly his cock twitching in the back of my throat without letting go he pushed my head to his hips his hand tightly on my hair. The twitching of his cock as hot cummed flowed down my throat.

I swallowed his cum his cock sliding out of my mouth. I stared up at him our eyes meeting. I licked his tip once more taking the rest of the cum. “CARDINAL SHOW TIME”  a loud knock came from the door. “Show time” I whispered standing up. I kissed his lips once more then pulled away. “After the show” he pointed as he did up his pants. “Good luck” I winked as he unlocked the door walking out. 

#cardinal copia #cardinal copia smut #papa copia #ghost band #papa emeritus #copia fic #copia my beloved #copia x female reader #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #papa 4 #popia #copia x reader #copia emeritus #copia fanfiction #papa emeritus smut #x reader

[bupia]

Would very much like to see 2 and 31 of the smut prompts with Cardinal Copia - I would love to know what direction you take with it!

EROTIC PHOTOS

“I’ve never done this before…” - “Well, neither have I.” “I’m worried I won’t be good enough.”

There's a smut under the cut, +18 only, please.

(AFAB!reader: dirty talk; masturbation; mentions of masturbation)

It wasn't my intention to make a whole story, but I hope you all enjoy it.

Available on AO3

Day 10 | Day 12

You found yourself in a state of profound boredom. Wednesday was in full swing, but everyone around you was engrossed in their own duties, leaving you with nothing to occupy your time. It wasn't that you couldn't find something to do, but rather that you were consumed by a deep longing for him, Cardinal Copia.

The absence of Cardinal Copia at the ministry was disconcerting. It was a challenge not to see him wandering about or hear him call your name. Ever since he took the helm of Ghost, he had become increasingly hard to spend time with. There were moments when you'd call or text him, and you'd spend a few precious hours together until he drifted off to sleep. Poor Cardinal worked tirelessly, but there was little you could do to change that.

Today, however, your yearning for him was particularly strong. You craved him - his scent, his touch, his voice. Your situation with Cardinal Copia was unique. You'd decided to date, but before you could really embark on that relationship, a tour had emerged and created a chasm between you. So, in a way, you had him, yet you didn't. You could have had him, but the demands of the tour had created distance.

You longed to reach out to him, to send a message, to express how deeply you missed him, or just to say a simple "hi" perhaps, or send a silly joke that would make him laugh. But that wasn't what you desired from him today. As mentioned before, you wanted him, all of him.

You picked up your phone to check the time and, after a bit of mental math, you figured out what time it was where he was. It was likely getting close to his stage performance, but waiting until the show ended seemed unbearable. It might not have been the most tactful move, but you felt compelled to do it. You were already planning to take a shower and needed to get undressed, so it wasn't too much of a stretch.

So, you went ahead and did it. You took a few pictures, maybe two or three, and sent them to him. Perhaps he'd see them and understand how much you yearned for him, or maybe he'd be a bit annoyed at your attempt to tempt him before the show. Either way, it felt like a win-win situation.

You left your phone on the bedroom and headed into the bathroom for a relaxing, warm shower, hoping it would help quell your desires. However, your mind remained preoccupied with the thought of how he would react to the pictures you had sent. The bath, which was intended to be a way to unwind, became one of the quickest showers you'd ever taken. You were eager to see if he had replied and to find out what he thought.

After finishing your shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and returned to the bedroom, your anticipation growing by the second. You reached for your phone, only to be met with disappointment. There was no reply, no message, nothing. The initial shock of receiving no response was quickly replaced by embarrassment and regret. You shouldn't have sent those photos, especially considering the timing. Of course, he probably didn't have a moment to open them amidst his busy schedule.

As you contemplated deleting the pictures before he had a chance to see them, you noticed three dots appearing in the corner of the screen, indicating that he was typing a message. You watched them, and then they disappeared. A sigh of relief escaped your lips, but the anticipation returned when the dots reappeared. The ebb and flow of those three dots had you on edge.

And then, a message finally popped up.

"Amore, what are those?"

You read his message and felt a surge of nervousness. The uncertainty of his response had you second-guessing yourself. Did he not like the pictures? Had you made a mistake? These thoughts raced through your mind as you read his message. Summoning your courage, you decided to respond to his message. You knew you needed to say something, perhaps even offer an apology. So, you typed out your response.

"Sorry."

"What?" "Why are you apologizing?"

"I shouldn't have send the pictures..."

"What do you mean you shouldn't have sent them?"

"It was irresponsible."

"I agree."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read his response, and you couldn't help but feel like you had indeed ruined everything. It was a moment of self-critique and regret.

"It was very irresponsible to make me hard before the ritual."

You read his message and your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, thanks Satan" you thought. You read his message again just to be sure you weren't imagining things, and it was real. He had indeed said it, and you were relieved that you hadn't ruined everything as you had feared.

"Amore? Are you still there?"

The sudden vibration of your phone nearly made you drop it. It was clear you needed to respond, so you quickly typed out a message, not wanting to leave him hanging.

"Yes!!!" "I'm here!!!"

"Ok" "Good" "I thought I made you uncomfortable with my last message."

"What???? Not at all" "Actually, tell me more..."

A mischievous grin crept across your face as you lay down on the bed, pressing your legs together. The sensation of the cold from your still-wet body was soon to be replaced with warmth.

"More?" "What do you want to know?"

"Maybe you can tell me how hard your 🍆 is."

"My eggplant?"

"You don't know what it means?"

"I don't, amore" "I'm sorry."

"Eggplant means dick!!"

You saw the three dots reappearing, teasing you with their presence. As you rolled on the bed and settled on your stomach, a giggle escaped your lips. The anticipation and playfulness in the conversation were starting to lighten the mood.

"Maybe we can try use only words?" "I'm sorry, amore, I'm not used to this modern language."

Your laughter filled the room as you found his adorableness and occasional dorkiness endearing. It was difficult not to be amused and charmed by his quirks.

"Of course we can."

"Thank you"

"So..." "How hard your dick is, Cardinal?"

You were well aware of how much he enjoyed being addressed as "Cardinal." You imagined he might be feeling a delightful shiver down his spine at that moment, although you were equally sure he was probably cursing you in Italian, albeit playfully.

"You left my dick pretty hard."

"Yeah?" "Do I deserve to see it?"

"You do." "But, how do I do it?" "I'm worried I won't be good enough" "I've never done it before."

"Well, neither do I..." "But you got some pics of me" "You just need to take a pic and send it to me, ok?"

"Ok."

"So let me see how hard you are right now."

"I wish I could show you in reality."

"I know you are going to show it to me soon..." "Right?"

You settled comfortably on the bed, resting your head on the pillow as you awaited his response. Minutes ticked by with no sign of a reply. Just as you began to wonder if he was occupied with something else, the familiar three dots appeared on the screen, signaling that he was typing. The anticipation built once more.

"Amore?"

"Yes?"

"Can I send it?"

"Please."

You received his message, which included two identical, blurry pictures. The images were impossible to make out, but you could discern the red color of his cassock. Despite the lack of clarity, you couldn't help but laugh at the adorableness of the situation.

"Did it work?"

"No!!!" "I can't see a thing!!!"

"Is it that bad? Sorry, amore, I heard a noise and took it fast." "Wait."

As you continued to laugh and shake your head, you turned onto your side, gazing at the blurry pictures he had sent. Then, when you least expected it, a clear image popped up. This time, it wasn't blurry at all. It was a crisp picture of him holding his member in his hand. Your eyes widened in surprise at how big and thick it was. You could feel a heat building between your legs, you definitely needed him.

"Did you get it, amore?"

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the image. His member looked absolutely perfect. You rolled over once more, settling on your back as you continued to gaze at the image.

"Fuck" "I need you"

"Do you?"

"Yes" "Now"

"Amore..." "I wish I could be there now..." "I would be worshiping all your body." "Just like you deserve to be worshiped" "You naked body is perfect." "I need to touch you."

"I need you to touch me."

"I want to touch you."

"Yeah?" "Where do you want to touch me?"

"This is not fair." "You know I will be going on stage soon."

"We can stop if you want..."

"I don't."

Your hand reached for your towel, leaving it open on your body. You slowly spread your legs, going with your hand to between them. Your fingers began to rub your flesh, spreading them apart. You moaned softly as you felt your moisture begin to flow out of you, coating your hand.

"So tell me"

"I want to touch your body" "While I kiss it" "Every inch of it" "I want to make you feel loved" "Wanted" "Desired"

"Yeah?" "What more?"

"I will kiss your lips" "Your neck" "Your chest" "Your belly..." "Please, amore, let me see you again."

Of course, he could see you again. You tapped the camera icon, prepared to take another photo for him. But then it occurred to you that you could do better and decided to record a video of yourself instead. So you did. You removed your hand from between your legs and started to record it. You went with your hand slowly from your belly to your inner thighs, caressing it until you reach your mound. You went down with your hand going with it to between your legs. You gasped as you felt how wet you were and how easily your fingers slid between your folds.

You halted the recording and sent it to him, your heart racing as you patiently awaited his reply. Seeing the "received" status, you couldn't help but bite your lower lip in anticipation. After a few seconds, the familiar three dots appeared once more, and you couldn't help but smile in excitement, eager to see his response.

"Amore."

"Yes?"

"Are you touching yourself?"

"Maybe..."

"So do it" "Because I am" "I really need to fuck you right now"

As you read his message, a shiver ran down your spine, and an involuntary, soft gasp escaped your lips. The anticipation and desire were palpable.

"Say it again" "Please"

"I need to fuck you right now" "I need to feel you on my cock"

"I need you inside me, Copia" "I need you to fuck me" "Until I can't take it anymore" "But in reality" "I will never get enough"

"Fuck, amore" "What a sinful mouth you have" "It would look so beautiful here"

Another message popped up in the chat, this time containing a video of him. For someone who didn't know what to do some minutes ago, he was learning very fast.

You played the video and you could hear his low moans. He was lazily stroking his length on his gloved hand, and you could see a glistening on the leather. You continued rubbing yourself, feeling the softness of your folds. You looked down at your hand, seeing how wet it was. You brought your finger up to your mouth and sucked on it, imagining that he would do the same with you.

"Not fair!!"

"You didn't like it?"

"I loved it" "But is not fair to make me want you even more"

"I really want to be on your bed right now" "So I could taste you" "And fuck you until I make you scream my title."

"I'm very wet right now..." "Copia" "I need you so much" "I need to feel you inside of me."

"Do you, amore?" "Fuck" "You are driving me insane here" "I feel like I could cum only by reading your messages."

"Do you?"

"Yes" "Very much."

"So do it" "Cum for me"

"Will you cum for me too, amore?"

"Always."

You were in state of euphoria now, your whole being focused on your fingers. You moved one to your clit, rubbing it gently. The sensation made your hips buck slightly, and you let out another soft moan.

"Tell me what you are doing, amore."

"I'm just rubbing it."

"Fuck" "I wish I was the one doing it."

"You'll do it as you got back to the ministry."

"Yes" "And so much more..."

You could feel yourself getting more and more turned on. You could feel the heat building inside of you.

"Yeah? Tell me" "Please."

"I'm going to fuck you so good, amore" "Yes, so fucking good." "Fuck" "I need to feel your pussy on my 🍆"

Seeing the emoji, you couldn't help but burst into laughter. He was indeed an adorable dork, and he was all yours.

"Did I use it right, amore?"

"Perfectly."

"Good." "Because that's what I want now" "I want you to fuck yourself" "And think about my cock" "Inside you" "Fucking you" "So very good"

As you read his message, you started to rub faster, harder. You could hear your breathing getting heavier. You closed your eyes and pictured him, his hands on your body, his length buried within you. You opened your eyes, throwing your head back, moaning loudly. You turned your eyes to your phone, seeing new messages of him.

"Please, amore" "Let me fuck you" "Let me fuck you until you scream my name" "I need to fuck you so much" "Fuck this show" "I wish I could go to your bedroom right now" "And fuck you the whole night"

You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the moment. Your fingers covered in your juice. You lowered your hand to your entrance, sliding one finger into you. You moaned again, this time louder. You hips bucked slightly as you slit it in. You pulled out, then back in. You repeated this several times, each time going a little deeper.

"Yes" "Cardinal" "I'm doing it"

"Very good." "Don't stop" "Only when you cum for me"

You started to move faster, pushing your fingers in and out of your entrance. Your breathing became ragged as you let the sensations wash over you. Your hips were moving up and down, matching your thrusts. Feeling your orgasm starting to build, you quickened your pace. You took your phone, opening the camera and started to record it. Your walls were tightening around your fingers, pushing them deeper, feeling your walls squeezing them.

"Ah! Cardinal!" you moaned in pleasure. "Fuck me, just like that, please don't stop, make me cum on your cock!" you screamed out, feeling waves of pleasure roll through you. "Yes, just like that, just like tha-Ah!" you kept moving your fingers in and out of you, trying to prolong the feeling. "I'm going to cum, Copia, I'm going to... I... I..." your hips bucked wildly as you came, your body shuddering as you did.

You stopped the record, sending him the video. You kept your fingers buried inside you as your orgasm subsided, then pulled them out. You lay there for a moment, catching your breath. Then you felt your phone vibrating on your hand and you looked at it, seeing Copia's message.

"Fuck amore" "I need to hear you moaning my name when I get back to the ministry" "I want to make you cum on my cock just like that" "And even more" "So much more" "Fuck"

"Did you cum, Copia?"

"Not yet, amore."

"So cum for me, Copia" "Please" "Feel my pussy tightening around your big cock" "And cum inside of me" "Fill me with your seed" "Make me yours"

After sending your last message, you reached for your towel to clean your hands, realizing that you might need another bath before going to sleep. A few minutes passed, and Cardinal Copia had yet to send a reply. You settled on the bed, sitting up with your back against the headboard, your gaze fixed on your cellphone. Then, another photo arrived. This time, him holding his length on his hand full of his seed on his glove and on the tip of his member.

"Look what you did to me." "A mess, amore." "You did a mess."

"I'd gladly clean that mess for you."

"Amore, no more tempting." "I'll be on stage in ten."

"Wish you could come to the ministry in 10"

"I wish I could go to you too." "But don't worry." "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes" "How about you?"

"So much, amore." "But I need you more than I needed before." "Maybe I'll use your video at the hotel after the show."

"Why don't you call me? So we can play together."

"Are you sure? It will be late for you."

"So wake me up telling me how much you want me."

"I want you every hour of my day." "I think about you all the time."

"So call me just as you got to the hotel, maybe I can teach you how to do video calls."

"That sounds interesting." "Ok, amore" "I need to clean up and go." "Please wait for me." "I love you, Ti amo."

"Do your best there." "I love you, Copia."

#kinktober #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #papa emeritus x reader #ghost the band #papa emeritus iv #copia #cardinal copia #papa copia #ghost cardinal copia #ghost copia #papa iv #copia x reader #cardinal copia smut #copia smut #smut #papa emeritus 4 #papa emeritus smut #papa emeritus iv smut #cardinal copia x reader

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆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